In vain mine enemies would me despoil,
My cup o'erfloweth still with wine and oil,
My food Thou dost provide.

Thy mercy and Thy goodness both will last,
And when my days upon this earth are past,
With Thee I yet shall bide.

RE HENRY.

The Prayer of Solomon at the Consecration of the Temple

A GORGEOUS structure! rich with fretted gold

And radiant with gems. A white robed choir, Sackbut and psaltery, and the tuneful harp Waft their sweet melody unto high Heaven. A mighty monarch bows his head in prayer. What boon has he to ask of pitying Heaven? Seeks he for riches, or for pomp and power Or asks he vengeance on unconquered foes?

Peace! peace! he breathes a lowly prayer to Heaven, Even for others' sins as for his own,

Asking forgiveness.

Father! when man forgetting Thy just decree,
Shall wrong his brother, and by fraud or wile
Pervert the holy faith that leads to Thee

And turn his heart to sinfulness and guile;
Yet when they both are brought before Thy face,
And purer feelings in each bosom strive,

Hear Thou and judge in heaven Thy dwelling-place
And when Thou hearest, have mercy and forgive.

When Thy frail children, for their many sins,
Shall smart beneath the oppressor's iron rod,
And when the tortured conscience first begins
To waken to the anger of its God;

Then when they come to Thee, that erring race,
And pray that Thou the heavy load remove,
Hear Thou in heaven Thy holy dwelling-place,
And when Thou hearest forgive, oh! God of love!

And when the heavens are shut, and the parched land
Must bear the burden of their sinful way,
And Thou shalt teach them, with Thy mighty hand,
And bend their stubborn hearts to own Thy sway,—
And they repent and turn towards this place,
Let not Thine ear be deaf unto their voice;
But hear Thou from Thy heavenly throne of grace,
Hear and forgive the children of Thy choice.

And when the stranger, for Thy great name's sake Turneth toward this house, oh! mighty King, Whatever supplication he may make,

Whatever sin or sorrow he may bring; Yet when he bendeth here to ask Thy grace, And prayeth Israel's God to heal his grief. Hear Thou in Heaven, Thy dwelling-place, And when Thou hearest, forgive and grant relief.

If any sin (and what man sinneth not),

And Thou art wroth and angered with their shame, And the sad captive's lone and bitter lot

Be theirs, until they call upon Thy name;

Yet when they turn repentant towards this place,
And pray to Thee in supplicating tone,

Hear Thou in heaven Thy holy throne of grace,
Forgive and have compassion on Thine own.

No gorgeous temple, rich with fretted gold.

And bright with flashing gems, now meets our eye; No holy prophet king, like him of old,

Now offers up our sacrifice on high;

Yet when we come with prayer to seek Thy face Each with sin's burning plague-spot in his breast, Hear Thou, oh God! in heaven Thy dwelling-place And when Thou hearest, forgive, and grant us rest. REBEKAH HYNEMAN.

WHEN

Solomon and the Bees

I

HEN Solomon was reigning in his glory, Unto his throne the Queen of Sheba came; (So in the Talmud you may read the story) Drawn by the magic of the monarch's fame, To see the splendours of his court, and bring Some fitting tribute to the mighty King.

II

Nor this alone: much had her highness heard

What flowers of learning graced the royal speech; What gems of wisdom dropped with every word; What wholesome lesson he was wont to teach In pleasing proverbs; and she wished in sooth, To know if rumor spake the simple truth.

III

Besides, the Queen had heard (which piqued her most)

How through the deepest riddles he could spy; How all the curious arts that women boast

Were quite transparent to his piercing eye;

And so the Queen had come-a royal guest-
To put the Sage's cunning to the test.

IV

And straight she held before the monarch's view,
In either hand a radiant wealth of flowers;

The one, bedeckt with every charming hue,

Was newly culled from Nature's choicest bowers. The other, no less fair in every paṛt,

Was the rare product of divinest art.

V

"Which is the true, and which the false?" she said.

Great Solomon was silent.

All amazed,

Each wondering courtier shook his puzzled head;
While at the garlands long the Monarch gazed,
As one who sees a miracle, and fain,

For very rapture ne'er would speak again.

VI

"Which is the true?" Once more the woman asked, Pleased at the fond amazement of the king; "So wise a head should not be hardly tasked

Most learned Liege, with such a trivial thing!" But still the sage was silent; it was plain A deep'ning doubt perplexed his royal brain.

VII

While thus he pondered, presently he sees,
Hard by the casement- -so the story goes-
A little band of busy bustling bees,

Hunting for honey in a withered rose.

The monarch smiled, and raised his royal head: "Open the window!"-that was all he said.

VIII

The window opened at the King's command.
Within the room the eager insects flew,
And sought the flowers in Sheba's dexter hand,

And so the king and all the courtiers knew,
That wreath was Nature's-and the baffled Queen,
Returned to tell the wonders she had seen.

IX

My story teaches (every tale should bear
A fitting moral) that the wise may find,
In trifles light as atoms of the air,

Some useful lesson to enrich the mind—
Some truth designed to profit or to please-
As Israel's king learned wisdom from the bees.
JOHN GODFREY SAXE.

The Chief Among Ten Thousand (Song of Solomon)

BEHOLD thou art all fair, my love;

Thine eyes, thy locks, thy brow

All excellence and comeliness

How beautiful art thou!

Stately thy neck, like David's tower,
With splendor overspread;
Whereon a thousand bucklers hang,
Shields of the mighty dead.

Till the day break and shadows flee,
Myself betake I will

To the spice-mountain's fragrant heights,
And incense-breathing hill.

Thou art beautiful, my love,

There is no spot in thee;

Come then, my bride, from Lebanon,

From Lebanon with me!

Look from Amana's summit, look
While I am by thy side;
Look from the top of Shinar, look
From Hermon, look, my bride!

Love, sister, bride, thy beauty hath
Ravished this heart of mine!
Won it thou hast, and now it is
No longer mine, but thine!

Sister and spouse, how fair thy love,
How better far than mine!

Thy fragrance steals my heart; it is
No longer mine, but thine!