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FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER
Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow. St. Matt. vi. 28.
SWEET nurslings of the vernal skies,
Bath'd in soft airs, and fed with dew,
To fill the heart's fond view?
Memorials prompt and true.
Relics ye are of Eden's bowers,
Fall'n all beside the world of life,
But cheerful and unchang'd the while
The stars of Heaven, a course are taught,
Ye dwell beside our paths and homes,
The birds of air before us fleet,
They cannot brook our shame to meet—
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 could draw th' admiring gaze ye
Of Him who worlds and hearts surveys:
Your order wild, your fragrant maze,
Ye felt your Maker's smile that hour,
Ye felt it all renew'd.
What care ye now, if winter's storm
Alas! of thousand bosoms kind,
How few the happy secret find
"Live for to-day ! to-morrow's light
"Go sleep like closing flowers at night,
SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER
1 desire that ye faint not at my tribulations for you, which is your glory. Ephesians iii. 13.
WISH not, dear friends, my pain away
Wish me a wise and thankful heart,
Nor from His lov'd correction start.
The dearest offering He can crave
The only Son of His dear love?
But we, like vex'd unquiet sprights,
Nor sweetly take a sinner's doom.
In Life's long sickness evermore
Our thoughts are tossing to and fro : We change our posture o'er and o'er, But cannot rest, nor cheat our woe.
Were it not better to lie still,
Let Him strike home and bless the rod, Never so safe as when our will
Yields undiscern'd by all but God?
Thy precious things, whate'er they be
That haunt and vex thee, heart and brain,
Look to the Cross, and thou shalt see
How thou may'st turn them all to gain.
Lovest thou praise? the Cross is shame :
We of that altar would partake,
But cannot quit the cost-no throne Is ours, to leave for Thy dear sake— We cannot do as Thou hast done.