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
Hast made us worshippers, O claim Thine own;

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.)
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 rifer

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 our 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 !

LI

VOL. IV.

* 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.'

ALL SAINTS' DAY.

Why blow'st thou not, thou wintry wind,

Now every leaf is brown and sere,
And idly droops, to thee resigned,

The lading chaplet of the year?
Yet wears the pure aërial sky
Her summer veil, half drawn on high,

Of silvery haze, and dark and still
The shadows sleep on every slanting hill.

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
On every brow in light divine

The Cross by angel hands impressed,
The seal of glory won and pledge of promised rest.

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 prayes.

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

UNITED STATES.

[From Lyra Apostolica.]

Tyre of the farther West ! be thou too warr

arned,
Whose eagle wings thine own green world o'erspread,
Touching two Oceans: wherefore hast thou scorned
Thy fathers' God, O proud and full of bread?

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,
Burst o'er her walls, to Ocean doomed and fire :

And now the tideless water idly laves
Her towers, and lone sands heap her crowned merchants'

graves.

FROM "THE WATERFALL.'

[Lyra Innocentium.]
Go where the waters fall,

Sheer from the mountain's height-
Mark how a thousand streams in one,-
One in a thousand on they fare,

Now flashing to the sun,

Now still as beast in lair.
Now round the rock, now mounting o':r,
In lawless dance they win their way,

Still seeming more and more
To swell as we survey,