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NINETEENTH SUNDAY AFTER
Then Nebuchadnezzar the King was astonied, and rose up in haste, and spake, and said unto his counsellors, Did not we cast three men bound into the midst of the fire? They answered and said unto the King, True, O King. He answered and said, Lo, I see four men loose, walking in the midst of the fire, and they have no hurt; and the form of the fourth is like the Son of God. Daniel iii. 25.
WHEN Persecution's torrent blaze
Wraps the unshrinking Martyr's head ;
Who owns the Lord of love and power ?
Or waves there not around his brow
A wand no human arm may wield,
His steps to guide, his soul to shield?
Thou, Saviour, art his charmed bower,
And when the wicked ones behold
Thy favourites walking in thy light,
Just as, in fancied triumph bold,
They deem'd them lost in deadly night,
"How are they free whom we had bound,
"What wondrous helper have they found
"To screen them from the scorching blast? "Three were they—who hath made them four? "And sure a form divine he wore,
"Even like the Son of God." So cried
Like summer breeze by woodland stream".
b Song of the Three Children, ver. 27. "As it had been a moist whistling wind."
He knew not, but there are who know:
The Matron, who alone hath stood, When not a prop seem'd left below,
The first lorn hour of widowhood,
Yet cheer'd and cheering all, the while,
The Father, who his vigil keeps
By the sad couch whence hope hath flown, Watching the eye where reason sleeps,
Yet in his heart can mercy own,
Still sweetly yielding to the rod,
Still loving man, still thanking God ;—
The Christian Pastor, bow'd to earth
Still travailing in second birth
Of souls that will not be redeem'd, Yet stedfast set to do his part,
And fearing most his own vain heart ;
These know on these look long and well, Cleansing thy sight by prayer and faith,
And thou shalt know what secret spell
TWENTIETH SUNDAY AFTER
Hear, O ye mountains, the Lord's controversy, and ye strong foundations of the earth. Micah vi. 7.
WHERE is thy favour'd haunt, eternal Voice,
Where, undisturb'd by sin and earth, the soul
'Tis on the mountain's summit dark and high,
"Tis 'mid the strong foundations of the earth, Where torrents have their birth.
No sounds of worldly toil, ascending there,
Lone Nature feels that she may freely breathe,
Are heard her sacred tones: the fitful sweep
Through wither'd bents-romantic note and clear,
The wheeling kite's wild solitary cry,
The dashing waters when the air is still
That winds unseen beneath the shaggy fell,
Such sounds as make deep silence in the heart
'Tis then we hear the voice of God within, Pleading with care and sin
"Child of my love! how have I wearied thee?
"Have I not brought thee from the house of slaves,
"Parted the drowning waves,