"The Son of the Blessed.''

THE blessed God spake through the priest
To honour thus His Son;
The ''I am" told the glories forth
Of what His race had done;
And heav'n and earlh alike did hear
Of majesty to come.

That scene is o'er; the earth no more
Shall see His lowly state,
But those who love His holy name
Treasure His high estate;
Seated within His Father's throne,
From whence all blessings wait.

Blest Lord and Christ, we love Thy name,
And now would sharers be—
Yet more to love and suffer shame,
To live in truth with Thee;
Thy Father's honour held more dear
Till we Thy face shall see.

Nor count it strange that we, Thine own,
Should hear the mocker rage—
Thy holy name profan'd among
The leaders of this age;
While outward dumb, as once, like Thee,
In prayer our lips engage.

Thou Servant-Prophet, Son of God,
All hallow'd be Thy name,
We hold it precious in God's sight,
Dear as Thine honour's fame!
And hail with joy the Father's voice
That gave Thee love's acclaim!

Battersea, S. W.   E. E. S.
"Mutual Comfort" 1914