One only, a Samaritan, a stranger to God's word,
Felt his joyous, panting bosom, with gratitude deep stirred,
And without delay he hastened, in the dust, at Jesus' feet,
To cast himself in worship, in thanksgiving, warm and meet.

Slowly questioned him the Saviour, with majesty divine:--
"Ten were cleansed from their leprosy--where are the other nine?
Is there none but this one stranger--unlearned in Gods ways,
His name and mighty power, to give word of thanks or praise?"

The sunbeams' quivering glories softly touched that God-like
head,
The olives blooming round Him sweet shade and fragrance shed,
While o'er His sacred features a tender sadness stole:
"Rise, go thy way," He murmured, "thy faith hath made thee
whole!"




THE BLIND MAN OF JERICHO.


He sat by the dusty way-side,
With weary, hopeless mien,
On his furrowed brow the traces
Of care and want were seen;
With outstretched hand and with bowed-down head
He asked the passers-by for bread.