Twas open d for thy sake,
" Go wash, and thou art free ;"
Oh ! how did my proud heart gainsay,
I fear d to trust his simple way.
7 At length I trial made,
When I had much endured ;
The message I obey d,
I wash d, and I was cured.
Sinners, this healing fountain try,
Which cleansed a wretch so vile as I.
39.
The borrowed Axe.—2 Kings, vi, 5, 6.
1 THE prophets sons in times of old,
Though to appearance poor,
Were rich without possessing gold,
And honour d though obscure.
2 In peace their daily bread they eat,
By honest labour earn d ;
While daily at Elista s feet
They grace and wisdom learn d.
3 The prophet s presence cheer d their toil,
They watch d the words he spoke,
Whether they turn d the furrow d soil,
Or fell d the spreading oak.
4 Once as they listen d to his theme
Their conference was stopp d ;
For one beneath the yielding stream
A borrow d axe had dropp d.
5 " Alas ! it was not mine, he said;
" How shall I make it good ?"
Elisha heard, and when he pray d,
The iron swam like wood.
6 If God in such a small affair
A miracle performs,
It shows his condescending care
Of poor unworthy worms.
