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THE EVANGELIST

John xvii. 18.

               From the brightness of the glory,
                    "Go ye forth," He said;
                                    "Heal the sick and cleanse the lepers,
                         Raise the dead.
               Freely give I thee the treasure,
                    Freely give the same;
                                    Take no store of gold or silver--
                         Take My Name.
               
               "Carry neither scrip nor raiment,
                    Neither shoes nor staves;
                                    Walk unburdened through the deserts,
                         O'er the waves.
               Thou art fitted for the journey,
                    Howso long it be;
                                    Thou shalt come, unworn, unwearied,
                         Back to Me.
               
               "Thou shalt tell Me in the glory
                    All that thou hast done,
                                    Setting forth alone; returning
                         Not alone.
               Thou shalt bring the ransomed with thee,
                    They with songs shall come
                                    As the golden sheaves of harvest,
                         Gathered home."
               
               Then I went as He had told me--
                    He, the Lord in heaven;
                                    Went in power of the Spirit
                         He had given.
               And the sick arose rejoicing,
                    Bore away their bed;
                                    And in might of life eternal
                         Rose the dead.
               
               And a light beyond the sunlight
                    Did the blind man see;
                                    Loud and sweet the dumb sang praises,
                         Lord, to Thee.
               And the leper from his exile
                    Came Thy grace to own,
                                    Falling low in rapturous worship
                         At the throne--
               
               Where He sitteth, working wonders,
                    High at God's right hand,
                                    More than when an outcast stranger
                         In the land.
               From the throne in heaven speaks He--
                    Speaks, and it is done;
                                    Thus does God delight to honour
                         Christ, His Son.
               
               Thus with instruments of music
                    Do His servants stand,
                                    Harp and lute the King has fashioned
                         With His hand.
               And "the music of Jehovah"[2]
                    Sound from every chord;
                                    He who makes that glorious music
                         Is the Lord.
               
               He by them tells forth God's praises
                    To the ears of men,
                                    And to God His praise ascendeth
                         Yet again.
               He alone, the Mighty Preacher,
                    Gathering in His own.
                                    And the praise to God returning,
                         His alone.

T. P.

2]2 Chron. vii. 6.


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