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ye should earnestly contend for the faith which was once delivered unto the saints. St. Jude 3.

SEEST thou, how tearful and alone,

And drooping like a wounded dove,
The Cross in sight, but Jesus gone,

The widow'd Church is fain to rove?

Who is at hand that loves the Lord 8 ?

Make haste and take her home, and bring
Thine household choir, in true accord

Their soothing hymns for her to sing.

Soft on her fluttering heart shall breathe

The fragrance of that genial isle,
There she may weave her funeral wreath,

And to her own sad music smile.

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1 παγωνίζεσθαι : :


anxious for it." “ feel for it as for a friend in jeopardy."

3 St. John xix. 26. Then saith He to the disciple, Behold thy mother : and from that hour that disciple took her to his own home.

The Spirit of the dying Son

Is there, and fills the holy place With records sweet of duties done,

Of pardon'd foes, and cherish'd grace.

And as of old by two and two"

His herald saints the Saviour sent To soften hearts like morning dew,

Where He to shine in mercy meant ;

So evermore He deems his name

Best honour'd and His way prepar’d, When watching by his altar-flame

He sees his servants duly pair'd.

He loves when age and youth are met,

Fervent old age and youth serene, Their high and low in concord set

For sacred song, Joy's golden mean.

He loves when some clear soaring mind

Is drawn by mutual piety To simple souls and unrefin'd,

Who in life's shadiest covert lie.

h St. Mark vi, 7. St. Luke x. 1.

Or if perchance a sadden'd heart

That once was gay and felt the spring, Cons slowly o'er its alter'd part,

In sorrow and remorse to sing,

Thy gracious care will send that way

Some spirit full of glee, yet taught To bear the sight of dull decay,

And nurse it with all pitying thought ;

Cheerful as soaring lark, and mild

As evening blackbird's full-ton'd lay, When the relenting sun has smild

Bright through a whole December day.

These are the tones to brace and cheer

The lonely watcher of the fold, When nights are dark, and foemen near,

When visions fade and hearts grow cold.

How timely then a comrade's song

Comes floating on the mountain air, And bids thee yet be bold and strong

Fancy may die, but Faith is there.


Hurt not the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees, till we have sealed the servants of our God in their foreheads. Revelations vii. 3.

WHY blow'st thou not, thou wintry wind,

Now every leaf is brown and sere,
And idly droops, to thee resign'd,

The fading chaplet of the year?
Yet wears the pure aerial sky
Her summer veil, half drawn on high,

Of silvery haze, and dark and still
The shadows sleep on every slanting hill.

How quiet shews the woodland scene !

Each flower and tree, its duty done,
Reposing in decay serene,
Like weary men when age


won, Such calm old age as conscience pure And self-commanding hearts ensure,

Waiting their summons to the sky, Content to live, but not afraid to die.

Sure if our eyes were purg'd to trace

God's unseen armies hovering round, We should behold by angels' grace

The four strong winds of Heaven fast bound, Their downward sweep a moment staid On ocean cove and forest glade,

Till the last flower of autumn shed Her funeral odours on her dying bed.

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So in thine awful armoury, Lord,

The lightnings of the judgment day Pause yet awhile, in mercy stord,

Till willing hearts wear quite away Their earthly stains; and spotless shine On every brow in light divine

The Cross by angel hands impress’d, The seal of glory won and pledge of promis'd rest.

Little they dream, those haughty souls

Whom empires own with bended knee, What lowly fate their own controuls,

Together link'd by Heaven's decree ;As bloodhounds hush their baying wild To wanton with some fearless child,

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