When, at the Almighty Maker's throne,
You bend the suppliant knee,

From the deep fountains of your soul
Then let your prayers ascend
For the poor slave, who hardly knows
That God is still his friend.

Let all who know that God is just,
That Jesus came to save,
Unite in the most holy cause
Of the forsaken slave.


HOME-SICKNESS.

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN.

Were I a wild, wild falcon,
I'd soar away on high,
And seek my father's dwelling,
Beyond the far blue sky.

Against that well-known door then
I'd flap my wings with joy;
My mother from the window
Sees and admits her boy.

"Dear son!" she'd say; "O, welcome!
How often has my heart