JULY.

THEY RECEIVED THE WORD WITH ALL READINESS OF MIND,

AND SEARCHED THE SCRIPTURES DAILY.

SONGS OF
OF ZION,

ΤΟ

CHEER AND GUIDE PILGRIMS ON THEIR WAY TO THE HEAVENLY JERUSALEM.

1. THE BARREN FIG TREE.

Within a vineyard's sunny bound
An ample fig tree shelter found,

Enjoying sun and showers

The boughs were graceful to the view,
With spreading leaves of deep-green hue,
And gaily blushing flowers.

When round the vintage season came,
This blooming fig was still the same,
As promising and fair;

But though the leaves were broad and

No precious fruit was to be seen,

Because no fruit was there.

green,

"For three long years," the Master cried, "Fruit on this tree to find I've tried,

But all in vain my toil;

Ungrateful tree! the axe's blow

Shall lay thy leafy honours low;
Why cumbers it the soil?”

"Ah! let it stand just one year more,”
The dresser said, "till all my store
Of rural arts I've shown;

About the massy roots I'll dig,

And if it bear, we've gained the fig-
If not, then cut it down."

How many years hast thou, my heart,
Acted the barren fig tree's part,

Leafy, and fresh, and fair,

Enjoying heavenly dews of grace,

And sunny smiles from God's own face-
But where the fruit? ah! where?

How often must the Lord have prayed
That still my day might be delayed,
Till all due means were tried;
Afflictions, mercies, health, and pain,
How long shall these be all in vain
To teach this heart of pride.

Learn, O my soul, what God demands
Is not a faith like barren sands,

But fruit of heavenly hue;

By this we prove that Christ we know,
If in his holy steps we go-

Faith works by love, if true.

August 14. 1834.

2. JEHOVAH TSIDKENU.

"THE LORD OUR RIGHTEOUSNESS."

(The watchword of the Reformers.)

I once was a stranger to grace and to God,
I knew not my danger, and felt not my load;
Though friends spoke in rapture of Christ on the tree,
Jehovah Tsidkenu was nothing to me.

I oft read with pleasure, to soothe or engage,
Isaiah's wild measure and John's simple page;
But e'en when they pictured the blood-sprinkled tree,
Jehovah Tsidkenu seem'd nothing to me.

Like tears from the daughters of Zion that roll,
I wept when the waters went over his soul;

Yet thought not that my sins had nail'd to the tree
Jehovah Tsidkenu-'twas nothing to me.