bring
It on your shoulder home?
And when you've found it, you would say,
"Go, bid my neighbours come,

"That they may all rejoice with me,
For I have found that one
Of all my sheep, that left the fold,
And wander'd off alone."

"E'en so," said Jesus, "there is joy
In Heaven when sinners come;
The angels strike their harps anew,
And welcome sinners home."

VII.

THE BARREN FIG TREE.

A certain man a fig tree had,
He look'd for fruit thereon,
And year by year he came and sought,
But still it yielded none.

He said unto his servant, "Wait
No longer, cut it down;
I've sought these three years here for fruit,
And finding there is none,

"Why cumbereth it the ground?" "O, no,
Let it alone this year,"
The servant said, "I'll nurse it well,
Perhaps it then will bear.

"But if it will not bear, when I
Have dug and dress'd around,
Why, cut it down, it will not yield,
It cumbereth the ground."

Just so it is with those who hear
The Saviour's welcome voice;
Who still refuse His grace to know,
And make the world their choice.

The Saviour will not always bear
With those who from Him stay;
And those who long His grace despise,
Will grieve His love away.

VIII.

THE UNJUST JUDGE.

He spake another Parable,
To show that men should pray
And never faint, but pray in faith,
And plead from day to day.

There was a judge, who fear'd not God,
Nor yet regarded man;
There came to him a widow poor,
His judgment to obtain.

"Avenge me of mine enemy,"
She cried from day to day;
And though he did not her regard,
Yet she did daily pray.

And soon he said within himself,
"Though I regard no man,
And fear not God, yet to her words
Resistance is in vain.

"For if she thus, with pleadings loud,
Besets my door each day,
Her coming soon will weary me,
I'll send her then away.

"I will at once grant her request,
And judge her enemy,
And then she will depart in peace,
And no more trouble me."

Now hear what the unjust judge saith;
And will not God regard
His children when to Him they cry,
Depending on His word?

He will regard their humble prayer
Their simplest, feeblest sigh,
And stooping down, will bless them from
His gracious Throne on high.

IX.

THE PHARISEE AND THE PUBLICAN.