To celebrate the Passover, ordain'd T'eternize their deliv'rance, when God's wrath

Smote ev'ry first-born male in Mizraim's coast,

Save where the blood of lamb piacular,
Sprinkling the consecrated door, was found
Of the destroying angel: To this feast,
Prelusive of his own pure sacrifice,
And type of his blood-shedding, JESUS came:
The guests were present and the table spread;
With loins begirt, as men upon the march,
And staff in hand, they snatch a hasty meal:
This done, in pensive meditation wrapt,
The Saviour, conscious of impending death,
Sate in the midst; to his all-presen! mind
The treason and the traitor stood confest.
Low'ring, abash'd and from the rest apart,
ISCARIOT at the table's lowest foot

Took post, where best he might escape that glance,

From whose intelligence no heart could hide
Its guilty meditations: All eyes else
Were center'd on the Saviour's face divine,
Which with the brightness of the Godhead
mix'd

Traces of human sorrow, and display'd
The workings of a mind, where mercy seem'd
Struggling to reconcile some mortal wrong
To pardon and forbearance; Such a look
Made silence sacred, every tongue was mute;
Ev'n PETER'S zeal forbore the vent of
words,

Or spent itself in murmurs half supprest. At length the meek REDEEMER rais'd his eyes,

Where gentle resignation, tempering grief,
Beam'd grace ineffable on all around,
And with these words the awful silence
broke,

Muse not if I am sad, nor stand aghast As doubtful of my constancy; these pangs And more which I must suffer, were fore

seen;

The hour now coming, comes not by surprise,
It is the consummation of my charge,
And fills the measure of atonement up.
Shall I then say, Father, avert this hour,
And save me from these agonies? Not so,
With heart prepar'd to suffer and submit
I meet my doom forewarn'd; Yet ere we part

Take this last office from your Master's hands; And when you see me stoop to wash your feet, As soon you shall, remember 'tis your Lord, Your dying Lord this legacy bequeaths, And edify by his humility.

This said, his seamless mantle he threw off, And girt his tunic close about his waist; And now with mute amazement they beheld The Son of God in servant-like attire Prepar'd to execute his menial task. All gaz'd, all wonder'd, but no voice oppos'd; None dar'd to pray forbearance of the deed, Till he, whose heart was ever on his lips, PETER, in warm expostulation cried :

Lord, dost thou wash my feet, thy servant's feet,

Mean as the dust he treads on? Never, Lord,
Never shalt thou do that for one so vile,
So all-unworthy: That be far from thee!
Such homage ill beseemeth thee to pay,
Me to receive.-To him the Lord replied:

PETER, as yet thou know'st not what I do, Hereafter thou shalt know; therefore no

more :

Cease to oppose; for if I wash thee not, With me thou hast no part,-Struck to the soul

With horror at the thought, his eager words, Wing'd with the flame of rhapsody, burst forth:

Oh! not my feet alone, my hands, my head,

Wash me all o'er, and sanctify each part.

There needs not this, the meek REDEEMER cried,

Enough is done; thus wash'd, though but in part,

Thou shall be clean throughout: Yet I'll

not say,

Ye are all clean: Spite of the Shepherd's

care

The taint hath touch'd his flock. Alas! for him

On whom the foul contamination lights! Wo to that wretch that ever he was born! And do you need a comment to expound This lesson of humility and love?

Ye call me Lord and Master; well ye say, For such in truth I am; if then your Lord Be meek and lowly, will not ye renounce Pride and contention? If the Master stoops To wash his feet who serves, shall ye do less To these your equal brethren? Learn of me, And each with other deal, as I with you: Write on your hearts my words; the time draws nigh

When I shall speak no more with you on earth:

Ye have all heard; how blest if ye obey! I speak not of you all: Whilst here ye sit In seeming fellowship around my board, Sharing this social meal, my last on earth, Doubt not but I can search into your breasts, And see whose hearts are loyal, whose is false;

And mark me well, I fall not by man's wiles,

Not unpredicted is the trait'rous act,

And well I know the wretch, whose faithless hand

Dips with me in the dish, shall soon be dy'd With my devoted blood. Betray'd I am, Deceiv'd I cannot be.-This when they heard,

Each with the other interchang'd a look Of question and suspect: speechless they gaz'd,

Confounded and aghast: As men drawn forth

Omniscience, which to God alone belongs,
Familiar with their thoughts, and every soul,
Save that dire wretch whom conscience inly
smote,

Trembled, lest unpremeditated guilt
Might be denounc'd upon him, or the sin
Of one man, as of Korah, move the Lord
With the whole congregation to be wroth.
But PETER, in whose ever-anxious mind
These terrors undispell'd long could not
dwell,

To the belov'd Disciple, on the breast
Of CHRIST reclining, now gave sign to ask
The fearful question, in what traitor's heart
Plot so accurs'd could harbour. Thus be-
sought,

Though much his humble nature fear'd offence,

In accent soft, with supplicating eye Turn'd on the Master, the meek suitor said; Lord, shew thy true and faithful servants

grace,

And let us know the traitor.-He it is JESUS replied, on whom I shall bestow This sop, when I have dipp'd it in my cup.