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Whose heart is with an iron nerve put down,

Crying, “Unclean! unclean !” 2.

'Twas now the first
Of the Judean autumn, and the leaves,
Whose shadows lay so still upon his path,
Had put their beauty forth beneath the eye
Of Judah’s palmiest noble. He was young,
And eminently beautiful, and life
Mantled in eloquent fulness on his lip
And sparkled in his glance; and in his mien
There was a gracious pride, that every eye

Followed with benisons : and this was he!
3. With the soft airs of summer there had come

A torpor on his frame, which not the speed
Of his best barb, nor music, nor the blast
Of the bold huntsman's horn, nor aught that stirs
The spirit to its bent, might drive away.
The blood beat not as wont within his veins;
Dizziness crept o'er his eye; a drowsy sloth
Fetter'd his limbs like palsy, and his mien,
With all its loftiness, seem'd struck with eld.
Even his voice was changed, - languid moan
Taking the place of a clear, silver key;
And brain and sense grew faint, as if the light

And very air were steep'd in sluggishness. 4. He strove with it a while, as manhood will,

Ever too proud for weakness, till the rein
Slacken’d within his grasp, and in its poise
The arrowy jereed like an aspen

Day after day, he lay as if in sleep;
His skin grew dry and bloodless, and white scales,
Circled with livid purple, cover'd him.
And then his nails grew black, and fell away
From the dull flesh about them, and the hues
Deepen'd beneath the hard, unmoisten'd scales,
And from their edges grew the rank white hair;

And Helon was a leper ! 5.

Day was breaking,
When at the altar of the temple stood
The holy priest of God. The incense-lamp
Burn’d with a struggling light, and a low chant
Swell’d through the hollow arches of the roof,

Like an articulate wail; and there, alone,
Wasted to ghastly thinness, Helon knelt.
The echoes of the melancholy strain
Died in the distant aisles, and he rose up,
Struggling with weakness, and bow'd down his head

the sprinkled ashes, and put off
His costly raiment for the leper's garb;
And, with the sackcloth round him, and his lip
Hid in a loathsome covering, stood stili,

Waiting to hear his doom:
6. “Depart! depart, O child

Of Israel, from the temple of thy God!
For he has smote thee with his chastening rod;

And to the desert wild,
From all thou lovest, away thy feet must flee,

That from thy plague his people may be free. 7. “ Depart! and come not near

The busy mart, the crowded city, more;
Nor set thy foot a human threshold o'er;

And stay thou not to hear
Voices that call thee in the way; and ily

From all who in the wilderness pass by. 8. " Wet not thy burning lip

In streams that to a human dwelling glide;
Nor rest thee where the covert fountains hide;

Nor kneel thee down to dip
The water where the pilgrim bends to drink,

By desert well, or river's grassy brink. · 9. “And pass thou not between

The weary traveller and the cooling breeze;
And lie not down to sleep beneath the trees

Where human tracks are seen;
Nor milk the goat that browseth on the plain;
Nor pluck the standing corn, or yellow grain.


“And now depart! and when
Thy heart is heavy, and thine eyes are dim,
Lift up thy prayer beseechingly to Him,

Who, from the tribes of men,
Selected thee to feel his chastening rod.
Depart, O leper! and forget not God!"

It was noon,

11. And he went forth,--alone! not one of all

The many whom he loved, nor she whose name
Was woven in the fibers of the heart
Breaking within him now, to come and speak
Comfort unto him. Yea! he went his way,
Sick, and heart-broken, and alone,-to die!

For God had cursed the lepet! 12.

And Helon knelt beside a stagnant pool
In the lone wilderness, and bathed his brow,
Hot with the burning leprosy, and touch'd
The loathsome water to his fever'd lips,
Praying that he might be so bless'd-to die!
Footsteps approach'd, and, with no strength to flee,
He drew the covering closer on his lip,
Crying, “Unclean! unclean!” and in the folds
Of the coarse sackcloth shrouding up his face,
He fell


the earth till they should pass. 13. Nearer the stranger came, and, bending o'er

The leper's prostrate form, pronounced his name :-
“Helon !” The voice was like the master-tone
Of a rich instrument, -most strangely sweet;
And the dull pulses of disease awoke,
And, for a moment, beat beneath the hot
And leprous scales with a restoring thrill:
“Helon, arise !” And he forgot his curse,

And rose and stood before him. 14.

Love and awe
Mingled in the regard of Helon's eye
As he beheld the stranger. He was not
In costly raiment clad, nor on his brow
The symbol of a princely lineage wore;
No followers at his back, nor in his hand
Buckler, or sword, or spear; yet in his mien
Command sat throned serene, and, if he smiled,
A kingly condescension graced his lips,

The lion would have crouched to in his lair. 15. His garb was simple, and his sandals worn;

His stature model'd with a perfect grace ;
His countenance the impress of a God,
Touch'd with the open innocence of a child;
His eye was blue and calm, as is the sky

In the serenest noon; his hair, unshorn,
Fell to his shoulders; and his curling beard
The fulness of perfected manhood bore.

16. He look'd on Helon earnestly a while,

As if his heart was moved ; and, stooping down,
He took a little water in his hand
And laid it on his brow, and said, “Be clean.”
And, lo! the scales fell from him, and his blood
Coursed with delicious coolness through his veins,
And his dry palms grew moist, and on his lips
The dewy softness of an infant's stole:
His leprosy was cleansed, and he fell down
Prostrate at Jesus' feet and worship'd him.




1. The influence of the female character is now felt and acknowledged in all relations of life. I speak not now of those distinguished women who instruct their age through the public press, nor of those whose devout strains we take upon our lips when we worship, but of a much larger class,—of those whose influence is felt in the relations of neighbor, friend, daughter, wife, mother. Who waits at the couch of the sick to administer tender charities while life lingers, or to perform the last acts of kindness when death comes ? Where shall we look for those examples of friendship that most adorn our nature, those abiding friendships which trust even when betrayed, and survive ali changes of fortune? Where shall we find the brightest illustrations of filial piety? Have you ever seen a daughter, herself perhaps timid and helpless, watching the decline of an aged parent, and holding out with heroic fortitude, to anticipate his wishes, to administer to his wants, and to sustain his tottering steps to the very borders of the grave ?

2. What constitutes the center of every home? Whither do our thoughts turn, when our feet are weary with wandering, and our hearts sick with disappointment? Where shall the truant and forgetful husband go for sympathy, unalloyed and without design, but to the bosom of her who is ever ready and willing to

share in his adversity or prosperity? And, if there be a tribunal where the sins and follies of a froward child may hope for pardon and forgiveness this side heaven, that tribunal is the heart of a fond and devoted mother.

3. In no relation does woman exercise so deep an influence, both immediately and prospectively, as in that of mother. To her is committed the immortal treasure of the infant micd. Upon her devolves the care of the first stages of that course of discipline which is to form, of a being perhaps the most frail and helpless in the world, the fearless ruler of animated creation, and the devout adorer of his great Creator. Her smiles call into exercise the first affections that spring up in our hearts. She cherishes and expands the earliest germs of our intellects. She lifts our little hands, and teaches our little tongues to lisp in prayer. She watches over us like a guardian angel, and protects us through all our helpless years, when we know not of her cares and anxieties on our account. She follows us into the world of men, and lives in us, and blesses us, when she lives not otherwise upon the earth.

4. Finally, woman's influence is felt deeply in religion. “If Christianity should be compelled to flee from the mansions of the great, the academies of philosophers, the halls of legislators, or the throng of busy men, we should find her last and purest retreat with woman at the fireside; her last altar would be the female heart; her last audience would be the children gathered round the knees of the mother; her last sacrifice, the secret prayer escaping in silence from her lips, and heard, perhaps, only at the throne of God.”




1. MANY a year hath pass’d away,

Many a dark and dismal year,
Since last I roam'd in the light of day,

Or mingled my own with another's tear:
Woe to the daughters and sons of men !
Woe to them all when I roam again!

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2. Here have I watch'd in this dungeon-cell,

Longer than memory's tongue can tell;

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