Yet deem not, on such parting sad Shall dawn no welcome dear and glad : Together at the glorious goal, Each leading many a rescu'd soul, The faithful champions shall embrace. For even as those mysterious Four, So, on their tasks of love and praise Right onward speed, yet join at last. And sometimes even beneath the moon When reconciled Christians meet, High thoughts of holy love impart Companion of the Saints! 'twas thine i Ezekiel i. 9. They turned not when they went-they went every one straight forward. When the great soldier of thy Lord O then the glory and the bliss, Shall melt with earth and sin away! Shall spend in love th' eternal day ! ST. PHILIP AND ST. JAMES. Let the brother of low degree rejoice in that he is exalted: but the rich, in that he is made low. St. James i. 9, 10. DEAR is the morning gale of spring, And dear th' autumnal eve; But few delights can summer bring A Poet's crown to weave. Her bowers are mute, her fountains dry, And ever Fancy's wing Speeds from beneath her cloudless sky To autumn or to spring. Sweet is the infant's waking smile, And sweet the old man's rest But middle age by no fond wile, Still in the world's hot restless gleam While vainly for some pleasant dream O shame upon thee, listless heart, As if thy SAVIOUR had no part In thoughts, that make thee grieve. As if along His lonesome way He had not borne for thee Sad languors through the summer day, Storms on the wintry sea. Youth's lightning flash of joy secure Pass'd seldom o'er His spright,A well of serious thought and pure, Too deep for earthly light. No spring was His-no fairy gleam- How cold and bare what mortals dream, Then grudge not thou the anguish keen And learn to quit with eye serene Thy treasur'd hopes and raptures highUnmurmuring let them go, Nor grieve the bliss should quickly fly Which CHRIST disdain'd to know. Thou shalt have joy in sadness soon; Which brightens, like the eastern moon, As days wild lights decline. Thus souls, by nature pitch'd too high, By sufferings plung'd too low, To practise there the soothing lay Thankful for all God takes away, ST. BARNABAS. The Son of consolation, a Levite. Acts iv. 36. THE world's a room of sickness, where each heart The truest wisdom there, and noblest art, Whom by the softest step and gentlest tone Enfeebled spirits own, And love to raise the languid eye, When, like an angel's wing, they feel him fleeting by : |