She left her home that morn
    In fair Samaria’s land,
    All heedless of her state forlorn,
    Sin-bound, both heart and hand. 
    With prejudicial pride
    She scorned the meek request
    Of One who sat the well beside,
    With heat and thirst opprest. 
    “Thou art a Jew,” she said,
    “And asketh drink of me? 
    Samaria’s daughter was not bred
    To deal with such as thee.” 
    She would not yield a sip
    E’en if its maker sued,
    While he from love, with thirsting lip,
    Sought and her heart renewed. 
    He made her ask for life,
    Eternal life through him,
    And “living water” was the type
    To her perception dim. 
    O yes!  She fain would taste
    And never thirst again,
    And never cross the burning waste
    In weariness and pain! 
    Her life he questioned now;
    Revealed her history.

    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.