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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Christian Year
+by Rev. John Keble
+
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+Title: The Christian Year
+
+Author: Rev. John Keble
+
+Release Date: July, 2003  [Etext #4272]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on December 25, 2001]
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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Christian Year
+by Rev. John Keble
+******This file should be named chryr10.txt or chryr10.zip******
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+Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk.  From
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+
+
+
+THE CHRISTIAN YEAR
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+
+John Keble, two years older than his friend Dr. Arnold of Rugby,
+three years older than Thomas Carlyle, and nine years older than
+John Henry Newman, was born in 1792, at Fairford in Gloucestershire.
+He was born in his father's parsonage, and educated at home by his
+father till he went to college.  His father then entered him at his
+own college at Oxford, Corpus Christi.  Thoroughly trained, Keble
+obtained high reputation at his University for character and
+scholarship, and became a Fellow of Oriel.  After some years he gave
+up work in the University, though he could not divest himself of a
+large influence there for good, returned home to his old father, who
+required help in his ministry, and undertook for his the duty of two
+little curacies.  The father lived on to the age of ninety.  John
+Keble's love for God and his devotion to the Church had often been
+expressed in verse.  On days which the Church specially celebrated,
+he had from time to time written short poems to utter from the heart
+his own devout sense of their spiritual use and meaning.  As the
+number of these poems increased, the desire rose to follow in like
+manner the while course of the Christian Year as it was marked for
+the people by the sequence of church services, which had been
+arranged to bring in due order before the minds of Christian
+worshippers all the foundations of their faith, and all the elements
+of a religious life.  A book of poems, breathing faith and worship
+at all points, and in all attitudes of heavenward contemplation,
+within the circle of the Christian Year, would, he hoped, restore in
+many minds to many a benumbed form life and energy.
+
+In 1825, while the poems of the Christian Year were gradually being
+shaped into a single work, a brother became able to relieve John
+Keble in that pious care for which his father had drawn him away
+from a great University career, and he then went to a curacy at
+Hursley, four or five miles from Winchester.
+
+In 1827--when its author's age was thirty-five--"The Christian Year"
+was published.  Like George Herbert, whose equal he was in piety
+though not in power, Keble was joined to the Church in fullest
+sympathy with all its ordinances, and desired to quicken worship by
+putting into each part of the ritual a life that might pass into and
+raise the life of man.  The spirit of true religion, with a power
+beyond that of any earthly feuds and controversies, binds together
+those in whom it really lives.  Setting aside all smaller questions
+of the relative value of different earthly means to the attainment
+of a life hidden with Christ in God, Christians of all forms who are
+one in spirit have found help from "John Keble's Christian Year, and
+think of its guileless author with kindly affection.  Within five-
+and-twenty years of its publication, a hundred thousand copies had
+been sold.  The book is still diffused so widely, in editions of all
+forms, that it may yet go on, until the circle of the years shall be
+no more, living and making live.
+
+Four years after "The Christian Year appeared, Keble was appointed
+(in 1831) to the usual five years' tenure of the Poetry
+Professorship at Oxford.  Two years after he had been appointed
+Poetry Professor, he preached the Assize Sermon, and took for his
+theme "National Apostasy."  John Henry Newman, who had obtained his
+Fellowship at Oriel some years before the publication of "The
+Christian Year," and was twenty-six years old when it appeared,
+received from it a strong impulse towards the endeavour to revive
+the spirit of the Church by restoring life and soul to all her
+ordinances, and even to the minutest detail of her ritual.  The deep
+respect felt for the author of "The Christian Year" gave power to
+the sermon of 1833 upon National Apostasy, and made it the starting-
+point of the Oxford movement known as Tractarian, from the issue of
+tracts through which its promoters sought to stir life in the clergy
+and the people; known also as Puseyite because it received help at
+the end of the year 1833 from Dr. Pusey, who was of like age with J.
+H. Newman, and then Regius Professor of Hebrew.  There was a danger,
+which some then foresaw, in the nature of this endeavour to put life
+into the Church; but we all now recognise the purity of Christian
+zeal that prompted the attempt to make dead forms of ceremonial glow
+again with spiritual fire, and serve as aids to the recovery of
+light and warmth in our devotions.
+
+It was in 1833 that Keble, by one earnest sermon, with a pure life
+at the back of it, and this book that had prepared the way, gave the
+direct impulse to an Oxford movement for the reformation of the
+Church.  The movement then began.  But Keble went back to his curacy
+at Hursley.  Two years afterwards the curate became vicar, and then
+Keble married.  His after-life continued innocent and happy.  He and
+his wife died within two months of each other, in the came year,
+1866.  He had taken part with his friends at Oxford by writing five
+of their Tracts, publishing a few sermons that laboured towards the
+same end, and editing a "Library of the Fathers."  In 1847 he
+produced another volume of poems, "Lyra Innocentium," which
+associated doctrines of the Church with the lives of children, whom
+he loved, though his own marriage was childless.
+
+The power of Keble's verse lies in its truth.  A faithful and pure
+nature, strong in home affections, full of love and reverence for
+all that is of heaven in our earthly lot, strives for the full
+consecration of man's life with love and faith.  There is no rare
+gift of genius.  Keble is not in subtlety of thought or of
+expression another George Herbert, or another Henry Vaughan.  But
+his voice is not the less in unison with theirs, for every note is
+true, and wins us by its purity.  His also are melodies of the
+everlasting chime.
+
+
+      "And be ye sure that Love can bless
+      E'en in this crowded loneliness,
+Where ever moving myriads seem to say,
+Go--thou art nought to us, nor we to thee--away!"
+
+"There are in this loud stunning tide
+   Of human care and crime,
+With whom the melodies abide
+   Of the everlasting chime;
+Who carry music in their heart
+   Through dusky lane and wrangling mart,
+Plying their daily task with busier feet,
+   Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat."
+
+With a peal, then, of such music let us ring in the New Year for our
+Library; and for our lives.
+
+January 1, 1887.  H. M.
+
+
+
+DEDICATION.
+
+
+
+When in my silent solitary walk,
+   I sought a strain not all unworthy Thee,
+My heart, still ringing with wild worldly talk,
+   Gave forth no note of holier minstrelsy.
+
+Prayer is the secret, to myself I said,
+   Strong supplication must call down the charm,
+And thus with untuned heart I feebly prayed,
+   Knocking at Heaven's gate with earth-palsied arm.
+
+Fountain of Harmony!  Thou Spirit blest,
+   By whom the troubled waves of earthly sound
+Are gathered into order, such as best
+   Some high-souled bard in his enchanted round
+
+May compass, Power divine!  Oh, spread Thy wing,
+   Thy dovelike wing that makes confusion fly,
+Over my dark, void spirit, summoning
+   New worlds of music, strains that may not die.
+
+Oh, happiest who before thine altar wait,
+   With pure hands ever holding up on high
+The guiding Star of all who seek Thy gate,
+   The undying lamp of heavenly Poesy.
+
+Too weak, too wavering, for such holy task
+   Is my frail arm, O Lord; but I would fain
+Track to its source the brightness, I would bask
+   In the clear ray that makes Thy pathway plain.
+
+I dare not hope with David's harp to chase
+   The evil spirit from the troubled breast;
+Enough for me if I can find such grace
+   To listen to the strain, and be at rest.
+
+
+
+THE CHRISTIAN YEAR.
+
+
+
+MORNING
+
+His compassions fail not.  They are new every morning.  Lament.
+iii. 22, 23.
+
+Hues of the rich unfolding morn,
+That, ere the glorious sun be born,
+By some soft touch invisible
+Around his path are taught to swell; -
+
+Thou rustling breeze so fresh and gay,
+That dancest forth at opening day,
+And brushing by with joyous wing,
+Wakenest each little leaf to sing; -
+
+Ye fragrant clouds of dewy steam,
+By which deep grove and tangled stream
+Pay, for soft rains in season given,
+Their tribute to the genial heaven; -
+
+Why waste your treasures of delight
+Upon our thankless, joyless sight;
+Who day by day to sin awake,
+Seldom of Heaven and you partake?
+
+Oh, timely happy, timely wise,
+Hearts that with rising morn arise!
+Eyes that the beam celestial view,
+Which evermore makes all things new!
+
+New every morning is the love
+Our wakening and uprising prove;
+Through sleep and darkness safely brought,
+Restored to life, and power, and thought.
+
+New mercies, each returning day,
+Hover around us while we pray;
+New perils past, new sins forgiven,
+New thoughts of God, new hopes of Heaven.
+
+If on our daily course our mind
+Be set to hallow all we find,
+New treasures still, of countless price,
+God will provide for sacrifice.
+
+Old friends, old scenes will lovelier be,
+As more of Heaven in each we see:
+Some softening gleam of love and prayer
+Shall dawn on every cross and care.
+
+As for some dear familiar strain
+Untired we ask, and ask again,
+Ever, in its melodious store,
+Finding a spell unheard before;
+
+Such is the bliss of souls serene,
+When they have sworn, and stedfast mean,
+Counting the cost, in all t' espy
+Their God, in all themselves deny.
+
+Oh, could we learn that sacrifice,
+What lights would all around us rise!
+How would our hearts with wisdom talk
+Along Life's dullest, dreariest walk!
+
+We need not bid, for cloistered cell,
+Our neighbour and our work farewell,
+Nor strive to wind ourselves too high
+For sinful man beneath the sky:
+
+The trivial round, the common task,
+Would furnish all we ought to ask;
+Room to deny ourselves; a road
+To bring us daily nearer God.
+
+Seek we no more; content with these,
+Let present Rapture, Comfort, Ease,
+As Heaven shall bid them, come and go:-
+The secret this of Rest below.
+
+Only, O Lord, in Thy dear love
+Fit us for perfect Rest above;
+And help us, this and every day,
+To live more nearly as we pray.
+
+
+
+EVENING
+
+
+
+Abide with us:  for it is toward evening, and the day is far
+spent.--St. Luke xxiv. 29.
+
+'Tis gone, that bright and orbed blaze,
+Fast fading from our wistful gaze;
+You mantling cloud has hid from sight
+The last faint pulse of quivering light.
+
+In darkness and in weariness
+The traveller on his way must press,
+No gleam to watch on tree or tower,
+Whiling away the lonesome hour.
+
+Sun of my soul!  Thou Saviour dear,
+It is not night if Thou be near:
+Oh, may no earth-born cloud arise
+To hide Thee from Thy servant's eyes!
+
+When round Thy wondrous works below
+My searching rapturous glance I throw,
+Tracing out Wisdom, Power and Love,
+In earth or sky, in stream or grove; -
+
+Or by the light Thy words disclose
+Watch Time's full river as it flows,
+Scanning Thy gracious Providence,
+Where not too deep for mortal sense:-
+
+When with dear friends sweet talk I hold,
+And all the flowers of life unfold;
+Let not my heart within me burn,
+Except in all I Thee discern.
+
+When the soft dews of kindly sleep
+My wearied eyelids gently steep,
+Be my last thought, how sweet to rest
+For ever on my Saviour's breast.
+
+Abide with me from morn till eve,
+For without Thee I cannot live:
+Abide with me when night is nigh,
+For without Thee I dare not die.
+
+Thou Framer of the light and dark,
+Steer through the tempest Thine own ark:
+Amid the howling wintry sea
+We are in port if we have Thee.
+
+The Rulers of this Christian land,
+'Twixt Thee and us ordained to stand, -
+Guide Thou their course, O Lord, aright,
+Let all do all as in Thy sight.
+
+Oh! by Thine own sad burthen, borne
+So meekly up the hill of scorn,
+Teach Thou Thy Priests their daily cross
+To bear as Thine, nor count it loss!
+
+If some poor wandering child of Thine
+Have spurned to-day the voice divine,
+Now, Lord, the gracious work begin;
+Let him no more lie down in sin.
+
+Watch by the sick:  enrich the poor
+With blessings from Thy boundless store:
+Be every mourner's sleep to-night,
+Like infants' slumbers, pure and light.
+
+Come near and bless us when we wake,
+Ere through the world our way we take;
+Till in the ocean of Thy love
+We lose ourselves, in Heaven above.
+
+
+
+ADVENT SUNDAY
+
+
+
+Now it is high time to awake out of sleep:  for now is our
+salvation nearer than when we believed.--Romans xiii 11.
+
+Awake--again the Gospel-trump is blown -
+From year to year it swells with louder tone,
+   From year to year the signs of wrath
+   Are gathering round the Judge's path,
+Strange words fulfilled, and mighty works achieved,
+And truth in all the world both hated and believed.
+
+Awake! why linger in the gorgeous town,
+Sworn liegemen of the Cross and thorny crown?
+   Up from your beds of sloth for shame,
+   Speed to the eastern mount like flame,
+Nor wonder, should ye find your King in tears,
+E'en with the loud Hosanna ringing in His ears.
+
+Alas! no need to rouse them:  long ago
+They are gone forth to swell Messiah's show:
+   With glittering robes and garlands sweet
+   They strew the ground beneath His feet:
+All but your hearts are there--O doomed to prove
+The arrows winged in Heaven for Faith that will not love!
+
+Meanwhile He passes through th' adoring crowd,
+Calm as the march of some majestic cloud,
+   That o'er wild scenes of ocean-war
+   Holds its still course in Heaven afar:
+E'en so, heart-searching Lord, as years roll on,
+Thou keepest silent watch from Thy triumphal throne:
+
+E'en so, the world is thronging round to gaze
+On the dread vision of the latter days,
+   Constrained to own Thee, but in heart
+   Prepared to take Barabbas' part:
+"Hosanna" now, to-morrow "Crucify,"
+The changeful burden still of their rude lawless cry.
+
+Yet in that throng of selfish hearts untrue
+Thy sad eye rests upon Thy faithful few,
+   Children and childlike souls are there,
+   Blind Bartimeus' humble prayer,
+And Lazarus wakened from his four days' sleep,
+Enduring life again, that Passover to keep.
+
+And fast beside the olive-bordered way
+Stands the blessed home where Jesus deigned to stay,
+   The peaceful home, to Zeal sincere
+   And heavenly Contemplation dear,
+Where Martha loved to wait with reverence meet,
+And wiser Mary lingered at Thy sacred feet.
+
+Still through decaying ages as they glide,
+Thou lov'st Thy chosen remnant to divide;
+   Sprinkled along the waste of years
+   Full many a soft green isle appears:
+Pause where we may upon the desert road,
+Some shelter is in sight, some sacred safe abode.
+
+When withering blasts of error swept the sky,
+And Love's last flower seemed fain to droop and die,
+   How sweet, how lone the ray benign
+   On sheltered nooks of Palestine!
+Then to his early home did Love repair,
+And cheered his sickening heart with his own native air.
+
+Years roll away:  again the tide of crime
+Has swept Thy footsteps from the favoured clime
+   Where shall the holy Cross find rest?
+   On a crowned monarch's mailed breast:
+Like some bright angel o'er the darkling scene,
+Through court and camp he holds his heavenward course serene.
+
+A fouler vision yet; an age of light,
+Light without love, glares on the aching sight:
+   Oh, who can tell how calm and sweet,
+   Meek Walton, shows thy green retreat,
+When wearied with the tale thy times disclose,
+The eye first finds thee out in thy secure repose?
+
+Thus bad and good their several warnings give
+Of His approach, whom none may see and live:
+   Faith's ear, with awful still delight,
+   Counts them like minute-bells at night.
+Keeping the heart awake till dawn of morn,
+While to her funeral pile this aged world is borne.
+
+But what are Heaven's alarms to hearts that cower
+In wilful slumber, deepening every hour,
+   That draw their curtains closer round,
+   The nearer swells the trumpet's sound?
+Lord, ere our trembling lamps sink down and die,
+Touch us with chastening hand, and make us feel Thee nigh.
+
+
+
+SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT
+
+
+
+And when these things begin to pass, then look up, and lift up your
+heads; for your redemption draweth night.  St. Luke xxi. 28.
+
+Not till the freezing blast is still,
+Till freely leaps the sparkling rill,
+And gales sweep soft from summer skies,
+As o'er a sleeping infant's eyes
+A mother's kiss; ere calls like these,
+No sunny gleam awakes the trees,
+Nor dare the tender flowerets show
+Their bosoms to th' uncertain glow.
+
+Why then, in sad and wintry time,
+Her heavens all dark with doubt and crime,
+Why lifts the Church her drooping head,
+As though her evil hour were fled?
+Is she less wise than leaves of spring,
+Or birds that cower with folded wing?
+What sees she in this lowering sky
+To tempt her meditative eye?
+
+She has a charm, a word of fire,
+A pledge of love that cannot tire;
+By tempests, earthquakes, and by wars,
+By rushing waves and falling stars,
+By every sign her Lord foretold,
+She sees the world is waxing old,
+And through that last and direst storm
+Descries by faith her Saviour's form.
+
+Not surer does each tender gem,
+Set in the fig-tree's polish'd stem,
+Foreshow the summer season bland,
+Than these dread signs Thy mighty hand:
+But, oh, frail hearts, and spirits dark!
+The season's flight unwarn'd we mark,
+But miss the Judge behind the door,
+For all the light of sacred lore:
+
+Yet is He there; beneath our eaves
+Each sound His wakeful ear receives:
+Hush, idle words, and thoughts of ill,
+Your Lord is listening:  peace, be still.
+Christ watches by a Christian's hearth,
+Be silent, "vain deluding mirth,"
+Till in thine alter'd voice be known
+Somewhat of Resignation's tone.
+
+But chiefly ye should lift your gaze
+Above the world's uncertain haze,
+And look with calm unwavering eye
+On the bright fields beyond the sky,
+Ye, who your Lord's commission bear
+His way of mercy to prepare:
+Angels He calls ye:  be your strife
+To lead on earth an Angel's life.
+
+Think not of rest; though dreams be sweet,
+Start up, and ply your heavenward feet.
+Is not God's oath upon your head,
+Ne'er to sink back on slothful bed,
+Never again your loans untie,
+Nor let your torches waste and die,
+Till, when the shadows thickest fall,
+Ye hear your Master's midnight call?
+
+
+
+THIRD SUNDAY IN ADVENT
+
+
+
+What went ye out into the wilderness to see?  A reed shaken with
+the wind? . . . But what went ye out for to see?  A prophet? yea, I
+say unto you, and more than a prophet.  St. Matthew xi. 7, 9.
+
+   What went ye out to see
+   O'er the rude sandy lea,
+Where stately Jordan flows by many a palm,
+   Or where Gennesaret's wave
+   Delights the flowers to lave,
+That o'er her western slope breathe airs of balm.
+
+   All through the summer night,
+   Those blossoms red and bright
+Spread their soft breasts, unheeding, to the breeze,
+   Like hermits watching still
+   Around the sacred hill,
+Where erst our Saviour watched upon His knees.
+
+   The Paschal moon above
+   Seems like a saint to rove,
+Left shining in the world with Christ alone;
+   Below, the lake's still face
+   Sleeps sweetly in th' embrace
+Of mountains terrac'd high with mossy stone.
+
+   Here may we sit, and dream
+   Over the heavenly theme,
+Till to our soul the former days return;
+   Till on the grassy bed,
+   Where thousands once He fed,
+The world's incarnate Maker we discern.
+
+   O cross no more the main,
+   Wandering so will and vain,
+To count the reeds that tremble in the wind,
+   On listless dalliance bound,
+   Like children gazing round,
+Who on God's works no seal of Godhead find.
+
+   Bask not in courtly bower,
+   Or sun-bright hall of power,
+Pass Babel quick, and seek the holy land -
+   From robes of Tyrian dye
+   Turn with undazzled eye
+To Bethlehem's glade, or Carmel's haunted strand.
+
+   Or choose thee out a cell
+   In Kedron's storied dell,
+Beside the springs of Love, that never die;
+   Among the olives kneel
+   The chill night-blast to feel,
+And watch the Moon that saw thy Master's agony.
+
+   Then rise at dawn of day,
+   And wind thy thoughtful way,
+Where rested once the Temple's stately shade,
+   With due feet tracing round
+   The city's northern bound,
+To th' other holy garden, where the Lord was laid.
+
+   Who thus alternate see
+   His death and victory,
+Rising and falling as on angel wings,
+   They, while they seem to roam,
+   Draw daily nearer home,
+Their heart untravell'd still adores the King of kings.
+
+   Or, if at home they stay,
+   Yet are they, day by day,
+In spirit journeying through the glorious land,
+   Not for light Fancy's reed,
+   Nor Honour's purple meed,
+Nor gifted Prophet's lore, nor Science' wondrous wand.
+
+   But more than Prophet, more
+   Than Angels can adore
+With face unveiled, is He they go to seek:
+   Blessed be God, Whose grace
+   Shows Him in every place
+To homeliest hearts of pilgrims pure and meek.
+
+
+
+FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT
+
+
+
+The eyes of them that see shall not be dim, and the ears of them
+that hear shall hearken.  Isaiah xxxii. 3
+
+Of the bright things in earth and air
+   How little can the heart embrace!
+Soft shades and gleaming lights are there -
+   I know it well, but cannot trace.
+
+Mine eye unworthy seems to read
+   One page of Nature's beauteous book;
+It lies before me, fair outspread -
+   I only cast a wishful look.
+
+I cannot paint to Memory's eye
+   The scene, the glance, I dearest love -
+Unchanged themselves, in me they die,
+   Or faint or false their shadows prove.
+
+In vain, with dull and tuneless ear,
+   I linger by soft Music's cell,
+And in my heart of hearts would hear
+   What to her own she deigns to tell.
+
+'Tis misty all, both sight and sound -
+   I only know 'tis fair and sweet -
+'Tis wandering on enchanted ground
+   With dizzy brow and tottering feet.
+
+But patience! there may come a time
+   When these dull ears shall scan aright
+Strains that outring Earth's drowsy chime,
+   As Heaven outshines the taper's light.
+
+These eyes, that dazzled now and weak,
+   At glancing motes in sunshine wink.
+Shall see the Kings full glory break,
+   Nor from the blissful vision shrink:
+
+In fearless love and hope uncloyed
+   For ever on that ocean bright
+Empowered to gaze; and undestroyed,
+   Deeper and deeper plunge in light.
+
+Though scarcely now their laggard glance
+   Reach to an arrow's flight, that day
+They shall behold, and not in trance,
+   The region "very far away."
+
+If Memory sometimes at our spell
+   Refuse to speak, or speak amiss,
+We shall not need her where we dwell
+   Ever in sight of all our bliss.
+
+Meanwhile, if over sea or sky
+   Some tender lights unnoticed fleet,
+Or on loved features dawn and die,
+   Unread, to us, their lesson sweet;
+
+Yet are there saddening sights around,
+   Which Heaven, in mercy, spares us too,
+And we see far in holy ground,
+   If duly purged our mental view.
+
+The distant landscape draws not nigh
+   For all our gazing; but the soul,
+That upward looks, may still descry
+   Nearer, each day, the brightening goal.
+
+And thou, too curious ear, that fain
+   Wouldst thread the maze of Harmony,
+Content thee with one simple strain,
+   The lowlier, sure, the worthier thee;
+
+Till thou art duly trained, and taught
+   The concord sweet of Love divine:
+Then, with that inward Music fraught,
+   For ever rise, and sing, and shine.
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS DAY
+
+
+
+And suddenly there was with the Angel a multitude of the heavenly
+host, praising God.  St. Luke ii. 13.
+
+      What sudden blaze of song
+         Spreads o'er th' expanse of Heaven?
+   In waves of light it thrills along,
+         Th' angelic signal given -
+   "Glory to God!" from yonder central fire
+Flows out the echoing lay beyond the starry choir;
+
+      Like circles widening round
+         Upon a clear blue river,
+   Orb after orb, the wondrous sound
+         Is echoed on for ever:
+   "Glory to God on high, on earth be peace,
+And love towards men of love--salvation and release."
+
+      Yet stay, before thou dare
+         To join that festal throng;
+   Listen and mark what gentle air
+         First stirred the tide of song;
+   'Tis not, "the Saviour born in David's home,
+To Whom for power and health obedient worlds should come:" -
+
+      'Tis not, "the Christ the Lord:"
+         With fixed adoring look
+   The choir of Angels caught the word,
+         Nor yet their silence broke:
+   But when they heard the sign where Christ should be,
+In sudden light they shone and heavenly harmony.
+
+      Wrapped in His swaddling bands,
+         And in His manger laid,
+   The Hope and Glory of all lands
+         Is come to the world's aid:
+   No peaceful home upon his cradle smiled,
+Guests rudely went and came, where slept the royal Child.
+
+      But where Thou dwellest, Lord,
+         No other thought should be,
+   Once duly welcomed and adored,
+         How should I part with Thee?
+   Bethlehem must lose Thee soon, but Thou wilt grace
+The single heart to be Thy sure abiding-place.
+
+      Thee, on the bosom laid
+         Of a pure virgin mind,
+   In quiet ever, and in shade,
+         Shepherd and sage may find;
+   They, who have bowed untaught to Nature's sway,
+And they, who follow Truth along her star-paved way.
+
+      The pastoral spirits first
+         Approach Thee, Babe divine,
+   For they in lowly thoughts are nursed,
+         Meet for Thy lowly shrine:
+   Sooner than they should miss where Thou dost dwell,
+Angela from Heaven will stoop to guide them to Thy cell.
+
+      Still, as the day comes round
+         For Thee to be revealed,
+   By wakeful shepherds Thou art found,
+         Abiding in the field.
+   All through the wintry heaven and chill night air,
+In music and in light Thou dawnest on their prayer.
+
+      O faint not ye for fear -
+         What though your wandering sheep,
+   Reckless of what they see and hear,
+         Lie lost in wilful sleep?
+   High Heaven in mercy to your sad annoy
+Still greets you with glad tidings of immortal joy.
+
+      Think on th' eternal home,
+         The Saviour left for you;
+   Think on the Lord most holy, come
+         To dwell with hearts untrue:
+   So shall ye tread untired His pastoral ways,
+And in the darkness sing your carol of high praise.
+
+
+
+ST. STEPHEN'S DAY
+
+
+
+He, being full of the Holy Ghost, looked up steadfastly into
+heaven, and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing on the right
+hand of God.  Acts vii. 55
+
+As rays around the source of light
+Stream upward ere he glow in sight,
+And watching by his future flight
+   Set the clear heavens on fire;
+So on the King of Martyrs wait
+Three chosen bands, in royal state,
+And all earth owns, of good and great,
+   Is gather'd in that choir.
+
+One presses on, and welcomes death:
+One calmly yields his willing breath,
+Nor slow, nor hurrying, but in faith
+   Content to die or live:
+And some, the darlings of their Lord,
+Play smiling with the flame and sword,
+And, ere they speak, to His sure word
+   Unconscious witness give.
+
+Foremost and nearest to His throne,
+By perfect robes of triumph known,
+And likest Him in look and tone,
+   The holy Stephen kneels,
+With stedfast gaze, as when the sky
+Flew open to his fainting eye,
+Which, like a fading lamp, flash'd high,
+   Seeing what death conceals.
+
+Well might you guess what vision bright
+Was present to his raptured sight,
+E'en as reflected streams of light
+   Their solar source betray -
+The glory which our God surrounds,
+The Son of Man, the atoning wounds -
+He sees them all; and earth's dull bounds
+   Are melting fast away.
+
+He sees them all--no other view
+Could stamp the Saviour's likeness true,
+Or with His love so deep embrue
+   Man's sullen heart and gross -
+"Jesus, do Thou my soul receive:
+Jesu, do Thou my foes forgive;"
+He who would learn that prayer must live
+   Under the holy Cross.
+
+He, though he seem on earth to move,
+Must glide in air like gentle dove,
+From yon unclouded depths above
+   Must draw his purer breath;
+Till men behold his angel face
+All radiant with celestial grace,
+Martyr all o'er, and meet to trace
+   The lines of Jesus' death.
+
+
+
+ST. JOHN'S DAY
+
+
+
+Peter seeing him, saith to Jesus, Lord, and what shall this man do?
+Jesus saith unto him, If I will that he tarry till I come, what is
+that to thee? follow thou Me.  St. John xxi. 21, 22.
+
+"Lord, and what shall this man do?"
+   Ask'st thou, Christian, for thy friend?
+If his love for Christ be true,
+   Christ hath told thee of his end:
+This is he whom God approves,
+This is he whom Jesus loves.
+
+Ask not of him more than this,
+   Leave it in his Saviour's breast,
+Whether, early called to bliss,
+   He in youth shall find his rest,
+Or armed in his station wait
+Till his Lord be at the gate:
+
+Whether in his lonely course
+   (Lonely, not forlorn) he stay,
+Or with Love's supporting force
+   Cheat the toil, and cheer the way:
+Leave it all in His high hand,
+Who doth hearts as streams command.
+
+Gales from Heaven, if so He will,
+   Sweeter melodies can wake
+On the lonely mountain rill
+   Than the meeting waters make.
+Who hath the Father and the Son,
+May be left, but not alone.
+
+Sick or healthful, slave or free,
+   Wealthy, or despised and poor -
+What is that to him or thee,
+   So his love to Christ endure?
+When the shore is won at last,
+Who will count the billows past?
+
+Only, since our souls will shrink
+   At the touch of natural grief,
+When our earthly loved ones sink,
+   Lend us, Lord, Thy sure relief;
+Patient hearts, their pain to see,
+And Thy grace, to follow Thee.
+
+
+
+THE HOLY INNOCENTS
+
+
+
+These were redeemed from among men, being the firstfruits unto God
+and to the Lamb.  Rev. xiv. 4.
+
+   Say, ye celestial guards, who wait
+In Bethlehem, round the Saviour's palace gate,
+   Say, who are these on golden wings,
+That hover o'er the new-born King of kings,
+   Their palms and garlands telling plain
+That they are of the glorious martyr-train,
+   Next to yourselves ordained to praise
+His Name, and brighten as on Him they gaze?
+
+   But where their spoils and trophies? where
+The glorious dint a martyr's shield should bear?
+   How chance no cheek among them wears
+The deep-worn trace of penitential tears,
+   But all is bright and smiling love,
+As if, fresh-borne from Eden's happy grove,
+   They had flown here, their King to see,
+Nor ever had been heirs of dark mortality?
+
+   Ask, and some angel will reply,
+"These, like yourselves, were born to sin and die,
+   But ere the poison root was grown,
+God set His seal, and marked them for His own.
+   Baptised its blood for Jesus' sake,
+Now underneath the Cross their bed they make,
+   Not to be scared from that sure rest
+By frightened mother's shriek, or warrior's waving crest."
+
+   Mindful of these, the firstfruits sweet
+Borne by this suffering Church her Lord to greet;
+   Blessed Jesus ever loved to trace
+The "innocent brightness" of an infant's face.
+   He raised them in His holy arms,
+He blessed them from the world and all its harms:
+   Heirs though they were of sin and shame,
+He blessed them in his own and in his Father's Name.
+
+   Then, as each fond unconscious child
+ On the everlasting Parent sweetly smiled
+    (Like infants sporting on the shore,
+That tremble not at Ocean's boundless roar),
+   Were they not present to Thy thought,
+All souls, that in their cradles Thou hast bought?
+   But chiefly these, who died for Thee,
+That Thou might'st live for them a sadder death to see.
+
+   And next to these, Thy gracious word
+Was as a pledge of benediction stored
+   For Christian mothers, while they moan
+Their treasured hopes, just born, baptised, and gone.
+   Oh, joy for Rachel's broken heart!
+She and her babes shall meet no more to part;
+   So dear to Christ her pious haste
+To trust them in His arms for ever safe embraced.
+
+   She dares not grudge to leave them there,
+Where to behold them was her heart's first prayer;
+   She dares not grieve--but she must weep,
+As her pale placid martyr sinks to sleep,
+   Teaching so well and silently
+How at the shepherd's call the lamb should die:
+   How happier far than life the end
+Of souls that infant-like beneath their burthen bend.
+
+
+
+FIRST SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS
+
+
+
+So the sun returned ten degrees, by which degrees it was gone down.
+Isaiah xxxviii. 8; compare Josh. x. 13.
+
+   'Tis true, of old the unchanging sun
+   His daily course refused to run,
+      The pale moon hurrying to the west
+   Paused at a mortal's call, to aid
+   The avenging storm of war, that laid
+Seven guilty realms at once on earth's defiled breast.
+
+   But can it be, one suppliant tear
+   Should stay the ever-moving sphere?
+      A sick man's lowly-breathed sigh,
+   When from the world he turns away,
+   And hides his weary eyes to pray,
+Should change your mystic dance, ye wanderers of the sky?
+
+   We too, O Lord, would fain command,
+   As then, Thy wonder-working hand,
+      And backward force the waves of Time,
+   That now so swift and silent bear
+   Our restless bark from year to year;
+Help us to pause and mourn to Thee our tale of crime.
+
+   Bright hopes, that erst the bosom warmed,
+   And vows, too pure to be performed,
+      And prayers blown wide by gales of care; -
+   These, and such faint half-waking dreams,
+   Like stormy lights on mountain streams,
+Wavering and broken all, athwart the conscience glare.
+
+   How shall we 'scape the o'erwhelming Past?
+   Can spirits broken, joys o'ercast,
+      And eyes that never more may smile:  -
+   Can these th' avenging bolt delay,
+   Or win us back one little day
+The bitterness of death to soften and beguile?
+
+   Father and Lover of our souls!
+   Though darkly round Thine anger rolls,
+      Thy sunshine smiles beneath the gloom,
+   Thou seek'st to warn us, not confound,
+   Thy showers would pierce the hardened ground
+And win it to give out its brightness and perfume.
+
+   Thou smil'st on us in wrath, and we,
+   E'en in remorse, would smile on Thee,
+      The tears that bathe our offered hearts,
+   We would not have them stained and dim,
+   But dropped from wings of seraphim,
+All glowing with the light accepted love imparts.
+
+   Time's waters will not ebb, nor stay;
+   Power cannot change them, but Love may;
+      What cannot be, Love counts it done.
+   Deep in the heart, her searching view
+   Can read where Faith is fixed and true,
+Through shades of setting life can see Heaven's work begun.
+
+   O Thou, who keep'st the Key of Love,
+   Open Thy fount, eternal Dove,
+      And overflow this heart of mine,
+   Enlarging as it fills with Thee,
+   Till in one blaze of charity
+Care and remorse are lost, like motes in light divine;
+
+   Till as each moment wafts us higher,
+   By every gush of pure desire,
+      And high-breathed hope of joys above,
+   By every secret sigh we heave,
+   Whole years of folly we outlive,
+In His unerring sight, who measures Life by Love.
+
+
+
+THE CIRCUMCISION OF CHRIST
+
+
+
+In whom also ye are circumcised with the circumcision made without
+hands.  Coloss. ii. 11.
+
+   The year begins with Thee,
+   And Thou beginn'st with woe,
+To let the world of sinners see
+   That blood for sin must flow.
+
+   Thine infant cries, O Lord,
+   Thy tears upon the breast,
+Are not enough--the legal sword
+   Must do its stern behest.
+
+   Like sacrificial wine
+   Poured on a victim's head
+Are those few precious drops of Thine,
+   Now first to offering led.
+
+   They are the pledge and seal
+   Of Christ's unswerving faith
+Given to His Sire, our souls to heal,
+   Although it cost His death.
+
+   They to His Church of old,
+   To each true Jewish heart,
+In Gospel graces manifold
+   Communion blest impart.
+
+   Now of Thy love we deem
+   As of an ocean vast,
+Mounting in tides against the stream
+   Of ages gone and past.
+
+   Both theirs and ours Thou art,
+   As we and they are Thine;
+Kings, Prophets, Patriarchs--all have part
+   Along the sacred line.
+
+   By blood and water too
+   God's mark is set on Thee,
+That in Thee every faithful view
+   Both covenants might see.
+
+   O bond of union, dear
+   And strong as is Thy grace!
+Saints, parted by a thousand year,
+   May thus in heart embrace.
+
+   Is there a mourner true,
+   Who fallen on faithless days,
+Sighs for the heart-consoling view
+   Of those Heaven deigned to praise?
+
+   In spirit may'st thou meet
+   With faithful Abraham here,
+Whom soon in Eden thou shalt greet
+   A nursing Father dear.
+
+   Would'st thou a poet be?
+   And would thy dull heart fain
+Borrow of Israel's minstrelsy
+   One high enraptured strain?
+
+   Come here thy soul to tune,
+   Here set thy feeble chant,
+Here, if at all beneath the moon,
+   Is holy David's haunt.
+
+   Art thou a child of tears,
+   Cradled in care and woe?
+And seems it hard, thy vernal years
+   Few vernal joys can show?
+
+   And fall the sounds of mirth
+   Sad on thy lonely heart,
+From all the hopes and charms of earth
+   Untimely called to part?
+
+   Look here, and hold thy peace:
+   The Giver of all good
+E'en from the womb takes no release
+   From suffering, tears, and blood.
+
+   If thou would'st reap in love,
+   First sow in holy fear:
+So life a winter's morn may prove
+   To a bright endless year.
+
+
+
+SECOND SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS
+
+
+
+When the poor and needy seek water, and there is none, and their
+tongue faileth for thirst, I the Lord will hear them, I the God of
+Israel will not forsake them.  Isaiah, xli. 17.
+
+And wilt thou hear the fevered heart
+   To Thee in silence cry?
+And as th' inconstant wildfires dart
+   Out of the restless eye,
+Wilt thou forgive the wayward though
+By kindly woes yet half untaught
+A Saviours right, so dearly bought,
+   That Hope should never die?
+
+Thou wilt:  for many a languid prayer
+   Has reached Thee from the wild,
+Since the lorn mother, wandering there,
+   Cast down her fainting child,
+Then stole apart to weep and die,
+Nor knew an angel form was nigh,
+To show soft waters gushing by,
+   And dewy shadows mild.
+
+Thou wilt--for Thou art Israel's God,
+   And Thine unwearied arm
+Is ready yet with Moses' rod,
+   The hidden rill to charm
+Out of the dry unfathomed deep
+Of sands, that lie in lifeless sleep,
+Save when the scorching whirlwinds heap
+   Their waves in rude alarm.
+
+These moments of wild wrath are Thine -
+   Thine, too, the drearier hour
+When o'er th' horizon's silent line
+   Fond hopeless fancies cower,
+And on the traveller's listless way
+Rises and sets th' unchanging day,
+No cloud in heaven to slake its ray,
+   On earth no sheltering bower.
+
+Thou wilt be there, and not forsake,
+   To turn the bitter pool
+Into a bright and breezy lake,
+   This throbbing brow to cool:
+Till loft awhile with Thee alone
+The wilful heart be fain to own
+That He, by whom our bright hours shone,
+   Our darkness best may rule.
+
+The scent of water far away
+   Upon the breeze is flung;
+The desert pelican to-day
+   Securely leaves her young,
+Reproving thankless man, who fears
+To journey on a few lone years,
+Where on the sand Thy step appears,
+   Thy crown in sight is hung.
+
+Thou, who did sit on Jacob's well
+   The weary hour of noon,
+The languid pulses Thou canst tell,
+   The nerveless spirit tune.
+Thou from Whose cross in anguish burst
+The cry that owned Thy dying thirst,
+To Thee we turn, our Last and First,
+   Our Sun and soothing Moon.
+
+From darkness, here, and dreariness
+   We ask not full repose,
+Only be Thou at hand, to bless
+   Our trial hour of woes.
+Is not the pilgrim's toil o'erpaid
+By the clear rill and palmy shade?
+And see we not, up Earth's dark glade,
+   The gate of Heaven unclose?
+
+
+
+THE EPIPHANY
+
+
+
+And lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them,
+till it came and stood over where the young Child was.  When they
+saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy.  St. Matthew
+ii. 9, 10.
+
+Star of the East, how sweet art Thou,
+   Seen in life's early morning sky,
+Ere yet a cloud has dimmed the brow,
+   While yet we gaze with childish eye;
+
+When father, mother, nursing friend,
+   Most dearly loved, and loving best,
+First bid us from their arms ascend,
+   Pointing to Thee, in Thy sure rest.
+
+Too soon the glare of earthly day
+   Buries, to us, Thy brightness keen,
+And we are left to find our way
+   By faith and hope in Thee unseen.
+
+What matter? if the waymarks sure
+   On every side are round us set,
+Soon overleaped, but not obscure?
+   'Tis ours to mark them or forget.
+
+What matter? if in calm old age
+   Our childhood's star again arise,
+Crowning our lonely pilgrimage
+   With all that cheers a wanderer's eyes?
+
+Ne'er may we lose it from our sight,
+   Till all our hopes and thoughts are led
+To where it stays its lucid flight
+   Over our Saviour's lowly bed.
+
+There, swathed in humblest poverty,
+   On Chastity's meek lap enshrined,
+With breathless Reverence waiting by,
+   When we our Sovereign Master find,
+
+Will not the long-forgotten glow
+   Of mingled joy and awe return,
+When stars above or flowers below
+   First made our infant spirits burn?
+
+Look on us, Lord, and take our parts
+   E'en on Thy throne of purity!
+From these our proud yet grovelling hearts
+   Hide not Thy mild forgiving eye.
+
+Did not the Gentile Church find grace,
+   Our mother dear, this favoured day?
+With gold and myrrh she sought Thy face;
+   Nor didst Thou turn Thy face away.
+
+She too, in earlier, purer days,
+   Had watched thee gleaming faint and far -
+But wandering in self-chosen ways
+   She lost Thee quite, Thou lovely star.
+
+Yet had her Father's finger turned
+   To Thee her first inquiring glance:
+The deeper shame within her burned,
+   When wakened from her wilful trance.
+
+Behold, her wisest throng Thy gate,
+   Their richest, sweetest, purest store,
+(Yet owned too worthless and too late,)
+   They lavish on Thy cottage-floor.
+
+They give their best--O tenfold shame
+   On us their fallen progeny,
+Who sacrifice the blind and lame -
+   Who will not wake or fast with Thee!
+
+
+
+FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY
+
+
+
+They shall spring up as among the grass, as willows by the water
+courses.  Isaiah xliv. 4.
+
+Lessons sweet of spring returning,
+   Welcome to the thoughtful heart!
+May I call ye sense or learning,
+   Instinct pure, or Heaven-taught art?
+Be your title what it may,
+Sweet this lengthening April day,
+While with you the soul is free,
+Ranging wild o'er hill and lea.
+
+Soft as Memnon's harp at morning,
+   To the inward ear devout,
+Touched by light, with heavenly warning
+   Your transporting chords ring out.
+Every leaf in every nook,
+Every wave in every brook,
+Chanting with a solemn voice,
+Minds us of our better choice.
+
+Needs no show of mountain hoary,
+   Winding shore or deepening glen,
+Where the landscape in its glory
+   Teaches truth to wandering men:
+Give true hearts but earth and sky,
+And some flowers to bloom and die,
+Homely scenes and simple views
+Lowly thoughts may best infuse.
+
+See the soft green willow springing
+   Where the waters gently pass,
+Every way her free arms flinging
+   O'er the moist and reedy grass.
+Long ere winter blasts are fled,
+See her tipped with vernal red,
+And her kindly flower displayed
+Ere her leaf can cast a shade.
+
+Though the rudest hand assail her,
+   Patiently she droops awhile,
+But when showers and breezes hail her,
+   Wears again her willing smile.
+Thus I learn Contentment's power
+From the slighted willow bower,
+Ready to give thanks and live
+On the least that Heaven may give.
+
+If, the quiet brooklet leaving,
+   Up the stony vale I wind,
+Haply half in fancy grieving
+   For the shades I leave behind,
+By the dusty wayside drear,
+Nightingales with joyous cheer
+Sing, my sadness to reprove,
+Gladlier than in cultured grove.
+
+Where the thickest boughs are twining
+   Of the greenest darkest tree,
+There they plunge, the light declining -
+   All may hear, but none may see.
+Fearless of the passing hoof,
+Hardly will they fleet aloof;
+So they live in modest ways,
+Trust entire, and ceaseless praise.
+
+
+
+SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY
+
+
+
+Every man at the beginning doth set forth good wine:  and when men
+have well drunk, then that which is worse; but thou hast kept the
+good wine until now.  St. John ii. 10.
+
+The heart of childhood is all mirth:
+   We frolic to and fro
+As free and blithe, as if on earth
+   Were no such thing as woe.
+
+But if indeed with reckless faith
+   We trust the flattering voice,
+Which whispers, "Take thy fill ere death,
+   Indulge thee and rejoice;"
+
+Too surely, every setting day,
+   Some lost delight we mourn;
+The flowers all die along our way
+   Till we, too, die forlorn.
+
+Such is the world's gay garish feast,
+   In her first charming bowl
+Infusing all that fires the breast,
+   And cheats the unstable soul.
+
+And still, as loud the revel swells,
+   The fevered pulse beats higher,
+Till the seared taste from foulest wells
+   Is fain to slake its fire.
+
+Unlike the feast of heavenly love
+   Spread at the Saviour's word
+For souls that hear His call, and prove
+   Meet for His bridal board.
+
+Why should we fear, youth's draught of joy
+   If pure would sparkle less?
+Why should the cup the sooner cloy,
+   Which God hath deigned to bless?
+
+For, is it Hope, that thrills so keen
+   Along each bounding vein,
+Still whispering glorious things unseen? -
+   Faith makes the vision plain.
+
+The world would kill her soon:  but Faith
+   Her daring dreams will cherish,
+Speeding her gaze o'er time and death
+   To realms where nought can perish.
+
+Or is it Love, the dear delight
+   Of hearts that know no guile,
+That all around see all things bright
+   With their own magic smile?
+
+The silent joy that sinks so deep,
+   Of confidence and rest,
+Lulled in a father's arms to sleep,
+   Clasped to a mother's breast?
+
+Who, but a Christian, through all life
+   That blessing may prolong?
+Who, through the world's sad day of strife,
+   Still chant his morning song?
+
+Fathers may hate us or forsake,
+   God's foundlings then are we:
+Mother on child no pity take,
+   But we shall still have Thee.
+
+We may look home, and seek in vain
+   A fond fraternal heart,
+But Christ hath given His promise plain
+   To do a Brother's part.
+
+Nor shall dull age, as worldlings say,
+   The heavenward flame annoy:
+The Saviour cannot pass away,
+   And with Him lives our joy.
+
+Ever the richest, tenderest glow
+   Sets round the autumnal sun -
+But there sight fails:  no heart may know
+   The bliss when life is done.
+
+Such is Thy banquet, dearest Lord;
+   O give us grace, to cast
+Our lot with Thine, to trust Thy word,
+   And keep our best till last.
+
+
+
+THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY
+
+
+
+When Jesus heard it, He marvelled, and said to them that followed,
+Verily I say unto you, I have not found so great faith, no, not in
+Israel.  St. Matthew viii. 10.
+
+   I marked a rainbow in the north,
+      What time the wild autumnal sun
+   From his dark veil at noon looked forth,
+      As glorying in his course half done,
+   Flinging soft radiance far and wide
+Over the dusky heaven and bleak hill-side.
+
+   It was a gleam to Memory dear,
+      And as I walk and muse apart,
+   When all seems faithless round and drear,
+      I would revive it in my heart,
+   And watch how light can find its way
+To regions farthest from the fount of day.
+
+   Light flashes in the gloomiest sky,
+      And Music in the dullest plain,
+   For there the lark is soaring high
+      Over her flat and leafless reign,
+   And chanting in so blithe a tone,
+It shames the weary heart to feel itself alone.
+
+   Brighter than rainbow in the north,
+      More cheery than the matin lark,
+   Is the soft gleam of Christian worth,
+      Which on some holy house we mark;
+   Dear to the pastor's aching heart
+To think, where'er he looks, such gleam may have a part;
+
+   May dwell, unseen by all but Heaven,
+      Like diamond blazing in the mine;
+   For ever, where such grace is given,
+      It fears in open day to shine,
+   Lest the deep stain it owns within
+Break out, and Faith be shamed by the believer's sin.
+
+   In silence and afar they wait,
+      To find a prayer their Lord may hear:
+   Voice of the poor and desolate,
+      You best may bring it to His ear;
+   Your grateful intercessions rise
+With more than royal pomp, and pierce the skies.
+
+   Happy the soul whose precious cause
+      You in the Sovereign Presence plead -
+   "This is the lover of Thy laws,
+      The friend of Thine in fear and need,"
+   For to the poor Thy mercy lends
+That solemn style, "Thy nation and Thy friends."
+
+   He too is blest whose outward eye
+      The graceful lines of art may trace,
+   While his free spirit, soaring high,
+      Discerns the glorious from the base;
+   Till out of dust his magic raise
+A home for prayer and love, and full harmonious praise,
+
+   Where far away and high above,
+      In maze on maze the tranced sight
+   Strays, mindful of that heavenly love
+      Which knows no end in depth or height,
+   While the strong breath of Music seems
+To waft us ever on, soaring in blissful dreams.
+
+   What though in poor and humble guise
+      Thou here didst sojourn, cottage-born?
+   Yet from Thy glory in the skies
+      Our earthly gold Thou dost not scorn.
+   For Love delights to bring her best,
+And where Love is, that offering evermore is blest.
+
+   Love on the Saviour's dying head
+      Her spikenard drops unblamed may pour,
+   May mount His cross, and wrap Him dead
+      In spices from the golden shore;
+   Risen, may embalm His sacred name
+With all a Painter's art, and all a Minstrel's flame.
+
+   Worthless and lost our offerings seem,
+      Drops in the ocean of His praise;
+   But Mercy with her genial beam
+      Is ripening them to pearly blaze,
+   To sparkle in His crown above,
+Who welcomes here a child's as there an angel's love.
+
+
+
+FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY
+
+
+
+When they saw Him, they besought Him that He would depart out of
+their coasts.  St. Matthew viii. 34.
+
+      They know the Almighty's power,
+   Who, wakened by the rushing midnight shower,
+      Watch for the fitful breeze
+   To howl and chafe amid the bending trees,
+      Watch for the still white gleam
+   To bathe the landscape in a fiery stream,
+   Touching the tremulous eye with sense of light
+Too rapid and too pure for all but angel sight.
+
+      They know the Almighty's love,
+   Who, when the whirlwinds rock the topmost grove,
+      Stand in the shade, and hear
+   The tumult with a deep exulting fear,
+      How, in their fiercest sway,
+   Curbed by some power unseen, they die away,
+   Like a bold steed that owns his rider's arm,
+Proud to be checked and soothed by that o'er-mastering chains.
+
+      But there are storms within
+   That heave the struggling heart with wilder din,
+      And there is power and love
+   The maniac's rushing frenzy to reprove,
+      And when he takes his seat,
+   Clothed and in calmness, at his Savour's feet,
+   Is not the power as strange, the love as blest,
+As when He said, "Be still," and ocean sank to rest?
+
+      Woe to the wayward heart,
+   That gladlier turns to eye the shuddering start
+      Of Passion in her might,
+   Than marks the silent growth of grace and light; -
+      Pleased in the cheerless tomb
+   To linger, while the morning rays illume
+   Green lake, and cedar tuft, and spicy glade,
+Shaking their dewy tresses now the storm is laid.
+
+      The storm is laid--and now
+   In His meek power He climbs the mountain's brow,
+      Who bade the waves go sleep,
+   And lashed the vexed fiends to their yawning deep.
+      How on a rock they stand,
+   Who watch His eye, and hold His guiding hand!
+   Not half so fixed, amid her vassal hills,
+Rises the holy pile that Kedron's valley fills.
+
+      And wilt thou seek again
+   Thy howling waste, thy charnel-house and chain,
+      And with the demons be,
+   Rather than clasp thine own Deliverer's knee?
+      Sure 'tis no Heaven-bred awe
+   That bids thee from His healing touch withdraw;
+   The world and He are struggling in thine heart,
+And in thy reckless mood thou bidd'st thy Lord depart.
+
+      He, merciful and mild,
+   As erst, beholding, loves His wayward child;
+      When souls of highest birth
+   Waste their impassioned might on dreams of earth,
+      He opens Nature's book,
+   And on His glorious Gospel bids them look,
+   Till, by such chords as rule the choirs above,
+Their lawless cries are tuned to hymns of perfect love.
+
+
+
+FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY
+
+
+
+Behold, the Lord's hand is not shortened, that it cannot save;
+neither His ear heavy, that it cannot hear; but your iniquities
+have separated between you and your God.  Isaiah lix. 1, 2.
+
+   "Wake, arm Divine! awake,
+      Eye of the only Wise!
+   Now for Thy glory's sake,
+      Saviour and God, arise,
+And may Thine ear, that sealed seems,
+In pity mark our mournful themes!"
+
+   Thus in her lonely hour
+      Thy Church is fain to cry,
+   As if Thy love and power
+      Were vanished from her sky;
+Yet God is there, and at His side
+He triumphs, who for sinners died.
+
+   Ah! 'tis the world enthralls
+      The Heaven-betrothed breast:
+   The traitor Sense recalls
+      The soaring soul from rest.
+That bitter sigh was all for earth,
+For glories gone and vanished mirth.
+
+   Age would to youth return,
+      Farther from Heaven would be,
+   To feel the wildfire burn,
+      On idolising knee
+Again to fall, and rob Thy shrine
+Of hearts, the right of Love Divine.
+
+   Lord of this erring flock!
+      Thou whose soft showers distil
+   On ocean waste or rock,
+      Free as on Hermon hill,
+Do Thou our craven spirits cheer,
+And shame away the selfish tear.
+
+   'Twas silent all and dead
+      Beside the barren sea,
+   Where Philip's steps were led,
+      Led by a voice from Thee -
+He rose and went, nor asked Thee why,
+Nor stayed to heave one faithless sigh:
+
+   Upon his lonely way
+      The high-born traveller came,
+   Reading a mournful lay
+      Of "One who bore our shame,
+Silent Himself, His name untold,
+And yet His glories were of old."
+
+   To muse what Heaven might mean
+      His wondering brow he raised,
+   And met an eye serene
+      That on him watchful gazed.
+No Hermit e'er so welcome crossed
+A child's lone path in woodland lost.
+
+   Now wonder turns to love;
+      The scrolls of sacred lore
+   No darksome mazes prove;
+      The desert tires no more
+They bathe where holy waters flow,
+Then on their way rejoicing go.
+
+   They part to meet in Heaven;
+      But of the joy they share,
+   Absolving and forgiven,
+      The sweet remembrance bear.
+Yes--mark him well, ye cold and proud.
+Bewildered in a heartless crowd,
+
+   Starting and turning pale
+      At Rumour's angry din -
+   No storm can now assail
+      The charm he wears within,
+Rejoicing still, and doing good,
+And with the thought of God imbued.
+
+   No glare of high estate,
+      No gloom of woe or want,
+   The radiance can abate
+      Where Heaven delights to haunt:
+Sin only bides the genial ray,
+And, round the Cross, makes night of day.
+
+   Then weep it from thy heart;
+      So mayst thou duly learn
+   The intercessor's part;
+      Thy prayers and tears may earn
+For fallen souls some healing breath,
+Era they have died the Apostate's death.
+
+
+
+SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY
+
+
+
+Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear
+what we shall be:  but we know that, when He shall appear, we shall
+be like Him; for we shall see Him as he is.  St. John iii. 2.
+
+   There are, who darkling and alone,
+   Would wish the weary night were gone,
+   Though dawning morn should only show
+   The secret of their unknown woe:
+   Who pray for sharpest throbs of pain
+   To ease them of doubt's galling chain:
+   "Only disperse the cloud," they cry,
+"And if our fate be death, give light and let us die."
+
+   Unwise I deem them, Lord, unmeet
+   To profit by Thy chastenings sweet,
+   For Thou wouldst have us linger still
+   Upon the verge of good or ill.
+   That on Thy guiding hand unseen
+   Our undivided hearts may lean,
+   And this our frail and foundering bark
+Glide in the narrow wake of Thy beloved ark.
+
+   'Tis so in war--the champion true
+   Loves victory more when dim in view
+   He sees her glories gild afar
+   The dusky edge of stubborn war,
+   Than if the untrodden bloodless field
+   The harvest of her laurels yield;
+   Let not my bark in calm abide,
+But win her fearless way against the chafing tide.
+
+   'Tis so in love--the faithful heart
+   From her dim vision would not part,
+   When first to her fond gaze is given
+   That purest spot in Fancy's heaven,
+   For all the gorgeous sky beside,
+   Though pledged her own and sure to abide:
+   Dearer than every past noon-day
+That twilight gleam to her, though faint and far away.
+
+   So have I seen some tender flower
+   Prized above all the vernal bower,
+   Sheltered beneath the coolest shade,
+   Embosomed in the greenest glade,
+   So frail a gem, it scarce may bear
+   The playful touch of evening air;
+   When hardier grown we love it less,
+And trust it from our sight, not needing our caress.
+
+   And wherefore is the sweet spring-tide
+   Worth all the changeful year beside?
+   The last-born babe, why lies its part
+   Deep in the mother's inmost heart?
+   But that the Lord and Source of love
+   Would have His weakest ever prove
+   Our tenderest care--and most of all
+Our frail immortal souls, His work and Satan's thrall.
+
+   So be it, Lord; I know it best,
+   Though not as yet this wayward breast
+   Beat quite in answer to Thy voice,
+   Yet surely I have made my choice;
+   I know not yet the promised bliss,
+   Know not if I shall win or miss;
+   So doubting, rather let me die,
+Than close with aught beside, to last eternally.
+
+   What is the Heaven we idly dream?
+   The self-deceiver's dreary theme,
+   A cloudless sun that softly shines,
+   Bright maidens and unfailing vines,
+   The warrior's pride, the hunter's mirth,
+   Poor fragments all of this low earth:
+   Such as in sleep would hardly soothe
+A soul that once had tasted of immortal Truth.
+
+   What is the Heaven our God bestows?
+   No Prophet yet, no Angel knows;
+   Was never yet created eye
+   Could see across Eternity;
+   Not seraph's wing for ever soaring
+   Can pass the flight of souls adoring,
+   That nearer still and nearer grow
+To the unapproached Lord, once made for them so low.
+
+   Unseen, unfelt their earthly growth,
+   And self-accused of sin and sloth,
+   They live and die; their names decay,
+   Their fragrance passes quite away;
+   Like violets in the freezing blast
+   No vernal steam around they cast. -
+   But they shall flourish from the tomb,
+The breath of God shall wake them into odorous bloom.
+
+   Then on the incarnate Saviour's breast,
+   The fount of sweetness, they shall rest,
+   Their spirits every hour imbued
+   More deeply with His precious blood.
+   But peace--still voice and closed eye
+   Suit best with hearts beyond the sky,
+   Hearts training in their low abode,
+Daily to lose themselves in hope to find their God.
+
+
+
+SEPTUAGESIMA SUNDAY
+
+
+
+The invisible things of Him from the creation of the world are
+clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made.  Romans
+i. 20.
+
+There is a book, who runs may read,
+   Which heavenly truth imparts,
+And all the lore its scholars need,
+   Pure eyes and Christian hearts.
+
+The works of God above, below,
+   Within us and around,
+Are pages in that book, to show
+   How God Himself is found.
+
+The glorious sky embracing all
+   Is like the Maker's love,
+Wherewith encompassed, great and small
+   In peace and order move.
+
+The Moon above, the Church below,
+   A wondrous race they run,
+But all their radiance, all their glow,
+   Each borrows of its Sun.
+
+The Savour lends the light and heat
+   That crowns His holy hill;
+The saints, like stars, around His seat
+   Perform their courses still.
+
+The saints above are stars in heaven -
+   What are the saints on earth?
+Like tress they stand whom God has given,
+   Our Eden's happy birth.
+
+Faith is their fixed unswerving root,
+   Hope their unfading flower,
+Fair deeds of charity their fruit,
+   The glory of their bower.
+
+The dew of heaven is like Thy grace,
+   It steals in silence down;
+But where it lights, this favoured place
+   By richest fruits is known.
+
+One Name above all glorious names
+   With its ten thousand tongues
+The everlasting sea proclaims.
+   Echoing angelic songs.
+
+The raging Fire, the roaring Wind,
+   Thy boundless power display;
+But in the gentler breeze we find
+   Thy Spirit's viewless way.
+
+Two worlds are ours:  'tis only Sin
+   Forbids us to descry
+The mystic heaven and earth within,
+   Plain as the sea and sky.
+
+Thou, who hast given me eyes to see
+   And love this sight so fair,
+Give me a heart to find out Thee,
+   And read Thee everywhere.
+
+
+
+SEXAGESIMA SUNDAY
+
+
+
+So He drove out the man; and He placed at the east of the garden of
+Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep
+the way of the tree of life.  Genesis iii. 24; compare chap. vi.
+
+   Foe of mankind! too bold thy race:
+   Thou runn'st at such a reckless pace,
+Thine own dire work thou surely wilt confound:
+   'Twas but one little drop of sin
+   We saw this morning enter in,
+And lo! at eventide the world is drowned.
+
+   See here the fruit of wandering eyes,
+   Of worldly longings to be wise,
+Of Passion dwelling on forbidden sweets:
+   Ye lawless glances, freely rove;
+   Ruin below and wrath above
+Are all that now the wildering fancy meets.
+
+   Lord, when in some deep garden glade,
+   Of Thee and of myself afraid.
+From thoughts like these among the bowers I hide,
+   Nearest and loudest then of all
+   I seem to hear the Judge's call:-
+"Where art thou, fallen man? come forth, and be thou tried."
+
+   Trembling before Thee as I stand,
+   Where'er I gaze on either hand
+The sentence is gone forth, the ground is cursed:
+   Yet mingled with the penal shower
+   Some drops of balm in every bower
+Steal down like April dews, that softest fall and first.
+
+   If filial and maternal love
+   Memorial of our guilt must prove,
+If sinful babes in sorrow must be born,
+   Yet, to assuage her sharpest throes,
+   The faithful mother surely knows,
+This was the way Thou cam'st to save the world forlorn.
+
+   If blessed wedlock may not bless
+   Without some tinge of bitterness
+To dash her cup of joy, since Eden lost,
+   Chaining to earth with strong desire
+   Hearts that would highest else aspire,
+And o'er the tenderer sex usurping ever most;
+
+   Yet by the light of Christian lore
+   'Tis blind Idolatry no more,
+But a sweet help and pattern of true love,
+   Showing how best the soul may cling
+   To her immortal Spouse and King,
+How He should rule, and she with full desire approve.
+
+   If niggard Earth her treasures hide,
+   To all but labouring hands denied,
+Lavish of thorns and worthless weeds alone,
+   The doom is half in mercy given,
+   To train us in our way to Heaven,
+And show our lagging souls how glory must be won.
+
+   If on the sinner's outward frame
+   God hath impressed His mark of blame,
+And e'en our bodies shrink at touch of light,
+   Yet mercy hath not left us bare:
+   The very weeds we daily wear
+Are to Faith's eye a pledge of God's forgiving might.
+
+   And oh! if yet one arrow more,
+   The sharpest of the Almighty's store,
+Tremble upon the string--a sinner's death -
+   Art Thou not by to soothe and save,
+   To lay us gently in the grave,
+To close the weary eye and hush the parting breath?
+
+   Therefore in sight of man bereft
+   The happy garden still was left;
+The fiery sword that guarded, showed it too;
+   Turning all ways, the world to teach,
+   That though as yet beyond our reach,
+Still in its place the tree of life and glory grew.
+
+
+
+QUINQUAGESIMA SUNDAY
+
+
+
+I do set My bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a
+covenant between Me and the earth.  Genesis ix. 13.
+
+Sweet Dove! the softest, steadiest plume,
+   In all the sunbright sky,
+Brightening in ever-changeful bloom
+   As breezes change on high; -
+
+Sweet Leaf! the pledge of peace and mirth,
+   "Long sought, and lately won,"
+Blessed increase of reviving Earth,
+   When first it felt the Sun; -
+
+Sweet Rainbow! pride of summer days,
+   High set at Heaven's command,
+Though into drear and dusky haze
+   Thou melt on either hand; -
+
+Dear tokens of a pardoning God,
+   We hail ye, one and all,
+As when our fathers walked abroad,
+   Freed from their twelvemonth's thrall.
+
+How joyful from the imprisoning ark
+   On the green earth they spring!
+Not blither, after showers, the lark
+   Mounts up with glistening wing.
+
+So home-bound sailors spring to shore,
+   Two oceans safely past;
+So happy souls, when life is o'er,
+   Plunge in this empyreal vast.
+
+What wins their first and fondest gaze
+   In all the blissful field,
+And keeps it through a thousand days?
+   Love face to face revealed:
+
+Love imaged in that cordial look
+   Our Lord in Eden bends
+On souls that sin and earth forsook
+   In time to die His friends.
+
+And what most welcome and serene
+   Dawns on the Patriarch's eye,
+In all the emerging hills so green,
+   In all the brightening sky?
+
+What but the gentle rainbow's gleam,
+   Soothing the wearied sight,
+That cannot bear the solar beam,
+   With soft undazzling light?
+
+Lord, if our fathers turned to Thee
+   With such adoring gaze,
+Wondering frail man Thy light should see
+   Without Thy scorching blaze;
+
+Where is our love, and where our hearts,
+   We who have seen Thy Son,
+Have tried Thy Spirit's winning arts,
+   And yet we are not won?
+
+The Son of God in radiance beamed
+   Too bright for us to scan,
+But we may face the rays that streamed
+   From the mild Son of Man.
+
+There, parted into rainbow hues,
+   In sweet harmonious strife
+We see celestial love diffuse
+   Its light o'er Jesus' life.
+
+God, by His bow, vouchsafes to write
+   This truth in Heaven above:
+As every lovely hue is Light,
+   So every grace is Love.
+
+
+
+ASH WEDNESDAY
+
+
+
+When thou fastest, anoint thine head, and wash thy face; that thou
+appear not unto men to fast, but unto thy Father which is in
+secret.  St. Matthew vi. 17, 18.
+
+"Yes--deep within and deeper yet
+   The rankling shaft of conscience hide,
+Quick let the swelling eye forget
+   The tears that in the heart abide.
+Calm be the voice, the aspect bold,
+   No shuddering pass o'er lip or brow,
+For why should Innocence be told
+   The pangs that guilty spirits bow?
+
+"The loving eye that watches thine
+   Close as the air that wraps thee round -
+Why in thy sorrow should it pine,
+   Since never of thy sin it found?
+And wherefore should the heathen see
+   What chains of darkness thee enslave,
+And mocking say, 'Lo, this is he
+   Who owned a God that could not save'?"
+
+Thus oft the mourner's wayward heart
+   Tempts him to hide his grief and die,
+Too feeble for Confession's smart,
+   Too proud to bear a pitying eye;
+How sweet, in that dark hour, to fall
+   On bosoms waiting to receive
+Our sighs, and gently whisper all!
+   They love us--will not God forgive?
+
+Else let us keep our fast within,
+   Till Heaven and we are quite alone,
+Then let the grief, the shame, the sin,
+   Before the mercy-seat be thrown.
+Between the porch and altar weep,
+   Unworthy of the holiest place,
+Yet hoping near the shrine to keep
+   One lowly cell in sight of grace.
+
+Nor fear lest sympathy should fail -
+   Hast thou not seen, in night hours drear,
+When racking thoughts the heart assail,
+   The glimmering stars by turns appear,
+And from the eternal house above
+   With silent news of mercy steal?
+So Angels pause on tasks of love,
+   To look where sorrowing sinners kneel.
+
+Or if no Angel pass that way,
+   He who in secret sees, perchance
+May bid His own heart-warming ray
+   Toward thee stream with kindlier glance,
+As when upon His drooping head
+   His Father's light was poured from Heaven,
+What time, unsheltered and unfed,
+   Far in the wild His steps were driven.
+
+High thoughts were with Him in that hour,
+   Untold, unspeakable on earth -
+And who can stay the soaring power
+   Of spirits weaned from worldly mirth,
+While far beyond the sound of praise
+   With upward eye they float serene,
+And learn to bear their Saviour's blaze
+   When Judgment shall undraw the screen?
+
+
+
+FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT.
+
+
+
+Haste thee, escape thither:  for I cannot do any thing till thou be
+come thither.  Therefore the name of the city was called Zoar.
+Genesis xix. 22.
+
+"Angel of wrath! why linger in mid-air,
+   While the devoted city's cry
+Louder and louder swells? and canst thou spare,
+   Thy full-charged vial standing by?"
+Thus, with stern voice, unsparing Justice pleads:
+   He hears her not--with softened gaze
+His eye is following where sweet Mercy leads,
+And till she give the sign, his fury stays.
+
+Guided by her, along the mountain road,
+   Far through the twilight of the morn,
+With hurried footsteps from the accursed abode
+   He sees the holy household borne;
+Angels, or more, on either hand are nigh,
+   To speed them o'er the tempting plain,
+Lingering in heart, and with frail sidelong eye
+Seeking how near they may unharmed remain.
+
+"Ah! wherefore gleam those upland slopes so fair?
+   And why, through every woodland arch,
+Swells yon bright vale, as Eden rich and rare,
+   Where Jordan winds his stately march;
+If all must be forsaken, ruined all,
+   If God have planted but to burn? -
+Surely not yet the avenging shower will fall,
+Though to my home for one last look I turn."
+
+Thus while they waver, surely long ago
+   They had provoked the withering blast,
+But that the merciful Avengers know
+   Their frailty well, and hold them fast.
+"Haste, for thy life escape, nor look behind" -
+   Ever in thrilling sounds like these
+They check the wandering eye, severely kind,
+Nor let the sinner lose his soul at ease.
+
+And when, o'erwearied with the steep ascent,
+   We for a nearer refuge crave,
+One little spot of ground in mercy lent,
+   One hour of home before the grave,
+Oft in His pity o'er His children weak,
+   His hand withdraws the penal fire,
+And where we fondly cling, forbears to wreak
+Full vengeance, till our hearts are weaned entire.
+
+Thus, by the merits of one righteous man,
+   The Church, our Zoar, shall abide,
+Till she abuse, so sore, her lengthened span,
+   E'en Mercy's self her face must hide.
+Then, onward yet a step, thou hard-won soul;
+   Though in the Church thou know thy place,
+The mountain farther lies--there seek thy goal,
+There breathe at large, o'erpast thy dangerous race.
+
+Sweet is the smile of home; the mutual look
+   When hearts are of each other sure;
+Sweet all the joys that crowd the household nook,
+   The haunt of all affections pure;
+Yet in the world e'en these abide, and we
+   Above the world our calling boast;
+Once gain the mountain-top, and thou art free:
+Till then, who rest, presume; who turn to look, are lost.
+
+
+
+SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT
+
+
+
+And when Esau heard the words of his father, he cried with a great
+and exceeding bitter cry, and said unto his father, Bless me, even
+me also, O my father.  Genesis xxvii. 34.  (Compare Hebrew xii. 17.
+He found no place of repentance, though he sought it carefully with
+tears.)
+
+"And is there in God's world so drear a place
+   Where the loud bitter cry is raised in vain?
+Where tears of penance come too late for grace,
+   As on the uprooted flower the genial rain?"
+
+'Tis even so:  the sovereign Lord of souls
+   Stores in the dungeon of His boundless realm
+Each bolt that o'er the sinner vainly rolls,
+   With gathered wrath the reprobate to whelm.
+
+Will the storm hear the sailor's piteous cry,
+   Taught so mistrust, too late, the tempting wave,
+When all around he sees but sea and sky,
+   A God in anger, a self-chosen grave?
+
+Or will the thorns, that strew intemperance' bed,
+   Turn with a wish to down? will late remorse
+Recall the shaft the murderer's hand has sped,
+   Or from the guiltless bosom turn its course?
+
+Then may the unbodied soul in safety fleet
+   Through the dark curtains of the world above,
+Fresh from the stain of crime; nor fear to meet
+   The God whom here she would not learn to love;
+
+Then is there hope for such as die unblest,
+   That angel wings may waft them to the shore,
+Nor need the unready virgin strike her breast,
+   Nor wait desponding round the bridegroom's door.
+
+But where is then the stay of contrite hearts?
+   Of old they leaned on Thy eternal word,
+But with the sinner's fear their hope departs,
+   Fast linked as Thy great Name to Thee, O Lord:
+
+That Name, by which Thy faithful oath is past,
+   That we should endless be, for joy or woe:-
+And if the treasures of Thy wrath could waste,
+   Thy lovers must their promised Heaven forego.
+
+But ask of elder days, earth's vernal hour,
+   When in familiar talk God's voice was heard,
+When at the Patriarch's call the fiery shower
+   Propitious o'er the turf-built shrine appeared.
+
+Watch by our father Isaac's pastoral door -
+   The birthright sold, the blessing lost and won;
+Tell, Heaven has wrath that can relent no more;
+   The Grave, dark deeds that cannot be undone.
+
+We barter life for pottage; sell true bliss
+   For wealth or power, for pleasure or renown;
+Thus, Esau-like, our Father's blessing miss,
+   Then wash with fruitless tears our faded crown.
+
+Our faded crown, despised and flung aside,
+   Shall on some brother's brow immortal bloom;
+No partial hand the blessing may misguide,
+   No flattering fancy change our Monarch's doom:
+
+His righteous doom, that meek true-hearted
+   Love
+   The everlasting birthright should receive,
+The softest dews drop on her from above,
+   The richest green her mountain garland weave:
+
+Her brethren, mightiest, wisest, eldest-born,
+   Bow to her sway, and move at her behest;
+Isaac's fond blessing may not fall on scorn,
+   Nor Balaam's curse on Love, which God hath blest.
+
+
+
+THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT
+
+
+
+When a strong man armed keepeth his place, his goods are in peace;
+but when a stronger than he shall come upon him, and overcome him,
+he taketh from him all his armour wherein he trusted, and divideth
+his spoils.  St. Luke xi. 21, 22.
+
+      See Lucifer like lightning fall,
+         Dashed from his throne of pride;
+      While, answering Thy victorious call,
+         The Saints his spoils divide;
+   This world of Thine, by him usurped too long,
+Now opening all her stores to heal Thy servants' wrong.
+
+      So when the first-born of Thy foes
+         Dead in the darkness lay,
+      When Thy redeemed at midnight rose
+         And cast their bonds away,
+   The orphaned realm threw wide her gates, and told
+Into freed Israel's lap her jewels and her gold.
+
+      And when their wondrous march was o'er,
+         And they had won their homes,
+      Where Abraham fed his flock of yore,
+         Among their fathers' tombs; -
+   A land that drinks the rain of Heaven at will,
+Whose waters kiss the feet of many a vine-clad hill; -
+
+      Oft as they watched, at thoughtful eve,
+         A gale from bowers of balm
+      Sweep o'er the billowy corn, and heave
+         The tresses of the palm,
+   Just as the lingering Sun had touched with gold,
+Far o'er the cedar shade, some tower of giants old;
+
+         It was a fearful joy, I ween,
+      To trace the Heathen's toil,
+         The limpid wells, the orchards green,
+      Left ready for the spoil,
+   The household stores untouched, the roses bright
+Wreathed o'er the cottage walls in garlands of delight.
+
+      And now another Canaan yields
+         To Thine all-conquering ark:  -
+      Fly from the "old poetic" fields,
+         Ye Paynim shadows dark!
+   Immortal Greece, dear land of glorious lays,
+Lo! here the "unknown God" of thy unconscious praise.
+
+      The olive-wreath, the ivied wand,
+         "The sword in myrtles drest,"
+      Each legend of the shadowy strand
+         Now wakes a vision blest;
+   As little children lisp, and tell of Heaven,
+So thoughts beyond their thought to those high Bards were given.
+
+      And these are ours:  Thy partial grace
+         The tempting treasure lends:
+      These relies of a guilty race
+         Are forfeit to Thy friends;
+   What seemed an idol hymn, now breathes of Thee,
+Tuned by Faith's ear to some celestial melody.
+
+      There's not a strain to Memory dear,
+         Nor flower in classic grove,
+      There's not a sweet note warbled here,
+         But minds us of Thy Love.
+   O Lord, our Lord, and spoiler of our foes,
+There is no light but Thine:  with Thee all beauty glows.
+
+
+
+FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT
+
+
+
+Joseph made haste; for his bowels did yearn upon his brother; and
+he sought where to weep, and he entered into his chamber and wept
+there.  Genesis xliii. 30.
+
+There stood no man with him, while Joseph made himself known unto
+his brethren.  Genesis xlv. 1.
+
+When Nature tries her finest touch,
+   Weaving her vernal wreath,
+Mark ye, how close she veils her round,
+Not to be traced by sight or sound,
+   Nor soiled by ruder breath?
+
+Who ever saw the earliest rose
+   First open her sweet breast?
+Or, when the summer sun goes down,
+The first soft star in evening's crown
+   Light up her gleaming crest?
+
+Fondly we seek the dawning bloom
+   On features wan and fair,
+The gazing eye no change can trace,
+But look away a little space,
+   Then turn, and lo! 'tis there.
+
+But there's a sweeter flower than e'er
+   Blushed on the rosy spray -
+A brighter star, a richer bloom
+Than e'er did western heaven illume
+   At close of summer day.
+
+'Tis Love, the last best gift of Heaven;
+   Love gentle, holy, pure;
+But tenderer than a dove's soft eye,
+The searching sun, the open sky,
+   She never could endure.
+
+E'en human Love will shrink from sight
+   Here in the coarse rude earth:
+How then should rash intruding glance
+Break in upon HER sacred trance
+   Who boasts a heavenly birth?
+
+So still and secret is her growth,
+   Ever the truest heart,
+Where deepest strikes her kindly root
+For hope or joy, for flower or fruit,
+   Least knows its happy part.
+
+God only, and good angels, look
+   Behind the blissful screen -
+As when, triumphant o'er His woes,
+The Son of God by moonlight rose,
+   By all but Heaven unseen:
+
+As when the holy Maid beheld
+   Her risen Son and Lord:
+Thought has not colours half so fair
+That she to paint that hour may dare,
+   In silence best adored.
+
+The gracious Dove, that brought from Heaven
+   The earnest of our bliss,
+Of many a chosen witness telling,
+On many a happy vision dwelling,
+   Sings not a note of this.
+
+So, truest image of the Christ,
+   Old Israel's long-lost son,
+What time, with sweet forgiving cheer,
+He called his conscious brethren near,
+   Would weep with them alone.
+
+He could not trust his melting soul
+   But in his Maker's sight -
+Then why should gentle hearts and true
+Bare to the rude world's withering view
+   Their treasure of delight!
+
+No--let the dainty rose awhile
+   Her bashful fragrance hide -
+Rend not her silken veil too soon,
+But leave her, in her own soft noon,
+   To flourish and abide.
+
+
+
+FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT
+
+
+
+And Moses said, I will now turn aside, and see this great sight,
+why the bush is not burnt.  Exodus iii. 3.
+
+The historic Muse, from age to age,
+Through many a waste heart-sickening page
+   Hath traced the works of Man:
+But a celestial call to-day
+Stays her, like Moses, on her way,
+   The works of God to scan.
+
+Far seen across the sandy wild,
+Where, like a solitary child,
+   He thoughtless roamed and free,
+One towering thorn was wrapt in flame -
+Bright without blaze it went and came:
+   Who would not turn and see?
+
+Along the mountain ledges green
+The scattered sheep at will may glean
+   The Desert's spicy stores:
+The while, with undivided heart,
+The shepherd talks with God apart,
+   And, as he talks, adores.
+
+Ye too, who tend Christ's wildering flock,
+Well may ye gather round the rock
+   That once was Sion's hill:
+To watch the fire upon the mount
+Still blazing, like the solar fount,
+   Yet unconsuming still.
+
+Caught from that blaze by wrath Divine,
+Lost branches of the once-loved vine,
+   Now withered, spent, and sere,
+See Israel's sons, like glowing brands,
+Tossed wildly o'er a thousand lands
+   For twice a thousand year.
+
+God will not quench nor slay them quite,
+But lifts them like a beacon-light
+   The apostate Church to scare;
+Or like pale ghosts that darkling roam,
+Hovering around their ancient home,
+   But find no refuge there.
+
+Ye blessed Angels! if of you
+There be, who love the ways to view
+   Of Kings and Kingdoms here;
+(And sure, 'tis worth an Angel's gaze,
+To see, throughout that dreary maze,
+   God teaching love and fear:)
+
+Oh say, in all the bleak expanse
+Is there a spot to win your glance,
+   So bright, so dark as this?
+A hopeless faith, a homeless race,
+Yet seeking the most holy place,
+   And owning the true bliss!
+
+Salted with fire they seem, to show
+How spirits lost in endless woe
+   May undecaying live.
+Oh, sickening thought! yet hold it fast
+Long as this glittering world shall last,
+   Or sin at heart survive.
+
+And hark! amid the flashing fire,
+Mingling with tones of fear and ire,
+   Soft Mercy's undersong -
+'Tis Abraham's God who speaks so loud,
+His people's cries have pierced the cloud,
+   He sees, He sees their wrong;
+
+He is come down to break their chain;
+Though nevermore on Sion's fane
+   His visible ensign wave;
+'Tis Sion, wheresoe'er they dwell,
+Who, with His own true Israel,
+   Shall own Him strong to save.
+
+He shall redeem them one by one,
+Where'er the world-encircling sun
+   Shall see them meekly kneel:
+All that He asks on Israel's part,
+Is only that the captive heart
+   Its woe and burthen feel.
+
+Gentiles! with fixed yet awful eye
+Turn ye this page of mystery,
+   Nor slight the warning sound:
+"Put off thy shoes from off thy feet -
+The place where man his God shall meet,
+   Be sure, is holy ground."
+
+
+
+PALM SUNDAY
+
+
+
+And He answered and said unto them, I tell you that, if these
+should hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out.  St.
+Luke xix. 40.
+
+Ye whose hearts are beating high
+With the pulse of Poesy,
+Heirs of more than royal race,
+Framed by Heaven's peculiar grace,
+God's own work to do on earth,
+   (If the word be not too bold,)
+Giving virtue a new birth,
+   And a life that ne'er grows old -
+
+Sovereign masters of all hearts!
+Know ye, who hath set your parts?
+He who gave you breath to sing,
+By whose strength ye sweep the string,
+He hath chosen you, to lead
+   His Hosannas here below; -
+Mount, and claim your glorious meed;
+   Linger not with sin and woe.
+
+But if ye should hold your peace,
+Deem not that the song would cease -
+Angels round His glory-throne,
+Stars, His guiding hand that own,
+Flowers, that grow beneath our feet,
+   Stones in earth's dark womb that rest,
+High and low in choir shall meet,
+   Ere His Name shall be unblest.
+
+Lord, by every minstrel tongue
+Be Thy praise so duly sung,
+That Thine angels' harps may ne'er
+Fail to find fit echoing here:
+We the while, of meaner birth,
+   Who in that divinest spell
+Dare not hope to join on earth,
+   Give us grace to listen well.
+
+But should thankless silence seal
+Lips that might half Heaven reveal,
+Should bards in idol-hymns profane
+The sacred soul-enthralling strain,
+(As in this bad world below
+   Noblest things find vilest using,)
+Then, Thy power and mercy show,
+   In vile things noble breath infusing;
+
+Then waken into sound divine
+The very pavement of Thy shrine,
+Till we, like Heaven's star-sprinkled floor,
+Faintly give back what we adore:
+Childlike though the voices be,
+   And untunable the parts,
+Thou wilt own the minstrelsy
+   If it flow from childlike hearts.
+
+
+
+MONDAY BEFORE EASTER
+
+
+
+Doubtless Thou art our Father, though Abraham be ignorant of us,
+and Israel acknowledge us not.  Isaiah lxiii. 16.
+
+"Father to me thou art and mother dear,
+   And brother too, kind husband of my heart -
+So speaks Andromache in boding fear,
+   Ere from her last embrace her hero part -
+So evermore, by Faith's undying glow,
+We own the Crucified in weal or woe.
+
+Strange to our ears the church-bells of our home,
+   This fragrance of our old paternal fields
+May be forgotten; and the time may come
+   When the babe's kiss no sense of pleasure yields
+E'en to the doting mother:  but Thine own
+Thou never canst forget, nor leave alone.
+
+There are who sigh that no fond heart is theirs,
+   None loves them best--O vain and selfish sigh!
+Out of the bosom of His love He spares -
+   The Father spares the Son, for thee to die:
+For thee He died--for thee He lives again:
+O'er thee He watches in His boundless reign.
+
+Thou art as much His care, as if beside
+   Nor man nor angel lived in Heaven or earth:
+Thus sunbeams pour alike their glorious tide
+   To light up worlds, or wake an insect's mirth:
+They shine and shine with unexhausted store -
+Thou art thy Saviour's darling--seek no more.
+
+On thee and thine, thy warfare and thine end,
+   E'en in His hour of agony He thought,
+When, ere the final pang His soul should rend,
+   The ransomed spirits one by one were brought
+To His mind's eye--two silent nights and days
+In calmness for His far-seen hour He stays.
+
+Ye vaulted cells, where martyred seers of old
+   Far in the rocky walls of Sion sleep,
+Green terraces and arched fountains cold,
+   Where lies the cypress shade so still and deep,
+Dear sacred haunts of glory and of woe,
+Help us, one hour, to trace His musings high and low:
+
+One heart-ennobling hour!  It may not be:
+   The unearthly thoughts have passed from earth away,
+And fast as evening sunbeams from the sea
+   Thy footsteps all in Sion's deep decay
+Were blotted from the holy ground:  yet dear
+Is every stone of hers; for Thou want surely here.
+
+There is a spot within this sacred dale
+   That felt Thee kneeling--touched Thy prostrate brow:
+One Angel knows it.  O might prayer avail
+   To win that knowledge! sure each holy vow
+Less quickly from the unstable soul would fade,
+Offered where Christ in agony was laid.
+
+Might tear of ours once mingle with the blood
+   That from His aching brow by moonlight fell,
+Over the mournful joy our thoughts would brood,
+   Till they had framed within a guardian spell
+To chase repining fancies, as they rise,
+Like birds of evil wing, to mar our sacrifice.
+
+So dreams the heart self-flattering, fondly dreams; -
+   Else wherefore, when the bitter waves o'erflow,
+Miss we the light, Gethsemane, that streams
+   From thy dear name, where in His page of woe
+It shines, a pale kind star in winter's sky?
+Who vainly reads it there, in vain had seen Him die.
+
+
+
+TUESDAY BEFORE EASTER
+
+
+
+They gave Him to drink wine mingled with myrrh:  but He received in
+not.  St. Mark xv. 23.
+
+"Fill high the bowl, and spice it well, and pour
+The dews oblivious:  for the Cross is sharp,
+   The Cross is sharp, and He
+   Is tenderer than a lamb.
+
+"He wept by Lazarus' grave--how will He bear
+This bed of anguish? and His pale weak form
+   Is worn with many a watch
+   Of sorrow and unrest.
+
+"His sweat last night was as great drops of blood,
+And the sad burthen pressed Him so to earth,
+   The very torturers paused
+   To help Him on His way.
+
+"Fill high the bowl, benumb His aching sense
+With medicined sleep."--O awful in Thy woe!
+   The parching thirst of death
+   Is on Thee, and Thou triest
+
+The slumb'rous potion bland, and wilt not drink:
+Not sullen, nor in scorn, like haughty man
+   With suicidal hand
+   Putting his solace by:
+
+But as at first Thine all-pervading look
+Saw from Thy Father's bosom to the abyss
+   Measuring in calm presage
+   The infinite descent;
+
+So to the end, though now of mortal pangs
+Made heir, and emptied of Thy glory, awhile,
+   With unaverted eye
+   Thou meetest all the storm.
+
+Thou wilt feel all, that Thou mayst pity all;
+And rather wouldst Thou wreathe with strong pain,
+   Than overcloud Thy soul,
+   So clear in agony,
+
+Or lose one glimpse of Heaven before the time
+O most entire and perfect sacrifice,
+   Renewed in every pulse
+   That on the tedious Cross
+
+Told the long hours of death, as, one by one,
+The life-strings of that tender heart gave way;
+   E'en sinners, taught by Thee,
+   Look Sorrow in the face,
+
+And bid her freely welcome, unbeguiled
+By false kind solaces, and spells of earth:-
+   And yet not all unsoothed;
+   For when was Joy so dear,
+
+As the deep calm that breathed, "Father, forgive,"
+Or, "Be with Me in Paradise to-day?"
+   And, though the strife be sore,
+   Yet in His parting breath
+
+Love masters Agony; the soul that seemed
+Forsaken, feels her present God again,
+   And in her Father's arms
+   Contented dies away.
+
+
+
+WEDNESDAY BEFORE EASTER
+
+
+
+Saying, Father, if Thou be willing, remove this cup from Me;
+nevertheless not My will, but Thine, be done.  St. Luke xxii. 42.
+
+O Lord my God, do thou Thy holy will -
+   I will lie still -
+I will not stir, lest I forsake Thine arm,
+   And break the charm
+Which lulls me, clinging to my Father's breast,
+   In perfect rest.
+
+Wild fancy, peace! thou must not me beguile
+   With thy false smile:
+I know thy flatteries and thy cheating ways;
+   Be silent, Praise,
+Blind guide with siren voice, and blinding all
+   That hear thy call.
+
+Come, Self-devotion, high and pure,
+Thoughts that in thankfulness endure,
+Though dearest hopes are faithless found,
+And dearest hearts are bursting round.
+Come, Resignation, spirit meek,
+And let me kiss thy placid cheek,
+And read in thy pale eye serene
+Their blessing, who by faith can wean
+Their hearts from sense, and learn to love
+God only, and the joys above.
+
+They say, who know the life divine,
+And upward gaze with eagle eyne,
+That by each golden crown on high,
+Rich with celestial jewelry,
+Which for our Lord's redeemed is set,
+There hangs a radiant coronet,
+All gemmed with pure and living light,
+Too dazzling for a sinner's sight,
+Prepared for virgin souls, and them
+Who seek the martyr's diadem.
+
+Nor deem, who to that bliss aspire,
+Must win their way through blood and fire.
+The writhings of a wounded heart
+Are fiercer than a foeman's dart.
+Oft in Life's stillest shade reclining,
+In Desolation unrepining,
+Without a hope on earth to find
+A mirror in an answering mind,
+Meek souls there are, who little dream
+Their daily strife an Angel's theme,
+Or that the rod they take so calm
+Shall prove in Heaven a martyr's palm.
+
+And there are souls that seem to dwell
+Above this earth--so rich a spell
+Floats round their steps, where'er they move,
+From hopes fulfilled and mutual love.
+Such, if on high their thoughts are set,
+Nor in the stream the source forget,
+If prompt to quit the bliss they know,
+Following the Lamb where'er He go,
+By purest pleasures unbeguiled
+To idolise or wife or child;
+Such wedded souls our God shall own
+For faultless virgins round His throne.
+
+Thus everywhere we find our suffering God,
+   And where He trod
+May set our steps:  the Cross on Calvary
+   Uplifted high
+Beams on the martyr host, a beacon light
+   In open fight.
+
+To the still wrestlings of the lonely heart
+   He doth impart
+The virtue of his midnight agony,
+   When none was nigh,
+Save God and one good angel, to assuage
+   The tempest's rage.
+
+Mortal! if life smile on thee, and thou find
+   All to thy mind,
+Think, who did once from Heaven to Hell descend,
+   Thee to befriend:
+So shalt thou dare forego, at His dear call,
+   Thy best, thine all.
+
+"O Father! not My will, but Thine be done" -
+   So spake the Son.
+Be this our charm, mellowing Earth's ruder noise
+   Of griefs and joys:
+That we may cling for ever to Thy breast
+   In perfect rest!
+
+
+
+THURSDAY BEFORE EASTER
+
+
+
+As the beginning of thy supplications the commandment came forth,
+and I am come to shew thee; for thou art greatly beloved:
+therefore understand the matter, and consider the vision.  Daniel
+ix. 23.
+
+   "O Holy mountain of my God,
+      How do thy towers in ruin lie,
+   How art thou riven and strewn abroad,
+      Under the rude and wasteful sky!"
+   'Twas thus upon his fasting-day
+   The "Man of Loves" was fain to pray,
+   His lattice open toward his darling west,
+Mourning the ruined home he still must love the best.
+
+   Oh! for a love like Daniel's now,
+      To wing to Heaven but one strong prayer
+   For GOD'S new Israel, sunk as low,
+      Yet flourishing to sight as fair,
+   As Sion in her height of pride,
+   With queens for handmaids at her side,
+   With kings her nursing-fathers, throned high,
+And compassed with the world's too tempting blazonry.
+
+   'Tis true, nor winter stays thy growth,
+      Nor torrid summer's sickly smile;
+   The flashing billows of the south
+      Break not upon so lone an isle,
+   But thou, rich vine, art grafted there,
+   The fruit of death or life to bear,
+   Yielding a surer witness every day,
+To thine Almighty Author and His steadfast sway.
+
+   Oh! grief to think, that grapes of gall
+      Should cluster round thine healthiest shoot!
+   God's herald prove a heartless thrall,
+      Who, if he dared, would fain be mute!
+   E'en such is this bad world we see,
+   Which self-condemned in owning Thee,
+   Yet dares not open farewell of Thee take,
+For very pride, and her high-boasted Reason's sake.
+
+   What do we then? if far and wide
+      Men kneel to CHRIST, the pure and meek,
+   Yet rage with passion, swell with pride,
+      Have we not still our faith to seek?
+   Nay--but in steadfast humbleness
+   Kneel on to Him, who loves to bless
+   The prayer that waits for him; and trembling strive
+To keep the lingering flame in thine own breast alive.
+
+   Dark frowned the future e'en on him,
+      The loving and beloved Seer,
+   What time he saw, through shadows dim,
+      The boundary of th' eternal year;
+   He only of the sons of men
+   Named to be heir of glory then.
+   Else had it bruised too sore his tender heart
+To see GOD'S ransomed world in wrath and flame depart
+
+   Then look no more:  or closer watch
+      Thy course in Earth's bewildering ways,
+   For every glimpse thine eye can catch
+      Of what shall be in those dread days:
+   So when th' Archangel's word is spoken,
+   And Death's deep trance for ever broken,
+   In mercy thou mayst feel the heavenly hand,
+And in thy lot unharmed before thy Savour stand.
+
+
+
+GOOD FRIDAY
+
+
+
+He is despised and rejected of men.  Isaiah liii. 3.
+
+   Is it not strange, the darkest hour
+      That ever dawned on sinful earth
+   Should touch the heart with softer power
+      For comfort than an angel's mirth?
+That to the Cross the mourner's eye should turn
+Sooner than where the stars of Christmas burn?
+
+   Sooner than where the Easter sun
+      Shines glorious on yon open grave,
+   And to and fro the tidings run,
+      "Who died to heal, is risen to save?"
+Sooner than where upon the Saviour's friends
+The very Comforter in light and love descends?
+
+   Yet so it is:  for duly there
+      The bitter herbs of earth are set,
+   Till tempered by the Saviour's prayer,
+      And with the Saviour's life-blood wet,
+They turn to sweetness, and drop holy balm,
+Soft as imprisoned martyr's deathbed calm.
+
+   All turn to sweet--but most of all
+      That bitterest to the lip of pride,
+   When hopes presumptuous fade and fall,
+      Or Friendship scorns us, duly tried,
+Or Love, the flower that closes up for fear
+When rude and selfish spirits breathe too near.
+
+   Then like a long-forgotten strain
+      Comes sweeping o'er the heart forlorn
+   What sunshine hours had taught in vain
+      Of JESUS suffering shame and scorn,
+As in all lowly hearts he suffers still,
+While we triumphant ride and have the world at will.
+
+   His pierced hands in vain would hide
+      His face from rude reproachful gaze,
+   His ears are open to abide
+      The wildest storm the tongue can raise,
+He who with one rough word, some early day,
+Their idol world and them shall sweep for aye away.
+
+   But we by Fancy may assuage
+      The festering sore by Fancy made,
+   Down in some lonely hermitage
+      Like wounded pilgrims safely laid,
+Where gentlest breezes whisper souls distressed,
+That Love yet lives, and Patience shall find rest.
+
+   O! shame beyond the bitterest thought
+      That evil spirit ever framed,
+   That sinners know what Jesus wrought,
+      Yet feel their haughty hearts untamed -
+That souls in refuge, holding by the Cross,
+Should wince and fret at this world's little loss.
+
+   Lord of my heart, by Thy last cry,
+      Let not Thy blood on earth be spent -
+   Lo, at Thy feet I fainting lie,
+      Mine eyes upon Thy wounds are bent,
+Upon Thy streaming wounds my weary eyes
+Wait like the parched earth on April skies.
+
+   Wash me, and dry these bitter tears,
+      O let my heart no further roam,
+   'Tis Thine by vows, and hopes, and fears.
+      Long since--O call Thy wanderer home;
+To that dear home, safe in Thy wounded side,
+Where only broken hearts their sin and shame may hide.
+
+
+
+EASTER EVE.
+
+
+
+As for thee also, by the blood of thy covenant I have sent forth
+thy prisoners out of the pit wherein is no water.  Zechariah ix.
+11.
+
+   At length the worst is o'er, and Thou art laid
+      Deep in Thy darksome bed;
+   All still and cold beneath yon dreary stone
+      Thy sacred form is gone;
+   Around those lips where power and mercy hung,
+      The dews of deaths have clung;
+   The dull earth o'er Thee, and Thy foes around,
+Thou sleep'st a silent corse, in funeral fetters wound.
+
+   Sleep'st Thou indeed? or is Thy spirit fled,
+      At large among the dead?
+   Whether in Eden bowers Thy welcome voice
+      Wake Abraham to rejoice,
+   Or in some drearier scene Thine eye controls
+      The thronging band of souls;
+   That, as Thy blood won earth, Thine agony
+Might set the shadowy realm from sin and sorrow free.
+
+   Where'er Thou roam'st, one happy soul, we know,
+      Seen at Thy side in woe,
+   Waits on Thy triumphs--even as all the blest
+      With him and Thee shall rest.
+   Each on his cross; by Thee we hang a while,
+      Watching Thy patient smile,
+   Till we have learned to say, "'Tis justly done,
+Only in glory, LORD, Thy sinful servant own."
+
+   Soon wilt Thou take us to Thy tranquil bower
+      To rest one little hour,
+   Till Thine elect are numbered, and the grave
+      Call Thee to come and save:
+   Then on Thy bosom borne shall we descend
+      Again with earth to blend,
+   Earth all refined with bright supernal fires,
+Tinctured with holy blood, and winged with pure desires.
+
+   Meanwhile with every son and saint of Thine
+      Along the glorious line,
+   Sitting by turns beneath Thy sacred feet
+      We'll hold communion sweet,
+   Know them by look and voice, and thank them all
+      For helping us in thrall,
+   For words of hope, and bright examples given
+To show through moonless skies that there is light in Heaven.
+
+   O come that day, when in this restless heart
+      Earth shall resign her part,
+   When in the grave with Thee my limbs shall rest,
+      My soul with Thee be blest!
+   But stay, presumptuous--CHRIST with Thee abides
+      In the rock's dreary sides:
+   He from this stone will wring Celestial dew
+If but this prisoner's heart he faithful found and true.
+
+   When tears are spent, and then art left alone
+      With ghosts of blessings gone,
+   Think thou art taken from the cross, and laid
+      In JESUS' burial shade;
+   Take Moses' rod, the rod of prayer, and call
+      Out of the rocky wall
+   The fount of holy blood; and lift on high
+Thy grovelling soul that feels so desolate and dry.
+
+   Prisoner of Hope thou art--look up and sing
+      In hope of promised spring.
+   As in the pit his father's darling lay
+      Beside the desert way,
+   And knew not how, but knew his GOD would save
+      E'en from that living grave,
+   So, buried with our LORD, we'll chose our eyes
+To the decaying world, till Angels bid us rise.
+
+
+
+EASTER DAY
+
+
+
+And as they were afraid, and bowed down their faces to the earth,
+they said unto them, Why seek ye the living among the dead?  He is
+not here, but is risen.  St. Luke xxiv. 5, 6.
+
+Oh! day of days! shall hearts set free
+No "minstrel rapture" find for thee?
+Thou art this Sun of other days,
+They shine by giving back thy rays:
+
+Enthroned in thy sovereign sphere,
+Thou shedd'st thy light on all the year;
+Sundays by thee more glorious break,
+An Easter Day in every week:
+
+And week days, following in their train,
+The fulness of thy blessing gain,
+Till all, both resting soil employ,
+Be one Lord's day of holy joy.
+
+Then wake, my soul, to high desires,
+And earlier light thine altar fires:
+The World some hours is on her way,
+Nor thinks on thee, thou blessed day:
+
+Or, if she think, it is in scorn:
+The vernal light of Easter morn
+To her dark gaze no brighter seems
+Than Reason's or the Law's pale beams.
+
+"Where is your Lord?" she scornful asks:
+"Where is His hire? we know his tasks;
+Sons of a King ye boast to be:
+Let us your crowns and treasures see."
+
+We in the words of Truth reply,
+(An angel brought them from this sky,)
+"Our crown, our treasure is not here,
+'Tis stored above the highest sphere:
+
+"Methinks your wisdom guides amiss,
+To seek on earth a Christian's bliss;
+We watch not now the lifeless stone;
+Our only Lord is risen and gone."
+
+Yet e'en the lifeless stone is dear
+For thoughts of Him who late lay here;
+And the base world, now Christ hath died,
+Ennobled is and glorified.
+
+No more a charnel-house, to fence
+The relics of lost innocence,
+A vault of ruin and decay;
+Th' imprisoning stone is rolled away:
+
+'Tis now a cell, where angels use
+To come and go with heavenly news,
+And in the ears of mourners say,
+"Come, see the place where Jesus lay:"
+
+'Tis now a fane, where Love can find
+Christ everywhere embalmed and shined:
+Aye gathering up memorials sweet,
+Where'er she sets her duteous feet.
+
+Oh! joy to Mary first allowed,
+When roused from weeping o'er His shroud,
+By His own calm, soul-soothing tone,
+Breathing her name, as still His own!
+
+Joy to the faithful Three renewed,
+As their glad errand they pursued!
+Happy, who so Christ's word convey,
+That he may meet them on their way!
+
+So is it still:  to holy tears,
+In lonely hours, Christ risen appears:
+In social hours, who Christ would see
+Must turn all tasks to Charity.
+
+
+
+MONDAY IN EASTER WEEK
+
+
+
+Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons:  but in
+every nation he that feareth Him, and worketh righteousness, is
+accepted with Him.  Acts x. 34, 35.
+
+Go up and watch the new-born rill
+   Just trickling from its mossy bed,
+      Streaking the heath-clad hill
+         With a bright emerald thread.
+
+Canst thou her bold career foretell,
+   What rocks she shall o'erleap or rend,
+      How far in Ocean's swell
+         Her freshening billows send?
+
+Perchance that little brook shall flow
+   The bulwark of some mighty realm,
+      Bear navies to and fro
+         With monarchs at their helm.
+
+Or canst thou guess, how far away
+   Some sister nymph, beside her urn
+      Reclining night and day,
+         'Mid reeds and mountain fern,
+
+Nurses her store, with thine to blend
+   When many a moor and glen are past,
+      Then in the wide sea end
+         Their spotless lives at last?
+
+E'en so, the course of prayer who knows?
+   It springs in silence where it will,
+      Springs out of sight, and flows
+         At first a lonely rill:
+
+But streams shall meet it by and by
+   From thousand sympathetic hearts,
+      Together swelling high
+         Their chant of many parts.
+
+Unheard by all but angel ears
+   The good Cornelius knelt alone,
+      Nor dreamed his prayers and tears
+         Would help a world undone.
+
+The while upon his terraced roof
+   The loved Apostle to his Lord
+      In silent thought aloof
+         For heavenly vision soared.
+
+Far o'er the glowing western main
+   His wistful brow was upward raised,
+      Where, like an angel's train,
+         The burnished water blazed.
+
+The saint beside the ocean prayed,
+   This soldier in his chosen bower,
+      Where all his eye surveyed
+         Seemed sacred in that hour.
+
+To each unknown his brother's prayer,
+   Yet brethren true in dearest love
+      Were they--and now they share
+         Fraternal joys above.
+
+There daily through Christ's open gate
+   They see the Gentile spirits press,
+      Brightening their high estate
+         With dearer happiness.
+
+What civic wreath for comrades saved
+   Shone ever with such deathless gleam,
+      Or when did perils braved
+         So sweet to veterans seem?
+
+
+
+TUESDAY IN EASTER WEEK
+
+
+
+And they departed quickly from the sepulchre with fear and great
+joy, and did run to bring His disciples word.  St. Matthew xxviii.
+8.
+
+TO THE SNOWDROP.
+
+Thou first-born of the year's delight,
+   Pride of the dewy glade,
+In vernal green and virgin white,
+   Thy vestal robes, arrayed:
+
+'Tis not because thy drooping form
+   Sinks graceful on its nest,
+When chilly shades from gathering storm
+   Affright thy tender breast;
+
+Nor for yon river islet wild
+   Beneath the willow spray,
+Where, like the ringlets of a child,
+   Thou weav'st thy circle gay;
+
+'Tis not for these I love thee dear -
+   Thy shy averted smiles
+To Fancy bode a joyous year,
+   One of Life's fairy isles.
+
+They twinkle to the wintry moon,
+   And cheer th' ungenial day,
+And tell us, all will glisten soon
+   As green and bright as they.
+
+Is there a heart that loves the spring,
+   Their witness can refuse?
+Yet mortals doubt, when angels bring
+   From Heaven their Easter news:
+
+When holy maids and matrons speak
+   Of Christ's forsaken bed,
+And voices, that forbid to seek
+   The hiving 'mid the dead,
+
+And when they say, "Turn, wandering heart,
+   Thy Lord is ris'n indeed,
+Let Pleasure go, put Care apart,
+   And to His presence speed;"
+
+We smile in scorn:  and yet we know
+   They early sought the tomb,
+Their hearts, that now so freshly glow,
+   Lost in desponding gloom.
+
+They who have sought, nor hope to find,
+   Wear not so bright a glance:
+They, who have won their earthly mind,
+   Lees reverently advance.
+
+But where in gentle spirits, fear
+   And joy so duly meet,
+These sure have seen the angels near,
+   And kissed the Saviour's feet.
+
+Nor let the Pastor's thankful eye
+   Their faltering tale disdain,
+As on their lowly couch they lie,
+   Prisoners of want and pain.
+
+O guide us, when our faithless hearts
+   From Thee would start aloof,
+Where Patience her sweet skill imparts
+   Beneath some cottage roof:
+
+Revive our dying fires, to burn
+   High as her anthems soar,
+And of our scholars let us learn
+   Our own forgotten lore.
+
+
+
+FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EASTER
+
+
+
+Seemeth it but a small thing unto you, that the God of Israel hath
+separated you from the congregation of Israel, to bring you near to
+Himself?  Numbers xvi. 9.
+
+First Father of the holy seed,
+If yet, invoked in hour of need,
+   Thou count me for Thine own
+Not quite an outcast if I prove,
+(Thou joy'st in miracles of love),
+   Hear, from Thy mercy-throne!
+
+Upon Thine altar's horn of gold
+Help me to lay my trembling hold,
+   Though stained with Christian gore; -
+The blood of souls by Thee redeemed,
+But, while I roved or idly dreamed,
+   Lost to be found no more.
+
+For oft, when summer leaves were bright,
+And every flower was bathed in light,
+   In sunshine moments past,
+My wilful heart would burst away
+From where the holy shadow lay,
+   Where heaven my lot had cast.
+
+I thought it scorn with Thee to dwell,
+A Hermit in a silent cell,
+   While, gaily sweeping by,
+Wild Fancy blew his bugle strain,
+And marshalled all his gallant train
+   In the world's wondering eye.
+
+I would have joined him--but as oft
+Thy whispered warnings, kind and soft,
+   My better soul confessed.
+"My servant, let the world alone -
+Safe on the steps of Jesus' throne
+   Be tranquil and be blest."
+
+"Seems it to thee a niggard hand
+That nearest Heaven has bade thee stand,
+   The ark to touch and bear,
+With incense of pure heart's desire
+To heap the censer's sacred fire,
+   The snow-white Ephod wear?"
+
+Why should we crave the worldling's wreath,
+On whom the Savour deigned to breathe,
+   To whom His keys were given,
+Who lead the choir where angels meet,
+With angels' food our brethren greet,
+   And pour the drink of Heaven?
+
+When sorrow all our heart would ask,
+We need not shun our daily task,
+   And hide ourselves for calm;
+The herbs we seek to heal our woe
+Familiar by our pathway grow,
+   Our common air is balm.
+
+Around each pure domestic shrine
+Bright flowers of Eden bloom and twine,
+   Our hearths are altars all;
+The prayers of hungry souls and poor,
+Like armed angels at the door,
+   Our unseen foes appal.
+
+Alms all around and hymns within -
+What evil eye can entrance win
+   Where guards like these abound?
+If chance some heedless heart should roam,
+Sure, thought of these will lure it home
+   Ere lost in Folly's round.
+
+O joys, that sweetest in decay,
+Fall not, like withered leaves, away,
+   But with the silent breath
+Of violets drooping one by one,
+Soon as their fragrant task is done,
+   Are wafted high in death!
+
+
+
+SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EASTER
+
+
+
+He hath said, which heard the words of God, and knew the knowledge
+of the Most High, which saw the vision of the Almighty, falling
+into a trance, but having his eyes open:  I shall see Him, but not
+now; I shall behold Him, but not nigh; there shall come a Star out
+at Jacob, and a Sceptre shall rise out of Israel, and shall smite
+the corners of Moab, and destroy all the children at Sheth.
+Numbers xxiv. 16, 17.
+
+   O for a sculptor's hand,
+   That thou might'st take thy stand,
+Thy wild hair floating on the eastern breeze,
+   Thy tranced yet open gaze
+   Fixed on the desert haze,
+As one who deep in heaven some airy pageant sees.
+
+   In outline dim and vast
+   Their fearful shadows cast
+This giant forms of empires on their way
+   To ruin:  one by one
+   They tower and they are gone,
+Yet in the Prophet's soul the dreams of avarice stay.
+
+   No sun or star so bright
+   In all the world of light
+That they should draw to Heaven his downward eye:
+   He hears th' Almighty's word,
+   He sees the angel's sword,
+Yet low upon the earth his heart and treasure lie.
+
+   Lo! from you argent field,
+   To him and us revealed,
+One gentle Star glides down, on earth to dwell.
+   Chained as they are below
+   Our eyes may see it glow,
+And as it mounts again, may track its brightness well.
+
+   To him it glared afar,
+   A token of wild war,
+The banner of his Lord's victorious wrath:
+   But close to us it gleams,
+   Its soothing lustre streams
+Around our home's green walls, and on our church-way path.
+
+   We in the tents abide
+   Which he at distance eyed
+Like goodly cedars by the waters spread,
+   While seven red altar-fires
+   Rose up in wavy spires,
+Where on the mount he watched his sorceries dark and dread.
+
+   He watched till morning's ray
+   On lake and meadow lay,
+And willow-shaded streams that silent sweep
+   Around the bannered lines,
+   Where by their several signs
+The desert-wearied tribes in sight of Canaan sleep.
+
+   He watched till knowledge came
+   Upon his soul like flame,
+Not of those magic fires at random caught:
+   But true Prophetic light
+   Flashed o'er him, high and bright,
+Flashed once, and died away, and left his darkened thought.
+
+   And can he choose but fear,
+   Who feels his GOD so near,
+That when he fain would curse, his powerless tongue
+   In blessing only moves? -
+   Alas! the world he loves
+Too close around his heart her tangling veil hath flung.
+
+   Sceptre and Star divine,
+   Who in Thine inmost shrine
+Hash made us worshippers, O claim Thine own;
+   More than Thy seers we know -
+   O teach our love to grow
+Up to Thy heavenly light, and reap what Thou hast sown.
+
+
+
+THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EASTER
+
+
+
+A woman when she is in travail hath sorrow, because her hour is
+come; but as soon as she is delivered of the child, she remembereth
+no more the anguish, for joy that a man is born into the world.
+St. John xvi. 21.
+
+         Well may I guess and feel
+            Why Autumn should be sad;
+      But vernal airs should sorrow heal,
+            Spring should be gay and glad:
+   Yet as along this violet bank I rove,
+      The languid sweetness seems to choke my breath,
+   I sit me down beside the hazel grove,
+And sigh, and half could wish my weariness were death.
+
+         Like a bright veering cloud
+            Grey blossoms twinkle there,
+      Warbles around a busy crowd
+            Of larks in purest air.
+   Shame on the heart that dreams of blessings gone,
+      Or wakes the spectral forms of woe and crime,
+   When nature sings of joy and hope alone,
+Reading her cheerful lesson in her own sweet time.
+
+         Nor let the proud heart say,
+            In her self-torturing hour,
+      The travail pangs must have their way,
+            The aching brow must lower.
+   To us long since the glorious Child is born
+      Our throes should be forgot, or only seem
+   Like a sad vision told for joy at morn,
+For joy that we have waked and found it but a dream.
+
+         Mysterious to all thought
+            A mother's prime of bliss,
+      When to her eager lips is brought
+            Her infant's thrilling kiss.
+   O never shall it set, the sacred light
+      Which dawns that moment on her tender gaze,
+   In the eternal distance blending bright
+Her darling's hope and hers, for love and joy and praise.
+
+         No need for her to weep
+            Like Thracian wives of yore,
+      Save when in rapture still and deep
+            Her thankful heart runs o'er.
+   They mourned to trust their treasure on the main,
+      Sure of the storm, unknowing of their guide:
+   Welcome to her the peril and the pain,
+For well she knows the bonus where they may safely hide.
+
+         She joys that one is born
+            Into a world forgiven,
+      Her Father's household to adorn,
+            And dwell with her in Heaven.
+   So have I seen, in Spring's bewitching hour,
+      When the glad Earth is offering all her best,
+   Some gentle maid bend o'er a cherished flower,
+And wish it worthier on a Parent's heart to rest.
+
+
+
+FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER
+
+
+
+Nevertheless I tell you the truth; It is expedient for you that I
+go away:  for if I go not away, the Comforter will not come unto
+you; but if I depart, I will send Him unto you.  St. John xvi 7.
+
+My Saviour, can it ever be
+That I should gain by losing Thee?
+The watchful mother tarries nigh,
+Though sleep have closed her infant's eye;
+For should he wake, and find her gone.
+She knows she could not bear his moan.
+But I am weaker than a child,
+   And Thou art more than mother dear;
+Without Thee Heaven were but a wild;
+   How can I live without Thee here!
+
+"'Tis good for you, that I should go,
+"You lingering yet awhile below;" -
+'Tis Thine own gracious promise, Lord!
+Thy saints have proved the faithful word,
+When heaven's bright boundless avenue
+Far opened on their eager view,
+And homeward to Thy Father's throne,
+   Still lessening, brightening on their sight,
+Thy shadowy car went soaring on;
+   They tracked Thee up th' abyss of light.
+
+Thou bidd'st rejoice; they dare not mourn,
+But to their home in gladness turn,
+Their home and God's, that favoured place,
+Where still He shines on Abraham's race,
+In prayers and blessings there to wait
+Like suppliants at their Monarch's gate,
+Who bent with bounty rare to aid
+   The splendours of His crowning day,
+Keeps back awhile His largess, made
+   More welcome for that brief delay:
+
+In doubt they wait, but not unblest;
+They doubt not of their Master's rest,
+Nor of the gracious will of Heaven -
+Who gave His Son, sure all has given -
+But in ecstatic awe they muse
+What course the genial stream may choose,
+And far and wide their fancies rove,
+   And to their height of wonder strain,
+What secret miracle of love
+   Should make their Saviour's going gain.
+
+The days of hope and prayer are past,
+The day of comfort dawns at last,
+The everlasting gates again
+Roll back, and, lo! a royal train -
+From the far depth of light once more
+The floods of glory earthward pour:
+They part like shower-drops in mid air,
+   But ne'er so soft fell noon-tide shower,
+Nor evening rainbow gleamed so fair
+   To weary swains in parched bower.
+
+Swiftly and straight each tongue of flame
+Through cloud and breeze unwavering came,
+And darted to its place of rest
+On some meek brow of Jesus blest.
+Nor fades it yet, that living gleam,
+And still those lambent lightnings stream;
+Where'er the Lord is, there are they;
+   In every heart that gives them room,
+They light His altar every day,
+   Zeal to inflame, and vice consume.
+
+Soft as the plumes of Jesus' Dove
+They nurse the soul to heavenly love;
+The struggling spark of good within,
+Just smothered in the strife of sin,
+They quicken to a timely glow,
+The pure flame spreading high and low.
+Said I, that prayer and hope were o'er?
+   Nay, blessed Spirit! but by Thee
+The Church's prayer finds wings to soar,
+   The Church's hope finds eyes to see.
+
+Then, fainting soul, arise and sing;
+Mount, but be sober on the wing;
+Mount up, for Heaven is won by prayer,
+Be sober, for thou art not there;
+Till Death the weary spirit free,
+Thy God hath said, 'Tis good for thee
+To walk by faith and not by sight:
+   Take it on trust a little while;
+Soon shalt thou read the mystery right
+   In the full sunshine of His smile.
+
+Or if thou yet more knowledge crave,
+Ask thine own heart, that willing slave
+To all that works thee woe or harm
+Shouldst thou not need some mighty charm
+To win thee to thy Saviour's side,
+Though He had deigned with thee to bide?
+The Spirit must stir the darkling deep,
+   The Dove must settle on the Cross,
+Else we should all sin on or sleep
+   With Christ in sight, turning our gain to loss.
+
+
+
+FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER--ROGATION SUNDAY
+
+
+
+And the Lord was very angry with Aaron to have destroyed him:  and
+I prayed for Aaron also the same time.  Deuteronomy ix. 20.
+
+Now is there solemn pause in earth and heaven;
+      The Conqueror now
+      His bonds hath riven,
+And Angels wonder why He stays below:
+   Yet hath not man his lesson learned,
+   How endless love should be returned.
+
+Deep is the silence as of summer noon,
+      When a soft shower
+      Will trickle soon,
+A gracious rain, freshening the weary bower -
+   O sweetly then far off is heard
+   The clear note of some lonely bird.
+
+So let Thy turtle-dove's sad call arise
+      In doubt and fear
+      Through darkening skies,
+And pierce, O Lord, Thy justly-sealed ear,
+   Where on the house-top, all night long
+   She trills her widowed, faltering song.
+
+Teach her to know and love her hour of prayer,
+      And evermore,
+      As faith grows rare,
+Unlock her heart, and offer all its store
+   In holier love and humbler vows,
+   As suits a lost returning spouse.
+
+Not as at first, but with intenser cry,
+      Upon the mount
+      She now must lie,
+Till Thy dear love to blot the sad account
+   Of her rebellious race be won,
+   Pitying the mother in the son.
+
+But chiefly (for she knows Thee angered worst
+      By holiest things
+      Profaned and curst),
+Chiefly for Aaron's seed she spreads her wings,
+   If but one leaf she may from Thee
+   Win of the reconciling tree.
+
+For what shall heal, when holy water banes!
+      Or who may guide
+      O'er desert plains
+Thy loved yet sinful people wandering wide,
+   If Aaron's hand unshrinking mould
+   An idol form of earthly gold?
+
+Therefore her tears are bitter, and as deep
+      Her boding sigh,
+      As, while men sleep,
+Sad-hearted mothers heave, that wakeful lie,
+   To muse upon some darling child
+   Roaming in youth's uncertain wild.
+
+Therefore on fearful dreams her inward sight
+      Is fain to dwell -
+      What lurid light
+Shall the last darkness of the world dispel,
+   The Mediator in His wrath
+   Descending down the lightning's path.
+
+Yet, yet awhile, offended Saviour, pause,
+      In act to break
+      Thine outraged laws,
+O spare Thy rebels for Thine own dear sake;
+   Withdraw Thine hand, nor dash to earth
+   The covenant of our second birth.
+
+'Tis forfeit like the first--we own it all -
+      Yet for love's sake
+      Let it not fall;
+But at Thy touch let veiled hearts awake,
+   That nearest to Thine altar lie,
+   Yet least of holy things descry.
+
+Teacher of teachers!  Priest of priests! from Thee
+      The sweet strong prayer
+      Must rise, to free
+First Levi, then all Israel, from the snare.
+   Thou art our Moses out of sight -
+   Speak for us, or we perish quite.
+
+
+
+ASCENSION DAY
+
+
+
+Why stand ye gazing up into Heaven? this same Jesus, which is taken
+up from you into Heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have
+seen Him go into Heaven.  Acts i. 11
+
+      Soft cloud, that while the breeze of May
+Chants her glad matins in the leafy arch,
+   Draw'st thy bright veil across the heavenly way
+Meet pavement for an angel's glorious march:
+
+      My soul is envious of mine eye,
+That it should soar and glide with thee so fast,
+   The while my grovelling thoughts half buried lie,
+Or lawless roam around this earthly waste.
+
+      Chains of my heart, avaunt I say -
+I will arise, and in the strength of love
+   Pursue the bright track ere it fade away,
+My Saviour's pathway to His home above.
+
+      Sure, when I reach the point where earth
+Melts into nothing from th' uncumbered sight,
+   Heaven will o'ercome th' attraction of my birth.
+And I shall sink in yonder sea of light:
+
+      Till resting by th' incarnate LORD,
+Once bleeding, now triumphant for my sake,
+   I mark Him, how by seraph hosts adored,
+He to earth's lowest cares is still awake.
+
+      The sun and every vassal star,
+All space, beyond the soar of angel wings,
+   Wait on His word:  and yet He stays His car
+For every sigh a contrite suppliant brings.
+
+      He listens to the silent tear
+For all the anthems of the boundless sky -
+   And shall our dreams of music bar our ear
+To His soul-piercing voice for ever nigh?
+
+      Nay, gracious Saviour--but as now
+Our thoughts have traced Thee to Thy glory-throne
+   So help us evermore with thee to bow
+Where human sorrow breathes her lowly moan.
+
+      We must not stand to gaze too long,
+Though on unfolding Heaven our gaze we bend
+   Where lost behind the bright angelic throng
+We see CHRIST'S entering triumph slow ascend.
+
+      No fear but we shall soon behold,
+Faster than now it fades, that gleam revive,
+   When issuing from his cloud of fiery gold
+Our wasted frames feel the true sun, and live.
+
+      Then shall we see Thee as Thou art,
+For ever fixed in no unfruitful gaze,
+   But such as lifts the new-created heart,
+Age after age, in worthier love and praise.
+
+
+
+SUNDAY AFTER ASCENSION
+
+
+
+As every man hath received the gift, even so minister the same one
+to another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God.  1 St.
+Peter iv. 10.
+
+The Earth that in her genial breast
+Makes for the down a kindly nest,
+Where wafted by the warm south-west
+   It floats at pleasure,
+Yields, thankful, of her very best,
+   To nurse her treasure:
+
+True to her trust, tree, herb, or reed,
+She renders for each scattered seed,
+And to her Lord with duteous heed
+   Gives large increase:
+Thus year by year she works unfeed,
+   And will not cease.
+
+Woe worth these barren hearts of ours,
+Where Thou hast set celestial flowers,
+And watered with more balmy showers
+   Than e'er distilled
+In Eden, on th' ambrosial bowers -
+   Yet nought we yield.
+
+Largely Thou givest, gracious Lord,
+Largely Thy gifts should be restored;
+Freely Thou givest, and Thy word
+   Is, "Freely give."
+He only, who forgets to hoard,
+   Has learned to live.
+
+Wisely Thou givest--all around
+Thine equal rays are resting found,
+Yet varying so on various ground
+   They pierce and strike,
+That not two roseate cups are crowned
+   With drew alike:
+
+E'en so, in silence, likest Thee,
+Steals on soft-handed Charity,
+Tempering her gifts, that seem so free,
+   By time and place,
+Till not a woe the bleak world see,
+   But finds her grace:
+
+Eyes to the blind, and to the lame
+Feet, and to sinners wholesome blame,
+To starving bodies food and flame,
+   By turns she brings;
+To humbled souls, that sink for shame,
+   Lends heaven-ward wings:
+
+Leads them the way our Saviour went,
+And shows Love's treasure yet unspent;
+As when th' unclouded heavens were rent.
+   Opening His road,
+Nor yet His Holy Spirit sent
+   To our abode.
+
+Ten days th' eternal doors displayed
+Were wondering (so th' Almighty bade)
+Whom Love enthroned would send, in aid
+   Of souls that mourn,
+Left orphans in Earth's dreary shade
+   As noon as born.
+
+Open they stand, that prayers in throngs
+May rise on high, and holy songs,
+Such incense as of right belongs
+   To the true shrine,
+Where stands the Healer of all wrongs
+   In light divine;
+
+The golden censer in His hand,
+He offers hearts from every land,
+Tied to His own by gentlest band
+   Of silent Love:
+About Him winged blessings stand
+   In act to move.
+
+A little while, and they shall fleet
+From Heaven to Earth, attendants meet
+On the life-giving Paraclete
+   Speeding His flight,
+With all that sacred is and sweet,
+   On saints to light.
+
+Apostles, Prophets, Pastors, all
+Shall feel the shower of Mercy fall,
+And startling at th' Almighty's call,
+   Give what He gave,
+Till their high deeds the world appal,
+   And sinners save.
+
+
+
+WHITSUNDAY
+
+
+
+And suddenly there came a sound from Heaven as of a rushing mighty
+wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting.  And
+there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat
+upon each of them.  And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost.
+Acts ii. 2-4
+
+When God of old came down from Heaven,
+   In power and wrath He came;
+Before His feet the clouds were riven,
+   Half darkness and half flame:
+
+Around the trembling mountain's base
+   The prostrate people lay;
+A day of wrath and not of grace;
+   A dim and dreadful day.
+
+But when he came the second time,
+   He came in power and love,
+Softer than gale at morning prime
+   Hovered His holy Dove.
+
+The fires that rushed on Sinai down
+   In sudden torrents dread,
+Now gently light, a glorious crown,
+   On every sainted head.
+
+Like arrows went those lightnings forth
+   Winged with the sinner's doom,
+But these, like tongues, o'er all the earth
+   Proclaiming life to come:
+
+And as on Israel's awe-struck ear
+   The voice exceeding loud,
+The trump, that angels quake to hear,
+   Thrilled from the deep, dark cloud;
+
+So, when the Spirit of our God
+   Came down His flock to find,
+A voice from Heaven was heard abroad,
+   A rushing, mighty wind.
+
+Nor doth the outward ear alone
+   At that high warning start;
+Conscience gives back th' appalling tone;
+   'Tis echoed in the heart.
+
+It fills the Church of God; it fills
+   The sinful world around;
+Only in stubborn hearts and wills
+   No place for it is found.
+
+To other strains our souls are set:
+   A giddy whirl of sin
+Fills ear and brain, and will not let
+   Heaven's harmonies come in.
+
+Come Lord, Come Wisdom, Love, and Power,
+   Open our ears to hear;
+Let us not miss th' accepted hour;
+   Save, Lord, by Love or Fear.
+
+
+
+MONDAY IN WHITSUN-WEEK
+
+
+
+So the Lord scattered them abroad from thence upon the face of all
+the earth; and they left off to build the city.  Genesis xi. 8
+
+Since all that is not Heaven must fade,
+Light be the hand of Ruin laid
+   Upon the home I love:
+With lulling spell let soft Decay
+Steal on, and spare the giant sway,
+   The crash of tower and grove.
+
+Far opening down some woodland deep
+In their own quiet glade should sleep
+   The relics dear to thought,
+And wild-flower wreaths from side to side
+Their waving tracery hang, to hide
+   What ruthless Time has wrought.
+
+Such are the visions green and sweet
+That o'er the wistful fancy fleet
+   In Asia's sea-like plain,
+Where slowly, round his isles of sand,
+Euphrates through the lonely land
+   Winds toward the pearly main.
+
+Slumber is there, but not of rest;
+There her forlorn and weary nest
+   The famished hawk has found,
+The wild dog howls at fall of night,
+The serpent's rustling coils affright
+   The traveller on his round.
+
+What shapeless form, half lost on high,
+Half seen against the evening sky,
+   Seems like a ghost to glide,
+And watch, from Babel's crumbling heap,
+Where in her shadow, fast asleep,
+   Lies fallen imperial Pride?
+
+With half-closed eye a lion there
+Is basking in his noontide lair,
+   Or prowls in twilight gloom.
+The golden city's king he seems,
+Such as in old prophetic dreams
+   Sprang from rough ocean's womb.
+
+But where are now his eagle wings,
+That sheltered erst a thousand kings,
+   Hiding the glorious sky
+From half the nations, till they own
+No holier name, no mightier throne?
+   That vision is gone by.
+
+Quenched is the golden statue's ray,
+The breath of heaven has blown away
+   What toiling earth had piled,
+Scattering wise heart and crafty hand,
+As breezes strew on ocean's sand
+   The fabrics of a child.
+
+Divided thence through every age
+Thy rebels, Lord, their warfare wage,
+   And hoarse and jarring all
+Mount up their heaven-assailing cries
+To Thy bright watchmen in the skies
+   From Babel's shattered wall.
+
+Thrice only since, with blended might
+The nations on that haughty height
+   Have met to scale the Heaven:
+Thrice only might a Seraph's look
+A moment's shade of sadness brook -
+   Such power to guilt was given.
+
+Now the fierce bear and leopard keen
+Are perished as they ne'er had been,
+   Oblivion is their home:
+Ambition's boldest dream and last
+Must melt before the clarion blast
+   That sounds the dirge of Rome.
+
+Heroes and kings, obey the charm,
+Withdraw the proud high-reaching arm,
+   There is an oath on high:
+That ne'er on brow of mortal birth
+Shall blend again the crowns of earth,
+   Nor in according cry
+
+Her many voices mingling own
+One tyrant Lord, one idol throne:
+   But to His triumphs soon
+HE shall descend, who rules above,
+And the pure language of His love,
+   All tongues of men shall tune.
+
+Nor let Ambition heartless mourn;
+When Babel's very ruins burn,
+   Her high desires may breathe; -
+O'ercome thyself, and thou mayst share
+With Christ His Father's throne, and wear
+   The world's imperial wreath.
+
+
+
+TUESDAY IN WHITSUN-WEEK
+
+
+
+When He putteth forth His own sheep, He goeth before them.  St.
+John x. 4.
+(Addressed to Candidates for Ordination.)
+
+"Lord, in Thy field I work all day,
+I read, I teach, I warn, I pray,
+And yet these wilful wandering sheep
+Within Thy fold I cannot keep.
+
+"I journey, yet no step is won -
+Alas! the weary course I run!
+Like sailors shipwrecked in their dreams,
+All powerless and benighted seems."
+
+What? wearied out with half a life?
+Scared with this smooth unbloody strife?
+Think where thy coward hopes had flown
+Had Heaven held out the martyr's crown.
+
+How couldst thou hang upon the cross,
+To whom a weary hour is loss?
+Or how the thorns and scourging brook
+Who shrinkest from a scornful look?
+
+Yet ere thy craven spirit faints,
+Hear thine own King, the King of Saints;
+Though thou wert toiling in the grave,
+'Tis He can cheer thee, He can save.
+
+He is th' eternal mirror bright,
+Where Angels view the FATHER'S light,
+And yet in Him the simplest swain
+May read his homely lesson plain.
+
+Early to quit His home on earth,
+And claim His high celestial birth,
+Alone with His true Father found
+Within the temple's solemn round:-
+
+Yet in meek duty to abide
+For many a year at Mary's side,
+Nor heed, though restless spirits ask,
+"What, hath the Christ forgot His task?"
+
+Conscious of Deity within,
+To bow before an heir of sin,
+With folded arms on humble breast,
+By His own servant washed and blest:-
+
+Then full of Heaven, the mystic Dove
+Hovering His gracious brow above,
+To shun the voice and eye of praise,
+And in the wild His trophies raise:-
+
+With hymns of angels in His ears,
+Back to His task of woe and tears,
+Unmurmuring through the world to roam
+With not a wish or thought at home:-
+
+All but Himself to heal and save,
+Till ripened for the cross and grave,
+He to His Father gently yield
+The breath that our redemption sealed:-
+
+Then to unearthly life arise,
+Yet not at once to seek the skies,
+But glide awhile from saint to saint,
+Lest on our lonely way we faint;
+
+And through the cloud by glimpses show
+How bright, in Heaven, the marks will glow
+Of the true cross, imprinted deep
+Both on the Shepherd and the sheep:-
+
+When out of sight, in heart and prayer,
+Thy chosen people still to bear,
+And from behind Thy glorious veil,
+Shed light that cannot change or fail:-
+
+This is Thy pastoral course, O LORD,
+Till we be saved, and Thou adored; -
+Thy course and ours--but who are they
+Who follow on the narrow way?
+
+And yet of Thee from year to year
+The Church's solemn chant we hear,
+As from Thy cradle to Thy throne
+She swells her high heart-cheering tone.
+
+Listen, ye pure white-robed souls,
+Whom in her list she now enrolls,
+And gird ye for your high emprize
+By these her thrilling minstrelsies.
+
+And wheresoe'er in earth's wide field,
+Ye lift, for Him, the red-cross shield,
+Be this your song, your joy and pride -
+"Our Champion went before and died."
+
+
+
+TRINITY SUNDAY
+
+
+
+If I have told you earthly things, and ye believe not, how shall ye
+believe if I tell you of heavenly things?  St. John iii. 12
+
+Creator, Saviour, strengthening Guide,
+Now on Thy mercy's ocean wide
+Far out of sight we seem to glide.
+
+Help us, each hour, with steadier eye
+To search the deepening mystery,
+The wonders of Thy sea and sky.
+
+The blessed Angels look and long
+To praise Thee with a worthier song,
+And yet our silence does Thee wrong. -
+
+Along the Church's central space
+The sacred weeks, with unfelt pace,
+Hath borne us on from grace to grace.
+
+As travellers on some woodland height,
+When wintry suns are gleaming bright,
+Lose in arched glades their tangled sight; -
+
+By glimpses such as dreamers love
+Through her grey veil the leafless grove
+Shows where the distant shadows rove; -
+
+Such trembling joy the soul o'er-awes
+As nearer to Thy shrine she draws:-
+And now before the choir we pause.
+
+The door is closed--but soft and deep
+Around the awful arches sweep,
+Such airs as soothe a hermit's sleep.
+
+From each carved nook and fretted bend
+Cornice and gallery seem to send
+Tones that with seraphs hymns might blend.
+
+Three solemn parts together twine
+In harmony's mysterious line;
+Three solemn aisles approach the shrine:
+
+Yet all are One--together all,
+In thoughts that awe but not appal,
+Teach the adoring heart to fall.
+
+Within these walls each fluttering guest
+Is gently lured to one safe nest -
+Without, 'tis moaning and unrest.
+
+The busy world a thousand ways
+Is hurrying by, nor ever stays
+To catch a note of Thy dear praise.
+
+Why tarries not her chariot wheel,
+That o'er her with no vain appeal
+One gust of heavenly song might steal?
+
+Alas! for her Thy opening flowers
+Unheeded breathe to summer showers,
+Unheard the music of Thy bowers.
+
+What echoes from the sacred dome
+The selfish spirit may o'ercome
+That will not hear of love or home!
+
+The heart that scorned a father's care,
+How can it rise in filial prayer?
+How an all-seeing Guardian bear?
+
+Or how shall envious brethren own
+A Brother on the eternal throne,
+Their Father's joy, their hops alone?
+
+How shall Thy Spirit's gracious wile
+The sullen brow of gloom beguile,
+That frowns on sweet Affection's smile?
+
+Eternal One, Almighty Trine!
+(Since Thou art ours, and we are Thine,)
+By all Thy love did once resign,
+
+By all the grace Thy heavens still hide,
+We pray Thee, keep us at Thy side,
+Creator, Saviour, strengthening Guide!
+
+
+
+FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+So Joshua smote all the country, . . . and all their kings; he left
+none remaining.  Joshua x. 40.
+
+Where is the land with milk and honey flowing,
+   The promise of our God, our fancy's theme?
+Here over shattered walls dank weeds are growing,
+   And blood and fire have run in mingled stream;
+      Like oaks and cedars all around
+      The giant corses strew the ground,
+And haughty Jericho's cloud-piercing wall
+Lies where it sank at Joshua's trumpet call.
+
+These are not scenes for pastoral dance at even,
+   For moonlight rovings in the fragrant glades,
+Soft slumbers in the open eye of Heaven,
+   And all the listless joy of summer shades.
+      We in the midst of ruins live,
+      Which every hour dread warning give,
+Nor may our household vine or fig-tree hide
+The broken arches of old Canaan's pride.
+
+Where is the sweet repose of hearts repenting,
+   The deep calm sky, the sunshine of the soul,
+Now Heaven and earth are to our bliss consenting,
+   And all the Godhead joins to make us whole.
+      The triple crown of mercy now
+      Is ready for the suppliant's brow,
+By the Almighty Three for ever planned,
+And from behind the cloud held out by Jesus' hand.
+
+"Now, Christians, hold your own--the land before ye
+   Is open--win your way, and take your rest."
+So sounds our war-note; but our path of glory
+   By many a cloud is darkened and unblest:
+      And daily as we downward glide,
+      Life's ebbing stream on either side
+Shows at each turn some mouldering hope or joy,
+The Man seems following still the funeral of the Boy.
+
+Open our eyes, Thou Sun of life and gladness,
+   That we may see that glorious world of Thine!
+It shines for us in vain, while drooping sadness
+   Enfolds us here like mist:  come Power benign,
+      Touch our chilled hearts with vernal smile,
+      Our wintry course do Thou beguile,
+Nor by the wayside ruins let us mourn,
+Who have th' eternal towers for our appointed bourne.
+
+
+
+SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+Marvel not, my brethren, if the world hate you.  We know that we
+have passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren.  1
+St. John iii. 13, 14.
+
+The clouds that wrap the setting sun
+   When Autumn's softest gleams are ending,
+Where all bright hues together run
+   In sweet confusion blending:  -
+Why, as we watch their floating wreath
+Seem they the breath of life to breathe?
+To Fancy's eye their motions prove
+They mantle round the Sun for love.
+
+When up some woodland dale we catch
+   The many-twinkling smile of ocean,
+Or with pleased ear bewildered watch
+   His chime of restless motion;
+Still as the surging waves retire
+They seem to gasp with strong desire,
+Such signs of love old Ocean gives,
+We cannot choose but think he lives.
+
+Wouldst thou the life of souls discern?
+   Nor human wisdom nor divine
+Helps thee by aught beside to learn;
+   Love is life's only sign.
+The spring of the regenerate heart,
+The pulse, the glow of every part,
+Is the true love of Christ our Lord,
+As man embraced, as God adored.
+
+But he, whose heart will bound to mark
+   The full bright burst of summer morn,
+Loves too each little dewy spark,
+   By leaf or flow'ret worn:
+Cheap forms, and common hues, 'tis true,
+Through the bright shower-drop' meet his view;
+The colouring may be of this earth;
+The lustre comes of heavenly birth.
+
+E'en so, who loves the Lord aright,
+   No soul of man can worthless find;
+All will be precious in his sight,
+   Since Christ on all hath shined:
+But chiefly Christian souls; for they,
+Though worn and soiled with sinful clay,
+Are yet, to eyes that see them true,
+All glistening with baptismal dew.
+
+Then marvel not, if such as bask
+   In purest light of innocence,
+Hope against mope, in love's dear task,
+   Spite of all dark offence.
+If they who hate the trespass most,
+Yet, when all other love is lost,
+Love the poor sinner, marvel not;
+Christ's mark outwears the rankest blot.
+
+No distance breaks this tie of blood;
+   Brothers are brothers evermore;
+Nor wrong, nor wrath of deadliest mood,
+   That magic may o'erpower;
+Oft, ere the common source be known,
+The kindred drops will claim their own,
+And throbbing pulses silently
+Move heart towards heart by sympathy.
+
+So it is with true Christian hearts;
+   Their mutual share in Jesus' blood
+An everlasting bond imparts
+   Of holiest brotherhood:
+Oh! might we all our lineage prove,
+Give and forgive, do good and love,
+By soft endearments in kind strife
+Lightening the load of daily life.
+
+There is much need; for not as yet
+   Are we in shelter or repose,
+The holy house is still beset
+   With leaguer of stern foes;
+Wild thoughts within, bad men without,
+All evil spirits round about,
+Are banded in unblest device,
+To spoil Love's earthly paradise.
+
+Then draw we nearer day by day,
+   Each to his brethren, all to God;
+Let the world take us as she may,
+   We must not change our road;
+Not wondering, though in grief, to find
+The martyr's foe still keep her mind;
+But fixed to hold Love's banner fast,
+And by submission win at last.
+
+
+
+THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner
+that repenteth.  St. Luke xv. 10.
+
+O hateful spell of Sin! when friends are nigh,
+   To make stern Memory tell her tale unsought,
+And raise accusing shades of hours gone by,
+   To come between us and all kindly thought!
+
+Chilled at her touch, the self-reproaching soul
+   Flies from the heart and home she dearest loves,
+To where lone mountains tower, or billows roll,
+   Or to your endless depth, ye solemn groves.
+
+In vain:  the averted cheek in loneliest dell
+   Is conscious of a gaze it cannot bear,
+The leaves that rustle near us seem to tell
+   Our heart's sad secret to the silent air.
+
+Nor is the dream untrue; for all around
+   The heavens are watching with their thousand eyes,
+We cannot pass our guardian angel's bound,
+   Resigned or sullen, he will hear our sighs.
+
+He in the mazes of the budding wood
+   Is near, and mourns to see our thankless glance
+Dwell coldly, where the fresh green earth is strewed
+   With the first flowers that lead the vernal dance.
+
+In wasteful bounty showered, they smile unseen,
+   Unseen by man--but what if purer sprights
+By moonlight o'er their dewy bosoms lean
+   To adore the Father of all gentle lights?
+
+If such there be, O grief and shame to think
+   That sight of thee should overcloud their joy,
+A new-born soul, just waiting on the brink
+   Of endless life, yet wrapt in earth's annoy!
+
+O turn, and be thou turned! the selfish tear,
+   In bitter thoughts of low-born care begun,
+Let it flow on, but flow refined and clear,
+   The turbid waters brightening as they run.
+
+Let it flow on, till all thine earthly heart
+   In penitential drops have ebbed away,
+Then fearless turn where Heaven hath set thy part,
+   Nor shudder at the Eye that saw thee stray.
+
+O lost and found! all gentle souls below
+   Their dearest welcome shall prepare, and prove
+Such joy o'er thee, as raptured seraphs know,
+   Who learn their lesson at the Throne of Love.
+
+
+
+FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+For the earnest expectation of the creature waiteth for the
+manifestation of the sons of God.  For the creature was made
+subject to vanity, not willingly, but by the reason of Him who hath
+subjected the same in hope, because the creature itself also shall
+be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious
+liberty of the children of God.  For we know that the whole
+creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now.
+Romans viii 19-22.
+
+It was not then a poet's dream,
+   An idle vaunt of song,
+Such as beneath the moon's soft gleam
+   On vacant fancies throng;
+
+Which bids us see in heaven and earth,
+   In all fair things around,
+Strong yearnings for a blest new birth
+   With sinless glories crowned;
+
+Which bids us hear, at each sweet pause
+   From care and want and toil,
+When dewy eve her curtain draws
+   Over the day's turmoil,
+
+In the low chant of wakeful birds,
+   In the deep weltering flood,
+In whispering leaves, these solemn words -
+   "God made us all for good."
+
+All true, all faultless, all in tune
+   Creation's wondrous choir,
+Opened in mystic unison
+   To last till time expire.
+
+And still it lasts; by day and night,
+   With one consenting voice,
+All hymn Thy glory, Lord, aright,
+   All worship and rejoice.
+
+Man only mars the sweet accord
+   O'erpowering with "harsh din"
+The music of Thy works and word,
+   Ill matched with grief and sin.
+
+Sin is with man at morning break,
+   And through the livelong day
+Deafens the ear that fain would wake
+   To Nature's simple lay.
+
+But when eve's silent footfall steals
+   Along the eastern sky,
+And one by one to earth reveals
+   Those purer fires on high,
+
+When one by one each human sound
+   Dies on the awful ear,
+Then Nature's voice no more is drowned,
+   She speaks, and we must hear.
+
+Then pours she on the Christian heart
+   That warning still and deep,
+At which high spirits of old would start
+   E'en from their Pagan sleep.
+
+Just guessing, through their murky blind
+   Few, faint, and baffling sight,
+Streaks of a brighter heaven behind,
+   A cloudless depth of light.
+
+Such thoughts, the wreck of Paradise,
+   Through many a dreary age,
+Upbore whate'er of good and wise
+   Yet lived in bard or sage:
+
+They marked what agonizing throes
+   Shook the great mother's womb:
+But Reason's spells might not disclose
+   The gracious birth to come:
+
+Nor could the enchantress Hope forecast
+   God's secret love and power;
+The travail pangs of Earth must last
+   Till her appointed hour.
+
+The hour that saw from opening heaven
+   Redeeming glory stream,
+Beyond the summer hues of even,
+   Beyond the mid-day beam.
+
+Thenceforth, to eyes of high desire,
+   The meanest thing below,
+As with a seraph's robe of fire
+   Invested, burn and glow:
+
+The rod of Heaven has touched them all,
+   The word from Heaven is spoken:
+"Rise, shine, and sing, thou captive thrall;
+   Are not thy fetters broken?
+
+"The God Who hallowed thee and blest,
+   Pronouncing thee all good -
+Hath He not all thy wrongs redrest,
+   And all thy bliss renewed?
+
+"Why mourn'st thou still as one bereft,
+   Now that th' eternal Son
+His blessed home in Heaven hath left
+   To make thee all His own?"
+
+Thou mourn'st because sin lingers still
+   In Christ's new heaven and earth;
+Because our rebel works and will
+   Stain our immortal birth:
+
+Because, as Love and Prayer grow cold,
+   The Saviour hides His face,
+And worldlings blot the temple's gold
+   With uses vile and base.
+
+Hence all thy groans and travail pains,
+   Hence, till thy God return,
+In Wisdom's ear thy blithest strains,
+   Oh Nature, seem to mourn.
+
+
+
+FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+And Simon answering said unto Him, Master, we have toiled all the
+night, and have taken nothing; nevertheless at Thy word I will let
+down the net.  And when they had this done, they inclosed a great
+multitude of fishes:  and their net brake.  St. Luke v. 5, 6.
+
+"The livelong night we've toiled in vain,
+   But at Thy gracious word
+I will let down the net again:-
+   Do Thou Thy will, O Lord!"
+
+So spake the weary fisher, spent
+   With bootless darkling toil,
+Yet on his Master's bidding bent
+   For love and not for spoil.
+
+So day by day and week by week,
+   In sad and weary thought,
+They muse, whom God hath set to seek
+   The souls His Christ hath bought.
+
+For not upon a tranquil lake
+   Our pleasant task we ply,
+Where all along our glistening wake
+   The softest moonbeams lie;
+
+Where rippling wave and dashing oar
+   Our midnight chant attend,
+Or whispering palm-leaves from the shore
+   With midnight silence blend.
+
+Sweet thoughts of peace, ye may not last:
+   Too soon some ruder sound
+Calls us from where ye soar so fast
+   Back to our earthly round.
+
+For wildest storms our ocean sweep:-
+   No anchor but the Cross
+Might hold:  and oft the thankless deep
+   Turns all our toil to loss.
+
+Full many a dreary anxious hour
+   We watch our nets alone
+In drenching spray, and driving shower,
+   And hear the night-bird's moan:
+
+At morn we look, and nought is there;
+   Sad dawn of cheerless day!
+Who then from pining and despair
+   The sickening heart can stay?
+
+There is a stay--and we are strong;
+   Our Master is at hand,
+To cheer our solitary song,
+   And guide us to the strand.
+
+In His own time; but yet a while
+   Our bark at sea must ride;
+Cast after cast, by force or guile
+   All waters must be tried:
+
+By blameless guile or gentle force,
+   As when He deigned to teach
+(The lode-star of our Christian course)
+   Upon this sacred beach.
+
+Should e'er thy wonder-working grace
+   Triumph by our weak arm,
+Let not our sinful fancy trace
+   Aught human in the charm:
+
+To our own nets ne'er bow we down,
+   Lest on the eternal shore
+The angels, while oar draught they own,
+   Reject us evermore:
+
+Or, if for our unworthiness
+   Toil, prayer, and watching fail,
+In disappointment Thou canst bless,
+   So love at heart prevail.
+
+
+
+SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+David said unto Nathan, I have sinned against the Lord.  And Nathan
+said unto David, The Lord also hath put away thy sin; thou shalt
+not die.  2 Samuel xii. 13.
+
+   When bitter thoughts, of conscience born,
+      With sinners wake at morn,
+   When from our restless couch we start,
+   With fevered lips and withered heart,
+Where is the spell to charm those mists away,
+And make new morning in that darksome day?
+   One draught of spring's delicious air,
+   One steadfast thought, that GOD is there.
+
+   These are Thy wonders, hourly wrought,
+      Thou Lord of time and thought,
+   Lifting and lowering souls at will,
+   Crowding a world of good or ill
+Into a moment's vision; e'en as light
+Mounts o'er a cloudy ridge, and all is bright,
+   From west to east one thrilling ray
+   Turning a wintry world to May.
+
+   Would'st thou the pangs of guilt assuage?
+      Lo! here an open page,
+   Where heavenly mercy shines as free
+   Written in balm, sad heart, for thee.
+Never so fast, in silent April shower,
+Flushed into green the dry and leafless bower,
+   As Israel's crowned mourner felt
+   The dull hard stone within him melt.
+
+   The absolver saw the mighty grief,
+      And hastened with relief; -
+   "The Lord forgives; thou shalt not die:"
+   'Twas gently spoke, yet heard on high,
+And all the band of angels, used to sing
+In heaven, accordant to his raptured string,
+   Who many a month had turned away
+   With veiled eyes, nor owned his lay,
+
+   Now spread their wings, and throng around
+      To the glad mournful sound,
+   And welcome, with bright open face,
+   The broken heart to love's embrace.
+The rock is smitten, and to future years
+Springs ever fresh the tide of holy tears
+   And holy music, whispering peace
+   Till time and sin together cease.
+
+   There drink:  and when ye are at rest,
+      With that free Spirit blest,
+   Who to the contrite can dispense,
+   The princely heart of innocence,
+If ever, floating from faint earthly lyre,
+Was wafted to your soul one high desire,
+   By all the trembling hope ye feel,
+   Think on the minstrel as ye kneel:
+
+   Think on the shame, that dreadful hour
+      When tears shall have no power,
+   Should his own lay th' accuser prove,
+   Cold while he kindled others' love:
+And let your prayer for charity arise,
+That his own heart may hear his melodies,
+   And a true voice to him may cry,
+   "Thy GOD forgives--thou shalt not die."
+
+
+
+SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+From whence can a man satisfy these men with bread here in the
+wilderness?  St. Mark viii. 4.
+
+   Go not away, thou weary soul:
+   Heaven has in store a precious dole
+Here on Bethsaida's cold and darksome height,
+   Where over rocks and sands arise
+   Proud Sirion in the northern skies,
+And Tabor's lonely peak, 'twixt thee and noonday light.
+
+   And far below, Gennesaret's main
+   Spreads many a mile of liquid plain,
+(Though all seem gathered in one eager bound,)
+   Then narrowing cleaves you palmy lea,
+   Towards that deep sulphureous sea,
+Where five proud cities lie, by one dire sentence drowned.
+
+   Landscape of fear! yet, weary heart,
+   Thou need'st not in thy gloom depart,
+Nor fainting turn to seek thy distant home:
+   Sweetly thy sickening throbs are eyed
+   By the kind Saviour at thy side;
+For healing and for balm e'en now thine hour is come.
+
+   No fiery wing is seen to glide,
+   No cates ambrosial are supplied,
+But one poor fisher's rude and scanty store
+   Is all He asks (and more than needs)
+   Who men and angels daily feeds,
+And stills the wailing sea-bird on the hungry shore.
+
+   The feast is o'er, the guests are gone,
+   And over all that upland lone
+The breeze of eve sweeps wildly as of old -
+   But far unlike the former dreams,
+   The heart's sweet moonlight softly gleams
+Upon life's varied view, so joyless erst and cold.
+
+   As mountain travellers in the night,
+   When heaven by fits is dark and bright,
+Pause listening on the silent heath, and hear
+   Nor trampling hoof nor tinkling bell,
+   Then bolder scale the rugged fell,
+Conscious the more of One, ne'er seen, yet ever near:
+
+   So when the tones of rapture gay
+   On the lorn ear, die quite away,
+The lonely world seems lifted nearer heaven;
+   Seen daily, yet unmarked before,
+   Earth's common paths are strewn all o'er
+With flowers of pensive hope, the wreath of man forgiven.
+
+   The low sweet tones of Nature's lyre
+   No more on listless ears expire,
+Nor vainly smiles along the shady way
+   The primrose in her vernal nest,
+   Nor unlamented sink to rest
+Sweet roses one by one, nor autumn leaves decay.
+
+   There's not a star the heaven can show,
+   There's not a cottage-hearth below,
+But feeds with solace kind the willing soul -
+   Men love us, or they need our love;
+   Freely they own, or heedless prove
+The curse of lawless hearts, the joy of self-control.
+
+   Then rouse thee from desponding sleep,
+   Nor by the wayside lingering weep,
+Nor fear to seek Him farther in the wild,
+   Whose love can turn earth's worst and least
+   Into a conqueror's royal feast:
+Thou wilt not be untrue, thou shalt not be beguiled.
+
+
+
+EIGHT SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+It is the man of God, who was disobedient unto the word of the
+Lord.  1 King xiii. 26.
+
+Prophet of God, arise and take
+With thee the words of wrath divine,
+   The scourge of Heaven, to shake
+   O'er yon apostate shrine.
+
+Where Angels down the lucid stair
+Came hovering to our sainted sires
+   Now, in the twilight, glare
+   The heathen's wizard fires.
+
+Go, with thy voice the altar rend,
+Scatter the ashes, be the arm,
+   That idols would befriend,
+   Shrunk at thy withering charm.
+
+Then turn thee, for thy time is short,
+But trace not o'er the former way,
+   Lest idol pleasures court
+   Thy heedless soul astray.
+
+Thou know'st how hard to hurry by,
+Where on the lonely woodland road
+   Beneath the moonlight sky
+   The festal warblings flowed;
+
+Where maidens to the Queen of Heaven
+Wove the gay dance round oak or palm,
+   Or breathed their vows at even
+   In hymns as soft as balm.
+
+Or thee, perchance, a darker spell
+Enthralls:  the smooth stones of the flood,
+   By mountain grot or fell,
+   Pollute with infant's blood;
+
+The giant altar on the rock,
+The cavern whence the timbrel's call
+   Affrights the wandering flock:-
+   Thou long'st to search them all.
+
+Trust not the dangerous path again -
+O forward step and lingering will!
+   O loved and warned in vain!
+   And wilt thou perish still?
+
+Thy message given, thine home in sight,
+To the forbidden feast return?
+   Yield to the false delight
+   Thy better soul could spurn?
+
+Alas, my brother! round thy tomb
+In sorrow kneeling, and in fear,
+   We read the Pastor's doom
+   Who speaks and will not hear.
+
+The grey-haired saint may fail at last,
+The surest guide a wanderer prove;
+   Death only binds us fast
+   To the bright shore of love.
+
+
+
+NINTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+And after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire:
+and after the fire a still small voice.  1 Kings xix. 12.
+
+In troublous days of anguish and rebuke,
+While sadly round them Israel's children look,
+   And their eyes fail for waiting on their Lord:
+While underneath each awful arch of green,
+On every mountain-top, God's chosen scene,
+   Of pure heart-worship, Baal is adored:
+
+'Tis well, true hearts should for a time retire
+To holy ground, in quiet to aspire
+   Towards promised regions of serener grace;
+On Horeb, with Elijah, let us lie,
+Where all around on mountain, sand, and sky,
+   God's chariot wheels have left distinctest trace;
+
+There, if in jealousy and strong disdain
+We to the sinner's God of sin complain,
+   Untimely seeking here the peace of Heaven -
+"It is enough.  O Lord! now let me die
+E'en as my fathers did:  for what am I
+   That I should stand where they have vainly striven?" -
+
+Perhaps our God may of our conscience ask,
+"What doest thou here frail wanderer from thy task?
+   Where hast thou left those few sheep in the wild?"
+Then should we plead our heart's consuming pain,
+At sight of ruined altars, prophets slain,
+   And God's own ark with blood of souls defiled;
+
+He on the rock may bid us stand, and see
+The outskirts of His march of mystery,
+   His endless warfare with man's wilful heart;
+First, His great Power He to the sinner shows
+Lo! at His angry blast the rocks unclose,
+   And to their base the trembling mountains part
+
+Yet the Lord is not here:  'Tis not by Power
+He will be known--but darker tempests lower;
+   Still, sullen heavings vex the labouring ground:
+Perhaps His Presence thro' all depth and height,
+Best of all gems that deck His crown of light,
+   The haughty eye may dazzle and confound.
+
+God is not in the earthquake; but behold
+From Sinai's caves are bursting, as of old,
+   The flames of His consuming jealous ire.
+Woe to the sinner should stern Justice prove
+His chosen attribute;--but He in love
+   Hastes to proclaim, "God is not in the fire."
+
+The storm is o'er--and hark! a still small voice
+Steals on the ear, to say, Jehovah's choice
+   Is ever with the soft, meek, tender soul;
+By soft, meek, tender ways He loves to draw
+The sinner, startled by His ways of awe:
+   Here is our Lord, and not where thunders roll.
+
+Back, then, complainer; loath thy life no more,
+Nor deem thyself upon a desert shore,
+   Because the rocks the nearer prospect close.
+Yet in fallen Israel are there hearts and eyes
+That day by day in prayer like thine arise;
+   Thou know'st them not, but their Creator knows.
+
+Go, to the world return, nor fear to cast
+Thy bread upon the waters, sure at last
+   In joy to find it after many days.
+The work be thine, the fruit thy children's part:
+Choose to believe, not see:  sight tempts the heart
+   From sober walking in true Gospel ways.
+
+
+
+TENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+And when He was come near, He beheld the city, and wept over it.
+St. Luke xix. 41.
+
+Why doth my Saviour weep
+   At sight of Sion's bowers?
+Shows it not fair from yonder steep,
+   Her gorgeous crown of towers?
+Mark well His holy pains:
+   'Tis not in pride or scorn,
+That Israel's King with sorrow stains
+   His own triumphal morn.
+
+It is not that His soul
+   Is wandering sadly on,
+In thought how soon at death's dark goal
+   Their course will all be run,
+Who now are shouting round
+   Hosanna to their chief;
+No thought like this in Him is found,
+   This were a Conquerer's grief.
+
+Or doth He feel the Cross
+   Already in His heart,
+The pain, the shame, the scorn, the loss?
+   Feel e'en His God depart?
+No:  though He knew full well
+   The grief that then shall be -
+The grief that angels cannot tell -
+   Our God in agony.
+
+It is not thus He mourns;
+   Such might be martyr's tears,
+When his last lingering look he turns
+   On human hopes and fears;
+But hero ne'er or saint
+   The secret load might know,
+With which His spirit waxeth faint;
+   His is a Saviour's woe.
+
+"If thou had'st known, e'en thou,
+   At least in this thy day,
+The message of thy peace! but now
+   'Tis passed for aye away:
+Now foes shall trench thee round,
+   And lay thee even with earth,
+And dash thy children to the ground,
+   Thy glory and thy mirth."
+
+And doth the Saviour weep
+   Over His people's sin,
+Because we will not let Him keep
+   The souls He died to win?
+Ye hearts, that love the Lord,
+   If at this, sight ye burn,
+See that in thought, in deed, in word,
+   Ye hate what made Him mourn.
+
+
+
+ELEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+Is it a time to receive money, and to receive garments, and
+oliveyards, and vineyards, and sheep, and oxen, and menservants,
+and maidservants?  2 Kings v. 26.
+
+Is this a time to plant and build,
+Add house to house, and field to field,
+When round our walls the battle lowers,
+When mines are hid beneath our towers,
+And watchful foes are stealing round
+To search and spoil the holy ground?
+
+Is this a time for moonlight dreams
+Of love and home by mazy streams,
+For Fancy with her shadowy toys,
+Aerial hopes and pensive joys,
+While souls are wandering far and wide,
+And curses swarm on every side?
+
+No--rather steel thy melting heart
+To act the martyr's sternest part,
+To watch, with firm unshrinking eye,
+Thy darling visions as thy die,
+Till all bright hopes, and hues of day,
+Have faded into twilight gray.
+
+Yes--let them pass without a sigh,
+And if the world seem dull and dry,
+If long and sad thy lonely hours,
+And winds have rent thy sheltering bowers,
+Bethink thee what thou art and where,
+A sinner in a life of care.
+
+The fire of God is soon to fall
+(Thou know'st it) on this earthly ball;
+Full many a soul, the price of blood,
+Marked by th' Almighty's hand for good,
+To utter death that hour shall sweep -
+And will the saints in Heaven dare weep?
+
+Then in His wrath shall GOD uproot
+The trees He set, for lack of fruit,
+And drown in rude tempestuous blaze
+The towers His hand had deigned to raise;
+In silence, ere that storm begin,
+Count o'er His mercies and thy sin.
+
+Pray only that thine aching heart,
+From visions vain content to part,
+Strong for Love's sake its woe to hide
+May cheerful wait the Cross beside,
+Too happy if, that dreadful day,
+Thy life be given thee for a prey.
+
+Snatched sudden from th' avenging rod,
+Safe in the bosom of thy GOD,
+How wilt thou then look back, and smile
+On thoughts that bitterest seemed erewhile,
+And bless the pangs that made thee see
+This was no world of rest for thee!
+
+
+
+TWELFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+And looking up to heaven, He sighed, and saith unto him, Ephphatha,
+that is, Be opened.  St. Mark vii. 34.
+
+The Son of God in doing good
+   Was fain to look to Heaven and sigh:
+And shall the heirs of sinful blood
+   Seek joy unmixed in charity?
+God will not let Love's work impart
+Full solace, lest it steal the heart;
+Be thou content in tears to sow,
+Blessing, like Jesus, in thy woe:
+
+He looked to Heaven, and sadly sighed -
+   What saw my gracious Saviour there,
+"With fear and anguish to divide
+   The joy of Heaven-accepted prayer?
+So o'er the bed where Lazarus slept
+He to His Father groaned and wept:
+What saw He mournful in that grave,
+Knowing Himself so strong to save?"
+
+O'erwhelming thoughts of pain and grief
+   Over His sinking spirit sweep; -
+What boots it gathering one lost leaf
+   Out of yon sere and withered heap,
+Where souls and bodies, hopes and joys,
+All that earth owns or sin destroys,
+Under the spurning hoof are cast,
+Or tossing in th' autumnal blast?
+
+The deaf may hear the Saviour's voice,
+   The fettered tongue its chain may break;
+But the deaf heart, the dumb by choice,
+   The laggard soul, that will not wake,
+The guilt that scorns to be forgiven; -
+These baffle e'en the spells of Heaven;
+In thought of these, His brows benign
+Not e'en in healing cloudless shine.
+
+No eye but His might ever bear
+   To gaze all down that drear abyss,
+Because none ever saw so clear
+   The shore beyond of endless bliss:
+The giddy waves so restless hurled,
+The vexed pulse of this feverish world,
+He views and counts with steady sight,
+Used to behold the Infinite.
+
+But that in such communion high
+   He hath a fount of strength within,
+Sure His meek heart would break and die,
+   O'erburthened by His brethren's sin;
+Weak eyes on darkness dare not gaze,
+It dazzles like the noonday blaze;
+But He who sees God's face may brook
+On the true face of Sin to look.
+
+What then shall wretched sinners do,
+   When in their last, their hopeless day,
+Sin, as it is, shall meet their view,
+   God turn His face for aye away?
+Lord, by Thy sad and earnest eye,
+When Thou didst look to Heaven and sigh:
+Thy voice, that with a word could chase
+The dumb, deaf spirit from his place;
+
+As Thou hast touched our ears, and taught
+   Our tongues to speak Thy praises plain,
+Quell Thou each thankless godless thought
+   That would make fast our bonds again.
+From worldly strife, from mirth unblest,
+Drowning Thy music in the breast,
+From foul reproach, from thrilling fears,
+Preserve, good Lord, Thy servants' ears.
+
+From idle words, that restless throng
+   And haunt our hearts when we would pray,
+From Pride's false chime, and jarring wrong,
+   Seal Thou my lips, and guard the way:
+For Thou hast sworn, that every ear,
+Willing or loth, Thy trump shall hear,
+And every tongue unchained be
+To own no hope, no God, but Thee.
+
+
+
+THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+And He turned Him onto His disciples, and said privately, Blessed
+are the eyes which see the things that ye see:  for I tell you,
+that many prophets and kings have desired to see those things which
+ye see, and have not seen them:  and to hear those things which ye
+hear, and have not heard them.  St. Luke x. 23, 24.
+
+On Sinai's top, in prayer and trance,
+   Full forty nights and forty days
+The Prophet watched for one dear glance
+   Of thee and of Thy ways:
+
+Fasting he watched and all alone,
+   Wrapt in a still, dark, solid cloud,
+The curtain of the Holy One
+   Drawn round him like a shroud:
+
+So, separate from the world, his breast
+   Might duly take and strongly keep
+The print of Heaven, to be expressed
+   Ere long on Sion's steep.
+
+There one by one his spirit saw
+   Of things divine the shadows bright,
+The pageant of God's perfect law;
+   Yet felt not full delight.
+
+Through gold and gems, a dazzling maze,
+   From veil to veil the vision led,
+And ended, where unearthly rays
+   From o'er the ark were shed.
+
+Yet not that gorgeous place, nor aught
+   Of human or angelic frame,
+Could half appease his craving thought;
+   The void was still the same.
+
+"Show me Thy glory, gracious Lord!
+   'Tis Thee," he cries, "not Thine, I seek."
+Na, start not at so bold a word
+   From man, frail worm and weak:
+
+The spark of his first deathless fire
+   Yet buoys him up, and high above
+The holiest creature, dares aspire
+   To the Creator's love.
+
+The eye in smiles may wander round,
+   Caught by earth's shadows as they fleet;
+But for the soul no help is found,
+   Save Him who made it, meet.
+
+Spite of yourselves, ye witness this,
+   Who blindly self or sense adore;
+Else wherefore leaving your own bliss
+   Still restless ask ye more?
+
+This witness bore the saints of old
+   When highest rapt and favoured most,
+Still seeking precious things untold,
+   Not in fruition lost.
+
+Canaan was theirs; and in it all
+   The proudest hope of kings dare claim:
+Sion was theirs; and at their call
+   Fire from Jehovah came.
+
+Yet monarchs walked as pilgrims still
+   In their own land, earth's pride and grace:
+And seers would mourn on Sion's hill
+   Their Lord's averted face.
+
+Vainly they tried the deeps to sound
+   E'en of their own prophetic thought,
+When of Christ crucified and crowned
+   His Spirit in them taught:
+
+But He their aching gaze repressed,
+   Which sought behind the veil to see,
+For not without us fully blest
+   Or perfect might they be.
+
+The rays of the Almighty's face
+   No sinner's eye might then receive;
+Only the meekest man found grace
+   To see His skirts and live.
+
+But we as in a glass espy
+   The glory of His countenance,
+Not in a whirlwind hurrying by
+   The too presumptuous glance,
+
+But with mild radiance every hour,
+   From our dear Saviour's face benign
+Bent on us with transforming power,
+   Till we, too, faintly shine.
+
+Sprinkled with His atoning blood
+   Safely before our God we stand,
+As on the rock the Prophet stood,
+   Beneath His shadowing hand. -
+
+Blessed eyes, which see the things we see!
+   And yet this tree of life hath proved
+To many a soul a poison tree,
+   Beheld, and not beloved.
+
+So like an angel's is our bliss
+   (Oh! thought to comfort and appal)
+It needs must bring, if used amiss,
+   An angel's hopeless fall.
+
+
+
+FOURTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+And Jesus answering said, Were there not ten cleansed? but where
+are the nine?  There are not found that returned to give glory to
+God, save this stranger.  St. Luke xvii. 17, 18.
+
+Ten cleansed, and only one remain!
+Who would have thought our nature's stain
+Was dyed so foul, so deep in grain?
+   E'en He who reads the heart -
+Knows what He gave and what we lost,
+Sin's forfeit, and redemption's cost, -
+By a short pang of wonder crossed
+   Seems at the sight to start:
+
+Yet 'twas not wonder, but His love
+Our wavering spirits would reprove,
+That heavenward seem so free to move
+   When earth can yield no more
+Then from afar on God we cry,
+But should the mist of woe roll by,
+Not showers across an April sky
+   Drift, when the storm is o'er,
+
+Faster than those false drops and few
+Fleet from the heart, a worthless dew.
+What sadder scene can angels view
+   Than self-deceiving tears,
+Poured idly over some dark page
+Of earlier life, though pride or rage,
+The record of to-day engage,
+   A woe for future years?
+
+Spirits, that round the sick man's bed
+Watched, noting down each prayer he made,
+Were your unerring roll displayed,
+   His pride of health to abase;
+Or, when, soft showers in season fall
+Answering a famished nation's call,
+Should unseen fingers on the wall
+   Our vows forgotten trace:
+
+How should we gaze in trance of fear!
+Yet shines the light as thrilling clear
+From Heaven upon that scroll severe,
+   "Ten cleansed and one remain!"
+Nor surer would the blessing prove
+Of humbled hearts, that own Thy love,
+Should choral welcome from above
+   Visit our senses plain:
+
+Than by Thy placid voice and brow,
+With healing first, with comfort now,
+Turned upon him, who hastes to bow
+   Before Thee, heart and knee;
+"Oh! thou, who only wouldst be blest,
+On thee alone My blessing rest!
+Rise, go thy way in peace, possessed
+   For evermore of Me."
+
+
+
+FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow.  St. Matthew, vi.
+28.
+
+Sweet nurslings of the vernal skies,
+   Bathed in soft airs, and fed with dew,
+What more than magic in you lies,
+   To fill the heart's fond view?
+In childhood's sports, companions gay,
+In sorrow, on Life's downward way,
+How soothing! in our last decay
+   Memorials prompt and true.
+
+Relics ye are of Eden's bowers,
+   As pure, as fragrant, and as fair,
+As when ye crowned the sunshine hours
+   Of happy wanderers there.
+Fall'n all beside--the world of life,
+How is it stained with fear and strife!
+In Reason's world what storms are rife,
+   What passions range and glare!
+
+But cheerful and unchanged the while
+   Your first and perfect form ye show,
+The same that won Eve's matron smile
+   In the world's opening glow.
+The stars of heaven a course are taught
+Too high above our human thought:
+Ye may be found if ye are sought,
+   And as we gaze, we know.
+
+Ye dwell beside our paths and homes,
+   Our paths of sin, our homes of sorrow,
+And guilty man where'er he roams,
+   Your innocent mirth may borrow.
+The birds of air before us fleet,
+They cannot brook our shame to meet -
+But we may taste your solace sweet
+   And come again to-morrow.
+
+Ye fearless in your nests abide -
+   Nor may we scorn, too proudly wise,
+Your silent lessons, undescried
+   By all but lowly eyes:
+For ye could draw th' admiring gaze
+Of Him who worlds and hearts surveys:
+Your order wild, your fragrant maze,
+   He taught us how to prize.
+
+Ye felt your Maker's smile that hour,
+   As when He paused and owned you good;
+His blessing on earth's primal bower,
+   Ye felt it all renewed.
+What care ye now, if winter's storm
+Sweep ruthless o'er each silken form?
+Christ's blessing at your heart is warm,
+   Ye fear no vexing mood.
+
+Alas! of thousand bosoms kind,
+   That daily court you and caress,
+How few the happy secret find
+   Of your calm loveliness!
+"Live for to-day! to-morrow's light
+To-morrow's cares shall bring to sight,
+Go sleep like closing flowers at night,
+   And Heaven thy morn will bless."
+
+
+
+SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+I desire that ye faint not at my tribulations for you, which is
+your glory.  Ephesians iii. 13.
+
+Wish not, dear friends, my pain away -
+   Wish me a wise and thankful heart,
+With GOD, in all my griefs, to stay,
+   Nor from His loved correction start.
+
+The dearest offering He can crave
+   His portion in our souls to prove,
+What is it to the gift He gave,
+   The only Son of His dear love?
+
+But we, like vexed unquiet sprights,
+   Will still be hovering o'er the tomb,
+Where buried lie our vain delights,
+   Nor sweetly take a sinner's doom.
+
+In Life's long sickness evermore
+   Our thoughts are tossing to and fro:
+We change our posture o'er and o'er,
+   But cannot rest, nor cheat our woe.
+
+Were it not better to lie still,
+   Let Him strike home and bless the rod,
+Never so safe as when our will
+   Yields undiscerned by all but God?
+
+Thy precious things, whate'er they be,
+   That haunt and vex thee, heart and brain,
+Look to the Cross and thou shalt see
+   How thou mayst turn them all to gain.
+
+Lovest thou praise? the Cross is shame:
+   Or ease? the Cross is bitter grief:
+More pangs than tongue or heart can frame
+   Were suffered there without relief.
+
+We of that Altar would partake,
+   But cannot quit the cost--no throne
+Is ours, to leave for Thy dear sake -
+   We cannot do as Thou hast done.
+
+We cannot part with Heaven for Thee -
+   Yet guide us in Thy track of love:
+Let us gaze on where light should be,
+   Though not a beam the clouds remove.
+
+So wanderers ever fond and true
+   Look homeward through the evening sky,
+Without a streak of heaven's soft blue
+   To aid Affection's dreaming eye.
+
+The wanderer seeks his native bower,
+   And we will look and long for Thee,
+And thank Thee for each trying hour,
+   Wishing, not struggling, to be free.
+
+
+
+SEVENTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+Every man of the house of Israel that setteth up his idols in his
+heart, and putteth the stumbling-block of his iniquity before his
+face, and cometh to the prophet; I the Lord will answer him that
+cometh according to the multitude of his idols.  Ezekiel xiv. 4.
+
+Stately thy walls, and holy are the prayers
+   Which day and night before thine altars rise:
+Not statelier, towering o'er her marble stairs,
+   Flashed Sion's gilded dome to summer skies,
+Not holier, while around him angels bowed,
+From Aaron's censer steamed the spicy cloud,
+
+Before the mercy-seat.  O Mother dear,
+   Wilt thou forgive thy son one boding sigh?
+Forgive, if round thy towers he walk in fear,
+   And tell thy jewels o'er with jealous eye?
+Mindful of that sad vision, which in thought
+From Chebar's plains the captive prophet brought.
+
+To see lost Sion's shame.  'Twas morning prime,
+   And like a Queen new seated on her throne,
+GOD'S crowned mountain, as in happier time,
+   Seemed to rejoice in sunshine all her own:
+So bright, while all in shade around her lay,
+Her northern pinnacles had caught th' emerging ray.
+
+The dazzling lines of her majestic roof
+   Crossed with as free a span the vault of heaven,
+As when twelve tribes knelt silently aloof
+   Ere GOD His answer to their king had given,
+Ere yet upon the new-built altar fell
+The glory of the LORD, the Lord of Israel.
+
+All seems the same:  but enter in and see
+   What idol shapes are on the wall portrayed:
+And watch their shameless and unholy glee,
+   Who worship there in Aaron's robes arrayed:
+Hear Judah's maids the dirge to Thammuz pour,
+And mark her chiefs yon orient sun adore.
+
+Yet turn thee, son of man--for worse than these
+   Thou must behold:  thy loathing were but lost
+On dead men's crimes, and Jews' idolatries -
+   Come, learn to tell aright thine own sins' cost, -
+And sure their sin as far from equals thine,
+As earthly hopes abused are less than hopes divine.
+
+What if within His world, His Church, our LORD
+   Have entered thee, as in some temple gate,
+Where, looking round, each glance might thee afford
+   Some glorious earnest of thine high estate,
+And thou, false heart and frail, hast turned from all
+To worship pleasure's shadow on the wall?
+
+If, when the LORD of Glory was in sight,
+   Thou turn thy back upon that fountain clear,
+To bow before the "little drop of light,"
+   Which dim-eyed men call praise and glory here;
+What dost thou, but adore the sun, and scorn
+Him at whose only word both sun and stars were born?
+
+If, while around thee gales from Eden breathe,
+   Thou hide thine eyes, to make thy peevish moan
+Over some broken reed of earth beneath,
+   Some darling of blind fancy dead and gone,
+As wisely might'st thou in JEHOVAH'S fane
+Offer thy love and tears to Thammuz slain.
+
+Turn thee from these, or dare not to inquire
+   Of Him whose name is Jealous, lest in wrath
+He hear and answer thine unblest desire:
+   Far better we should cross His lightning's path
+Than be according to our idols beard,
+And God should take us at our own vain word.
+
+Thou who hast deigned the Christian's heart to call
+   Thy Church and Shrine; whene'er our rebel will
+Would in that chosen home of Thine instal
+   Belial or Mammon, grant us not the ill
+We blindly ask; in very love refuse
+Whate'er Thou knowest our weakness would abuse.
+
+Or rather help us, LORD, to choose the good,
+   To pray for nought, to seek to none, but Thee,
+Nor by "our daily bread" mean common food,
+   Nor say, "From this world's evil set us free;"
+Teach us to love, with CHRIST, our sole true bliss,
+Else, though in CHRIST'S own words, we surely pray amiss.
+
+
+
+EIGHTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+I will bring you into the wilderness of the people, and there will
+I plead with you face to face.  Like as pleaded with your fathers
+in the wilderness of the land of Egypt, so will I plead with you,
+saith the Lord God.  Ezekiel xx. 35, 36.
+
+It is so--ope thine eyes, and see -
+   What viewest thou all around?
+A desert, where iniquity
+   And knowledge both abound.
+
+In the waste howling wilderness
+   The Church is wandering still,
+Because we would not onward press
+   When close to Sion's hill.
+
+Back to the world we faithless turned,
+   And far along the wild,
+With labour lost and sorrow earned,
+   Our steps have been beguiled.
+
+Yet full before us, all the while,
+   The shadowing pillar stays,
+The living waters brightly smile,
+   The eternal turrets blaze,
+
+Yet Heaven is raining angels' bread
+   To be our daily food,
+And fresh, as when it first was shed,
+   Springs forth the SAVIOUR'S blood.
+
+From every region, race, and speech,
+   Believing myriads throng,
+Till, far as sin and sorrow reach,
+   Thy grace is spread along;
+
+Till sweetest nature, brightest art,
+   Their votive incense bring,
+And every voice and every heart
+   Own Thee their God and King.
+
+All own; but few, alas! will love;
+   Too like the recreant band
+That with Thy patient spirit strove
+   Upon the Red-sea strand.
+
+O Father of long-suffering grace,
+   Thou who hast sworn to stay
+Pleading with sinners face to face
+   Through all their devious way:
+
+How shall we speak to Thee, O LORD,
+   Or how in silence lie?
+Look on us, and we are abhorred,
+   Turn from us, and we die.
+
+Thy guardian fire, Thy guiding cloud,
+   Still let them gild our wall,
+Nor be our foes and Thine allowed
+   To see us faint and fall.
+
+Too oft, within this camp of Thine,
+   Rebellions murmurs rise;
+Sin cannot bear to see Thee shine
+   So awful to her eyes.
+
+Fain would our lawless hearts escape,
+   And with the heathen be,
+To worship every monstrous shape
+   In fancied darkness free.
+
+Vain thought, that shall not be at all!
+   Refuse we or obey,
+Our ears have heard the Almighty's call,
+   We cannot be as they.
+
+We cannot hope the heathen's doom
+   To whom GOD'S Son is given,
+Whose eyes have seen beyond the tomb,
+   Who have the key of Heaven.
+
+Weak tremblers on the edge of woe,
+   Yet shrinking from true bliss,
+Our rest must be "no rest below,"
+   And let our prayer be this:
+
+"LORD, wave again Thy chastening rod,
+   Till every idol throne
+Crumble to dust, and Thou, O GOD,
+   Reign in our hearts alone.
+
+"Bring all our wandering fancies home,
+   For Thou hast every spell,
+And 'mid the heathen where they roam,
+   Thou knowest, LORD, too well.
+
+"Thou know'st our service sad and hard,
+   Thou know'st us fond and frail;
+Win us to be loved and spared
+   When all the world shall fail.
+
+"So when at last our weary days
+   Are well-nigh wasted here,
+And we can trace Thy wondrous ways
+   In distance calm and clear,
+
+"When in Thy love and Israel's sin
+   We read our story true,
+We may not, all too late, begin
+   To wish our hopes were new.
+
+"Long loved, long tried, long spared as they,
+   Unlike in this alone,
+That, by Thy grace, our hearts shall stay
+   For evermore Thine own."
+
+
+
+NINETEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+Then Nebuchadnezzar the king was astonished, and rose up in haste,
+and spake, and said unto his counsellors, Did not we cast three men
+bound into the midst of the fire?  They answered and said unto the
+king, True, O king.  He answered and said, Lo, I see four men
+loose, walking in the midst of the fire, and they have no hurt; and
+the form of the fourth is like the Son of God.  Daniel iii. 24, 25.
+
+When Persecution's torrent blaze
+   Wraps the unshrinking Martyr's head;
+When fade all earthly flowers and bays,
+   When summer friends are gone and fled,
+Is he alone in that dark hour
+Who owns the Lord of love and power?
+
+Or waves there not around his brow
+   A wand no human arm may wield,
+Fraught with a spell no angels know,
+   His steps to guide, his soul to shield?
+Thou, Saviour, art his Charmed Bower,
+His Magic Ring, his Rock, his Tower.
+
+And when the wicked ones behold
+   Thy favourites walking in Thy light,
+Just as, in fancy triumph bold,
+   They deemed them lost in deadly night,
+Amazed they cry, "What spell is this,
+Which turns their sufferings all to bliss?
+
+"How are they free whom we had bound?
+   Upright, whom in the gulf we cast?
+What wondrous helper have they found
+   To screen them from the scorching blast?
+Three were they--who hath made them four?
+And sure a form divine he wore,
+
+"E'en like the Son of God."  So cried
+   The Tyrant, when in one fierce flame
+The Martyrs lived, the murderers died:
+   Yet knew he not what angel came
+To make the rushing fire-flood seem
+Like summer breeze by woodland stream.
+
+He knew not, but there are who know:
+   The Matron, who alone hath stood,
+When not a prop seemed left below,
+   The first lorn hour of widowhood,
+Yet cheered and cheering all, the while,
+With sad but unaffected smile; -
+
+The Father, who his vigil keeps
+   By the sad couch whence hope hath flown,
+Watching the eye where reason sleeps,
+   Yet in his heart can mercy own,
+Still sweetly yielding to the rod,
+Still loving man, still thanking GOD; -
+
+The Christian Pastor, bowed to earth
+   With thankless toil, and vile esteemed,
+Still travailing in second birth
+   Of souls that will not be redeemed:
+Yet stedfast set to do his part,
+And fearing most his own vain heart; -
+
+These know:  on these look long and well,
+   Cleansing thy sight by prayer and faith,
+And thou shalt know what secret spell
+   Preserves them in their living death:
+Through sevenfold flames thine eye shall see
+The Saviour walking with His faithful Three.
+
+
+
+TWENTIETH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+Hear ye, O mountains, the Lord's controversy, and ye strong
+foundations of the earth.  Micah vi. 2.
+
+Where is Thy favoured haunt, eternal Voice,
+   The region of Thy choice,
+Where, undisturbed by sin and earth, the soul
+   Owns Thy entire control? -
+'Tis on the mountain's summit dark and high,
+   When storms are hurrying by:
+'Tis 'mid the strong foundations of the earth,
+   Where torrents have their birth.
+
+No sounds of worldly toil ascending there,
+   Mar the full burst of prayer;
+Lone Nature feels that she may freely breathe,
+   And round us and beneath
+Are heard her sacred tones:  the fitful sweep
+   Of winds across the steep
+Through withered bents--romantic note and clear,
+   Meet for a hermit's ear, -
+
+The wheeling kite's wild solitary cry,
+   And, scarcely heard so high,
+The dashing waters when the air is still
+   From many a torrent rill
+That winds unseen beneath the shaggy fell,
+   Tracked by the blue mist well:
+Such sounds as make deep silence in the heart
+   For Thought to do her part.
+
+'Tis then we hear the voice of GOD within,
+   Pleading with care and sin:
+"Child of My love! how have I wearied thee?
+   Why wilt thou err from Me?
+Have I not brought thee from the house of slaves,
+   Parted the drowning waves,
+And set My saints before thee in the way,
+   Lest thou shouldst faint or stray?
+
+"What! was the promise made to thee alone?
+   Art thou the excepted one?
+An heir of glory without grief or pain?
+   O vision false and vain!
+There lies thy cross; beneath it meekly bow;
+   It fits thy stature now:
+Who scornful pass it with averted eye,
+   'Twill crush them by-and-by.
+
+"Raise thy repining eyes, and take true measure
+   Of thine eternal treasure;
+The Father of thy Lord can grudge thee nought,
+   The world for thee was bought;
+And as this landscape broad--earth, sea, and sky, -
+   All centres in thine eye,
+So all God does, if rightly understood,
+   Shall work thy final good."
+
+
+
+TWENTY-FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+The vision is yet for an appointed time, but at the end it shall
+speak, and not lie:  though it tarry, wait for it, because it will
+surely come, it will not tarry.  Habakkuk ii. 3.
+
+   The morning mist is cleared away,
+   Yet still the face of Heaven is grey,
+Nor yet this autumnal breeze has stirred the grove,
+   Faded yet full, a paler green
+   Skirts soberly the tranquil scene,
+The red-breast warbles round this leafy cove.
+
+   Sweet messenger of "calm decay,"
+   Saluting sorrow as you may,
+As one still bent to find or make the best,
+   In thee, and in this quiet mead,
+   The lesson of sweet peace I read,
+Rather in all to be resigned than blest.
+
+   'Tis a low chant, according well
+   With the soft solitary knell,
+As homeward from some grave beloved we turn,
+   Or by some holy death-bed dear,
+   Most welcome to the chastened ear
+Of her whom Heaven is teaching how to mourn.
+
+   O cheerful tender strain! the heart
+   That duly bears with you its part,
+Singing so thankful to the dreary blast,
+   Though gone and spent its joyous prime,
+   And on the world's autumnal time,
+'Mid withered hues and sere, its lot be cast:
+
+   That is the heart for thoughtful seer,
+   Watching, in trance nor dark nor clear,
+Th' appalling Future as it nearer draws:
+   His spirit calmed the storm to meet,
+   Feeling the rock beneath his feet,
+And tracing through the cloud th' eternal Cause.
+
+   That is the heart for watchman true
+   Waiting to see what GOD will do,
+As o'er the Church the gathering twilight falls
+   No more he strains his wistful eye,
+   If chance the golden hours be nigh,
+By youthful Hope seen beaming round her walls.
+
+   Forced from his shadowy paradise,
+   His thoughts to Heaven the steadier rise:
+There seek his answer when the world reproves:
+   Contented in his darkling round,
+   If only he be faithful found,
+When from the east the eternal morning moves.
+
+Note:  The expression, "calm delay," is borrowed from a friend, by
+whose kind permission the following stanzas are here inserted.
+
+TO THE RED-BREAST.
+
+Unheard in summer's flaring ray,
+   Pour forth thy notes, sweet singer,
+Wooing the stillness of the autumn day:
+   Bid it a moment linger,
+      Nor fly
+Too soon from winter's scowling eye.
+
+The blackbird's song at even-tide,
+   And hers, who gay ascends,
+Filling the heavens far and wide,
+   Are sweet.  But none so blends,
+      As thine,
+With calm decay, and peace divine.
+
+
+
+TWENTY-SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him?
+Matthew xviii. 21.
+
+What liberty so glad and gay,
+   As where the mountain boy,
+Reckless of regions far away,
+   A prisoner lives in joy?
+
+The dreary sounds of crowded earth,
+   The cries of camp or town,
+Never untuned his lonely mirth,
+   Nor drew his visions down.
+
+The snow-clad peaks of rosy light
+   That meet his morning view,
+The thwarting cliffs that bound his sight,
+   They bound his fancy too.
+
+Two ways alone his roving eye
+   For aye may onward go,
+Or in the azure deep on high,
+   Or darksome mere below.
+
+O blest restraint! more blessed range!
+   Too soon the happy child
+His nook of homely thought will change
+   For life's seducing wild:
+
+Too soon his altered day-dreams show
+   This earth a boundless space,
+With sun-bright pleasures to and fro
+   Sporting in joyous race:
+
+While of his narrowing heart each year,
+   Heaven less and less will fill,
+Less keenly, thorough his grosser ear,
+   The tones of mercy thrill.
+
+It must be so:  else wherefore falls
+   The Saviour's voice unheard,
+While from His pard'ning Cross He calls,
+   "O spare as I have spared?"
+
+By our own niggard rule we try
+   The hope to suppliants given!
+We mete out love, as if our eye
+   Saw to the end of Heaven.
+
+Yes, ransomed sinner! wouldst thou know
+   How often to forgive,
+How dearly to embrace thy foe,
+   Look where thou hop'st to live; -
+
+When thou hast told those isles of light,
+   And fancied all beyond,
+Whatever owns, in depth or height,
+   Creation's wondrous bond;
+
+Then in their solemn pageant learn
+   Sweet mercy's praise to see:
+Their Lord resigned them all, to earn
+   The bliss of pardoning thee.
+
+
+
+TWENTY-THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+Who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto
+His glorious body, according to the working whereby He is able even
+to subdue all things onto Himself.  Philippians iii. 21.
+
+Red o'er the forest peers the setting sun,
+   The line of yellow light dies fast away
+That crowned the eastern copse:  and chill and dun
+   Falls on the moor the brief November day.
+
+Now the tired hunter winds a parting note,
+   And Echo hide good-night from every glade;
+Yet wait awhile, and see the calm heaves float
+   Each to his rest beneath their parent shade.
+
+How like decaying life they seem to glide!
+   And yet no second spring have they in store,
+But where they fall, forgotten to abide
+   Is all their portion, and they ask no more.
+
+Soon o'er their heads blithe April airs shall sing,
+   A thousand wild-flowers round them shall unfold,
+The green buds glisten in the dews of Spring,
+   And all be vernal rapture as of old.
+
+Unconscious they in waste oblivion lie,
+   In all the world of busy life around
+No thought of them; in all the bounteous sky,
+   No drop, for them, of kindly influence found.
+
+Man's portion is to die and rise again -
+   Yet he complains, while these unmurmuring part
+With their sweet lives, as pure from sin and stain,
+   As his when Eden held his virgin heart.
+
+And haply half unblamed his murmuring voice
+   Might sound in Heaven, were all his second life
+Only the first renewed--the heathen's choice,
+   A round of listless joy and weary strife.
+
+For dreary were this earth, if earth were all,
+   Tho' brightened oft by dear Affection's kiss; -
+Who for the spangles wears the funeral pall?
+   But catch a gleam beyond it, and 'tis bliss.
+
+Heavy and dull this frame of limbs and heart,
+   Whether slow creeping on cold earth, or borne
+On lofty steed, or loftier prow, we dart
+   O'er wave or field:  yet breezes laugh to scorn
+
+Our puny speed, and birds, and clouds in heaven,
+   And fish, living shafts that pierce the main,
+And stars that shoot through freezing air at even -
+   Who but would follow, might he break his chain?
+
+And thou shalt break it soon; the grovelling worm
+   Shall find his wings, and soar as fast and free
+As his transfigured Lord with lightning form
+   And snowy vest--such grace He won for thee,
+
+When from the grave He sprang at dawn of morn,
+   And led through boundless air thy conquering road,
+Leaving a glorious track, where saints, new-born,
+   Might fearless follow to their blest abode.
+
+But first, by many a stern and fiery blast
+   The world's rude furnace must thy blood refine,
+And many a gale of keenest woe be passed,
+   Till every pulse beat true to airs divine,
+
+Till every limb obey the mounting soul,
+   The mounting soul, the call by Jesus given.
+He who the stormy heart can so control,
+   The laggard body soon will waft to Heaven.
+
+
+
+TWENTY-FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+The heart knoweth his own bitterness:  and a stranger doth not
+intermeddle with his joy.  Proverbs xiv. 10.
+
+Why should we faint and fear to live alone,
+   Since all alone, so Heaven has willed, we die,
+Nor e'en the tenderest heart, and next our own,
+   Knows half the reasons why we smile and sigh?
+
+Each in his hidden sphere of joy or woe
+   Our hermit spirits dwell, and range apart,
+Our eyes see all around in gloom or glow -
+   Hues of their own, fresh borrowed from the heart.
+
+And well it is for us our GOD should feel
+   Alone our secret throbbings:  so our prayer
+May readier spring to Heaven, nor spend its zeal
+   On cloud-born idols of this lower air.
+
+For if one heart in perfect sympathy
+   Beat with another, answering love for love,
+Weak mortals, all entranced, on earth would lie,
+   Nor listen for those purer strains above.
+
+Or what if Heaven for once its searching light
+   Lent to some partial eye, disclosing all
+The rude bad thoughts, that in our bosom's night
+   Wander at large, nor heed Love's gentle thrall?
+
+Who would not shun the dreary uncouth place?
+   As if, fond leaning where her infant slept,
+A mother's arm a serpent should embrace:
+   So might we friendless live, and die unwept.
+
+Then keep the softening veil in mercy drawn,
+   Thou who canst love us, thro' Thou read us true;
+As on the bosom of th' aerial lawn
+   Melts in dim haze each coarse ungentle hue.
+
+So too may soothing Hope Thy heave enjoy
+   Sweet visions of long-severed hearts to frame:
+Though absence may impair, or cares annoy,
+   Some constant mind may draw us still the same.
+
+We in dark dreams are tossing to and fro,
+   Pine with regret, or sicken with despair,
+The while she bathes us in her own chaste glow,
+   And with our memory wings her own fond prayer.
+
+O bliss of child-like innocence, and love
+   Tried to old age! creative power to win,
+And raise new worlds, where happy fancies rove,
+   Forgetting quite this grosser world of sin.
+
+Bright are their dreams, because their thoughts are clear,
+   Their memory cheering:  but th' earth-stained spright,
+Whose wakeful musings are of guilt and fear,
+   Must hover nearer earth, and less in light.
+
+Farewell, for her, th' ideal scenes so fair -
+   Yet not farewell her hope, since thou hast deigned,
+Creator of all hearts! to own and share
+   The woe of what Thou mad'st, and we have stained.
+
+Thou knowst our bitterness--our joys are Thine -
+   No stranger Thou to all our wanderings wild:
+Nor could we bear to think, how every line
+   Of us, Thy darkened likeness and defiled,
+
+Stands in full sunshine of Thy piercing eye,
+   But that Thou call'st us Brethren:  sweet repose
+Is in that word--the LORD who dwells on high
+   Knows all, yet loves us better than He knows.
+
+
+
+TWENTY-FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
+
+
+
+The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the way of
+righteousness.  Proverbs xvi. 31.
+
+The bright-haired morn is glowing
+   O'er emerald meadows gay,
+With many a clear gem strewing
+   The early shepherd's way.
+Ye gentle elves, by Fancy seen
+   Stealing away with night
+To slumber in your leafy screen,
+   Tread more than airy light.
+
+And see what joyous greeting
+   The sun through heaven has shed,
+Though fast yon shower be fleeting,
+   His beams have faster sped.
+For lo! above the western haze
+   High towers the rainbow arch
+In solid span of purest rays:
+   How stately is its march!
+
+Pride of the dewy morning!
+   The swain's experienced eye
+From thee takes timely warning,
+   Nor trusts the gorgeous sky.
+For well he knows, such dawnings gay
+   Bring noons of storm and shower,
+And travellers linger on the way
+   Beside the sheltering bower.
+
+E'en so, in hope and trembling
+   Should watchful shepherd view
+His little lambs assembling,
+   With glance both kind and true;
+'Tis not the eye of keenest blaze,
+   Nor the quick-swelling breast,
+That soonest thrills at touch of praise -
+   These do not please him best.
+
+But voices low and gentle,
+   And timid glances shy,
+That seem for aid parental
+   To sue all wistfully,
+Still pressing, longing to be right,
+   Yet fearing to be wrong, -
+In these the Pastor dares delight,
+   A lamb-like, Christ-like throng.
+
+These in Life's distant even
+   Shall shine serenely bright,
+As in th' autumnal heaven
+   Mild rainbow tints at night,
+When the last shower is stealing down,
+   And ere they sink to rest,
+The sun-beams weave a parting crown
+   For some sweet woodland nest.
+
+The promise of the morrow
+   Is glorious on that eve,
+Dear as the holy sorrow
+   When good men cease to live.
+When brightening ere it die away
+   Mounts up their altar flame,
+Still tending with intenser ray
+   To Heaven whence first it came.
+
+Say not it dies, that glory,
+   'Tis caught unquenched on high,
+Those saintlike brows so hoary
+   Shall wear it in the sky.
+No smile is like the smile of death,
+   When all good musings past
+Rise wafted with the parting breath,
+   The sweetest thought the last.
+
+
+
+SUNDAY NEXT BEFORE ADVENT
+
+
+
+Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost.  St.
+John vi. 12.
+
+   Will God indeed with fragments bear,
+   Snatched late from the decaying year?
+   Or can the Saviour's blood endear
+      The dregs of a polluted life?
+   When down th' o'erwhelming current tossed
+   Just ere he sink for ever lost,
+   The sailor's untried arms are crossed
+In agonizing prayer, will Ocean cease her strife?
+
+   Sighs that exhaust but not relieve
+   Heart-rending sighs, O spare to heave
+   A bosom freshly taught to grieve
+      For lavished hours and love misspent!
+   Now through her round of holy thought
+   The Church our annual steps has brought,
+   But we no holy fire have caught -
+Back on the gaudy world our wilful eyes were bent.
+
+   Too soon th' ennobling carols, poured
+   To hymn the birth-night of the LORD,
+   Which duteous Memory should have stored
+      For thankful echoing all the year -
+   Too soon those airs have passed away;
+   Nor long within the heart would stay
+   The silence of CHRIST'S dying day,
+Profaned by worldly mirth, or scared by worldly fear.
+
+   Some strain of hope and victory
+   On Easter wings might lift us high
+   A little while we sought the sky:
+      And when the SPIRIT'S beacon fires
+   On every hill began to blare,
+   Lightening the world with glad amaze,
+   Who but must kindle while they gaze?
+But faster than she soars, our earth-bound Fancy tires.
+
+   Nor yet for these, nor all the rites,
+   By which our Mother's voice invites
+   Our GOD to bless our home delights,
+      And sweeten every secret tear:-
+   The funeral dirge, the marriage vow,
+   The hollowed font where parents bow,
+   And now elate and trembling now
+To the Redeemer's feet their new-found treasures bear:-
+
+   Not for this Pastor's gracious arm
+   Stretched out to bless--a Christian charm
+   To dull the shafts of worldly harm:-
+      Nor, sweetest, holiest, best of all
+   For the dear feast of JESUS dying,
+   Upon that altar ever lying,
+   Where souls with sacred hunger sighing
+Are called to sit and eat, while angels prostrate fall:-
+
+   No, not for each and all of these,
+   Have our frail spirits found their ease.
+   The gale that stirs the autumnal trees
+      Seems tuned as truly to our hearts
+   As when, twelve weary months ago,
+   'Twas moaning bleak, so high and low,
+   You would have thought Remorse and Woe
+Had taught the innocent air their sadly thrilling parts.
+
+   Is it, CHRIST'S light is too divine,
+   We dare not hope like Him to shine?
+   But see, around His dazzling shrine
+      Earths gems the fire of Heaven have caught;
+   Martyrs and saints--each glorious day
+   Dawning in order on our way -
+   Remind us, how our darksome clay
+May keep th' ethereal warmth our new Creator brought.
+
+   These we have scorned, O false and frail!
+   And now once more th' appalling tale,
+   How love divine may woo and fail,
+      Of our lost year in Heaven is told -
+   What if as far our life were past,
+   Our weeks all numbered to the last,
+   With time and hope behind us cast,
+And all our work to do with palsied hands and cold?
+
+   O watch and pray ere Advent dawn!
+   For thinner than the subtlest lawn
+   'Twixt thee and death the veil is drawn.
+      But Love too late can never glow:
+   The scattered fragments Love can glean
+   Refine the dregs, and yield us clean
+   To regions where one thought serene
+Breathes sweeter than whole years of sacrifice below.
+
+
+
+ST. ANDREW'S DAY
+
+
+
+He first findeth his own brother Simon, and saith unto him, We have
+found the Messias . . . And he brought him to Jesus.  St. John i.
+41, 42.
+
+When brothers part for manhood's race,
+   What gift may most endearing prove
+To keep fond memory its her place,
+   And certify a brother's love?
+
+'Tis true, bright hours together told,
+   And blissful dreams in secret shared,
+Serene or solemn, gay or bold,
+   Shall last in fancy unimpaired.
+
+E'en round the death-bed of the good
+   Such dear remembrances will hover,
+And haunt us with no vexing mood
+   When all the cares of earth are over.
+
+But yet our craving spirits feel,
+   We shall live on, though Fancy die,
+And seek a surer pledge--a seal
+   Of love to last eternally.
+
+Who art thou, that wouldst grave thy name
+   Thus deeply in a brother's heart?
+Look on this saint, and learn to frame
+   Thy love-charm with true Christian art.
+
+First seek thy Saviour out, and dwell
+   Beneath this shadow of His roof,
+Till thou have scanned His features well,
+   And known Him for the Christ by proof;
+
+Such proof as they are sure to find
+   Who spend with Him their happy days,
+Clean hands, and a self-ruling mind
+   Ever in tune for love and praise.
+
+Then, potent with the spell of Heaven,
+   Go, and thine erring brother gain,
+Entice him home to be forgiven,
+   Till he, too, see his Saviour plain.
+
+Or, if before thee in the race,
+   Urge him with thine advancing tread,
+Till, like twin stars, with even pace,
+   Each lucid course be duly aped.
+
+No fading frail memorial give
+   To soothe his soul when thou art gone,
+But wreaths of hope for aye to live,
+   And thoughts of good together done.
+
+That so, before the judgment-seat,
+   Though changed and glorified each face,
+Not unremembered ye may meet
+   For endless ages to embrace.
+
+
+
+ST. THOMAS' DAY
+
+
+
+Thomas, because thou hast seen Me, thou hast believed; blessed are
+they that have not seen, and yet have believed.  St. John xx. 29.
+
+   We were not by when Jesus came,
+      But round us, far and near,
+   We see His trophies, and His name
+      In choral echoes hear.
+   In a fair ground our lot is cast,
+   As in the solemn week that past,
+   While some might doubt, but all adored,
+Ere the whole widowed Church had seen her risen Lord.
+
+   Slowly, as then, His bounteous hand
+      The golden chain unwinds,
+   Drawing to Heaven with gentlest band
+      Wise hearts and loving minds.
+   Love sought Him first--at dawn of morn
+   From her sad couch she sprang forlorn,
+   She sought to weep with Thee alone,
+And saw Thine open grave, and knew that thou wert gone.
+
+   Reason and Faith at once set out
+      To search the SAVIOUR'S tomb;
+   Faith faster runs, but waits without,
+      As fearing to presume,
+   Till Reason enter in, and trace
+   Christ's relics round the holy place -
+   "Here lay His limbs, and here His sacred head,
+And who was by, to make His new-forsaken bed?"
+
+   Both wonder, one believes--but while
+      They muse on all at home,
+   No thought can tender Love beguile
+      From Jesus' grave to roam.
+   Weeping she stays till He appear -
+   Her witness first the Church must hear -
+   All joy to souls that can rejoice
+With her at earliest call of His dear gracious voice.
+
+   Joy too to those, who love to talk
+      In secret how He died,
+   Though with sealed eyes awhile they walk,
+      Nor see him at their side:
+   Most like the faithful pair are they,
+   Who once to Emmaus took their way,
+   Half darkling, till their Master shied
+His glory on their souls, made known in breaking bread.
+
+   Thus, ever brighter and more bright,
+      On those He came to save
+   The Lord of new-created light
+      Dawned gradual from the grave;
+   Till passed th' enquiring day-light hour,
+   And with closed door in silent bower
+   The Church in anxious musing sate,
+As one who for redemption still had long to wait.
+
+   Then, gliding through th' unopening door,
+      Smooth without step or sound,
+   "Peace to your souls," He said--no more -
+      They own Him, kneeling round.
+   Eye, ear, and hand, and loving heart,
+   Body and soul in every part,
+   Successive made His witnesses that hour,
+Cease not in all the world to show His saving power.
+
+   Is there, on earth, a spirit frail,
+      Who fears to take their word,
+   Scarce daring, through the twilight pale,
+      To think he sees the Lord?
+   With eyes too tremblingly awake
+   To bear with dimness for His sake?
+   Read and confess the Hand Divine
+That drew thy likeness here so true in every line.
+
+   For all thy rankling doubts so sore,
+      Love thou thy Saviour still,
+   Him for thy Lord and God adore,
+      And ever do His will.
+   Though vexing thoughts may seem to last,
+   Let not thy soul be quite o'ercast; -
+   Soon will He show thee all His wounds, and say,
+"Long have I known Thy name--know thou My face alway."
+
+
+
+THE CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL
+
+
+
+And he fell to the earth, and heard a voice saying unto him, Saul,
+Saul, why persecutest thou Me?  And he said, Who art Thou, Lord?
+And the Lord said, I am Jesus whom thou persecutest.  Acts ix. 4,
+5.
+
+The mid-day sun, with fiercest glare,
+Broods o'er the hazy twinkling air:
+   Along the level sand
+The palm-tree's shade unwavering lies,
+Just as thy towers, Damascus, rise
+   To greet you wearied band.
+
+The leader of that martial crew
+Seems bent some mighty deed to do,
+   So steadily he speeds,
+With lips firm closed and fixed eye,
+Like warrior when the fight is night,
+   Nor talk nor landscape heeds.
+
+What sudden blaze is round him poured,
+As though all Heaven's refulgent hoard
+   In one rich glory shone?
+One moment--and to earth he falls:
+What voice his inmost heart appalls? -
+   Voice heard by him alone.
+
+For to the rest both words and form
+Seem lost in lightning and in storm,
+   While Saul, in wakeful trance,
+Sees deep within that dazzling field
+His persecuted Lord revealed,
+   With keen yet pitying glance:
+
+And hears time meek upbraiding call
+As gently on his spirit fall,
+   As if th' Almighty Son
+Were prisoner yet in this dark earth,
+Nor had proclaimed His royal birth,
+   Nor His great power begun.
+
+"Ah! wherefore persecut'st thou Me?"
+He heard and saw, and sought to free
+   His strained eyes from the sight:
+But Heaven's high magic bound it there,
+Still gazing, though untaught to bear
+   Th' insufferable light.
+
+"Who art Thou, Lord?" he falters forth:-
+So shall Sin ask of heaven and earth
+   At the last awful day.
+"When did we see Thee suffering nigh,
+And passed Thee with unheeding eye?
+   Great God of judgment, say!"
+
+Ah! little dream our listless eyes
+What glorious presence they despise,
+   While, in our noon of life,
+To power or fame we rudely press. -
+Christ is at hand, to scorn or bless,
+   Christ suffers in our strife.
+
+And though heaven's gate long since have closed,
+And our dear Lord in bliss reposed,
+   High above mortal ken,
+To every ear in every land
+(Thought meek ears only understand)
+   He speaks as he did then.
+
+"Ah! wherefore persecute ye Me?
+'Tis hard, ye so in love should be
+   With your own endless woe.
+Know, though at God's right hand I live,
+I feel each wound ye reckless give
+   To the least saint below.
+
+"I in your care My brethren left,
+Not willing ye should be bereft
+   Of waiting on your Lord.
+The meanest offering ye can make -
+A drop of water--for love's sake,
+   In Heaven, be sure, is stored."
+
+O by those gentle tones and dear,
+When thou hast stayed our wild career,
+   Thou only hope of souls,
+Ne'er let us cast one look behind,
+But in the thought of Jesus find
+   What every thought controls.
+
+As to Thy last Apostle's heart
+Thy lightning glance did then impart
+   Zeal's never-dying fire,
+So teach us on Thy shrine to lay
+Our hearts, and let them day by day
+   Intenser blaze and higher.
+
+And as each mild and winning note
+(Like pulses that round harp-strings float
+   When the full strain is o'er)
+Left lingering on his inward ear
+Music, that taught, as death drew near,
+   Love's lesson more and more:
+
+So, as we walk our earthly round,
+Still may the echo of that sound
+   Be in our memory stored
+"Christians! behold your happy state:
+Christ is in these, who round you wait;
+   Make much of your dear Lord!"
+
+
+
+THE PURIFICATION
+
+
+
+Blessed are the pure in heart:  for they shall see God.  St.
+Matthew v. 8.
+
+   Bless'd are the pure in heart,
+   For they shall see our God,
+The secret of the Lord is theirs,
+   Their soul is Christ's abode.
+
+   Might mortal thought presume
+   To guess an angel's lay,
+Such are the notes that echo through
+   The courts of Heaven to-day.
+
+   Such the triumphal hymns
+   On Sion's Prince that wait,
+In high procession passing on
+   Towards His temple-gate.
+
+   Give ear, ye kings--bow down,
+   Ye rulers of the earth -
+This, this is He:  your Priest by grace,
+   Your God and King by birth.
+
+   No pomp of earthly guards
+   Attends with sword and spear,
+And all-defying, dauntless look,
+   Their monarch's way to clear;
+
+   Yet are there more with Him
+   Than all that are with you -
+The armies of the highest Heaven,
+   All righteous, good, and true.
+
+   Spotless their robes and pure,
+   Dipped in the sea of light,
+That hides the unapproached shrine
+   From men's and angels' sight.
+
+   His throne, thy bosom blest,
+   O mother undefiled -
+That throne, if aught beneath the skies,
+   Beseems the sinless child.
+
+   Lost in high thoughts, "whose son
+   The wondrous Babe might prove,"
+Her guileless husband walks beside,
+   Bearing the hallowed dove;
+
+   Meet emblem of His vow,
+   Who, on this happy day,
+His dove-like soul--best sacrifice -
+   Did on God's altar lay.
+
+   But who is he, by years
+   Bowed, but erect in heart,
+Whose prayers are struggling with his tears?
+   "Lord, let me now depart.
+
+   "Now hath Thy servant seen
+   Thy saving health, O Lord;
+'Tis time that I depart in peace,
+   According to Thy word."
+
+   Yet swells this pomp:  one more
+   Comes forth to bless her God;
+Full fourscore years, meek widow, she
+   Her heaven-ward way hath troth.
+
+   She who to earthly joys
+   So long had given farewell,
+Now sees, unlooked for, Heaven on earth,
+   Christ in His Israel.
+
+   Wide open from that hour
+   The temple-gates are set,
+And still the saints rejoicing there
+   The holy Child have met.
+
+   Now count His train to-day,
+   Auth who may meet Him, learn:
+Him child-like sires, meek maidens find,
+   Where pride can nought discern.
+
+   Still to the lowly soul
+   He doth Himself impart,
+And for His cradle and His throne
+   Chooseth the pure in heart.
+
+
+
+ST. MATTHIAS' DAY
+
+
+
+Wherefore of these men which have companied with us all the time
+that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us, beginning from the
+baptism of John, unto the same day that He was taken up from us,
+must one be ordained to be a witness with us of His resurrection.
+Acts i. 21, 22.
+
+      Who is God's chosen priest?
+He, who on Christ stands waiting day and night,
+Who traceth His holy steps, nor ever ceased,
+   From Jordan banks to Bethphage height:
+
+      Who hath learned lowliness
+From his Lord's cradle, patience from His Cross;
+Whom poor men's eyes and hearts consent to bless;
+   To whom, for Christ, the world is loss;
+
+      Who both in agony
+Hath seen Him and in glory; and in both
+Owned Him divine, and yielded, nothing loth,
+   Body and soul, to live and die,
+
+      In witness of his Lord,
+In humble following of his Saviour dear:
+This is the man to wield th' unearthly sword,
+   Warring unharmed with sin and fear.
+
+      But who can o'er suffice -
+What mortal--for this more than angels' task,
+Winning or losing souls, Thy life-blood's price?
+   The gift were too divine to ask.
+
+      But Thou hast made it sure
+By Thy dear promise to thy Church and Bride,
+That Thou, on earth, wouldst aye with her endure,
+   Till earth to Heaven be purified.
+
+      Thou art her only spouse,
+Whose arm supports her, on Whose faithful breast
+Her persecuted head she meekly bows,
+   Sure pledge of her eternal rest.
+
+      Thou, her unerring guide,
+Stayest her fainting steps along the wild;
+Thy merit is on the bowers of lust and pride,
+   That she may pass them undefiled.
+
+      Who then, uncalled by Thee,
+Dare touch Thy spouse, Thy very self below?
+Or who dare count him summoned worthily,
+   Except Thine hand and seal he show?
+
+      Where can Thy seal be found,
+But on thou chosen seed, from age to age
+By thine anointed heralds duly crowned,
+   As kings and priests Thy war to wage?
+
+      Then fearless walk we forth,
+Yet full of trembling, Messengers of God:
+Our warrant sure, but doubting of our worth,
+   By our own shame alike and glory awed.
+
+      Dread Searcher of the hearts,
+Thou who didst seal by Thy descending Dove
+Thy servant's choice, O help us in our parts,
+   Else helpless found, to learn and teach Thy love.
+
+
+
+THE ANNUNCIATION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY
+
+
+
+And the Angel came in unto her, and said, Hail, thou that art
+highly favoured, the Lord is with thee:  blessed art thou among
+women.  St. Luke i. 28.
+
+Oh!  Thou who deign'st to sympathise
+With all our frail and fleshly ties,
+   Maker yet Brother dear,
+Forgive the too presumptuous thought,
+If, calming wayward grief, I sought
+   To gaze on Thee too near.
+
+Yet sure 'twas not presumption, Lord,
+'Twas Thine own comfortable word
+   That made the lesson known:
+Of all the dearest bonds we prove,
+Thou countest sons and mothers' love
+   Most sacred, most Thine own.
+
+When wandering here a little span,
+Thou took'st on Thee to rescue man,
+   Thou had'st no earthly sire:
+That wedded love we prize so dear,
+As if our heaven and home were here,
+   It lit in Thee no fire.
+
+On no sweet sister's faithful breast
+Wouldst Thou Thine aching forehead rest,
+   On no kind brother lean:
+But who, O perfect filial heart,
+E'er did like Thee a true son's part,
+   Endearing, firm, serene?
+
+Thou wept'st, meek maiden, mother mild,
+Thou wept'st upon thy sinless Child,
+   Thy very heart was riven:
+And yet, what mourning matron here
+Would deem thy sorrows bought too dear
+   By all on this side Heaven?
+
+A Son that never did amiss,
+That never shamed His Mother's kiss,
+   Nor crossed her fondest prayer:
+E'en from the tree He deigned to bow,
+For her His agonised brow,
+   Her, His sole earthly care.
+
+Ave Maria! blessed Maid!
+Lily of Eden's fragrant shade,
+   Who can express the love
+That nurtured thee so pure and sweet,
+Making thy heart a shelter meet
+   For Jesus' holy dove?
+
+Ave Maria!  Mother blest,
+To whom, caressing and caressed,
+   Clings the eternal Child;
+Favoured beyond Archangels' dream,
+When first on Thee with tenderest gleam
+   Thy new-born Saviour smiled:-
+
+Ave Maria! thou whose name
+All but adoring love may claim,
+   Yet may we reach thy shrine;
+For He, thy Son and Saviour, vows
+To crown all lowly lofty brows
+   With love and joy like thine.
+
+Blessed is the womb that bare Him--blessed
+The bosom where His lips were pressed,
+   But rather blessed are they
+Who hear His word and keep it well,
+The living homes where Christ shall dwell,
+   And never pass away.
+
+
+
+ST. MARK'S DAY
+
+
+
+And the contention was so sharp between them, that they departed
+asunder one from the other.  Acts xv. 30.
+Compare 2 Tim. iv. 11.  Take Mark, and bring him with thee:  for he
+is profitable to me for the ministry.
+
+Oh! who shall dare in this frail scene
+On holiest happiest thoughts to lean,
+   On Friendship, Kindred, or on Love?
+Since not Apostles' hands can clasp
+Each other in so firm a grasp
+   But they shall change and variance prove.
+
+Yet deem not, on such parting sad
+Shall dawn no welcome dear and glad:
+   Divided in their earthly race,
+Together at the glorious goal,
+Each leading many a rescued soul,
+   The faithful champions shall embrace.
+
+For e'en as those mysterious Four,
+Who the bright whirling wheels upbore
+   By Chebar in the fiery blast.
+So, on their tasks of love and praise
+This saints of God their several ways
+   Right onward speed, yet join at last.
+
+And sometimes e'en beneath the moon
+The Saviour gives a gracious boon,
+   When reconciled Christians meet,
+And face to face, and heart to heart,
+High thoughts of holy love impart
+   In silence meek, or converse sweet.
+
+Companion of the Saints! 'twas thine
+To taste that drop of peace divine,
+   When the great soldier of thy Lord
+Called thee to take his last farewell,
+Teaching the Church with joy to tell
+   The story of your love restored.
+
+O then the glory and the bliss,
+When all that pained or seemed amiss
+   Shall melt with earth and sin away!
+When saints beneath their Saviour's eye,
+Filled with each other's company,
+   Shall spend in love th' eternal day!
+
+
+
+ST. PHILIP AND ST. JAMES.
+
+
+
+Let the brother of low degree rejoice in that he is exalted:  but
+the rich in that he is made low.  St. James i. 9. 10.
+
+Dear is the morning gale of spring,
+   And dear th' autumnal eve;
+But few delights can summer bring
+   A Poet's crown to weave.
+
+Her bowers are mute, her fountains dry,
+   And ever Fancy's wing
+Speed's from beneath her cloudless sky
+   To autumn or to spring.
+
+Sweet is the infant's waking smile,
+   And sweet the old man's rest -
+But middle age by no fond wile,
+   No soothing calm is blest.
+
+Still in the world's hot restless gleam
+   She plies her weary task,
+While vainly for some pleasant dream
+   Her wandering glances ask. -
+
+O shame upon thee, listless heart,
+   So sad a sigh to heave,
+As if thy SAVIOUR had no part
+   In thoughts, that make thee grieve.
+
+As if along His lonesome way
+   He had not borne for thee
+Sad languors through the summer day,
+   Storms on the wintry sea.
+
+Youth's lightning flash of joy secure
+   Passed seldom o'er His spright, -
+A well of serious thought and pure.
+   Too deep for earthly light.
+
+No spring was His--no fairy gleam -
+   For He by trial knew
+How cold and bare what mortals dream,
+   To worlds where all is true.
+
+Then grudge not thou the anguish keen
+   Which makes thee like thy LORD,
+And learn to quit with eye serene
+   Thy youth's ideal hoard.
+
+Thy treasured hopes and raptures high -
+   Unmurmuring let them go,
+Nor grieve the bliss should quickly fly
+   Which CHRIST disdained to know.
+
+Thou shalt have joy in sadness soon;
+   The pure, calm hope be thine,
+Which brightens, like the eastern moon,
+   As day's wild lights decline.
+
+Thus souls, by nature pitched too high,
+   By sufferings plunged too low,
+Meet in the Church's middle sky,
+   Half way 'twixt joy and woe,
+
+To practise there the soothing lay
+   That sorrow best relieves;
+Thankful for all God takes away,
+   Humbled by all He glass.
+
+
+
+ST. BARNABAS.
+
+
+
+The sea of consolation, a Levite.  Acts iv. 36.
+
+   The world's a room of sickness, where each heart
+      Knows its own anguish and unrest;
+   The truest wisdom there, and noblest art,
+      Is his, who skills of comfort best;
+   Whom by the softest step and gentlest tone
+         Enfeebled spirits own,
+      And love to raise the languid eye,
+When, like an angel's wing, they feel him fleeting by:-
+
+   FEEL only--for in silence gently gliding
+      Fain would he shun both ear and sight,
+   'Twixt Prayer and watchful Love his heart dividing,
+      A nursing-father day and night.
+   Such were the tender arms, where cradled lay,
+         In her sweet natal day,
+      The Church of JESUS; such the love
+He to His chosen taught for His dear widowed Dove.
+
+   Warmed underneath the Comforter's safe wing
+      They spread th' endearing warmth around:
+   Mourners, speed here your broken hearts to bring,
+      Here healing dews and balms abound:
+   Here are soft hands that cannot bless in vain,
+         By trial taught your pain:
+      Here loving hearts, that daily know
+The heavenly consolations they on you bestow.
+
+   Sweet thoughts are theirs, that breathe serenest calms,
+      Of holy offerings timely paid,
+   Of fire from heaven to bless their votive alms
+      And passions on GOD'S altar laid.
+   The world to them is closed, and now they shine
+         With rays of love divine,
+      Through darkest nooks of this dull earth
+Pouring, in showery times, their glow of "quiet mirth."
+
+   New hearts before their Saviour's feet to lay,
+      This is their first, their dearest joy:
+   Their next from heart to heart to clear the way
+      For mutual love without alloy:
+   Never so blest as when in JESUS' roll
+         They write some hero-soul,
+      More pleased upon his brightening road
+To wait, than if their own with all his radiance glowed.
+
+   O happy spirits, marked by God and man
+      Their messages of love to bear,
+   What though long since in Heaven your brows began,
+      The genial amarant wreath to wear,
+   And in th' eternal leisure of calm love
+         Ye banquet there above;
+      Yet in your sympathetic heart
+We and our earthly griefs may ask and hope a part.
+
+   Comfort's true sons! amid the thoughts of down
+      That strew your pillow of repose,
+   Sure 'tis one joy to muse, how ye unknown
+      By sweet remembrance soothe our woes;
+   And how the spark ye lit, of heavenly cheer,
+         Lives in our embers here,
+      Where'er the cross is borne with smiles,
+Or lightened secretly by Love's endearing wiles:
+
+   Where'er one Levite in the temple keeps
+      The watch-fire of his midnight prayer,
+   Or issuing thence, the eyes of mourners steeps
+      In heavenly balm, fresh gathered there;
+   Thus saints, that seem to die in earth's rude strife,
+         Only win double life:
+      They have but left our weary ways
+To live in memory here, in Heaven by love and praise.
+
+
+
+ST. JOHN BAPTIST'S DAY
+
+
+
+Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the
+great and dreadful day of the Lord:  and he shall turn the heart of
+the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their
+fathers.  Malachi iv. 5, 6.
+
+      Twice in her season of decay
+The fallen Church hath felt Elijah's eye
+      Dart from the wild its piercing ray:
+Not keener burns, in the chill morning sky,
+         The herald star,
+         Whose torch afar
+   Shadows and boding night-birds fly.
+
+      Methinks we need him once again,
+That favoured seer--but where shall he be found?
+      By Cherith's side we seek in vain,
+In vain on Carmel's green and lonely mound:
+         Angels no more
+         From Sinai soar,
+   On his celestial errands bound.
+
+      But wafted to her glorious place
+By harmless fire, among the ethereal thrones,
+      His spirit with a dear embrace
+Thee the loved harbinger of Jesus owns,
+         Well-pleased to view
+         Her likeness true,
+   And trace, in thine, her own deep tones.
+
+      Deathless himself, he joys with thee
+To commune how a faithful martyr dies,
+      And in the blest could envy be,
+He would behold thy wounds with envious eyes,
+         Star of our morn,
+         Who yet unborn
+   Didst guide our hope, where Christ should rise.
+
+      Now resting from your jealous care
+For sinners, such as Eden cannot know,
+      Ye pour for us your mingled prayer,
+No anxious fear to damp Affection's glow,
+         Love draws a cloud
+         From you to shroud
+   Rebellion's mystery here below.
+
+      And since we see, and not afar,
+The twilight of the great and dreadful day,
+      Why linger, till Elijah's car
+Stoop from the clouds?  Why sheep ye?  Rise and pray,
+         Ye heralds sealed
+         In camp or field
+   Your Saviour's banner to display.
+
+      Where is the lore the Baptist taught,
+The soul unswerving and the fearless tongue?
+      The much-enduring wisdom, sought
+By lonely prayer the haunted rocks among?
+         Who counts it gain
+         His light should wane,
+   So the whole world to Jesus throng?
+
+      Thou Spirit, who the Church didst lend
+Her eagle wings, to shelter in the wild,
+      We pray Thee, ere the Judge descend,
+With flames like these, all bright and undefiled,
+         Her watch-fires light,
+         To guide aright
+   Our weary souls by earth beguiled.
+
+      So glorious let thy Pastors shine,
+That by their speaking lives the world may learn
+      First filial duty, then divine,
+That sons to parents, all to Thee may turn;
+         And ready prove
+         In fires of love,
+   At sight of Thee, for aye to burn.
+
+
+
+ST. PETER'S DAY
+
+
+
+When Herod would have brought him forth, the same night Peter was
+sleeping.  Acts xii. 26.
+
+Thou thrice denied, yet thrice beloved,
+   Watch by Thine own forgiven friend;
+In sharpest perils faithful proved,
+   Let his soul love Thee to the end.
+
+The prayer is heard--else why so deep
+   His slumber on the eve of death?
+And wherefore smiles he in his sleep
+   As one who drew celestial breath?
+
+He loves and is beloved again -
+   Can his soul choose but be at rest?
+Sorrow hath fled away, and Pain
+   Dares not invade the guarded nest.
+
+He dearly loves, and not alone:
+   For his winged thoughts are soaring high
+Where never yet frail heart was known
+   To breathe its vain Affection's sigh.
+
+He loves and weeps--but more than tears
+   Have sealed Thy welcome and his love -
+One look lives in him, and endears
+   Crosses and wrongs where'er he rove:
+
+That gracious chiding look, Thy call
+   To win him to himself and Thee,
+Sweetening the sorrow of his fall
+   Which else were rued too bitterly.
+
+E'en through the veil of sheep it shines,
+   The memory of that kindly glance; -
+The Angel watching by, divines
+   And spares awhile his blissful trance.
+
+Or haply to his native lake
+   His vision wafts him back, to talk
+With JESUS, ere His flight He take,
+   As in that solemn evening walk,
+
+When to the bosom of His friend,
+   The Shepherd, He whose name is Good.
+Did His dear lambs and sheep commend,
+   Both bought and nourished with His blood:
+
+Then laid on him th' inverted tree,
+   Which firm embraced with heart and arm,
+Might cast o'er hope and memory,
+   O'er life and death, its awful charm.
+
+With brightening heart he bears it on,
+   His passport through this eternal gates,
+To his sweet home--so nearly won,
+   He seems, as by the door he waits,
+
+The unexpressive notes to hear
+   Of angel song and angel motion,
+Rising and falling on the ear
+   Like waves in Joy's unbounded ocean. -
+
+His dream is changed--the Tyrant's voice
+   Calls to that last of glorious deeds -
+But as he rises to rejoice,
+   Not Herod but an Angel leads.
+
+He dreams he sees a lamp flash bright,
+   Glancing around his prison room -
+But 'tis a gleam of heavenly light
+   That fills up all the ample gloom.
+
+The flame, that in a few short years
+   Deep through the chambers of the dead
+Shall pierce, and dry the fount of tears,
+   Is waving o'er his dungeon-bed.
+
+Touched he upstarts--his chains unbind -
+   Through darksome vault, up massy stair,
+His dizzy, doubting footsteps wind
+   To freedom and cool moonlight air.
+
+Then all himself, all joy and calm,
+   Though for a while his hand forego,
+Just as it touched, the martyr's palm,
+   He turns him to his task below;
+
+The pastoral staff, the keys of Heaven,
+   To wield a while in grey-haired might,
+Then from his cross to spring forgiven,
+   And follow JESUS out of sight.
+
+
+
+ST. JAMES'S DAY
+
+
+
+Ye shall drink indeed of My cup, and be baptised with the baptism
+that I am baptised with:  but to sit on My right hand, and on My
+left, is not Mine to give, but it shall be given to them for whom
+it is prepared of My Father.  St. Matthew xx. 23.
+
+Sit down and take thy fill of joy
+   At God's right hand, a bidden guest,
+Drink of the cup that cannot cloy,
+   Eat of the bread that cannot waste.
+O great Apostle! rightly now
+   Thou readest all thy Saviour meant,
+What time His grave yet gentle brow
+   In sweet reproof on thee was bent.
+
+"Seek ye to sit enthroned by me?
+   Alas! ye know not what ye ask,
+The first in shame and agony,
+   The lowest in the meanest task -
+This can ye be? and came ye drink
+   The cup that I in tears must steep,
+Nor from the 'whelming waters shrink
+   That o'er Me roll so dark and deep?"
+
+"We can--Thine are we, dearest Lord,
+   In glory and in agony,
+To do and suffer all Thy word;
+   Only be Thou for ever nigh." -
+"Then be it so--My cup receive,
+   And of My woes baptismal taste:
+But for the crown, that angels weave
+   For those next Me in glory placed,
+
+"I give it not by partial love;
+   But in My Father's book are writ
+What names on earth shall lowliest prove,
+   That they in Heaven may highest sit."
+Take up the lesson, O my heart;
+   Thou Lord of meekness, write it there,
+Thine own meek self to me impart,
+   Thy lofty hope, thy lowly prayer.
+
+If ever on the mount with Thee
+   I seem to soar in vision bright,
+With thoughts of coming agony,
+   Stay Thou the too presumptuous flight:
+Gently along the vale of tears
+   Lead me from Tabor's sunbright steep,
+Let me not grudge a few short years
+   With thee t'ward Heaven to walk and weep:
+
+Too happy, on my silent path,
+   If now and then allowed, with Thee
+Watching some placid holy death,
+   Thy secret work of love to see;
+But, oh! most happy, should Thy call,
+   Thy welcome call, at last be given -
+"Come where thou long hast storeth thy all
+   Come see thy place prepared in Heaven."
+
+
+
+ST. BARTHOLOMEW
+
+
+
+Jesus answered and said unto him, Because I said unto thee, I saw
+the under the fig-tree, believest thou?  Thou shalt see greater
+things than these.  St. John i. 50.
+
+Hold up thy mirror to the sun,
+   And thou shalt need an eagle's gaze,
+So perfectly the polished stone
+   Gives back the glory of his rays:
+
+Turn it, and it shall paint as true
+   The soft green of the vernal earth,
+And each small flower of bashful hue,
+   That closest hides its lowly birth.
+
+Our mirror is a blessed book,
+   Where out from each illumined page
+We see one glorious Image look
+   All eyes to dazzle and engage,
+
+The Son of God:  and that indeed
+   We see Him as He is, we know,
+Since in the same bright glass we read
+   The very life of things below. -
+
+Eye of God's word! where'er we turn
+   Ever upon us! thy keen gaze
+Can all the depths of sin discern,
+   Unravel every bosom's maze:
+
+Who that has felt thy glance of dread
+   Thrill through his heart's remotest cells,
+About his path, about his bed,
+   Can doubt what spirit in thee dwells?
+
+"What word is this?  Whence know'st thou me?"
+   All wondering cries the humbled heart,
+To hear thee that deep mystery,
+   The knowledge of itself, impart.
+
+The veil is raised; who runs may read,
+   By its own light the truth is seen,
+And soon the Israelite indeed
+   Bows down t' adore the Nazarene.
+
+So did Nathanael, guileless man,
+   At once, not shame-faced or afraid,
+Owning Him God, who so could scan
+   His musings in the lonely shade;
+
+In his own pleasant fig-tree's shade,
+   Which by his household fountain grew,
+Where at noon-day his prayer he made
+   To know God better than he knew.
+
+Oh! happy hours of heavenward thought!
+   How richly crowned! how well improved!
+In musing o'er the Law he taught,
+   In waiting for the Lord he loved.
+
+We must not mar with earthly praise
+   What God's approving word hath sealed:
+Enough, if might our feeble lays
+   Take up the promise He revealed;
+
+"The child-like faith, that asks not sight,
+   Waits not for wonder or for sign,
+Believes, because it loves, aright -
+   Shall see things greater, things divine.
+
+"Heaven to that gaze shall open wide,
+   And brightest angels to and fro
+On messages of love shall glide
+   'Twixt God above and Christ below."
+
+So still the guileless man is blest,
+   To him all crooked paths are straight,
+Him on his way to endless rest
+   Fresh, ever-growing strengths await.
+
+God's witnesses, a glorious host,
+   Compass him daily like a cloud;
+Martyrs and seers, the saved and lost,
+   Mercies and judgments cry aloud.
+
+Yet shall to him the still small voice,
+   That first into his bosom found
+A way, and fixed his wavering choice,
+   Nearest and dearest ever sound.
+
+
+
+ST. MATTHEW
+
+
+
+And after these things He went forth, and saw a publican, named
+Levi, sitting at the receipt of custom:  and He said unto him,
+Follow Me.  And he left all, rose up, and followed Him.  St. Luke
+v. 27, 28.
+
+      Ye hermits blest, ye holy maids,
+         The nearest Heaven on earth,
+      Who talk with God in shadowy glades,
+         Free from rude care and mirth;
+      To whom some viewless teacher brings
+      The secret lore of rural things,
+   The moral of each fleeting cloud and gale,
+The whispers from above, that haunt the twilight vale:
+
+      Say, when in pity ye have gazed
+         On the wreathed smoke afar,
+      That o'er some town, like mist upraised,
+         Hung hiding sun and star,
+      Then as ye turned your weary eye
+      To the green earth and open sky,
+   Were ye not fain to doubt how Faith could dwell
+Amid that dreary glare, in this world's citadel?
+
+      But Love's a flower that will not die
+         For lack of leafy screen,
+      And Christian Hope can cheer the eye
+         That ne'er saw vernal green;
+      Then be ye sure that Love can bless
+      E'en in this crowded loneliness,
+   Where ever-moving myriads seem to say,
+Go--thou art naught to us, nor we to thee--away!
+
+      There are in this loud stunning tide
+         Of human care and crime,
+      With whom the melodies abide
+         Of th' everlasting chime;
+      Who carry music in their heart
+      Through dusky lane and wrangling mart,
+   Plying their daily task with busier feet,
+Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat.
+
+      How sweet to them, in such brief rest
+         As thronging cares afford,
+      In thought to wander, fancy-blest,
+         To where their gracious Lord,
+      In vain, to win proud Pharisees,
+      Spake, and was heard by fell disease -
+   But not in vain, beside yon breezy lake,
+Bade the meek Publican his gainful seat forsake:
+
+      At once he rose, and left his gold;
+         His treasure and his heart
+      Transferred, where he shall safe behold
+         Earth and her idols part;
+      While he beside his endless store
+      Shall sit, and floods unceasing pour
+   Of Christ's true riches o'er all time and space,
+First angel of His Church, first steward of His Grace.
+
+      Nor can ye not delight to think
+         Where He vouchsafed to eat,
+      How the Most Holy did not shrink
+         From touch of sinner's meat;
+      What worldly hearts and hearts impure
+      Went with Him through the rich man's door,
+   That we might learn of Him lost souls to love,
+And view His least and worst with hope to meet above.
+
+      These gracious lines shed Gospel light
+         On Mammon's gloomiest cells,
+      As on some city's cheerless night
+         The tide of sunrise swells,
+      Till tower, and dome, and bridge-way proud
+      Are mantled with a golden cloud,
+   And to wise hearts this certain hope us given;
+"No mist that man may raise, shall hide the eye of Heaven."
+
+      And oh! if e'en on Babel shine
+         Such gleams of Paradise,
+      Should not their peace be peace divine,
+         Who day by day arise
+      To look on clearer heavens, and scan
+      The work of God untouch'd by man?
+   Shame on us, who about us Babel bear,
+And live in Paradise, as if God was not there!
+
+
+
+ST. MICHAEL AND ALL ANGELS.
+
+
+
+Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for
+them who shall be heirs of salvation?  Hebrews i. 14.
+
+Ye stars that round the Sun of righteousness
+   In glorious order roll,
+With harps for ever strung, ready to bless
+   God for each rescued soul,
+Ye eagle spirits, that build in light divine,
+   Oh! think of us to-day,
+Faint warblers of this earth, that would combine
+Our trembling notes with your accepted lay.
+
+Your amarant wreaths were earned; and homeward all,
+   Flush'd with victorious might,
+Ye might have sped to keep high festival,
+   And revel in the light;
+But meeting us, weak worldlings, on our way,
+   Tired ere the fight begun,
+Ye turned to help us in th' unequal fray,
+Remembering Whose we were, how dearly won:
+
+Remembering Bethlehem, and that glorious night
+   When ye, who used to soar
+Diverse along all space in fiery flight,
+   Came thronging to adore
+Your God new-born, and made a sinner's child;
+   As if the stars should leave
+Their stations in the far ethereal wild,
+And round the sun a radiant circle weave.
+
+Nor less your lay of triumph greeted fair
+   Our Champion and your King,
+In that first strife, whence Satan in despair
+   Sunk down on scathed wing:
+Abuse He fasted, and alone He fought;
+   But when His toils were o'er,
+Ye to the sacred Hermit duteous brought
+Banquet and hymn, your Eden's festal store.
+
+Ye too, when lowest in th' abyss of woe
+   He plunged to save His sheep,
+Were leaning from your golden thrones to know
+   The secrets of that deep:
+But clouds were on His sorrow:  one alone
+   His agonising call
+Summoned from Heaven, to still that bitterest groan,
+And comfort Him, the Comforter of all.
+
+Oh! highest favoured of all Spirits create
+   (If right of thee we deem),
+How didst thou glide on brightening wing elate
+   To meet th' unclouded beam
+Of Jesus from the couch of darkness rising!
+   How swelled thine anthem's sound,
+With fear and mightier joy weak hearts surprising,
+"Your God is risen, and may not here be found!"
+
+Pass a few days, and this dull darkling globe
+   Must yield Him from her sight; -
+Brighter and brighter streams His glory-robe,
+   And He is lost in light.
+Then, when through yonder everlasting arch,
+   Ye in innumerous choir
+Poured, heralding Messiah's conquering march,
+Lingered around His skirts two forms of fire:
+
+With us they stayed, high warning to impart;
+   "The Christ shall come again
+E'en as He goes; with the same human heart,
+   With the same godlike train." -
+Oh! jealous God! how could a sinner dare
+   Think on that dreadful day,
+But that with all Thy wounds Thou wilt be there,
+And all our angel friends to bring Thee on Thy way?
+
+Since to Thy little ones is given such grace,
+   That they who nearest stand
+Alway to God in Heaven, and see His face,
+   Go forth at His command,
+To wait around our path in weal or woe,
+   As erst upon our King,
+Set Thy baptismal seal upon our brow,
+And waft us heavenward with enfolding wing:
+
+Grant.  Lord, that when around th' expiring world
+   Our seraph guardians wait,
+While on her death-bed, ere to ruin hurled,
+   She owns Thee, all too late,
+They to their charge may turn, and thankful see
+   Thy mark upon us still;
+Then all together rise, and reign with Thee,
+And all their holy joy o'er contrite hearts fulfil!
+
+
+
+ST. LUKE
+
+
+
+Luke, the beloved physician, and Demas, greet you.  Colossians iv.
+14.
+Demas hath forsaken me, having loved this present world . . . Only
+Luke is with me.  2 Timothy iv. 10, 11.
+
+Two clouds before the summer gale
+   In equal race fleet o'er the sky:
+Two flowers, when wintry blasts assail,
+   Together pins, together die.
+
+But two capricious human hearts -
+   No sage's rod may track their ways.
+No eye pursue their lawless starts
+   Along their wild self-chosen maze.
+
+He only, by whose sovereign hand
+   E'en sinners for the evil day
+Were made--who rules the world He planned,
+   Turning our worst His own good way;
+
+He only can the cause reveal,
+   Why, at the same fond bosom fed,
+Taught in the self-same lap to kneel
+   Till the same prayer were duly said,
+
+Brothers in blood and nurture too,
+   Aliens in heart so oft should prove;
+One lose, the other keep, Heaven's clue;
+   One dwell in wrath, and one in love.
+
+He only knows--for He can read
+   The mystery of the wicked heart -
+Why vainly oft our arrows speed
+   When aimed with most unerring art;
+
+While from some rude and powerless arm
+   A random shaft in season sent
+Shall light upon some lurking harm,
+   And work some wonder little meant.
+
+Doubt we, how souls so wanton change,
+   Leaving their own experienced rest?
+Need not around the world to range;
+   One narrow cell may teach us best.
+
+Look in, and see Christ's chosen saint
+   In triumph wear his Christ-like chain;
+No fear lest he should swerve or faint;
+   "His life is Christ, his death is gain."
+
+Two converts, watching by his side,
+   Alike his love and greetings share;
+Luke the beloved, the sick soul's guide,
+   And Demas, named in faltering prayer.
+
+Pass a few years--look in once more -
+   The saint is in his bonds again;
+Save that his hopes more boldly soar,
+   He and his lot unchanged remain.
+
+But only Luke is with him now:
+   Alas! that e'en the martyr's cell,
+Heaven's very gate, should scope allow
+   For the false world's seducing spell.
+
+'Tis sad--but yet 'tis well, be sure,
+   We on the sight should muse awhile,
+Nor deem our shelter all secure
+   E'en in the Church's holiest aisle.
+
+Vainly before the shrine he bends,
+   Who knows not the true pilgrim's part:
+The martyr's cell no safety lends
+   To him who wants the martyr's heart.
+
+But if there be, who follows Paul
+   As Paul his Lord, in life and death,
+Where'er an aching heart may call,
+   Ready to speed and take no breath;
+
+Whose joy is, to the wandering sheep
+   To tell of the great Shepherd's love;
+To learn of mourners while they weep
+   The music that makes mirth above;
+
+Who makes the Saviour all his theme,
+   The Gospel all his pride and praise -
+Approach:  for thou canst feel the gleam
+   That round the martyr's death-bed plays:
+
+Thou hast an ear for angels' songs,
+   A breath the gospel trump to fill,
+And taught by thee the Church prolongs
+   Her hymns of high thanksgiving still.
+
+Ah! dearest mother, since too oft
+   The world yet wins some Demas frail
+E'en from thine arms, so kind and soft,
+   May thy tried comforts never fail!
+
+When faithless ones forsake thy wing,
+   Be it vouchsafed thee still to see
+Thy true, fond nurslings closer cling,
+   Cling closer to their Lord and thee.
+
+
+
+ST. SIMON AND ST. JUDE
+
+
+
+That ye should earnestly contend for the faith which was once
+delivered unto the saints.  St. Jude 3.
+
+Seest thou, how tearful and alone,
+   And drooping like a wounded dove,
+The Cross in sight, but Jesus gone,
+   The widowed Church is fain to rove?
+
+Who is at hand that loves the Lord?
+   Make haste, and take her home, and bring
+Thine household choir, in true accord
+   Their soothing hymns for her to sing.
+
+Soft on her fluttering heart shall breathe
+   The fragrance of that genial isle,
+There she may weave her funeral wreath,
+   And to her own sad music smile.
+
+The Spirit of the dying Son
+   Is there, and fills the holy place
+With records sweet of duties done,
+   Of pardoned foes, and cherished grace.
+
+And as of old by two and two
+   His herald saints the Saviour sent
+To soften hearts like morning dew,
+   Where he to shine in mercy meant;
+
+So evermore He deems His name
+   Best honoured and his way prepared,
+When watching by his altar-flame
+   He sees His servants duly paired.
+
+He loves when age and youth are met,
+   Fervent old age and youth serene,
+Their high and low in concord set
+   For sacred song, Joy's golden mean.
+
+He loves when some clear soaring mind
+   Is drawn by mutual piety
+To simple souls and unrefined,
+   Who in life's shadiest covert lie.
+
+Or if perchance a saddened heart
+   That once was gay and felt the spring,
+Cons slowly o'er its altered part,
+   In sorrow and remorse to sing,
+
+Thy gracious care will send that way
+   Some spirit full of glee, yet taught
+To bear the sight of dull decay,
+   And nurse it with all-pitying thought;
+
+Cheerful as soaring lark, and mild
+   As evening blackbird's full-toned lay,
+When the relenting sun has smiled
+   Bright through a whole December day.
+
+These are the tones to brace and cheer
+   The lonely watcher of the fold,
+When nights are dark, and foeman near,
+   When visions fade and hearts grow cold.
+
+How timely then a comrade's song
+   Comes floating on the mountain air,
+And bids thee yet be bold and strong -
+   Fancy may die, but Faith is there.
+
+
+
+ALL SAINTS' DAY.
+
+
+
+Hurt not the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees, till we have
+sealed the servants of our God in their foreheads.  Revelation vii.
+3.
+
+   Why blow'st thou not, thou wintry wind,
+      Now every leaf is brown and sere,
+   And idly droops, to thee resigned,
+      The fading chaplet of the year?
+   Yet wears the pure aerial sky
+   Her summer veil, half drawn on high,
+   Of silvery haze, and dark and still
+The shadows sleep on every slanting hill.
+
+   How quiet shows the woodland scene!
+      Each flower and tree, its duty done,
+   Reposing in decay serene,
+      Like weary men when age is won,
+   Such calm old age as conscience pure
+   And self-commanding hearts ensure,
+   Waiting their summons to the sky,
+Content to live, but not afraid to die.
+
+   Sure if our eyes were purged to trace
+      God's unseen armies hovering round,
+   We should behold by angels' grace
+      The four strong winds of Heaven fast bound,
+   Their downward sweep a moment stayed
+   On ocean cove and forest glade,
+   Till the last flower of autumn shed
+Her funeral odours on her dying bed.
+
+   So in Thine awful armoury, Lord,
+      The lightnings of the judgment-day
+   Pause yet awhile, in mercy stored,
+      Till willing hearts wear quite away
+   Their earthly stains; and spotless shine
+   On every brow in light divine
+   The Cross by angel hands impressed,
+The seal of glory won and pledge of promised
+
+   Little they dream, those haughty souls
+      Whom empires own with bended knee,
+   What lowly fate their own controls,
+      Together linked by Heaven's decree; -
+   As bloodhounds hush their baying wild
+   To wanton with some fearless child,
+   So Famine waits, and War with greedy eyes,
+Till some repenting heart be ready for the skies.
+
+   Think ye the spires that glow so bright
+      In front of yonder setting sun,
+   Stand by their own unshaken might?
+      No--where th' upholding grace is won,
+   We dare not ask, nor Heaven would tell,
+   But sure from many a hidden dell,
+   From many a rural nook unthought of there,
+Rises for that proud world the saints' prevailing prayer.
+
+   On, Champions blest, in Jesus' name,
+      Short be your strife, your triumph full,
+   Till every heart have caught your flame,
+      And, lightened of the world's misrule,
+   Ye soar those elder saints to meet
+   Gathered long since at Jesus' feet,
+   No world of passions to destroy,
+Your prayers and struggles o'er, your task all praise and joy.
+
+
+
+HOLY COMMUNION
+
+
+
+O God of Mercy, God of Might,
+How should pale sinners bear the sight,
+If, as Thy power in surely here,
+Thine open glory should appear?
+
+For now Thy people are allowed
+To scale the mount and pierce the cloud,
+And Faith may feed her eager view
+With wonders Sinai never knew.
+
+Fresh from th' atoning sacrifice
+The world's Creator bleeding lies.
+That man, His foe, by whom He bled,
+May take Him for his daily bread.
+
+O agony of wavering thought
+When sinners first so near are brought!
+"It is my Maker--dare I stay?
+My Saviour--dare I turn away?"
+
+Thus while the storm is high within
+'Twixt love of Christ and fear of sin,
+Who can express the soothing charm,
+To feel Thy kind upholding arm,
+
+My mother Church? and hear thee tell
+Of a world lost, yet loved so well,
+That He, by whom the angels live,
+His only Son for her would give?
+
+And doubt we yet?  Thou call'st again;
+A lower still, a sweeter strain;
+A voice from Mercy's inmost shrine,
+This very breath of Love divine.
+
+Whispering it says to each apart,
+"Come unto Me, thou trembling heart;"
+And we must hope, so sweet the tone,
+The precious words are all our own.
+
+Hear them, kind Saviour--hear Thy Spouse
+Low at Thy feet renew her vows;
+Thine own dear promise she would plead
+For us her true though fallen seed.
+
+She pleads by all Thy mercies, told
+Thy chosen witnesses of old,
+Love's heralds sent to man forgiven,
+One from the Cross, and one from Heaven.
+
+This, of true penitents the chief,
+To the lost spirit brings relief,
+Lifting on high th' adored Name:-
+"Sinners to save, Christ, Jesus came."
+
+That, dearest of Thy bosom Friends,
+Into the wavering heart descends:-
+"What? fallen again? yet cheerful rise.
+Thine Intercessor never dies."
+
+The eye of Faith, that waxes bright
+Each moment by thine altar's light,
+Sees them e'en now:  they still abide
+In mystery kneeling at our side:
+
+And with them every spirit blest,
+From realms of triumph or of rest,
+From Him who saw creation's morn,
+Of all Thine angels eldest born,
+
+To the poor babe, who died to-day,
+Take part in our thanksgiving lay,
+Watching the tearful joy and calm,
+While sinners taste Thine heavenly balm.
+
+Sweet awful hour! the only sound
+One gentle footstep gliding round,
+Offering by turns on Jesus' part
+The Cross to every hand and heart.
+
+Refresh us, Lord, to hold it fast;
+And when Thy veil is drawn at last,
+Let us depart where shadows cease,
+With words of blessing and of peace.
+
+
+
+HOLY BAPTISM
+
+
+
+Where is it mothers learn their love? -
+   In every Church a fountain springs
+      O'er which th' Eternal Dove
+         Hovers out softest wings.
+
+What sparkles in that lucid flood
+   Is water, by gross mortals eyed:
+      But seen by Faith, 'tis blood
+         Out of a dear Friend's side.
+
+A few calm words of faith and prayer,
+   A few bright drops of holy dew,
+      Shall work a wonder there
+         Earth's charmers never knew.
+
+O happy arms, where cradled lies,
+   And ready for the Lord's embrace,
+      That precious sacrifice,
+         The darling of His grace!
+
+Blest eyes, that see the smiling gleam
+   Upon the slumbering features glow,
+      When the life-giving stream
+         Touches the tender brow!
+
+Or when the holy cross is signed,
+   And the young soldier duly sworn,
+      With true and fearless mind
+         To serve the Virgin-born.
+
+But happiest ye, who sealed and blest
+   Back to your arms your treasure take,
+      With Jesus' mark impressed
+         To nurse for Jesus' sake:
+
+To whom--as if in hallowed air
+   Ye knelt before some awful shrine -
+      His innocent gestures wear
+         A meaning half divine:
+
+By whom Love's daily touch is seen
+   In strengthening form and freshening hue,
+      In the fixed brow serene,
+         The deep yet eager view. -
+
+Who taught thy pure and even breath
+   To come and go with such sweet grace?
+      Whence thy reposing Faith,
+         Though in our frail embrace?
+
+O tender gem, and full of Heaven!
+   Not in the twilight stars on high,
+      Not in moist flowers at even
+         See we our God so nigh.
+
+Sweet one, make haste and know Him too,
+   Thine own adopting Father love,
+      That like thine earliest dew
+         Thy dying sweets may prove.
+
+
+
+CATECHISM.
+
+
+
+Oh! say not, dream not, heavenly notes
+   To childish ears are vain,
+That the young mind at random floats,
+   And cannot reach the strain.
+
+Dim or unheard, the words may fall,
+   And yet the heaven-taught mind
+May learn the sacred air, and all
+   The harmony unwind.
+
+Was not our Lord a little child,
+   Taught by degrees to pray,
+By father dear and mother mild
+   Instructed day by day?
+
+And loved He not of Heaven to talk
+   With children in His sight,
+To meet them in His daily walk,
+   And to His arms invite?
+
+What though around His throne of fire
+   The everlasting chant
+Be wafted from the seraph choir
+   In glory jubilant?
+
+Yet stoops He, ever pleased to mark
+   Our rude essays of love,
+Faint as the pipe of wakening lark,
+   Heard by some twilight grove:
+
+Yet is He near us, to survey
+   These bright and ordered files,
+Like spring-flowers in their best array,
+   All silence and all smiles.
+
+Save that each little voice in turn
+   Some glorious truth proclaims,
+What sages would have died to learn,
+   Now taught by cottage dames.
+
+And if some tones be false or low,
+   What are all prayers beneath
+But cries of babes, that cannot know
+   Half the deep thought they breathe?
+
+In His own words we Christ adore,
+   But angels, as we speak,
+Higher above our meaning soar
+   Than we o'er children weak:
+
+And yet His words mean more than they,
+   And yet He owns their praise:
+Why should we think, He turns away
+   From infants' simple lays?
+
+
+
+CONFIRMATION
+
+
+
+The shadow of th' Almighty's cloud
+   Calm on this tents of Israel lay,
+While drooping paused twelve banners proud,
+   Till He arise and lead this way.
+
+Then to the desert breeze unrolled,
+   Cheerly the waving pennons fly,
+Lion or eagle--each bright fold
+   A lodestar to a warrior's eye.
+
+So should Thy champions, ere this strife
+   By holy hands o'ershadowed kneel,
+So, fearless for their charmed life,
+   Bear, to this end, Thy Spirit's seal.
+
+Steady and pure as stars that beam
+   In middle heaven, all mist above,
+Seen deepest in this frozen stream:-
+   Such is their high courageous love.
+
+And soft as pure, and warm as bright,
+   They brood upon life's peaceful hour,
+As if the Dove that guides their flight
+   Shook from her plumes a downy shower.
+
+Spirit of might and sweetness too!
+   Now leading on the wars of God,
+Now to green isles of shade and dew
+   Turning the waste Thy people trod;
+
+Draw, Holy Ghost, Thy seven-fold veil
+   Between us and the fires of youth;
+Breathe, Holy Ghost, Thy freshening gale,
+   Our fevered brow in age to soothe.
+
+And oft as sin and sorrow tire,
+   This hallowed hour do Thou renew,
+When beckoned up the awful choir
+   By pastoral hands, toward Thee we drew;
+
+When trembling at this sacred rail
+   We hid our eyes and held our breath,
+Felt Thee how strong, our hearts how frail,
+   And longed to own Thee to the death.
+
+For ever on our souls be traced
+   That blessing dear, that dove-like hand,
+A sheltering rock in Memory's waste,
+   O'er-shadowing all the weary land.
+
+
+
+MATRIMONY
+
+
+
+There is an awe in mortals' joy,
+   A deep mysterious fear
+Half of the heart will still employ,
+   As if we drew too near
+To Eden's portal, and those fires
+That bicker round in wavy spires,
+Forbidding, to our frail desires,
+   What cost us once so dear.
+
+We cower before th' heart-searching eye
+   In rapture as its pain;
+E'en wedded Love, till Thou be nigh,
+   Dares not believe her gain:
+Then in the air she fearless springs,
+The breath of Heaven beneath her wings,
+And leaves her woodnote wild, and sings
+   A tuned and measured strain.
+
+Ill fare the lay, though soft as dew
+   And free as air it fall,
+That, with Thine altar full in view,
+   Thy votaries would enthrall
+To a foul dream, of heathen night,
+Lifting her torch in Love's despite,
+And scaring with base wild-fire light
+   The sacred nuptial hall.
+
+Far other strains, far other fires,
+   Our marriage-offering grace;
+Welcome, all chaste and kind desires,
+   With even matron pace
+Approaching down this hallowed aisle!
+Where should ye seek Love's perfect smile,
+But where your prayers were learned erewhile,
+   In her own native place?
+
+Where, but on His benignest brow,
+   Who waits to bless you here?
+Living, he owned no nuptial vow,
+   No bower to Fancy dear:
+Love's very self--for Him no need
+To nurse, on earth, the heavenly seed:
+Yet comfort in His eye we read
+   For bridal joy and fear.
+
+'Tis He who clasps the marriage band,
+   And fits the spousal ring,
+Then leaves ye kneeling, hand in hand,
+   Out of His stores to bring
+His Father's dearest blessing, shed
+Of old on Isaac's nuptial bed,
+Now on the board before ye spread
+   Of our all-bounteous King.
+
+All blessings of the breast and womb,
+   Of Heaven and earth beneath,
+Of converse high, and sacred home,
+   Are yours, in life and death.
+Only kneel on, nor turn away
+From the pure shrine, where Christ to-day
+Will store each flower, ye duteous lay,
+   For an eternal wreath.
+
+
+
+VISITATION AND COMMUNION OF THE SICK
+
+
+
+O Youth and Joy, your airy tread
+Too lightly springs by Sorrow's bed,
+Your keen eye-glances are too bright,
+Too restless for a sick man's sight.
+Farewell; for one short life we part:
+I rather woo the soothing art,
+Which only souls in sufferings tried
+Bear to their suffering brethren's side.
+
+Where may we learn that gentle spell?
+Mother of Martyrs, thou canst tell!
+Thou, who didst watch thy dying Spouse
+With pierced hands and bleeding brows,
+Whose tears from age to age are shed
+O'er sainted sons untimely dead,
+If e'er we charm a soul in pain,
+Thine is the key-note of our strain.
+
+How sweet with thee to lift the latch,
+Where Faith has kept her midnight watch,
+Smiling on woe:  with thee to kneel,
+Where fixed, as if one prayer could heal,
+She listens, till her pale eye glow
+With joy, wild health can never know,
+And each calm feature, ere we read,
+Speaks, silently, thy glorious Creed.
+
+Such have I seen:  and while they poured
+Their hearts in every contrite word,
+How have I rather longed to kneel
+And ask of them sweet pardon's seal;
+How blessed the heavenly music brought
+By thee to aid my faltering thought!
+"Peace" ere we kneel, and when we cease
+To pray, the farewell word is, "Peace."
+
+I came again:  the place was bright
+"With something of celestial light" -
+A simple Altar by the bed
+For high Communion meetly spread,
+Chalice, and plate, and snowy vest. -
+We ate and drank:  then calmly blest,
+All mourners, one with dying breath,
+We sate and talked of Jesus' death.
+
+Once more I came:  the silent room
+Was veiled in sadly-soothing gloom,
+And ready for her last abode
+The pale form like a lily showed,
+By Virgin fingers duly spread,
+And prized for love of summer fled.
+The light from those soft-smiling eyes
+Had fleeted to its parent skies.
+
+O soothe us, haunt us, night and day,
+Ye gentle Spirits far away,
+With whom we shared the cup of grace,
+Then parted; ye to Christ's embrace,
+We to this lonesome world again,
+Yet mindful of th' unearthly strain
+Practised with you at Eden's door,
+To be sung on, where Angels soar,
+With blended voices evermore.
+
+
+
+BURIAL OF THE DEAD
+
+
+
+And when the Lord saw her, He had compassion on her, and said unto
+her, Weep not.  And He came and touched the bier; and they that
+bare him stood still.   And He said, Young man, I say unto thee,
+Arise.--St. Luke vii. 13, 14.
+
+Who says, the wan autumnal soon
+   Beams with too faint a smile
+To light up nature's face again,
+And, though the year be on this wane,
+   With thoughts of spring the heart beguile?
+
+Waft him, thou soft September breeze,
+   And gently lay him down
+Within some circling woodland wall,
+Where bright leaves, reddening ere they fall,
+   Wave gaily o'er the waters brown.
+
+And let some graceful arch be there
+   With wreathed mullions proud,
+With burnished ivy for its screen,
+And moss, that glows as fresh and green
+   As thought beneath an April cloud. -
+
+Who says the widow's heart must break,
+   The childless mother sink? -
+A kinder truer voice I hear,
+Which e'en beside that mournful bier
+   Whence parents' eyes would hopeless shrink,
+
+Bids weep no more--O heart bereft,
+   How strange, to thee, that sound!
+A widow o'er her only son,
+Feeling more bitterly alone
+   For friends that press officious round.
+
+Yet is the voice of comfort heard,
+   For Christ hath touched the bier -
+The bearers wait with wondering eye,
+The swelling bosom dares not sigh,
+   But all is still, 'twixt hope and fear.
+
+E'en such an awful soothing calm
+   We sometimes see alight
+On Christian mourners, while they wait
+In silence, by some churchyard gate,
+   Their summons to this holy rite.
+
+And such the tones of love, which break
+   The stillness of that hour,
+Quelling th' embittered spirit's strife -
+"The Resurrection and the Life
+   Am I:  believe, and die no more."
+
+Unchanged that voice--and though not yet
+   The dead sit up and speak,
+Answering its call; we gladlier rest
+Our darlings on earth's quiet breast,
+   And our hearts feel they must not break.
+
+Far better they should sleep awhile
+   Within the Church's shade,
+Nor wake, until new heaven, new earth,
+Meet for their new immortal birth
+   For their abiding-place be made,
+
+Than wander back to life, and lean
+   On our frail love once more.
+'Tis sweet, as year by year we lose
+Friends out of sight, in faith to muse
+   How grows in Paradise our store.
+
+Then pass, ye mourners, cheerly on,
+   Through prayer unto the tomb,
+Still, as ye watch life's falling leaf,
+Gathering from every loss and grief
+   Hope of new spring and endless home.
+
+Then cheerly to your work again
+   With hearts new-braced and set
+To run, untired, love's blessed race.
+As meet for those, who face to face
+   Over the grave their Lord have met.
+
+
+
+CHURCHING OF WOMEN
+
+
+
+      Is there, in bowers of endless spring,
+         One known from all the seraph band
+      By softer voice, by smile and wing
+            More exquisitely bland!
+   Here let him speed:  to-day this hallowed air
+Is fragrant with a mother's first and fondest prayer.
+
+      Only let Heaven her fire impart,
+         No richer incense breathes on earth:
+      "A spouse with all a daughter's heart,"
+            Fresh from the perilous birth,
+   To the great Father lifts her pale glad eye,
+Like a reviving flower when storms are hushed on high.
+
+      Oh, what a treasure of sweet thought
+         Is here! what hope and joy and love
+      All in one tender bosom brought,
+            For the all-gracious Dove
+   To brood o'er silently, and form for Heaven
+Each passionate wish and dream to dear affection given.
+
+      Her fluttering heart, too keenly blest,
+         Would sicken, but she leans on Thee,
+      Sees Thee by faith on Mary's breast,
+            And breathes serene and free.
+   Slight tremblings only of her veil declare
+Soft answers duly whispered to each soothing prayer.
+
+      We are too weak, when Thou dost bless,
+         To bear the joy--help, Virgin-born!
+      By Thine own mother's first caress,
+            That waked Thy natal morn!
+   Help, by the unexpressive smile, that made
+A Heaven on earth around this couch where Thou wast laid.
+
+
+
+COMMINATION
+
+
+
+      The prayers are o'er:  why slumberest thou so long,
+         Thou voice of sacred song?
+      Why swell'st thou not, like breeze from mountain cave,
+         High o'er the echoing nave,
+      This white-robed priest, as otherwhile, to guide,
+         Up to the Altar's northern side? -
+   A mourner's tale of shame and sad decay
+Keeps back our glorious sacrifice to-day:
+
+      The widow'd Spouse of Christ:  with ashes crown'd,
+         Her Christmas robes unbound,
+      She lingers in the porch for grief and fear,
+         Keeping her penance drear, -
+      Oh, is it nought to you? that idly gay,
+         Or coldly proud, ye turn away?
+   But if her warning tears in vain be spent,
+Lo, to her altered eye this Law's stern fires are lent.
+
+      Each awful curse, that on Mount Ebal rang,
+         Peals with a direr clang
+      Out of that silver trump, whose tones of old
+         Forgiveness only told.
+      And who can blame the mother's fond affright,
+         Who sporting on some giddy height
+   Her infant sees, and springs with hurried hand
+To snatch the rover from the dangerous strand?
+
+      But surer than all words the silent spell
+         (So Grecian legends tell)
+      When to her bird, too early 'scaped the nest,
+         She bares her tender breast,
+      Smiling he turns and spreads his little wing,
+         There to glide home, there safely cling.
+   So yearns our mother o'er each truant son,
+So softly falls the lay in fear and wrath begun.
+
+      Wayward and spoiled she knows ye:  the keen blast,
+         That braced her youth, is past:
+      The rod of discipline, the robe of shame -
+         She bears them in your name:
+      Only return and love.  But ye perchance
+         Are deeper plunged in sorrow's trance:
+   Your God forgives, but ye no comfort take
+Till ye have scourged the sins that in your conscience ache.
+
+      Oh, heavy laden soul! kneel down and hear
+         Thy penance in calm fear:
+      With thine own lips to sentence all thy sin;
+         Then, by the judge within
+      Absolved, in thankful sacrifice to part
+         For ever with thy sullen heart,
+   Nor on remorseful thoughts to brood, and stain
+This glory of the Cross, forgiven and cheereth in vain.
+
+
+
+FORMS OF PRAYER TO BE USED AT SEA
+
+
+
+When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee.  Isaiah
+xliii. 2.
+
+The shower of moonlight falls as still and clear
+      Upon this desert main
+As where sweet flowers some pastoral garden cheer
+      With fragrance after rain:
+The wild winds rustle in piping shrouds,
+      As in the quivering trees:
+Like summer fields, beneath the shadowy clouds
+   The yielding waters darken in the breeze.
+
+Thou too art here with thy soft inland tones,
+      Mother of our new birth;
+The lonely ocean learns thy orisons,
+      And loves thy sacred mirth:
+When storms are high, or when the fires of war
+      Come lightening round our course,
+Thou breath'st a note like music from afar,
+   Tempering rude hearts with calm angelic force.
+
+Far, far away, the homesick seaman's hoard,
+      Thy fragrant tokens live,
+Like flower-leaves in a previous volume stored,
+      To solace and relieve
+Some heart too weary of the restless world;
+      Or like thy Sabbath Cross,
+That o'er this brightening billow streams unfurled,
+   Whatever gale the labouring vessel toss.
+
+Oh, kindly soothing in high Victory's hour,
+      Or when a comrade dies,
+In whose sweet presence Sorrow dares not lower,
+      Nor Expectation rise
+Too high for earth; what mother's heart could spare
+      To the cold cheerless deep
+Her flower and hope? but Thou art with him there,
+   Pledge of the untired arm and eye that cannot sleep:
+
+The eye that watches o'er wild Ocean's dead,
+      Each in his coral cave,
+Fondly as if the green turf wrapt his head
+      Fast by his father's grave, -
+One moment, and the seeds of life shall spring
+      Out of the waste abyss,
+And happy warriors triumph with their King
+   In worlds without a sea, unchanging orbs of bliss.
+
+
+
+GUNPOWDER TREASON
+
+
+
+A thou hast testified of Me in Jerusalem, so must thou bear witness
+also at Rome.   Acts xxiii. 11.
+
+Beneath the burning eastern sky
+   The Cross was raised at morn:
+The widowed Church to weep stood by,
+   The world, to hate and scorn.
+
+Now, journeying westward, evermore
+   We know the lonely Spouse
+By the dear mark her Saviour bore
+   Traced on her patient brows.
+
+At Rome she wears it, as of old
+   Upon th' accursed hill:
+By monarchs clad in gems and gold,
+   She goes a mourner still.
+
+She mourns that tender hearts should bend
+   Before a meaner shrine,
+And upon Saint or Angel spend
+   The love that should be thine.
+
+By day and night her sorrows fall
+   Where miscreant hands and rude
+Have stained her pure ethereal pall
+   With many a martyr's blood.
+
+And yearns not her parental heart,
+   To hear THEIR secret sighs,
+Upon whose doubting way apart
+   Bewildering shadows rise?
+
+Who to her side in peace would cling,
+   But fear to wake, and find
+What they had deemed her genial wing
+   Was Error's soothing blind.
+
+She treasures up each throbbing prayer:
+   Come, trembler, come and pour
+Into her bosom all thy care,
+   For she has balm in store.
+
+Her gentle teaching sweetly blends
+   With this clear light of Truth
+The aerial gleam that Fancy lends
+   To solemn thoughts in youth. -
+
+If thou hast loved, in hours of gloom,
+   To dream the dead are near,
+And people all the lonely room
+   With guardian spirits dear,
+
+Dream on the soothing dream at will:
+   The lurid mist is o'er,
+That showed the righteous suffering still
+   Upon th' eternal shore.
+
+If with thy heart the strains accord,
+   That on His altar-throne
+Highest exalt thy glorious Lord,
+   Yet leave Him most thine own;
+
+Oh, come to our Communion Feast:
+   There present, in the heart
+As in the hands, th' eternal Priest
+   Will His true self impart. -
+
+Thus, should thy soul misgiving turn
+   Back to the enchanted air,
+Solace and warning thou mayst learn
+   From all that tempts thee there.
+
+And, oh! by all the pangs and fears
+   Fraternal spirits know,
+When for an elder's shame the tears
+   Of wakeful anguish flow,
+
+Speak gently of our sister's fall:
+   Who knows but gentle love
+May win her at our patient call
+   The surer way to prove?
+
+
+
+KING CHARLES THE MARTYR
+
+
+
+This is thankworthy, if a man for conscience toward God endure
+grief, suffering wrongfully.  1 St. Peter ii. 19.
+
+Praise to our pardoning God! though silent now
+   The thunders of the deep prophetic sky,
+Though in our sight no powers of darkness bow
+   Before th' Apostles' glorious company;
+
+The Martyrs' noble army still is ours,
+   Far in the North our fallen days have seen
+How in her woe this tenderest spirit towers
+   For Jesus' sake in agony serene.
+
+Praise to our God! not cottage hearths alone,
+   And shades impervious to the proud world's glare,
+Such witness yield; a monarch from his throne
+   Springs to his Cross and finds his glory there.
+
+Yes:  whereso'er one trace of thee is found,
+   As in the Sacred Land, the shadows fall:
+With beating hearts we roam the haunted ground,
+   Lone battle-field, or crumbling prison hall.
+
+And there are aching solitary breasts,
+   Whose widowed walk with thought of thee is cheered
+Our own, our royal Saint:  thy memory rests
+   On many a prayer, the more for thee endeared.
+
+True son of our dear Mother, early taught
+   With her to worship and for her to die,
+Nursed in her aisles to more than kingly thought,
+   Oft in her solemn hours we dream thee nigh.
+
+For thou didst love to trace her daily lore,
+   And where we look for comfort or for calm,
+Over the self-same lines to bend, and pour
+   Thy heart with hers in some victorious psalm.
+
+And well did she thy loyal love repay;
+   When all forsook, her Angels still were nigh,
+Chained and bereft, and on thy funeral way,
+   Straight to the Cross she turned thy dying eye
+
+And yearly now, before the Martyrs' King,
+   For thee she offers her maternal tears,
+Calls us, like thee, to His dear feet to cling,
+   And bury in His wounds our earthly fears.
+
+The Angels hear, and there is mirth in Heaven,
+   Fit prelude of the joy, when spirits won
+Like those to patient Faith, shall rise forgiven,
+   And at their Saviour's knees thy bright example own.
+
+
+
+THE RESTORATION OF THE ROYAL FAMILY
+
+
+
+And Barzillai said unto the King, How long have I to live, that I
+should go up with the King unto Jerusalem?  2 Samuel xix. 34.
+
+As when the Paschal week is o'er,
+Sleeps in the silent aisles no more
+   The breath of sacred song,
+But by the rising Saviour's light
+Awakened soars in airy flight,
+   Or deepening rolls along;
+
+The while round altar, niche, and shrine,
+The funeral evergreens entwine,
+   And a dark brilliance cast,
+The brighter for their hues of gloom,
+Tokens of Him, who through the tomb
+   Into high glory passed:
+
+Such were the lights and such the strains.
+When proudly streamed o'er ocean plains
+   Our own returning Cross;
+For with that triumph seemed to float
+Far on the breeze one dirge-like note
+   Of orphanhood and loss.
+
+Father and King, oh where art thou?
+A greener wreath adorns thy brow,
+   And clearer rays surround;
+O, for one hour of prayer like thine,
+To plead before th' all-ruling shrine
+   For Britain lost and found!
+
+And he, whose mild persuasive voice
+Taught us in trials to rejoice,
+   Most like a faithful dove,
+That by some ruined homestead builds,
+And pours to the forsaken fields
+   His wonted lay of love:
+
+Why comes he not to bear his part,
+To lift and guide th' exulting heart? -
+   A hand that cannot spars
+Lies heavy on his gentle breast:
+We wish him health; he sighs for rest,
+   And Heaven accepts the prayer.
+
+Yes, go in peace, dear placid spright,
+Ill spared; but would we store aright
+   Thy serious sweet farewell,
+We need not grudge thee to the skies,
+Sure after thee in time to rise,
+   With thee for ever dwell.
+
+Till then, whene'er with duteous hand,
+Year after year, my native Land
+   Her royal offering brings,
+Upon the Altar lays the Crown,
+And spreads her robes of old renown
+   Before the King of kings.
+
+Be some kind spirit, likest thine,
+Ever at hand, with airs divine
+   The wandering heart to seize;
+Whispering, "How long hast thou to live,
+That thou should'st Hope or Fancy gave
+   To flowers or crowns like these?"
+
+
+
+THE ACCESSION
+
+
+
+As I was with Moses, so I will be with thee; I will not fail thee,
+nor forsake thee.  Joshua i. 5.
+
+The voice that from the glory came
+   To tell how Moses died unseen,
+And waken Joshua's spear of flame
+   To victory on the mountains green,
+Its trumpet tones are sounding still,
+   When Kings or Parents pass away,
+They greet us with a cheering thrill
+   Of power and comfort in decay.
+
+Behind thus soft bright summer cloud
+   That makes such haste to melt and die,
+Our wistful gaze is oft allowed
+   A glimpse of the unchanging sky:
+Let storm and darkness do their worst;
+   For the lost dream the heart may ache,
+The heart may ache, but may not burst;
+   Heaven will not leave thee nor forsake.
+
+One rock amid the weltering floods,
+   One torch in a tempestuous night,
+One changeless pine in fading woods:-
+   Such is the thought of Love and Might,
+True Might and ever-present Love,
+   When death is busy near the throne,
+Auth Sorrow her keen sting would prove
+   On Monarchs orphaned and alone.
+
+In that lorn hour and desolate,
+   Who could endure a crown? but He,
+Who singly bore the world's sad weight,
+   Is near, to whisper, "Lean on Me:
+Thy days of toil, thy nights of care,
+   Sad lonely dreams in crowded hall,
+Darkness within, while pageants glare
+   Around--the Cross supports them all."
+
+Oh, Promise of undying Love!
+   While Monarchs seek thee for repose,
+Far in the nameless mountain cove
+   Each pastoral heart thy bounty knows.
+Ye, who in place of shepherds true
+   Come trembling to their awful trust,
+Lo here the fountain to imbue
+   With strength and hope your feeble dust.
+
+Not upon Kings or Priests alone
+   The power of that dear word is spent;
+It chants to all in softest tone
+   The lowly lesson of Content:
+Heaven's light is poured on high and low;
+   To high and low Heaven's Angel spake;
+"Resign thee to thy weal or woe,
+   I ne'er will leave thee nor forsake."
+
+
+
+ORDINATION
+
+
+
+After this, the congregation shall be desired, secretly in their
+prayers, to make their humble supplications to God for all these
+things:  for the which prayers there shall be silence kept for a
+space.
+
+After which shall be sung or said by the Bishop (the persons to be
+ordained Priests all kneeling), "Veni, Creator Spiritus."  Rubric
+in the Office for Ordering of Priests.
+
+'Twas silence in Thy temple, Lord,
+   When slowly through the hallowed air
+The spreading cloud of incense soared,
+   Charged with the breath of Israel's prayer.
+
+'Twas silence round Thy throne on high,
+   When the last wondrous seal unclosed,
+And in this portals of the sky
+   Thine armies awfully reposed.
+
+And this deep pause, that o'er us now
+   Is hovering--comes it not of Thee?
+Is it not like a mother's vow
+   When, with her darling on her knee,
+
+She weighs and numbers o'er and o'er
+   Love's treasure hid in her fond breast,
+To cull from that exhaustless store
+   The dearest blessing and the best?
+
+And where shall mother's bosom find,
+   With all its deep love-learned skill,
+A prayer so sweetly to her mind,
+   As, in this sacred hour and still,
+
+Is wafted from the white-robed choir,
+   Ere yet the pure high-breathed lay,
+"Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire,"
+   Rise floating on its dove-like way.
+
+And when it comes, so deep and clear
+   The strain, so soft the melting fall,
+It seems not to th' entranced ear
+   Less than Thine own heart-cheering call.
+
+Spirit of Christ--Thine earnest given
+   That these our prayers are heard, and they,
+Who grasp, this hour, the sword of Heaven,
+   Shall feel Thee on their weary way.
+
+Oft as at morn or soothing eve
+   Over the Holy Fount they lean,
+Their fading garland freshly weave,
+   Or fan them with Thine airs serene.
+
+Spirit of Light and Truth! to Thee
+   We trust them in that musing hour,
+Till they, with open heart and free.
+   Teach all Thy word in all its power.
+
+When foemen watch their tents by night,
+   And mists hang wide o'er moor and fell,
+Spirit of Counsel and of Might,
+   Their pastoral warfare guide Thou well.
+
+And, oh! when worn and tired they sigh
+   With that more fearful war within,
+When Passion's storms are loud and high,
+   And brooding o'er remembered sin
+
+The heart dies down--oh, mightiest then,
+   Come ever true, come ever near,
+And wake their slumbering love again,
+   Spirit of God's most holy Fear!
+
+
+
+
+End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Christian Year
+by Rev. John Keble
+
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