That eye had seen, in glorious trance, Mysterious things to be,

Wild visions of impending doom

On heaven and earth and sea :

His pen

had writ of times to come,—

Of dearer times bygone:

He was the fisher's chosen son,

The Lord's beloved John.

And he had drank his Master's cup
So long, so patiently;

And now he lingered there, the last,
Till Christ should set him free.

I wished I'd lived in those old times, And been a Grecian child,

To hear that old man's blessing kind, To meet him when he smiled;

To hear the words of holy love
That ever from his lips
Fell gentle as the evening dew
The thirsty blossom sips.

But love endureth through all age:
Nor time nor distance drear
Divide the living and the dead

Of Christ's communion dear;

For all His saints in Him are one,—

The exile o'er the sea,

The child within its English home,
The struggling and the free.

The holy John hath rest at last,-
He wears the promised crown;

And still by that dear Church he watched
His words are handed down:

And we shall meet him, not as once
On that fair island shore;
But where apostles, martyrs, saints,
Have peace for evermore.

The Well at Sychar.

(ON FINDING IT FILLED UP BY THE ARABS.)

THEY

have stopped the sacred well which the patriarchs dug of old,

Where they watered the patient flocks at noon, from the depths so pure and cold;

Where the Saviour asked to drink, and found at noon repose:

But the living spring He opened then no human hands can close.

They have scattered the ancient stones where at noon He sat to rest :

None ever shall rest by that well again, and think how His accents blest;

But the Rest for the burdened heart, the Shade in the weary land,

The riven Rock, with its living streams, for ever unmoved shall stand.

Earth has no Temple now, no beautiful House of God; For earth is all one temple-floor, which those sacred feet have trod :

But in heaven there is a Throne, a Home, and a House of prayer:

Thyself the Temple, Thyself the Sun. Our pilgrimage endeth there!

From "The Three Wakings."

That Then?

FTER the joys of earth,
After its songs of mirth,

After its hours of light,

After its dreams so bright—
What then?

Only an empty name,
Only a weary frame,
Only a conscious smart,
Only an aching heart.

After this empty name,

After this weary frame,

After this conscious smart,

After this aching heart

What then?

Only a sad farewell

To a world loved too well,

Only a silent bed

With the forgotten dead.

After this sad farewell

To a world loved too well,

After this silent bed

With the forgotten dead—

What then?

Oh, then-the judgment throne !
Oh, then the last hope-gone!
Then, all the woes that dwell
In an eternal HELL!

After the Christian's tears,
After his fights and fears,
After his weary cross,

"All things below but loss".

What then?

Oh, then a holy calm,
Resting on Jesus' arm;
Oh, then a deeper love
For the pure home above.

After this holy calm,
This rest on Jesus' arm;
After this deepened love
For the pure home above—

What then?

Oh, then-work for Him,
Perishing souls to win;

Then Jesus' presence near,

Death's darkest hour to cheer.

And when the work is done,

When the last soul is won; When Jesus' love and power Have cheered the dying hourWhat then?