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He watched till knowledge came
Upon his soul like flame,
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,
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
More than Thy seers we know
O teach our love to grow Un to Thy heavenly light, and reap what Thou has sow..
FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.
(The Lilies of the Field.)
Bathed in soft airs, and fed with dew,
To fill the heart's fond view ?
Memorials prompt and true.
As pure, as fragrant, and as fair,
Of happy wanderers there.
What passions range and glare !
But cheerful and unchanged the while
Your first and perfect form ye show,
In the world's opening glow.
And as we gaze, we know.
Ye dwell beside our paths and homes,
Our paths of sin, our homes of sorrow,
Your innocent mirth may borrow.
And come again to-morrow.
Ye fearless in your nests abide
Nor may we scorn, too proudly wise,
By all but lowly eyes :
He taught us how to prize.
Ye felt your Maker's smile that hour,
As when He paused and owned you good,
Ye felt it all renewed.
Ye fear no vexing mood.
Alas ! of thousand bosoms kind,
That daily court you and caress,
* Live for to-day! to-morrow's light
And Heaven thy morn will bless.'
ALL SAINTS' DAY.
Why blow'st thou not, thou wintry wind,
Now every leaf is brown and sere,
The lading chaplet of the year?
Of silvery haze, and dark and still
How quiet shews 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 buund. 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
The Cross by angel hands impressed,
Little they dream, those haughty souls
Whom empires own with bended knee,
Together linked by Heaven's decree ;-
So Famine waits, and War with greedy eyes,
Think ye the spires that glow so bright
In front of yonder setting sun,
No—where th' upholding grace is won,
From many a rural nook unthought of there,
On Champions blest, in Jesus' name,
Short be your strife, your triumph full,
And, lightened of the world's misrule,
No world of passions to destroy,
[From Lyra Apostolica.]
Tyre of the farther West ! be thou too warr
Why lies the Cross unhonoured on thy ground
While in mid air thy stars and arrows flaunt ? That sheaf of darts, will it not fall unbound,
Except, disrobed of thy vain earthly vaunt,
Thou bring it to be blessed where Saints and Angels haunt? The holy seed, by Heaven's peculiar grace,
Is rooted here and there in thy dark wcods ; But many a rank weed round it grows apace,
And Mammon builds beside thy mighty floods, O'ertopping Nature, braving Nature's God;
O while thou yet hast room, fair fruitful land, Ere war and want have stained thy virgin sod,
Mark thee a place on high, a glorious stand,
Whence Truth her sign may make o'er forest, lake, and strap i Eastward, this hour, perchance thou turn'st thine ear,
Listening if haply with the surging sea, Blend sounds of Ruin from a land once dear
To thee and Heaven. O trying hour for thee! Tyre mocked when Salem fell ; where now is Tyre?
Heaven was against her. Nations thick as waves,
And now the tideless water idly laves
FROM "THE WATERFALL.'
Sheer from the mountain's height-
Now flashing to the sun,
Now still as beast in lair.
Still seeming more and more