Year: 1869

o land of Judea! thrice hallowed of song
Where the holiest of memories pilgrim-like


throng;
In the shade of thy palms, by the shores of thy


sea,
In the pride of thy beauty, my heart is with thee
With the eye of spirit look ON the shore,
Where pilgrim and prophet have fingered before !;
By the guide of the spirit, / traverse the sod,
Made bright by the steps of the angels of God.
From the heights of the hills in the spirit hear
Thy waters Gennesserat, chime on my ear;
Where the Lowly and Just with the people sat


down,
And thy spray on the dust of His sandals was


thrown.
Beyond are Bethulia's mountains of green
And the desolate hills of the wild Gadarene;
And pause on the goat. c-ags of Tabor TO see
The gleam of thy waters, the dark Galilee!
Hark sound in the valleys, where swollen and


strong
Thy river, oh Kishon is sweeping along;
Where the Canaanites strove with Jehovah in


vain,
And thy torrent grew dark with the blood of the


slain.
There, down from His mountains, stern Zebu,on


came,
And Napthali's stag with his eye-balls of fame
And the chariots of Jabin rolled harmlessly on,
For the arm of the Lord was Abinoam's son.
There sleep the still rocks and the caverns that


Fang
To the song which the beautiful Prophecies sang
When the Princess of Issachar stood by her side,
And the shout of host in its triumph replied.
Lo! Bethlehem's hill-site before me is seen
With the mountains around and the valleys be-


tween;
There rested the shepherds of Judah, and there,
The songs of the angels rose sweet in the air.
And Bethany's palm-trees in beauty still throw
Their shadows at noon on the ruins below.
But where are the sisters who hastened to greet
The lowly Redeemer and sit at his feet
l stand where they stood with the chosen of God
Where his blessing was heard, and his lesson:


were taught.
Where the blind was restored and the healing


was wrought
Oh, here with his flock the sad wanderer came,
These hills he toied over in grief are the same,
The founts where he drank by the waysde still


flow,
And the same airs blowing which breathed OF


his brow.
And throned on her hills sits Jerusalem yet,
But with dust OH her forehead and chains on he,


feet,
For the crown of her pride to the mocker hatl


gone,
And the holy Shecnah is dark where it shone
But wherefore this dream of the earthly abode,
Of humanity clothed in the brightness of God!
Were my spirit turned from the outward anC
dim,


l would gaze even now on the presence of Him
Not in clouds nor in terrors, but gentle as when
In love and in meekness, he moved among men
And the voice which breathed peace to the wave
of the sea,
In the hush of my spirit would whisper to me
And what if my feet may not tread where h


stood,


Nor my ears hear the dashing of Galilee's flood
Nor my eyes see the cross which he bowed hin
to bear,
Nor my knees press Gethsemane's garden Of
prayer


Yet loved of the Father. thy spirit is near
To the meek, and the lowly, and penitent here,
And the voice of thy love is the same even now
AS at Bethany's tomb, or on Olivets brow.
Oh. the outward hath gone but in glory an


power,


The SPIRIT surviVeth the things of an hour.
Unchanged, undecaying its penitent fame,
On the hearts secret altar, is burning the same.