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”Tis thine our gracious promise, Lord !
Thy saints have prov'd the faithful word,
When Heaven's bright boundless avenue
Far open'd on their eager view,
And homeward to thy Father's throne,
Still lessening, brightening on their sight, Thy shadowy car went soaring on ;
They track'd Thee up th' abyss of light.
Thou bidst rejoice; they dare not mourn,
But to their home in gladness turn,
Their home and God's, that favour'd 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 earth-ward pour :
They part like shower-drops in mid air,
But ne'er so soft fell noon-tide shower,
Nor evening rain-bow gleam'd so fair
To weary swains in parched bower.
Swiftly and straight each tongue of flame
Through cloud and breeze unwavering camc,
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 smother'd 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 Sinner's The Church's prayer finds wings to soar, sinnei's
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 deign'd 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.
And the Lord was very angry with Aaron to have destroyed him: and I prayed for Aaron also the same time. Deut. 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 learn'd,
How endless love should be return'd.
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.