The name of one to whom a doctor wrote
Two treatises, from which we often quote.
A Hebrew maid, an orphan, and alone,
Adopted by her cousin as his own.
Full of unfeigned faith, the mother, she,
Of one who knew the truth from infancy.
He, unto women, in his grief and pain,
Confessed he had a fellow-mortal slain.
The name of him, who threshing wheat one day,
Turned and beheld an angel in his way.
It from an opened window was sent forth,
And wandered to and fro above the earth;
Thrice was she sent to espy the landscape o’er,
Twice she returned, and then returned no more.
Made by a queen, within a grove it stands,
But soon cut down, and burnt by royal hands,
It bore the weight of him who sought to see
Jesus, the friend of sinners, such as he.
A trusting maid who left her father’s home,
To dwell with kinsmen in a land unknown.
Beneath a shrub he was laid down to die;
But help was near, for God had heard his cry.
“Exceeding wise,” and yet a little thing,
She dwells within the palace of a king.
That spot on earth where two poor sinners tried
From the all-seeing God their shame to hide.
The name of him, with wine-cup in his hands,
With a sad face, before a monarch stands.
A wondrous truth concerning Christ the Lord,
And without which, the Scriptures say ‘tis plain,
All faith in Him, and hope of heav’n are vain.