She must have blushed. How could he know? Here was a mystery! Abashed she now replied, "Thou art a prophet, sir!" And straightway sought with clannish pride Instruction's voice to hear; Instruction that will bless The world each passing day, For every spot man's feet may press, There may he praise and pray. The woman lent her ear, Then urged Messiah's plea. Amazing words she now doth hear, "I that speak unto thee am he." What joy! The angels too Must share it from above. She left her water-pot, and flew On feet made swift by love. Oh, will these tidings last? This news, it must be spread! "He knows my present, knows my past; This is the Christ," she said. That woman lost in sin Drank of the living spring, Then swiftly sped dead souls to win, And to that fountain bring. Forbid that we should shrink To publish grace so free, For all who will that tide may drink And live eternally. They begged that he would stay, Believed the truths unfurled, And joyfully received that day The Saviour of the world. JESUS INTERCEDES _Seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for them._--Hebrews 7:25. When winding up the path of life, Sometimes mid thorns, sometimes mid flowers, Oft weary of its toil and strife, Oft weary of its wintry hours, There is one thought than all more sweet From care my longing heart to free; 'Tis this--oh, wondrous to repeat-- That Jesus intercedes for me. And always when the path is steep, I cling unto this wayside rope: Nothing can give so great relief, Nothing can give a brighter hope. 'Tis like a stately spreading palm, Which forms my spirit's canopy, 'Neath which I breathe the soothing balm That Jesus intercedes for me. And when I reach the sea of death, To sail its silent waters o'er, This thought shall calm my latest breath And waft me to the golden shore. Not only that my Savior died, The atoning lamb on Calvary, But--was there ever love so wide?-- Still lives and intercedes for me. EVE'S FLOWERS Eve must have wept to leave her flowers, And plucked some roots to tell Of Eden's happy, sinless bowers, Where she in bliss did dwell. Roses and lilies, pansies gay, Violets with azure eyes, Her favorites must have been, for they Seem born in paradise. And when they drooped, did she not sigh And kiss their petals fair, Thinking, "Alas, ye too must die And in our sorrow share"? And then perhaps unto her soul This answer sweet was given, "Like you we fade and perish here; For you we'll bloom in heaven." Roses and lilies are the type Of him who from above, The lamb of God, gave up his life, A sacrifice of love.