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Come near and bless us when we wake,
Now it is high time to awake out of sleep, for now is our salvation nearer than when we believed. Romans xiji. 11.
AWAKE—again the Gospel-trump is blown-
From year to year the signs of wrath
Are gathering round the Judge's path,
Awake! why linger in the gorgeous town,
Up from your beds of sloth for shame,
Speed to the eastern mount like flame,
Alas! no need to rouse them : long ago
With glittering robes and garlands sweet
They strew the ground beneath his feet : All but your hearts are there— doom'd to prove The arrows wing’d in Heaven for Faith that will not love!
Meanwhile He paces through th' adoring crowd,
That o'er wild scenes of ocean-war
Holds its still course in heaven afar: Even so, heart-searching Lord, as years roll on, Thou keepest silent watch from thy triumphal throne:
Even so, the world is thronging round to gaze
Constrain'd 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
Children and childlike souls are there,
And Lazarus waken'd from his four days' sleep,
And fast beside the olive-border'd way
The peaceful home, to Zeal sincere
And heavenly Contemplation dear,
Still through decaying ages as they glide,
Sprinkled along the waste of years
Full many a soft green isle appears :
When withering blasts of error swept the sky',
How sweet, how lone the ray benign
On shelter'd nooks of Palestine ! Then to his early home did Love repaird, And cheer'd his sickening heart with his own native air.
c Arianism in the fourth century. d See St. Jerome's Works, i. 123. edit. Erasm.
Years roll away : again the tide of crime
Where shall the holy Cross find rest ?
On a crown'd monarch's mailed breast : Like some bright angel o'er the darkling scene, Through court and camp he holds his heavenward course
A fouler vision yet; an age of light,
O who can tell how calm and sweet,
Meek Walton ! shews 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
Faith's ear, with awful still delight,
Counts them like minute bells at night,
But what are heaven's alarms to hearts that cower In wilful slumber, deepening every hour,
e St. Louis in the tenth century.
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
SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT.
And when these things begin to come to pass, then look up and lift up your heads, for your redemption draweth nigh. St. Luke xxi. 28.
NOT till the freezing blast is still,
Why then, in sad and wintry time,