Like its own tear, Because so long divided from the sphere; Trembling, lest it grow impure; Of the clear fountain of eternal day, Remembering still its former height, Shuns the sweet leaves, the blossoms green; Does, in its pure and circling thoughts, express In how coy a figure wound, Moving but on a point below, 15 20 25 330 35 It all about does upward bend. Such did the manna's sacred dew distil, White and entire, although congealed and chill; Congealed on earth; but does, dissolving, run There, above noise and danger, Sweet peace sits crowned with smiles, And One born in a manger Commands the beauteous files. He is thy gracious friend, And (O my soul, awake!) If thou canst get but thither, Thy fortress, and thy ease. Henry Vaughan. CXXXI EVENING HYMN. The night is come, like to the day; 5 The sun makes not the day, but Thee. Thou whose nature cannot sleep, On my temples sentry keep! Guard me 'gainst those watchful foes, Whose eyes are open while mine close; JO 15 And with as active vigour run These are my drowsy days; in vain Oh! come that hour, when I shall never 20 25 30 Sir Thomas Browne. CXXXII THE VALEDICTION. Vain world, what is in thee? Which is their treasure? By thy vain glory? Why do they still believe Thy false history? Is it children's book and rod, Poverty undertrod, The world desireth? 5 ΙΟ 15 Malignant world, adieu! Where no foul vice is new Only to Satan true, God still offended; Though taught and warned by God, Keeps still the way that's broad, Never amended. Baptismal vows some make, They dig for hell beneath, 70 75 888 85 |