THE DYING CHRISTIAN.

183

' Twas there salvation came to view ,­' Twas there that first his Lord he knew:­' Twas there contrition's tear was shed.­' Twas there his earliest pray'r was said;­' Twas there his stubborn soul was shaken ,­' Twas there his hope began to waken! Nor would he now exchange that tree, With all its pain and infamy,

To rest on Pilate's couch of down, Or wear the guilty Herod's crown! He hears no more the rabble's shout, No more their scoffs attention win Rage, scorn, and tumult reign without, But all is peace within!

FAREWELL.

DR HUIB.

WHEN eyes are beaming

What never tongue might tell,

When tears are streaming

From their crystal cell;

When hands are linked that dread to part, And heart is met by throbbing heart,

Oh! bitter, bitter is the smart

them that bid farewell!