FROM THE LIBRARY OF REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON, D. D. BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO THE LIBRARY OF PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY Divtsi v7tl. & £7J r EXPORT BOOKSELLERS 32. GAY STREET, ;, yA. BATH. fey. , ^ / Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2013 http://archive.org/details/chfemanOOmont WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 19 r o $ t. THE GOSPEL IN ADVANCE OF THE AGE, with an Introductory Essay on the SPIRIT OF THE BIBLE, AND THE SPIRIT OF THE AGE. Third Edition, revised, re-arranged, and greatly enlarged. THE GREAT SALVATION; and our SIN IN NEGLECTING IT. A Religious Essay in Three Parts. CHRIST OUR ALL IN ALL. Third Edition. SPIRITUAL DISCOURSES on Important Texts. Third Edition, (pre- paring for press.) THE IDEAL OF THE ENGLISH CHURCH. A Pamphlet. THE SCOTTISH CHURCH AND THE ENGLISH SCHISMATICS. Third Edition, with Documentary Evidence. THE OMNIPRESENCE OF THE DEITY, with OTHER POEMS. Twenty-fifth Edition, (a new edition, with plates, and additional matter.) " He has displayed a depth of thouaht which would do honour to any writer of the present day. A glowing spirit of devotion distinguishes the whole work. In every page we find ' Thoughts that breathe and words that burn.' A purer body of ethics we have never read ; and he who can peruse it without emotion, clothed as it is in the graceful garb of poetry, must have a very cold and insensible heart." — Times. LUTHER; or, THE IDEAL OF THE REFORMATION, with His- torical Introduction and Notes. Sixth Edition, (preparing for press.) SATAN; or, INTELLECT WITHOUT GOD. Eleventh Edition. WOMAN ; with OTHER POEMS. Sixth Edition. THE MESSIAH. Ninth Edition. OXFORD. With Biographical Notes. Seventh Edition. SACRED MEDITATIONS AND MORAL THEMES. Third Edition. THE CHEIST1AN LIFE. LONDON : R. CL.YY, PRINTER, BREAD STREET HILL OF PR//ya> THE AV TJUCi CHRISTIAN LIFE: A JHmraal of $ nrrrir ferae. .//BT ROBERT MONTGOMERY, M.A. OXOX. AUTHOR OF "THE OMNIPRESENCE OF THE DEITY," "LUTHER," "GOSPEL IN ADVANCE OF THE AGE," ETC. ETC. " To live is Christ."— Phil. i. 21. SECOND EDITION. LONDON : ARTHUR HALL & CO. 25, PATERNOSTER ROW. SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS. 1849. TO THE QUEEN'S MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY. Madam, In accordance with your Majesty's gracious permission, I have now the honour to submit the following pages to your Majesty's notice, in the respectful hope and religious belief that they contain nothing but what is consistent with the pure Word of God, and the catholic teaching of England's Church. As one of the Committee of Management associated with the Hospital for Consumption, IV DEDICATION. in whose behalf mainly the present volume is published, — permit me, with profound defer- ence, to express my own share of gratitude for the Royal patronage and munificence, which have so frequently honoured and befriended that noble institute of national mercy. That your Majesty may long be spared to reign over a free, because a Christian, people, is the heart-breathed prayer of Madam, Your Majesty's most dutiful and humble Servant and Subject, Robert Montgomery. London : 51, Tokrogton Square, Nov. 1843. PKEFACE. " The world being, in proportion, inferior to the soul ; by reason thereof, there is, agreeable to the spirit of man, a more ample greatness, a more exact goodness, and a more absolute variety than can be found in the nature of things ; — so it appeareth that poesy serveth and conferreth, to magnanimity, morality, and to delectation; and therefore was it ever thought to have some portion of divineness." — Lord Bacon's "Advancement of Learning," Book ii. "Sing victorious agonies of saints and martyrs, the deeds and triumphs of just and pious nations, doing valiantly against the enemies of Christ; lastly, whatever in religion is holy and sublime, in virtue amiable or grave .... to inbreed and cherish in a people the seeds of virtue and public civility, allay the perturbations of the mind, set the affections in right tune, and to celebrate in glorious and lofty hymns the Throne and Equipage of God's almightiness. ' — Milton. "I can truly affirm of myself, that my studies have been profitable and available to me, only so far as I have endeavoured to use all my other know- ledge as a glass, enabling me to receive more light in a wider field of vision from the word of God. I digress to another book, likewise a revelation of God, — the great book of His servant, Nature. It has been the music of pious and gentle minds in all ages; it is the poetry of all human nature, to read it likewise in a figurative sense, and to find therein correspondences and symbols of the spiritual world." — S. T. Coleridge. The christian life hath its ultimate origin in the mind of the Almighty, its perfect embodiment was realised by the incarnated glories of the Son of God, and from Him, as the supreme Archetype and spiritual Head of the Church, — the whole mystical body of the faithful derive their principle of grace now, and their promise of glory for hereafter. VI PREFACE. It is in allusion to these fundamental truths, that the author has ventured to condense the spirit of the following pages into the title, "Christian Life;" because, all they contain is, directly, or indirectly, related to their dignity, grandeur, and importance. As to the theological character which these pages develope, the writer firmly believes them to be in doctrinal accordance with all which a loyal churchman should believe and profess, — being that which is sanctioned by divine Scrip- ture, canonized by the teaching of our own Apostolical Com- munion, and maintained by the catholic fathers of the chris- tian Church in every age. More than grateful will he be, if aught of the calm purity, chastened majesty, and loving gentle- ness of that best comment on the Eible, our English Prayer- Book, — have breathed its hallowing control over the present volume. It is a sincere, but inadequate effort, to portray in a poetical form, somewhat of the creed and character, the duties and dangers, the hopes and fears, the faults, privileges, and final destinies of a believer in the religion of Christ. Moreover, the Divinity, Personality, and Operation of the Spirit, the sacramental privileges of the Church, the due subordination of the lower and sensuous understanding to the higher and holier law of a spiritualized conscience — are not the least of those sacred themes the author would ever desire to propound, and revere. Let the dreaming pride of Ratio- nalism speculate as it may, — Christianity and the Church, are those two miracles of permanence which constitute the centre of political history, and the circumference of moral destiny, in this, and in all other nations. A scientific arrange- ment of such a work would, obviously, be unfit ; and throw a cold air of repulsive formalism over pages, where religion is mainly contemplated in connexion with the poetry of the PREFACE. Vll affections, the fancy, and the heart. Hence, the divine omni- science of Scripture, as applied by God to unfold and feed man's spiritual life, has been allowed to display its own deep wonderfulness, — by the simple plan of selecting those leading texts, which associate inspired truth with the glories of nature, the wisdom of providence, and the mysteries of grace. Nearly seven years have elapsed since the writer last intruded on the public ; and some twenty years have passed, since he published his first poem, " The Omnipresence oe the Deity," &c. Solemn as human life must ever appear, when estimated by a religious conscience and a thankful heart, — seldom ought its responsibility to be more deeply pondered, than when an author renews his connexion witli the mind of others, through the medium of the press ; however fragile the sternness of hostile opinion may deem such connexion to be. For his own part, when he reverts to the experience of vanished years, he hopes he can say, with christian truthfulness, two feelings predominate. The first, is one of sincere humility ; arising from the painful consciousness that his writings, whether in prose or verse, are at such a melancholy distance from that Ideal he has ever tried to set before him. At the age of eighteen, or nineteen, the mind is crude, and the taste imperfect ; hence, the large circulation, and continued hold on popular favour which "The Omnipresence oe the Deity'5 has been so fortunate as to command, — may be ascribed to other reasons than those purely of a mental character. That this humbling sense of an unreached Idea is not a mock confession, merely paraded for a prefatory purpose, — is proved by the fact that " The Omnipresence," as now published, has been cor- rected almost into a new poem, when compared with the early editions. This appears to be unknown, or forgotten by certain Vlll PREFACE. writers. Hence, the sarcasm which appeared some sixteen years ago in the "'Edinburgh Review" and since republished with Mr. Macauley's name, only serves to perpetuate verbal errors and defective lines, which no longer exist, except in his criticism. Doubtless, as one who professes to love truth, candour, and open manliness of disposition, that successful writer will not republish his assault without some reference to the circumstance here stated. As the "Essay" now stands, it is merely a sarcastic comment on defects which have long been removed. The second feeling the author desires to realise, is that of gratitude. However coldly others may talk of literature, depreciate its inspirations, and revert to its pursuits, — he can- not regard it altogether in the severe light of false dreams, fading hopes, and feverish solicitudes : nor could he, without a most graceless discontent, swell the querulous cry of literary disappointment. On the contrary, he has to thank Literature for the mental intimacy and moral esteem of many of the good and great in England, and other countries ; and also for lofty pleasures, and countless privileges of a pure and an abiding character. Among the last, let him record some christian friendships, whose broken links in time, he fondly hopes and believes, will be readjusted in eternity. Most truly can he add, too, that human authorship, when rightly used and religiously watched, will only serve to endear to a spiri- tual student, that Book which contains the literature of Heaven in the language of God, — even the Scriptures of human salva- tion. So far, indeed, as poetry is concerned, in the language of one who first encouraged him to think his way down to the roots of his own inward being, let him be permitted with manful sincerity to say, — "Poetry has been to me its own 'exceeding great reward;5 it has soothed my afflictions; it has PREFACE. ]X multiplied and refined my enjoyments ; it lias endeared soli- tude; it has given me the habit of wishing to discover the good, and the beautiful, in all that meets and surrounds me." In addition to this, let him be allowed to render public thanks to the Great Inspirer of all good, — that he has been pre- served from penning a line, word, or thought, that could stain the vestal purity of religious principle ; or, tinge with a demora- lizing hue the imagination of a single reader. So far as a superficial acquaintance with his own heart can authorize him to speak, his ruling desire has ever been, — to realise and extend the dominion of the Holy, the Beautiful, and the Thue, in that world which a living God created, redeemed man inhabits, and incarnated Deity has visited and rescued. But, with this expression of gratitude, he may also blend a feeling remembrance of the social past. Will not some, then, who may chance to peruse these pages, be interested in learning, that the author's first effort in poetic literature owed not a little of its success to the generous welcome of veterans, whose genius has contributed so much to the intellectual wealth and moral progress of this country ? Among those who actively helped to circulate " The Omnipresence of the Deity," was the poet Crabbe, and the venerable Lisle Bowles, now on the very brink of the better land. Southey too, and Coleridge, welcomed his appearance in public with noble encouragement ; and, not a little was this first effort advanced into public estima- tion, by a long and eloquent criticism from the pen of Professor Wilson. But, above all whom he is bound to commemorate in this retrospective glance, let the author be permitted to add the venerated name of Sharon Turner, — England's Anglo- Saxon and sacred historian. His counsels and criticisms were invaluable : and, long as memory retains its consciousness, will X PREFACE. he revere the religious worth, and strive to profit by the chris- tian wisdom, of his earliest and unforgotten friend.* In this brief retrospect of days and friends no more, it would be ungrateful not to remember privileges which yet remain. Among such, few are more endeared to the author, than those which have associated his public name with the history of "The Hospital for Consumption." With grateful pride does he recall his original acquaintance with its noble design, and the first sermon he had the christian happiness to preach in its behalf. To all who can sympathize with the afflictions of their fellow-creatures, it is indeed a matter of high and holy con- gratulation to know, — that this great Charity is daily advancing its surpassing claims on the practical benevolence of the Empire; and that it promises to attain an unrivalled position in the rank of our national hospital s. It is with an earnest desire to commend the objects, and in some degree, perchance, to enrich its pecu- niary resources, — that the writer of this volume has assigned, by a legal document, one half of whatever profits may accrue from its circulation, hi perpehw, — to The Hospital for Consumption. With unaffected candour may he add, that should his desire be even partially realised, it will afford him an elevating satisfac- tion, which time will only serve to increase. The statistics of Consumption will be found appended to the poem entitled, " The Dying Girl," (p. 33 ;) and surely, that reader must be more, or less, than man, who does not feel the fearful elo- quence of such arithmetic, to be all but irresistible ! Twenty years form an awful portion in our human career ; and, when we connect their progress with the history of some of the great and good who have preceded us into the spirit-world, — * The Poem entitled " Power of the Dead," (page 25,) in this volume, relates to the feelings here expressed. PREFACE. XI reflections, deeper than the significance of imperfect words can disclose, seem to inspire the mind of a serions man. Two are insufficient to form a pure and perfect friendship ; there must be a Third, and He is divine ! But, when such friendships are indeed consecrated by their alliance with that Redeemer, Who is the Uniter of hearts on earth, — may we not believe that, under some glorious modification they will be perpetuated in heaven, and prolonged through the ages of coming glory ? But where, and what, are the sons of genius and song now ? Eternalized in human praise below, can we be such grovelling materialists as to think, the sainted Minds which rule and reign over us, are not, in some blissful section of God's uni- verse,— as conscious, and as individual, as ever ? Yes ; if they consecrated the high gifts which heaven bestowed, to the sub- lime priesthood of glorifying God, and the purification of human nature, we may righteously conclude that the master- spirits of our world are, " ladyyekoi" (Luke xx. 16,) being redeemed unto God, and etherealized into "just men made peeeect," (Heb. xii. 23.) Could they disclose the veiled secrets of Eternity from their calm homes of purity and bliss, — perhaps, it might be found that, what we call the mere dreams of lofty Idealism, are but pale shadows cast from the substance of infinite Glories to come ? Thus, the poetry of spiritual minds on earth, would be proved unconscious predic- tion of diviner Mysteries yet to be unfolded in heaven, But, all this is mental suggestion, and nothing more. We must patiently abide " until the day break, and the shadows flee away." (Cant. ii. 17.) Meanwhile, be this our prayer, that each in his own duteous orbit, and according to his relative gift, — strive to remember and realise his baptismal conse- cration unto Him, who died for us once, that we might live for Xll PREFACE. ever. Let the World sneer as it may, after nearly six thousand years of experience, The Christian is the highest style of man : and blessed, beyond finite language to declare, is the condition of him, who can say with his lip, what he echoes by his life — "To live is Christ, and to die is gain." — (Phil. i. 21.) Rayners, Penn, Bucks, October 24th, 1848. CONTENTS. PAGE The Idea of God 1 God Creates 3 Our Duty is our Glory 7 The First Man 12 The Mind of Little Children 14 Soothing Charm of Time 17 Christ the Grand Refuge 21 Power of the Dead 25 God's Image 29 The Dying Girl : — Consumption 33 Part II.:— The Hospital 37 Social, and yet Alone 40 The Great Untruth 43 The Weeping Christ 46 Vanity of all Created Good 50 The Voice of God in the cool of the Day 54 God's Curse upon the Ground 57 Weep not for the Dead 61 The Religion of Solitude 65 The First Exiles 67 Moderation 70 Infancy in Heaven 74 The Divine Walk 79 Strive not with the Spirit S3 XIV CONTEXTS. PAGE A Believer's Wish g7 Here we have no Abiding Place 90 The Soul's True Companion 94 Our Morrows belong to God iqq Silent Prayer 102 Music and the Evil Spirit 20g Make Thee an Ark j j9 Oh that I had Wings j 1 5 The Wandering Dove 218 The Bow of Promise 1 92 Departed, not Dead 125 Prevailing Intercession 132 Life is a Fading Leaf 133 God's Fountain in the Desert springs 141 Meditation at Eventide 14g The Redeemer's Sigh 150 Deceitful above all Things 154 Expressive Night 159 The Prayerless One 162 The Dread Sacrifice 165 Perfect Peace 170 Starry Dreams 173 Christ the Believer's Portion 178 Angels .181 Angelic Ministry 185 Man's Ingratitude to the Angels 188 " Religion Gazing on the Sea 191 Idols in the Heart 194 Infants and Infancy 198 The Paradise of the Dead 201 Repentance 212 The Sublime of Prayer 2 16 Inspiration of the Past 219 Hearts which have no Echoes 223 The Religion of the Young 226 The Sympathy of Christ 230 No Peace for the Wicked 233 An Infant's Death 236 CONTENTS. XV PAGE Christ the Perfection of Obedient Will 240 Divine Thirst 2M Chief of Sinners . . . 245 The Treasure and the Heart .... 248 Conviction and Confession 253 The Believer's Destined Work 256 The Sacredness of Flowers 2(5 1 Follow Christ 267 A Name without a Nature 272 The Homeless One 276 The First Soul in Heaven 280 Human Fears 284 The Saviour Tempted 288 The Temptation Applied 290 The Sinfulness of Sin 293 Conscious Life in the World of Souls 297 The Glory of the Mountains 302 Reason murmurs when the Righteous die 309 The Poetry of Spring 313 THE BEATITUDES :— Blessed are the Poor in Spirit 316 Blessed are they that Mourn 320 Blessed are the Meek 323 Blessed are they who Hunger and Thirst for Righteousness 328 Blessed are the Merciful 333 Blessed are the Pure in Heart 337 Blessed are the Peacemakers 341 Blessed are the Righteous, whom men revile 345 The Silence of the Soul 350 Reconciliation , . 354 An Infant Soul in Fellowship with God 359 The Single Eye 362 The First-Born 366 Judge Not 370 Encouragement to Pray 375 Divine Faithfulness .... * 378 The Two Gates of Life 381 The Power of the Redeemer's Eye 385 XVI CONTENTS. PAGE Spiritual Decline 390 The Guiding Tenderness of God 394 The Poetry of Clouds and Skies 397 The Twilight of our Being 400 The Blessed Virgin 403 Mariolatry 405 God our True Centre 408 Mother's Grief 412 MY PRAYER BOOK:— The Two Books 416 Baptism 420 The Catechism 427 Confirmation 431 Marriage 434 Visitation of the Sick 438 The Burial of the Dead 442 The Churching of Women 446 The Commination 449 Prayers at Sea 453 The Gunpowder Treason 456 The Royal Martyr 458 Restoration of the Royal Family 460 The Accession 464 The Ordination 466 The Eucharist 469 God Save the Church 474 THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. THE IDEA OP GOD. " In the beginning God.'' — Gen. i. 10. Enthroned in dread eternity How awful, God ! to muse on Thee, Voiceless and viewless, First and Last,1 The All in All, without a past! 2 When thus to Thee our minds would mount, And trace pure Being to its fount, Their powers become abash'd and dim, Like glory- stricken Cherubim. For once Thou wert the vast Alone, No universe around Thee thrown, No choral worlds to chant Thy praise, No spirits basking in Thy blaze ; But in Thyself, that sacred Threes Whose name is Love, and Mystery, In trinal grandeur thus enshrined, Unheard, unfelt, and undivined. (1) "I am Alpha and Omega, the first and the last." — Rev. i. II- "One day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day." — 2 Pet. iii. 18. (2) " God said unto Moses, I AM THAT I AM."— Exod. xiii. 14. (3) " There are Three that bear record in heaven." — 1 John v. 7. " To the acknowledgment of the mystery of God." — Col. ii. 2. B THE IDEA OF GOD. Thou didst not, then, the worlds create, Because Thy glories fail'd to be Whate'er of infinitely great Belongs to full-orb'd Deity : But, from Thine essence freely came Creative power, and light, and love, And all which men or angels name, Of bright below, or blest above. And hence yon worlds, with all they hold Of perfect, pure, serene, or grand, The purpose of Thy will unfold, And fill the hollow of Thy hand.1 From Thee our thoughts their grace derive, Chaste hearts receive celestial glow; And vainly would the sceptic strive Without Thee, e'en to think below. The mind that cannot God discern Grows day by day more weak, and vile, Must soon its very self unlearn, Absorb'd in sin, and sunk in guile. Eternal Light and Law of mind ! If in Thy beams calm angels see A lustre, that would strike them blind Were they to think they fathom'd Thee; 2 (1) " Who hath measured the waters in the hollow of His hand." — Isa. xl. 12. ' (2) " Which things the angels desire to look into." — 1 Pel. i. 12. GOD CREATES. Let insects like ourselves, beware What majesties to Heaven belong ! Our science is believing prayer, And flesh is weak, when faith is strong.1 Most glorious God ! while thus we scan Earth, air, and ocean through their bounds, And yearn to trace the measured plan Of Wisdom in her mystic rounds; Be ours the humbling thought, that all Of form and function, life or sense, Which men sublime and wondrous call, — Is nothing to Omnipotence ! It was not once ; it would not be, If thy dread fiat said, Depart, For then, the universe would flee, And leave Thee, Godhead as Thou art ! GOD CREATES. "God created."— Gen. i. 1. There is religion in the common earth, A creed of beauty in the open sky; And every sunbeam proves a sacred birth, When we regard it with responsive eye. (1) '« The spirit, indeed, is willing, but the flesh is weak."— Matt. xxri. 41. i GOD CREATES. What men call Nature, is a Thought divine, The Infinite in forms of finite grace, Where all conditions, seen in God, combine To make this earth a consecrated place. Th' unwritten Bible of the woods and fields By Love perused, and ponder'd o'er by Prayer, A kind of gospel to the Fancy yields, That walks creation, feeling Christ1 is there. Nothing is mean, by Power Celestial made, And nought is worthless, by His wisdom plann'd, Who fashion'd all, that Faith may find display'd The holy impress of God's master-hand. Oh, could we hail the element divine That circles round whatever lives, or moves, A mystic radiance would o'er all things shine, And teach the coldest how the Godhead loves ! One vast cathedral, with its roof of sky, The earth becomes to reverential souls, When deepen'd by such felt divinity, Our heart-breathed hymn of ceaseless worship rolls. But like a cloud doth sensual dimness hide The heaven-born glories that around us beam, While min'string angels to and fro may glide, And yet not wake us from our worldly dream. (1) " His dear Son, in whom we have redemption ... by Him were all things created, that are in heaven and that are in the earth, visible and invisible." — Col, i. 13, 14, 16. GOD CREATES. 5 Alas ! for men, when thus creation grows An orphan'd scene, where God moves undiseern'd ; And for the bliss His gracious hand bestows, Our thankless hearts, how seldom have they burn'd ! l This canker-worm of atheistic sin Thrice Holy One! do Thou by grace destroy; Breathe o'er the deadness of the mind within, And brighten Nature with religious joy. May the hush'd feeling, Thou art ever nigh, God in the creatures, Life and Law of all, Unveil pure Edens to our purged eye, And free the spirit from degrading thrall. Then will a sacredness of meaning grace The humblest object which the senses scan, A temple rise in every cloister'd place, And all cry, " Worship! " to believing man. Mountain or forest, wood, or wild, or shore, Roam where we choose, whatever scene be trod, The reign of mindless Solitude is o'er, For now, like Enoch, Conscience walks with God. And, thus companion'd by His love and word, Each man as brother, faith delights to own; Peasant and prince, from each alike is heard " Our Father!" warbled to Creation's Throne. (1) "Did not our hearts burn within us, while He talked with us by the way ?" — Luke xxiv. 32. (2) " Enoch walked with God : and he was not, for God took him."— Gen. v. 24. 6 GOD CREATES. Were but this creed by loving hearts enjoy'd, And God paternal by the soul embraced, How much of darkening self would be destroy'd, And Beauty live, where now breathes Moral Waste ! Diurnal life would seem a holy thing, Entire Creation be with God allied, And not an hour but would some anthem sing, To praise the Fountain that our stream supplied. Here is Religion, — when for mental food Nature, or man, a thoughtful heart inspires To echo Him, who call'd creation " good," Whose birth was chanted by celestial quires.1 Around, above, beneath, 'tis all divine, When Faith the grand Original can see, And, while Sense worships in the outer- shrine, Know the vast world was once a thought in Thee. Lord ! may Thy Spirit to our spirit lend A princely heart of innocence and prayer, Whose unction shall the sacred feeling send, That proves, at every pulse, a God is there. Radiant the soul, though dark the sense-bound doom Terrestrial changes for his home supply, Who feels, before his dust descend the tomb, How all is Christian to the Christian eye. (1) " Who laid the corner-stone thereof, when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted foi joy?" — Job xxxviii. 6, 7. OUR DUTY IS OUR GLORY. Whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God." — 1 Cor. x. 31. Precious words ! with glory burning, Guide and guardian of our days, Let us be for ever learning, Wisdom from their wealth to raise : In them lies a lovely power, Which may hallow scene and hour, Touching all we hear, or see, With some rays of Deity! He who call'd us into being, Each created for some plan, But by prescience all foreseeing, So equipp'd the soul of man, That unless the sleepless Mind Love itself in all mankind, Whatsoe'er bright scenes present,— Dark life grows a discontent. Yet, apart from Eevelation, Wisdom no true motive found, That with perfect inspiration Could alike for all abound. Pleasure, gain, or mental force, Palms that crown Ambition's course, — Sages found some lofty name, Thus to fix the final Aim. 8 OUR DUTY IS OUR GLORY. Cloister'd some in holy quiet Far from rush of human cares, Unperturb'd by Passion's riot, And absorb'd in ceaseless prayers, — Thus they aim'd to school and still, Or subdue the reinless Will, And partake God's holy rest, Pillow'd on the Saviour's breast. But find we not in ancient story Saint, or sage, who can supply Such a path for peaceful glory While we live, and when we die, As this text of heaven-breathed truth Here imparts to age and youth : " Whatsoe'er ye think, or do, Be your God the goal in view! ' 'Twas Thine own celestial motive, Lord, when Thou on earth didst live ; So with spirit pure and votive Let us vow ourselves to give Back to Thee! in woe or weal Let our lives be one long zeal, Never from Thy Church to roam, — Faith's delight, and Feeling's home ! None can reach that blissful centre Where the reas'ning mind can rest, Save by fellowship they enter On the purpose God hath blest : OUR DUTY IS OUR GLORY. Great and glorious as may seem All that gilds an earth-born dream, Self can frame no heaven for sin, But it works a hell within ! Blest is he who thus resigneth Soul and body unto Him, From Whose words whoe'er declineth, Martyr, saint, or seraphim, Must in darkness, death, and woe, Downward to perdition go, Reaping from self-will the curse, That would fire the universe. Sons of Heaven ! be this your glory, Christ as motive so to feel, That life nor death shall set before ye What can daunt, or dim your zeal : Rich, or poor, or small, or great, What to you is outward state ? God and grace within you dwell, And your mercies none can tell. Happy, happy is the feeling, Life belongs to Him who died, By atonement thus revealing Love incarnate, crucified. Duty, danger, toil, and time, Now are touch'd by truth sublime ; All we have to Faith appears, Sacred to His blood and tears. 10 OUR DUTY IS OUR GT.ORY. With such motive deeply glowing, Sin and self we learn to shun, While on heaven our hearts bestowing, Till the angel ' seems begun ; As more purely we can pray, And that creed of glory say, u Thou art worthy ! Thou alone ! Be our heart Thy hallow'd throne !" Needs no rank, nor wealth, nor learning, When our sainted wills incline, With a passion ever burning To pursue the path divine : Humble care and cottage-scene To the Lord's elect have been Little Edens, where they found Angels camping all around ! Though thy station be but lowly, Christ is there, the soul to bless ; Though thou seem'st forgotten wholly, Left to toil in loneliness, Eyes through heaven are peering down, In thy cross to see thy crown ; Let thy task in prayer be done, And thy glories are begun. Tell me not, in gloom and anguish Lone and needy thou art left, Faith can ne'er for duty languish, Love and Hope are not bereft, ( 1 ) " Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven." — Matt. vi. 10. " They are as the angeis of God in heaven." — Matt. xxii. 30. OUR DUTY IS OUR GLORY. 11 At the close of each calm day If thy soul can truly say, " Father ! do Thy gracious will, Let my life Thy law fulfil ! " Hast thou cheer'd the broken-hearted With a look of genial love ? As the dying breath departed Didst thou point to worlds above ? Hast thou sought the peasant's door. Soothed the sick, or cheer'd the poor, Lighted up the widow's eye, Or relieved an orphan's sigh ? Fameless, then, though Earth deny thee Wealth and grandeur, power and place, More than worlds could e'er supply thee, 'Tis to love the human race ! Like some instrument of sound Changing with all airs around, Hearts of heaven can sympathize With what others tempts, or tries. Read we then in hallow'd story With a swell of wordless joy, Duty forms divinest glory, When our lives for God employ Feeling, faculty, and power, Home and heart, and scene and hour, As one sacrifice of soul, Due to Him who gave the whole ! 12 THE FIRST MAN. " Let us make man." — Gen. i. 26. Now Heaven and Earth in finish'd beauty rise, And Ocean peals her new-born harmonies; And lo! awaking into life With stainless glory rich and rife, Under the breath of God's creative word The realms of Being into bliss are stirr'd. Oh ! to have gazed on glorious earth and sea, When, like the Infant of eternity, Our breathing World began to smile; Or, like an anxious heart awhile, In mute suspension waited for a Soul To greet her glories, and command the whole. For, how could dumb magnificence display, Or this blank world as reasonless, portray The higher attributes of God, Till earth by human feet was trod; Or, young Creation had some priestly Mind To offer incense, pure as God designed ? But, hark ! within the deeps of that Recess Where God enshrines His awful consciousness, Three Persons speak, Three Minds commune, A Council holds the dread Triune.1 And " Let Us make " him, symbols forth to man The outward meaning of Their inward Plan. (1) " God said, Let us make man in our own image, after our likeness. "- Gen. i. 26. THE FIRST MAN. 13 And thus, obedient to that forming call, Emerges Man, the blissful lord of all ; Soft lustres o'er his features play, And brow and bearing both display That regal air, God's image ought to show As priest and monarch of this world below. Hosannah ! now ye choral planets sing; Poetic winds and waters, hail your king ! Wake Sympathies ! through earth and air Your genial motion everywhere ; God's labours now their sabbath haven reach,1 And Silence echoes with the charm of speech. O happy vision ! O celestial scene ! What Heaven beheld, and sinless Earth hath been When paradise and perfect bliss Center'd a world sublime as this ; Wing'd angels quiver'd over Eden's bowers, And Eve looked fairer than the vestal flowers. Departed glory! — back to earth it seems At times recall'd, in those seraphic dreams "When round us steals the witching sense Of man's unblotted innocence, And o'er the harp -strings of th' entranced soul Fragments of forfeit Eden's music roll. But never let our joyless gloom repine, Blest Lord! as though there breathed not hopes divine, (1) " On the seventh day, God ended His work which He had made ; and He rested on the seventh day." — Gen. ii. 2. THE IDEA OF GOD. Thou didst not, then, the worlds create, Because Thy glories fail'd to be Whate'er of infinitely great Belongs to full-orb'd Deity : But, from Thine essence freely came Creative power, and light, and love, And all which men or angels name, Of bright below, or blest above. And hence yon worlds, with all they hold Of perfect, pure, serene, or grand, The purpose of Thy will unfold, And fill the hollow of Thy hand.1 From Thee our thoughts their grace derive, Chaste hearts receive celestial glow; And vainly would the sceptic strive Without Thee, e'en to think below. The mind that cannot God discern Grows day by day more weak, and vile, Must soon its very self unlearn, Absorb'd in sin, and sunk in guile. Eternal Light and Law of mind ! If in Thy beams calm angels see A lustre, that would strike them blind Were they to think they fathom'd Thee; 2 (1) " Who hath measured the waters in the hollow of His hand." — Isa. xl. 12. 1 (2) " Which things the angels desire to look into." — 1 Pet. i. 12. GOD CREATES. Let insects like ourselves, beware What majesties to Heaven belong ! Our science is believing prayer, And flesh is weak, when faith is strong.1 Most glorious God ! while thus we scan Earth, air, and ocean through their bounds. And yearn to trace the measured plan Of Wisdom in her mystic rounds; Be ours the humbling thought, that all Of form and function, life or sense, Which men sublime and wondrous call, — Is nothing to Omnipotence ! It was not once ; it would not be, If thy dread fiat said, Depart, For then, the universe would flee, And leave Thee, Godhead as Thou art ! GOD CREATES. "God created."— Gen. i. 1. There is religion in the common earth, A creed of beauty in the open sky; And every sunbeam proves a sacred birth, When we regard it with responsive eye. (1) '' The spirit, indeed, is willing, but the flesh is weak."— Matt. xxri. 41. 1 GOD CREATES. What men call Nature, is a Thought divine, The Infinite in forms of finite grace, Where all conditions, seen in God, combine To make this earth a consecrated place. Th' unwritten Bible of the woods and fields By Love perused, and ponder' d o'er by Prayer, A kind of gospel to the Fancy yields, That walks creation, feeling Christ1 is there. Nothing is mean, by Power Celestial made, And nought is worthless, by His wisdom plann'd, Who fashion'd all, that Faith may find display'd The holy impress of God's master-hand. Oh, could we hail the element divine That circles round whatever lives, or moves, A mystic radiance wrould o'er all tilings shine, And teach the coldest how the Godhead loves ! One vast cathedral, with its roof of sky, The earth becomes to reverential souls, When deepen'd by such felt divinity, Our heart-breathed hymn of ceaseless worship rolls. But like a cloud doth sensual dimness hide The heaven-born glories that around us beam, While min'string angels to and fro may glide, And yet not wake us from our worldly dream. (1) " His dear Son, in whom we have redemption ... by Him were all things created, that are in heaven and that are in the earth, visible and invisible." — Col. i. 13, 14,16. GOD CREATES. 5 Alas ! for men, when thus creation grows An orphan'd scene, where God moves undiscern'd ; And for the bliss His gracious hand bestows, Our thankless hearts, how seldom have they burn'd ! l This canker-worm of atheistic sin Thrice Holy One! do Thou by grace destroy; Breathe o'er the deadness of the mind within, And brighten Nature with religious joy. May the hush'd feeling, Thou art ever nigh, God in the creatures, Life and Law of all, Unveil pure Edens to our purged eye, And free the spirit from degrading thrall. Then will a sacredness of meaning grace The humblest object which the senses scan, A temple rise in every cloister' d place, And all cry, " Worship! " to believing man. Mountain or forest, wrood, or wild, or shore, Roam where we choose, whatever scene be trod, The reign of mindless Solitude is o'er, For now, like Enoch, Conscience walks with God. And, thus companion'd by His love and word, Each man as brother, faith delights to own; Peasant and prince, from each alike is heard " Our Father!" warbled to Creation's Throne. (1) "Did not our hearts burn within us, while He talked with us by the way ?" — Luke xxiv. 32. (2) "Enoch walked with God: and he was not, for God took him."'— Gen. v. 24. 6 GOD CREATES. Were but this creed by loving hearts enjoy'd, And God paternal by the soul embraced, How much of darkening self would be destroy'd, And Beauty live, where now breathes Moral Waste ! Diurnal life would seem a holy thing, Entire Creation be with God allied, And not an hour but would some anthem sing, To praise the Fountain that our stream supplied. Here is Religion, — when for mental food Nature, or man, a thoughtful heart inspires To echo Him, who call'd creation " good," Whose birth was chanted by celestial quires.1 Around, above, beneath, 'tis all divine, When Faith the grand Original can see, And, while Sense worships in the outer-shrine, Know the vast world was once a thought in Thee. Lord ! may Thy Spirit to our spirit lend A princely heart of innocence and prayer, Whose unction shall the sacred feeling send, That proves, at every pulse, a God is there. Radiant the soul, though dark the sense-bound doom Terrestrial changes for his home supply, Who feels, before his dust descend the tomb, How all is Christian to the Christian eye. (1) " Who laid the corner-stone thereof, when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted foi joy?" — Job xxxviii. 6, 7. OUR DUTY IS OUR GLORY. '• Whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God." — 1 Cor. x. 31. Precious words ! with glory burning, Guide and guardian of our days, Let us be for ever learning, Wisdom from their wealth to raise : In them lies a lovely power, Which may hallow scene and hour, Touching all we hear, or see, With some rays of Deity! He who call'd us into being, Each created for some plan, But by prescience all foreseeing, So equipp'd the soul of man, That unless the sleepless Mind Love itself in all mankind, Whatsoe'er bright scenes present- Dark life grows a discontent. Yet, apart from Revelation, Wisdom no true motive found, That with perfect inspiration Could alike for all abound. Pleasure, gain, or mental force, Palms that crown Ambition's course, — Sages found some lofty name, Thus to fix the final Aim. 8 OUR DUTY IS OUR GLORY. Cloister'd some in holy quiet Far from rush of human cares, Unperturb'd by Passion's riot, And absorbed in ceaseless prayers, — Thus they aim'd to school and still, Or subdue the reinless Will, And partake God's holy rest, Pillow'd on the Saviour's breast. But find we not in ancient story Saint, or sage, who can supply Such a path for peaceful glory While we live, and when we die, As this text of heaven-breathed truth Here imparts to age and youth : " Whatsoe'er ye think, or do, Be your God the goal in view! ' 'Twas Thine own celestial motive, Lord, when Thou on earth didst live ; So with spirit pure and votive Let us vow ourselves to give Back to Thee! in woe or weal Let our lives be one long zeal, Never from Thy Church to roam, — Faith's delight, and Feeling's home ! None can reach that blissful centre Where the reas'ning mind can rest, Save by fellowship they enter On the purpose God hath blest : OUR DUTY IS OUR GLORY. 9 Great and glorious as may seem All that gilds an earth-born dream, Self can frame no heaven for sin, But it works a hell within ! Blest is he who thus resigneth Soul and body unto Him, From Whose words whoe'er declineth, Martyr, saint, or seraphim, Must in darkness, death, and woe, Downward to perdition go, Reaping from self-will the curse, That would fire the universe. Sons of Heaven ! be this your glory, Christ as motive so to feel, That life nor death shall set before ye What can daunt, or dim your zeal : Rich, or poor, or small, or great, What to you is outward state ? God and grace within you dwell, And your mercies none can tell. Happy, happy is the feeling, Life belongs to Him who died, By atonement thus revealing Love incarnate, crucified. Duty, danger, toil, and time, Now are touch'd by truth sublime ; All we have to Faith appears, Sacred to His blood and tears. THE IDEA OF GOD. Thou didst not, then, the worlds create, Because Thy glories fail'd to be Whate'er of infinitely great Belongs to full-orb'd Deity : But, from Thine essence freely came Creative power, and light, and love, And all which men or angels name, Of bright below, or blest above. And hence yon worlds, with all they hold Of perfect, pure, serene, or grand, The purpose of Thy will unfold, And fill the hollow of Thy hand.1 From Thee our thoughts their grace derive, Chaste hearts receive celestial glow; And vainly would the sceptic strive Without Thee, e'en to think below. The mind that cannot God discern Grows day by day more weak, and vile, Must soon its very self unlearn, Absorb'd in sin, and sunk in guile. Eternal Light and Law of mind ! If in Thy beams calm angels see A lustre, that would strike them blind Were they to think they fathom'd Thee; 2 (1) " Who hath measured the waters in the hollow of His hand." — Isa. xl. 12. ' (2) " Which things the angels desire to look into." — 1 Pel. i. 12. GOD CREATES. Let insects like ourselves, beware What majesties to Heaven belong ! Our science is believing prayer, And flesh is weak, when faith is strong.1 Most glorious Gocl ! while thus we scan Earth, air, and ocean through their bounds, And yearn to trace the measured plan Of Wisdom in her mystic rounds; Be ours the humbling thought, that all Of form and function, life or sense, Which men sublime and wondrous call, — Is nothing to Omnipotence ! It was not once ; it would not be, If thy dread fiat said, Depart, For then, the universe would flee, And leave Thee, Godhead as Thou art ! GOD CREATES. "God created."— Gen. i. 1. There is religion in the common earth, A creed of beauty in the open sky; And every sunbeam proves a sacred birth, When we regard it with responsive eye. (1) '« The spirit, indeed, is willing, but the flesh is weak."— Matt. xxri. 41. i GOD CREATES. What men call Nature, is a Thought divine, The Infinite in forms of finite grace, Where all conditions, seen in God, combine To make this earth a consecrated place. Th' unwritten Bible of the woods and fields By Love perused, and ponder'd o'er by Prayer, A kind of gospel to the Fancy yields, That walks creation, feeling Christ1 is there. Nothing is mean, by Power Celestial made, And nought is worthless, by His wisdom plann'd, Who fashion'd all, that Faith may find display'd The holy impress of God's master-hand. Oh, could we hail the element divine That circles round whatever lives, or moves, A mystic radiance wrould o'er all tilings shine, And teach the coldest how the Godhead loves ! One vast cathedral, with its roof of sky, The earth becomes to reverential souls, When deepen'd by such felt divinity, Our heart-breathed hymn of ceaseless worship rolk. But like a cloud doth sensual dimness hide The heaven-born glories that around us beam, While min'string angels to and fro may glide, And yet not wake us from our worldly dream. (1) " His dear Son, in whom we have redemption ... by Him were all things created, that are in heaven and that are in the earth, visible aud invisible." — Co/, i. 13, 14,16. GOD CREATES. ■) Alas! for men, when thus creation grows An orphan'd scene, where God moves undiscern'd ; And for the bliss His gracious hand bestows, Our thankless hearts, how seldom have they burn'd ! l This canker-worm of atheistic sin Thrice Holy One! do Thou by grace destroy; Breathe o'er the deadness of the mind within, And brighten Nature with religious joy. May the hush'd feeling, Thou art ever nigh, God in the creatures, Life and Law of all, Unveil pure Edens to our purged eye, And free the spirit from degrading thrall. Then will a sacredness of meaning grace The humblest object which the senses scan, A temple rise in every cloister'd place, And all cry, " Worship! " to believing man. Mountain or forest, wood, or wild, or shore, Roam where we choose, whatever scene be trod, The reign of mindless Solitude is o'er, For now, like Enoch, Conscience walks with God. And, thus companion'd by His love and word, Each man as brother, faith delights to own; Peasant and prince, from each alike is heard " Our Father!" warbled to Creation's Throne. (1) "Did not our hearts burn within us, while He talked with us by the way ?" — Luke xxiv. 32. (2) "Enoch walked with God: and he was not, for God took him."— Gen. v. 24. 6 GOD CREATES, Were but this creed by loving hearts enjoy'd, And God paternal by the soul embraced, How much of darkening self would be destroy'd, And Beauty live, where now breathes Moral Waste ! Diurnal life would seem a holy thing, Entire Creation be with God allied, And not an hour but would some anthem sing, To praise the Fountain that our stream supplied. Here is Religion, — when for mental food Nature, or man, a thoughtful heart inspires To echo Him, who call'd creation " good," Whose birth was chanted by celestial quires.1 Around, above, beneath, 'tis all divine, When Faith the grand Original can see, And, while Sense worships in the outer- shrine, Know the vast world was once a thought in Thee. Lord ! may Thy Spirit to our spirit lend A princely heart of innocence and prayer, Whose unction shall the sacred feeling send, That proves, at every pulse, a God is there. Radiant the soul, though dark the sense-bound doom Terrestrial changes for his home supply, Who feels, before his dust descend the tomb, How all is Christian to the Christian eye. (1) " Who laid the corner-stone thereof, when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted foi joy?" — Job xxxviii. 6, 7. OUR DUTY IS OUR GLORY. Whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God." — 1 Cor. x. 31. Precious words ! with glory burning, Guide and guardian of our days, Let us be for ever learning, Wisdom from their wealth to raise : In them lies a lovely power, Which may hallow scene and hour, Touching all we hear, or see, With some rays of Deity! He who call'd us into being, Each created for some plan, But by prescience all foreseeing, So equipped the soul of man, That unless the sleepless Mind Love itself in all mankind, Whatsoe'er bright scenes present,— Dark life grows a discontent. Yet, apart from Revelation, Wisdom no true motive found, That with perfect inspiration Could alike for all abound. Pleasure, gain, or mental force, Palms that crown Ambition's course, — Sages found some lofty name, Thus to fix the final Aim. 8 OUR DUTY IS OUR GLORY. Cloister'd some in holy quiet- Far from rush of human cares, Unperturb'd by Passion's riot, And absorl/d in ceaseless prayers, — Thus they aim'd to school and still, Or subdue the reinless Will, And partake God's holy rest, Pillow'd on the Saviour's breast. But find we not in ancient story Saint, or sage, who can supply Such a path for peaceful glory While we live, and when we die, As this text of heaven-breathed truth Here imparts to age and youth : " Whatsoe'er ye think, or do, Be your God the goal in view! ' 'Twas Thine own celestial motive, Lord, when Thou on earth didst live ; So with spirit pure and votive Let us vow ourselves to give Back to Thee! in woe or weal Let our lives be one long zeal, Never from Thy Church to roam, — Faith's delight, and Feeling's home ! None can reach that blissful centre Where the reas'ning mind can rest, Save by fellowship they enter On the purpose God hath blest : OUR DUTY IS OUR GLORY. Great and glorious as may seem All that gilds an earth-born dream, Self can frame no heaven for sin, But it works a hell within ! Blest is he who thus resigneth Soul and body unto Him, From Whose words whoe'er declineth, Martyr, saint, or seraphim, Must in darkness, death, and woe, Downward to perdition go, Reaping from self-will the curse, That would fire the universe. Sons of Heaven ! be this your glory, Christ as motive so to feel, That life nor death shall set before ye What can daunt, or dim your zeal : Rich, or poor, or small, or great, What to you is outward state ? God and grace within you dwell, And your mercies none can tell. Happy, happy is the feeling, Life belongs to Him who died, By atonement thus revealing Love incarnate, crucified. Duty, danger, toil, and time, Now are touch'd by truth sublime ; All we have to Faith appears, Sacred to His blood and tears. 10 OUR DUTY IS OUR GLORY. With such motive deeply glowing, Sin and self we learn to shun, While on heaven our hearts bestowing, Till the angel l seems begun ; As more purely we can pray, And that creed of glory say, " Thou art worthy ! Thou alone ! Be our heart Thy hallow'd throne !" Needs no rank, nor wealth, nor learning, When our sainted wills incline, With a passion ever burning To pursue the path divine : Humble care and cottage-scene To the Lord's elect have been Little Edens, where they found Angels camping all around ! Though thy station be but lowly, Christ is there, the soul to bless ; Though thou seem'st forgotten wholly, Left to toil in loneliness, Eyes through heaven are peering down, In thy cross to see thy crown ; Let thy task in prayer be done, And thy glories are begun. Tell me not, in gloom and anguish Lone and needy thou art left, Faith can ne'er for duty languish, Love and Hope are not bereft, ( 1 ) " Th}' will be done on earth, as it is in heaven." — Malt. vi. 10. " They are as the angels of God in heaven." — Matt. xxii. 30. OUR DUTY IS OUR GLORY. 11 At the close of each calm day If thy soul can truly say, " Father ! do Thy gracious will, Let my life Thy law fulfil ! " Hast thou cheer'cl the broken-hearted With a look of genial love ? As the dying breath departed Didst thou point to worlds above ? Hast thou sought the peasant's door, Soothed the sick, or cheer'd the poor, Lighted up the widow's eye, Or relieved an orphan's sigh ? Fameless, then, though Earth deny thee Wealth and grandeur, power and place, More than worlds could e'er supply thee, 'Tis to love the human race ! Like some instrument of sound Changing with all airs around, Hearts of heaven can sympathize With what others tempts, or tries. Read we then in hallow'd story With a swell of wordless joy, Duty forms divinest glory, When our lives for God employ Feeling, faculty, and power, Home and heart, and scene and hour, As one sacrifice of soul, Due to Him who gave the whole ! 12 THE FIRST MAN. " Let us make man." — Gen. i. 26. Now Heaven and Earth in finish'd beauty rise, And Ocean peals her new-born harmonies; And lo! awaking into life With stainless glory rich and rife, Under the breath of God's creative word The realms of Being into bliss are stirr'd. Oh ! to have gazed on glorious earth and sea, When, like the Infant of eternity, Our breathing World began to smile; Or, like an anxious heart awhile, In mute suspension waited for a Soul To greet her glories, and command the whole. For, how could dumb magnificence display, Or this blank world as reasonless, portray The higher attributes of God, Till earth by human feet was trod; Or, young Creation had some priestly Mind To offer incense, pure as God designed ? But, hark ! within the deeps of that Recess Where God enshrines His awful consciousness, Three Persons speak, Three Minds commune, A Council holds the dread Triune.1 And " Let Us make " him, symbols forth to man The outward meaning of Their inward Plan. (I) " God said, Let us make man in our own image, after our likeness."- Gen. i. 26. THE FIRST MAN. 13 And thus, obedient to that forming call, Emerges Man, the blissful lord of all ; Soft lustres o'er his features play, And brow and bearing both display That regal air, God's image ought to show As priest and monarch of this world below. Hosannah ! now ye choral planets sing; Poetic winds and waters, hail your king ! Wake Sympathies ! through earth and air Your genial motion everywhere ; God's labours now their sabbath haven reach,1 And Silence echoes with the charm of speech. O happy vision ! 0 celestial scene ! What Heaven beheld, and sinless Earth hath been When paradise and perfect bliss Center'd a world sublime as this ; Wing'd angels quiver'd over Eden's bowers, And Eve looked fairer than the vestal flowers. Departed glory! — back to earth it seems At times recall'd, in those seraphic dreams When round us steals the witching sense Of man's unblotted innocence, And o'er the harp-strings of th' entranced soul Fragments of forfeit Eden's music roll. But never let our joyless gloom repine, Blest Lord! as though there breathed not hopes divine, (1) " On the seventh, day, God ended His work which He had made ; ar.d He rested on the seventh day." — Gen. ii. 2. 14 THE MIND OF LITTLE CHILDREN. That earth shall bear a nobler doom Than Paradise in perfect bloom : For Thou hast purchased, by atoning blood, A world transcending what was once the " good." And may the Spirit of Thy grace descend, Our feelings hallow, and our hearts amend ; Inspire us, oh ! Creative Three, To image forth the Trinity,1 Till man shall witness more than Eden saw, His heart Thy temple, and Thy truth his law. THE MIND OF LITTLE CHILDREN. " Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven? And. Jesus called a little child."— Matt, xviii. 1, 2. Men call it wisdom, when they grow Less and less like a child ; But let the harsh and haughty know Such wisdom is defiled ; The cold perfection of a cautious man, Who gains by cunning, — all the serpent can! He, whose all-meas'ring Soul perceived The heights and depths of mind, A nobler law would have believed When present with mankind ; Who said, with Infancy beside His knee, "He that is greatest, like a child must be." (1) " Through Him we both have access by one Spirit unto the Father." — Eph. ii. 8. THE MIND OF LITTLE CHILDREN. 15 Heaven to a child comes nearer far Than in maturer age, When Passion's brunt and blighting war Their christless battle rage Against those young simplicities that dwell Deep in the bosom, like a guardian-spell. Oh ! for the reverential eye To Childhood which pertains, That sees religion in the sky, And poetry in plains ; To whom a rainbow like a rapture glows, And all is marvel which th' Almighty shows. Blest age of Wonder ! when a flower, A blossom, fruit, or tree Gives a new zest to each new hour That gladdens home with glee : When like a lisping stream life rolls along In happy murmurs of unconscious song. It smiles on that, and speaks to this, As if each object knew A child exulted in the bliss Of all that charms its view ; Personified the whole Creation seems Into a heart that mirrors back its dreams ! Life looks a fairy landscape spread Before the untaught gaze, As on the infant soul is led To meet its opening days, 16 THE MIND OF LITTLE CHILDREN. Where pure-eyed Innocence can well discern A deeper beauty than the wise discern.1 Fresh from the hands of God they come These infants of His grace, And something of celestial home Yet lingers in their face ; Strange to the world, no worldliness defiles The little hist'ry of their tears and smiles. Candid and curious, how they seek All truth to know and scan ; And, ere the budding mind can speak, Begin to study Man ! Confiding sweetness colours all they say, And Angels listen, when they try to pray.? More playful than the birds of spring, Ingenuous, warm, sincere, Like meadow-bees upon the wing They roam without a fear ; And breathe their thoughts on all who round them live, As Light sheds beams, or flowers their perfume give. And how the Church o'erawes their sense, With rite and ritual graced ! Whose creed is loving innocence, Which time hath not effaced ; (1) "I thank Thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes." — Matt. xi. 25. (2) " Despise not these little ones ; for I say unto you, that in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven." — Matt, xviii. 10. SOOTHING CHAR3I OF TIME. 17 And would that those, who Manhood's paths have trod, Like them could tremble at the name of God ! Mysterious age ! the type of Heaven, By Jesu's blessing crown'd, To thee a purity is given Grey hairs have never found ; The arms of Christ do yet encircle thee Like a soft halo which the Heart can see. Mere Knowledge makes us keen and cold, And Cunning dwarfs the mind, As more and more the heart grows old With feelings base and blind ; Our light is clearer, but our love is less, And few the bosoms that our own can bless ! Spirit of Grace ! we learn from Thee This noble truth, at length, — That wisdom is simplicity, Simplicity is strength ; A Child-man, could the world such union find, Would be the model-form for human kind. SOOTHING CHARM OF TIME. "No chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous : never- theless afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness."— Heb. xiL 11. When Time shall lay his lenient hand On this large grief of ours The burden'd heart will understand The myst'ry of past hours ; C 18 SOOTHING CHARM OF TIME. But now, so thick a tear bedims the moisten'd eye, That earth looks sever'd off from yonder loving sky. Mere fragments of a mighty Whole, How little can men see, While sin contracts the clouded soul, Of plans becoming Thee Who didst by wisdom deep, from Thine all-boundless mind, In heaven forecast the lot for human souls design'd ! To two eternities relate The pangs endured on earth, And all which marks our mortal fate In sickness, death, or birth, In awful depths of God, before all time was planned,1 And carries with it more than Sin can understand. Yet, when the cloud of woe hath burst Upon our hearts and homes, And Guilt appears by God accursed, The wistful Spirit roams From earth to heaven, in hope that some dear light will dart A ray of guiding truth, to cheer the chasten'd heart. Then, crowded o'er with sumless graves This blighted world appears ; O'er each calm joy the cypress waves, The eye seems made for tears ; (1) "Even the very hairs of your head are all numbered," {Luke xii. 7,) compared with, "We know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called, according to his purpose." — Rom. viii. 28. SOOTHING CHARM OF TIME. 19 E'en mercies that remain in darkness now recede, '? And boding Fancy dreams that Life was born to bleed ! Unwise, unholy, and unjust We mourners then are found, Who, in bereavement, cannot trust Those Arms encircled round All sorrow, time, and change, whate'er the trial be, To girdle man with strength, if Faith those Arms wTould see. Afflictions would be sacred things ; Some drops that overflow1 From that Great Cup the Saviour brings Of anguish, grief, or woe, To each disciple here, who bears his Master's cross, And when he calls him, "Lord !" doth count the gainful loss. How can the sainted child of God Resemble Christ, unless The upward path of life be trod Through shades of stern distress ? The Lord of bleeding love, oh ! was He not alone, Unecho'd by a heart that understood his groan ? And think, bereaved one ! in that hour When ruin'd hopes lie cold, Or death and darkness overpower What tearful eyes behold, — Of Him, who had not where to rest His gracious head, Weeping with anguish'd soul, when Love "forsook and fled!" (1) " Ye shall drink indeed of my cup," {Matt. xx. 23,) in connexion with, "Who now rejoice in my sufferings for you, and fill up that which is behind of the afflictions of Christ."— Co I. i. 24. 20 SOOTHING CHARM OF TIME. Dejection now may cast A dimming veil o'er all That brighten'd o'er thy youthful past, While underneath the pall That seems to overshroud whatever we love below, Thy creedless heart detects no sight but death and woe ; Still, when the Dove of Peace divine Shall o'er thy spirit brood, And with His calm thy love combine, A soul will say, 'Twas "good,1 Affliction with its flame hath purified the dross, And deeper in my soul enstamp'd the Saviour's cross." And thus, the nerveless Mind will gain New force and faith to meet Each rising swell of future pain, And lay it at thy feet, As sunk the billows down along the placid sea, When Christ in calmness walk'd the waves of Galilee. Eternal Soother of the soul ! True Paraclete of all Who yield to Thy serene control, On Thee for aid we call ; Anguish, and gloom, and grave, can make the mourner sigh, But, ah, we bhall not sink, — the Comforter is nigh ! (1) "It is good for me that I have been afflicted. Before I was afflicted I went astray." — Psalm cxix. 71, 67. CHRIST THE GRAND REFUGE. 21 Perfect through suffering ! — 'tis the plan Mysterious Love decrees ; And Christ, who was The sinless Man, From that found no release,1 Whose life was living prayer, with every pang combined, Where men and angels see a perfect will resign'd. We seek not, Lord, a pangless life In homes and haunts of bliss ; But only that our mental strife May ne'er Thy presence miss ; Not starless is the night, when Thy dear words arise, And point Thy promise forth that beacons to the skies !2 CHRIST THE GRAND REFUGE. "Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life." — John vi. 68. "There is none other name under heaven given among men whereby we must be saved." — Actsix. 12. Lord, and whither shall we go ? Thou alone hast words of life ; In our stormful griefs below Who, but Thou, can heal the strife Sin and sorrow round us bring, In life's vale, while wandering ? (1) "It became him, to make the Captain of their salvation perfect through sufferings." — Heb. ii. 10. (2) "Let not your heart be troubled: . . . In my Father's house are many mansions : I go to prepare a place for you." — John xiv. 1, 2. 22 CHRIST THE GRAND REFUGE. What can mortal Wisdom teach If o'er graves it cannot soar ? Can true rest the Conscience reach While it leaves us as before ? — - God and Guilt will haunt us yet, Making life one long regret ! Poet ! shall we come to thee, Harping forth some noble strain, Songs of fire, that prompt the free Never to be slaves again, Till they echo back thy word With their brain and bosom stirr'd ? Son of science ! shall we soar Through yon starry worlds, to find Burning secrets which before Never glanced on human mind, Orbs of myst'ry, as they roll Preaching God to every soul ? Man of learning ! may we dare From thine oracle to draw Truths that tell us what we are, Or, that hush the dreadful law Thund'ring forth, from all men see, " Render what thou canst to me ? " 1 Can you ease the burden'd soul From the crushing weight of sin, When we feel a fierce control Like a throbbing hell within ? (1) " He laid hands on him, and took him by the throat, saying, Pay me that thou owest." — Matt, xviii. 2S. CHRIST THE GRAND REFUGE. 23 Can you cry to wearied breast, " Hither ! here is holy rest ?" Have your words a healing skill When applied with perfect art, To renew the rebel Will While it takes the better part,1 Bidding ev'ry wing'd desire Upwards to the Heavens aspire ? God and man can ye unite In such bonds of sacred peace, That the blood-wash'd heart is white By Atonement's blest release ? Can you show a radiant heaven Smiling o'er a soul forgiven ? Foolish all false wisdom is, If to such attempts it rise : Would we have a power like this ? — Seek it, then, beyond the skies : Man at most can human be ; What we want, is Deity! Blessed Christ ! embodied Word ! Thou alone art Life and Light ; Saints who have Thy truth preferr'd Walk in peace, and worship right ; Thou alone to sin canst say, — - " I am Love, the Living Way." (1) " Mary hath chosen that good part which shall not be taken av/ay from her."— Luke x. 42. 24 CHRIST THE GRAND REFUGE. Sun of Grace, oh, ever shine Round our paths, where'er they lead ; Midnight feels a ray divine Breaking through the darkest need, Should we hear, when thus dismay'd, " It is I ! be not afraid ! " Pardon, peace, and purity, Gifts without, and grace within, Love and light, that set us free From the curse and chain of sin, Such, Emanuel ! Thou canst give, When upon Thy words we live. Not a want Thou canst not fill ; Not a fear Thou wilt not tame ; If, indeed, Repentance will Rest upon Thy glorious name, High o'er every guilt and grave Will Redemption's banner wave ! Lord, then whither shall we go, Save to Thee, our Refuge sure ? Balm to each bereaving woe, Who alone the heart canst cure, Turning sickness into health, And to want, becoming wealth. Well of Comfort ! Vital Spring ! Other source we dare not seek ; Broken cisterns only bring Mocking draughts that make us weak : POWER OF THE DEAD. 25 If our souls would slake their thirst, They must die, or seek Thee first ! Saviour ! be our Polar Star Shaded by no sinful night, Shed upon us from afar Living beams of holy light : — When we reach our radiant home, We shall know the way we come.1 POWER OF THE DEAD. " I praised the dead which are already dead, more than the living which are yet alive." — Eccles. iv. 2. " Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord, from thenceforth . . . . They rest from their labours." — Rev. xiv. 13. My thoughts are with the dear and dead, Who make the heart a sigh, And here an atmosphere have spread Breathed from the days gone by. Then do not mock the mental gloom That o'er my brow is stealing, For could I walk this well-known room Without an ancient feeling ? What melting hours of mirth and glee Have here those bright friends known, Who since to hush'd eternity Like living dreams have flown ! ( 1 ) ' ' Thou shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy God led thee these forty years in the wilderness, to humble thee, and to prove thee, to know what was in thine heart, whether thou wouldest keep his commandments, or no." — Deut. viii. 2. 26 POWER OF THE DEAD. And think not that a stoic chill Is o'er my present cast ; But, something more than Mem'ry will Untomb the buried past. What, though these walls no longer now Present that household grace, — A pictured father's pensive brow, A mother's beaming face, Yet, I can almost hear them speak, And wake each cheerful tone, And catch the gladness of her cheek That lighted up my own. Oh, here has peal'd the choral song, And Music's spell hath been, While mellow 'd feelings moved along Like waves in moonlight seen. And kindly words of love and truth From lips now cold in death, Are wafted from the days of youth, Like resurrection-breath. So full the present fills the past With tenderness and tears, Time seems by some fond Angel cast Back into buried years ! I think of her whose azure eyes Were motherly and mild, Clear as the morn's cerulean skies, In swreetness when they smiled : POWER OF THE DEAD. 27 Gentle in tone, and graceful, too, In motion, mind, and mien, — How warm the social ray she threw O'er each domestic scene ! As mother, wife, and peerless friend, In all her ways appear'd A beauteous Soul, in whom did blend What Love has e'er revered. And He, whose world-wide fame is wed To Hist'ry and to man, Though number'd with th' immortal dead, How high a course he ran ! I see him now, his fervid gaze Illumined keen with thought, And glow beneath the flashing rays From his bright wisdom caught. With heavenly truth historic lore His works have nobly blent, And Time, who keeps our mental store, Shall make his monument. Can I forget that hoary sage, The gen'rous, pure, and good, Who counsell'd oft my unripe age As only Virtue could? And, when I dared to strike the lyre In loneliness and fear, He bade me to the Bard aspire, And woke my grateful tear ! 28 POTTER OF THE DEAD. But, like a vision all are gone To join the world unseen, And when these walls I gaze upon, I ask, — if such have been ? Mysterious charm ! Oh, solemn past, How deeply felt art thou ! Beyond the scenes around us cast, The world exciting now. The touching thought — no more ! no more ! Doth sanctify the room, Where blending Hearts embraced of yore, Now pulseless in the tomb. But, why and whence, we cannot tell, A living moment fails To rule us with that inward spell That from the past prevails. The perish' d bloom of boyhood's prime How beautiful it seems, When, tinged with melancholy Time, It dawns upon our dreams ! Forth from the heart there went a hue That made the world romance ; But ah, how changed and chill the view Our riper years advance! Rank, wealth, and reputation, all Still leave the breast a void, As oft our yearning hearts recall What vanish'd youth enjoy'd. god's image. 29 Eternity familiar reads To Faith's perusing eye, As spirit after spirit speeds To populate the sky. Each added year that home commends Where Souls unbodied dwell, To all who feel how parted friends Yet wield a living spell : But, while we tread the room they trod And haunt the scene they chose, We love to think they dwell in God, All rapture^ and repose ! GOD'S IMAGE. God createcPman in His Own image, in the image of God created He him.' Gen. i. 27. As Lord of this terrestrial sphere, Semblance divine did man appear, Just moulded by the hand of God, The soil of virgin earth he trod ; And when through his mysterious frame In gushes of pure rapture came Bright feelings born of Innocence, And sanction'd by Omnipotence, — O God ! Thine image was enshrined In the clear depths of his calm mind. " Man in Our Image," mighty thought ! With more than human meaning fraught; (1) " I am fearfully and wonderfully made." — Psalm cxxxix. 14. 30 god's image. For, how can sinner's filmed eye The glories of that speech descry? How can the soil'd and earth-bound soul Itself release from blind control, And thus, from Passion nobly free, Hail the crown'd work of Deity, — Perfection in the dust began,1 God's " image" in the soul of man ? Alas ! the words beyond us soar ; Dead paradise revives no more ; For in the soil where thorns abound God's curse still preaches from the ground,2 And Labour, with its sunken brow Of weariness, fulfils it now ; And in the soul, lo ! all is sin ; Darkness and death prevail within, Where Self is like a Satan throned, A hell preferr'd, and God disown'd ! God's " image," is it seen below In this sad world of blight and woe ? Where can we view its peerless grace, And look upon that perfect face That lightens up with Deity, Where Angels their own likeness see, And transcripts of such glory shine, That they reflect the looks Divine ? (1) " The Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground." — Gen. ii. 7. (2) " Cursed is the ground for thy sake : Thorns, also, and thistles, shall it bring forth to thee : in the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread." — Gen. iii. 17, 18, 19. GOD'S i:\IAGE. 31 In priest, or poet, saint, or sage, In parted years, or present age ? Go! search mankind from pole to pole, The Archives of the past unroll, Consult the chart of history, Or catch the glow of orat'ry, Select, combine, and concentrate The models of our Good and Great, The paramounts of man and mind, The Lords and Lights of human kind, And then we challenge each and all To make God's " imase," since the fall ! In human light a darkness lies ; All human love a hate supplies ; Our human wisdom folly stains ; O'er human strength a weakness reigns ; To human virtue baseness clings ; And Glory mounts on sullied wings ; Love, Truth and Wisdom, Virtue, all Our wav'ring creeds perfection call, — What are they, in God's balance weigh'd, But sin, by gilded self array'd? Thus Imperfection mars and maims What Nature for her noblest claims ; The upas-blight, the poisoning breath Of inward guilt and moral death, Lurks in the vitals of whate'er Men laurel as the bright and fair. 32 god's image. God's image, then, oh! where on earth Can Faith behold its beauteous worth? Where can we sun our hearts awhile In virtues which no stains defile? Thou Third in Godhead ! Holy Ghost, The Christian's life, the Church's boast, Thou Helper of the heart's distress, And Cheerer of our weariness, The inward Sun of heaven-born souls, Who all their prayer and praise controls, To Thee, true Paraclete! we owe The all of God that lives below; What broken fragments yet may shine Of that whole " Image " once Divine. There is a sacramental birth, A promise of baptismal worth, A life from heaven to earth sent down, A jewel dropt from Jesu's crown, A power that with celestial art Can renovate the ruin'd heart ; Unheard, unseen, unscann'd, unknown,1 This wonder-work is all Thine own ; The power is felt, tis born of Thee, — But who, dread Spirit! grace can see? But, let God's image be restored, Let guilt be wash'd, and sin deplored, (1) " Marvel not . . . the wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, or whither it goeth : so is every one that is born of the Spirit." — John iii. 7, 8. THE DYING GIRL, 33 And saintly virtues, meek and mild, Will shadow forth God's chosen child ; Without, within, by Faith and Prayer Will breathe that supernat'ral air, That shows the world what Christ hath done, The trophies which the Cross hath won By winning back what Adam lost, For such a soul, at such a cost! But oh, blest Lord ! if men would see The perfect type of Deity, Then, from the Church's child of grace We turn, to look on Thy sad face, 0 Man of Sorrows! Son of God ! As o'er the world Thy way was trod, Each living impress of Thy love To man below shows God above, While in Thy doctrine, death, and tears, Jehovah in our flesh appears.1 THE DYING GIRL. [Inscribed to Philip Rose, Esa. the Founder of the Hospital for Consumption.] " Her sun is gone down while it was yet day." — Jer. xv. 9. CONSUMPTION. A beauty clothes her hectic cheek, A radiance fills that sunken eye, But when her mellow'd accents speak They make the sadden'd hearer sigh ; (1) " Great is the mystery of Godliness, God was manifest in the flesh." — 1 Tim. iii. 16. D 34 THE DYING GIRL. For softer sink they in their cadence far Than Autumn's dying tone, beneath some mournful star. They bore her to that healthful Isle Whose rocks of terraced verdure rise And catch the Morn's celestial smile, Responsive to the greeting skies ; And vainly prophesied, the island-breeze Would freshen her white cheek, and waft away disease. But there she sicken'd, day by day, In shrinking paleness, like a flower, Yet from her glance there shined a ray Of almost supernat'ral power ; With such clear brightness did her eyeballs roll, That through them Fancy saw the lustre of the soul ! For mother too, and far-off home, Her plaintive heart in secret cried, And backward long'd her soul to roam, Since in the churchyard, side by side Under the green turf, where loved sisters lay, She would her dust might wait the awful Judgment-day. And they behold her once again In her own room, with placid brow ; So pale, you see each azure vein Meander through her beauty now : Yet, like a pulse of rosy light at even, Oft to her faded cheek a crimson flush is given. Seldom she sighs, but veils within Much that would grieve fond Love to know, And when some pensive tears begin She tries to check their overflow ; THE DYING GIRL. 35 Safe in the arms of Jesu rests her soul, Nor does the early grave with gloom the mind control. Not for herself, but for the heart Of love parental, she could weep ; And often in her dreams will start, And make some watching gazer weep, As faintly through her lips there steals a word, — And, " Oh ! my mother dear ! " is like low music heard. She dies, — as Beauty ever dies When sad Consumption finds a tomb ; With brilliance in her deep-set eyes, And on her face a healthless bloom ; — No harsh transition, but a soft decay, Like dream-born tones of night, that melt by dawn away. And now, the dying scenes advance Nearer and nearer to the goal, For death-gleams in that deepen'd glance Betrav the egress of the soul ; Solemn she is, but no complaining sigh Breaks from a burden'd heart, to think her youth must die. They wheel her round each garden-walk Where oft her lisping childhood play'd, And loved to hear the old nurse talk, And soothe her when she seem'd afraid, While danced her ringlets as she prattled on, More playful than the birds she loved to gaze upon. 36 THE DYING GIRL. She looks, as they alone, who feel The last of earth before them lies, While o'er them soften'd mem'ries steal Which melt the heart into the eyes, — For, tree and turret, woods and uplands, all Back to the dying girl her childish past recall ! Dream -like the hush of twilight floats, Veiling the lilac bowers around ; While in the air melodious notes Of soft dejection sweetly sound. The Landscape, like a conscious mourner, seems To lie in brooding shade, and sadden as it dreams. Now, to her chamber back return'd, Before the casement calm reclined, Just as the broad horizon burn'd With the last blush Day left behind, — Her eye was center'd on the dying Sun, Fading like feeble youth, before life's course is run. Hush'd is the breezeless air, and deep The awe around each mourner stealing ; Bend o'er her form, but do not weep, — Death is too grand for outward feeling ! As sinks the sun beneath yon golden sea, So ebbs her spirit back to God's eternity.1 (1) " Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was, and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it." — Eccles. xii. 7. THE DYING GIRL. 37 Part II. THE HOSPITAL. She dies, as countless martyrs die Beneath the blast of that Disease,1 That summons to th' immortal sky All asres for their blest release ; Not for the dead, but for the living mourn, [lorn. And childless mothers' hearts, and homes bereaved and But oh ! unlike that beauteous maid Who died in mercy, truth, and prayer, Millions expire on damp stones laid With none to watch them wither there, — Creedless and hopeless, fever'd, sad, and lone, Their life an anguish seems, their death a muffled groan ! Compassion ! 'tis for such we plead ; Open thine hand, protect the poor, And Christ, who soothed Creation's need, Shall bless thy basket and thy store ; (1) The sad eloquence of the following statistics will commend itself to every feeling heart: — Of the 60,000 deaths which occur every year in Eng- land and Wales, from slow and lingering diseases, about 36,000 are probably due to Pulmonary Consumption. One-ninth, therefore, of the total mortality at all ages, and more than one-fifth of the mortality of adults, is due to this cause ! and as the duration of the disease, taking one case with another, is about two years, it follows that about 72,000 persons are constantly suffering from Consumption, being at the rate of four persons in every thousand of all ages, and eight in every thousand adults ! Again, of the 45,000 deaths occurring every year in the metropolis, about 5,600, or one-eighth of the total mortality of the metropolis at all ages, and little less than one-fifth of the mortality of adults, arises from this fatal disease; and upwards of 11,000 persons, being about one in 170 of the entire population of the metropolis, and more than one per cent, of the adults, are constantly wasting away under the attacks of this lingering malady. 38 THE DYING GIRL. Counting all mercies to the orphan shown, As done unto Himself, when Earth beholds His Throne.1 And Thou, on Whom Disease and Health Alike for stay and hope depend, A godlike heart bestow on Wealth, And let the strong the weak defend ; Till Charity a second Christ appear And leave the glow of heaven on this benighted sphere. Guard then, O Lord ! that sacred pile Whose walls o'ershade the sick and poor, For there, Thine own benignant smile Appears to gild each opening door ; And where the pale ones in Consumption lie [eye! Float o'er each couch soft gleams of Thine o'erwatching Palace of love, and shrine of prayer !2 Religion, Science, Charity, Alike thy noble work declare, And constitute that hallow'd Three Where Man and Mercy can prepare to meet Him that shall call them blest, before the Judgment-seat. The Saviour in the poor man lives Reflected through his pain and grief ; And he who to the wretched gives, To Christ himself imparts relief.3 (1) " Inasmuch as ye have doneitunto one of the least of thesemy brethren, ye have done it unto me." — Matt. xxv. 40. (2) The Committee Meetings in the Hospital for Consumption are opened by a form of prayer, and a chaplain is in regular attendance on the patients. (3) " I was a stranger, and ye took me in : naked, and ye clothed me : I was sick, and ye visited me." — Matt. xxv. 35, 36. THE DYING GIRL. 39 Temple of Hope ! we hail thy hallow'd walls, Where true compassion works what God on earth recalls. And Faith from out this calm disease May waft to heaven its holy breath, Ere the last sigh hath brought release, And smile away the gloom of death ; For wan Consumption lets the spirit pray, And leaves the mind to act amid serene decay. When fever-throbs of fiery pain Beat through the blood with burning start, How can sublime Religion gain A sainted hold upon the heart ? To human sense, a ruin man appears All blacken'd with despair, and blind with hideous fears. But, Mercy, thou canst cheer the bed Where gradual weakness gently dies, As o'er the life past Sin hath led Repentance heaves accepted sighs ; And that which careless Health had never taught, Some gracious Sickness oft to erring souls has brought. And, Lord, this blissful hope we nurse, That many a wild and wand'ring soul, Who reap'd in crime Thy dooming curse, And heard its coming thunders roll. Here in this guardian home of peace and love May shed the precious tears glad Angels greet above.1 (1) " There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth." — Luke xv. 10. 40 SOCIAL, AND YET ALONE. " It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help meet for him."— Gen. ii. 18. " It is not good for man to be alone," Thus spake the Godhead from his viewless Throne ; And yet, if ever Soul might be In solitude divinely free, 'Twas when emotion through the young Earth ran, As the first sunbeam fell on perfect man. Though all without was beautiful and bright, And grace within made intellectual light, While sinless heart and loyal will Harmoniously did each fulfil The Law of Love, by Wisdom round them thrown, — It seem'd not good that man should be alone. It is not good ! for That most awful Three Whose name is Love, whose shrine, Eternity, In plural bliss for aye commune ;l Their Godhead is a blest Triune, — Eternal One in Three, and Three in One, Unfathom'd, Infinite, and Unbegun ! But erring, sinful, branded as we are, How little each another's heart can share ! How much within us, none can know ; What feelings words might blush to show (1) "There are Three that bear record in heaven .... and these Three are One." — 1 John v. 7. SOCIAL, AND YET ALONE. 41 E'en to the fondest Eye that ever gazed Under the shroud confiding Friendship raised ! And, there be tones of individual heart We cannot, if we would, by breath impart, — So deep, so delicate they glide Under the soul's mysterious tide ; Blent with those shifting thoughts that form and die, Too faint for words, too subtle for a sigh. And who has not, in those ideal hours When Nature marshals the majestic powers That mountain, sky and ocean yield, Tempests awake, or torrents wield, — Within him felt what speech has not convey'd, And soft tears only to the sense display'd ? Or, when a sun-burst of entrancing good Gladdens our being into gratitude, And thoughts emotionally bright Leap in the heart like waves of light, — How have our quiv'ring lips refused to speak What flush'd its meaning through our raptured cheek ! And often too, when Sorrow's milder gloom Shades the still bosom into Mem'ry's tomb, When buried friends of boyish days Deep yearnings in the spirit raise, How vain the effort to unwind the zone That girds the heart, and keeps it all alone ! And then, Religion ! — who can half unfold The spells divine thy deeper graces hold ? 42 SOCIAL, AND YET ALONE. Before the Conscience lies a screen That hides from human words, I ween, Those loving secrets and those solemn fears Which God interprets through our Spirits' tears. And thus, a sense there is, in which alone We must be, — for the Soul cannot be shown ; And hence, all life is loneliness ; Our highest moods are echoeless ; Single we live, in solitude we die, For each Heart only can itself descry. But still, what self-born dangers e'er infest The man, who cloisters in monastic breast Feelings and thoughts, which God intends As links of love, to fasten friends In that sweet bond of amity and love Form'd by the angels when they sing above ! Sternly alone, forbid us, Lord ! to be, Warm our chill minds, and centre them on Thee ; Bought by one price, Thy precious blood ! And in Thy Church, a Brotherhood, With Thine Elected may we ever meet In mystic oneness at Thy Mercy-seat. For what though morbid Sentiment may dream That nought so like a bosom'd heaven can seem, That man himself from man should hide, And soul by soul be undescried, — The heart collapses into coldness, when We nurse no feeling for our fellow-men. THE GREAT UNTRUTH. 43 Social in essence is the christian God, Social in life, the scene our Saviour trod ; And selfish chains contract the mind That should encircle human kind, And thus reflect Him, from Whose boundless throne Shines the dread Glory that is not alone.1 THE GREAT UXTRUTH. " Ye shall not surely die." — Gen. iii. 4. " Ye shall not surely die !" Dark speech ! that dared defy The God of Glory, Who created man, And, save yon mystic tree, Heaven's garden left him free, Where rich the streams of primal music ran.2 A love was in that Law Beyond what Reason saw, Whereby obedience would have hallow'd bliss ; It typed a truth divine, — That man, oh God ! was Thine, And should have learnt it by a law like this. A ruin'd Angel came ; Yet not on wings of flame, (1) The Word was with God, and the Word was God .... The only-be- gotten Son. which is in the bosom of the Father, He hath declared Him." — John i. 1. 18. (2) "A river went out of Eden to water the garden." — Gen. ii. 10. 44 THE GREAT UNTRUTH. With lustres wreath'd around his kingly brow ; But, in a serpent form Conceal'd his venom'd charm, And poison'd man to what we see him now ! Oh ! deep as dread the spell The Arch-fiend wove so well, And whisper'd treason1 unto creatures fair, Who, pure from guilt and guile, Beneath God's holy smile Bright Priest and Priestess of creation were. Tremendous was their fall ! And dark the fiendish thrall Which so encompass'd with corrupting power Both soul and body then ; That on the race of men Came Death, — the penance of that dooming hour ! And doth the Tempter cease ? Hath Earth obtain'd release From what the blighted seraph can employ, To stain our yielded soul, And by his bad control Heaven's dawning light within us to destroy ? The huge world answers, No ! For still he reigns below, And syllables in spirit o'er again The magic of that word Primeval woman heard, " Ye shall not die," — repeats th' infernal strain ! (1) " The serpent was more subtle than any beast of the field .... and he said unto the woman, Yea, hath God said?" — Gp.ii. iii. 1. THE GREAT UNTRUTH. 45 " Ye shall not surely die ! " Men listen to the Lie That so enchants them to the serpent's doom, For Passion, Pride, and Will To God act treason still, Nor heed what thunders roll beyond the tomb ! 0 ! Virtue, Love, and Truth, Array'd in vernal youth With Life before ye, like a long romance, Why not to Grace retreat, That from the Mercy-seat Lifts o'er your perill'd ways its watching glance ? Believe that sin is death, That poison taints its breath, Nor ever by the grave-stone thoughtless be ; For Sepulchres can preach, And pallid Conscience reach With sermons on sin-hating Deity. Unweave that serpent-lie " Ye shall not surely die, " Spirit of Grace ! within these hearts of ours ; And by Truth's cheering ray Disperse sad doubts away, And seal with holiness * men's ransom'd powers. And thus, though tombs remain, And still the loathed chain (1) " Ye were sealed with that Holy Spirit of promise." — Eph. i. 13. 46 THE WEEPING CHRIST. Of sin and sorrow binds us to the earth; When once the fight is o'er Like Jesu we shall soar To share the kingdom of the second birth. THE WEEPING CHRIST. " Jesus wept." — John xi. 35. There is a mute but mighty voice in tears, — Words of the eyes that passionately weep A liquid eloquence, which Pity hears Gush from the heart's unfathomable deep. Whether soft teardrops, like a starry dew, Bedim the eyeballs of some beauteous child, Till the soul glistens through their heaven of blue Mournfully bright, or exquisitely wild ; Or, drawn from depths where burning silence glows, From passion-fountains, or from feeling soul, E'en like a heart-rain, oft her grief o'erflows, And down pale woman's cheek the rich tears roll ; Or, if in shaded walk, or crowded street, Some iron visage where cold harshness dwells, Melted and mild, in tears we chance to meet, How are we touch'd bv all that contrast tells ! Yet Painting, Poetry, nor Pathos can Touch the pure mind with such majestic pain, As when from eyelids of the Son of Man Roll'd human tears, untinged by human stain ! THE WEEPING CHRIST. 47 Yet with that pain a blissful feeling blends, Born of this thought, — our Lord beside the grave, True to our nature, was sublime of Friends, And sympathized with those He came to save. Heart of the Church ! as Christ is Head alone, Come with Thy clemency of grace, and teach What lessons here for minds of heavenly tone A weeping Saviour may to Conscience preach. Awfully veil'd a God in flesh appears ! But, Faith is challenged to a deeper awe When she beholds Him with subduing tears Hallow the scene delighted Angels saw, When at the rocky tomb where Laz'rus slept A plaintive group before the entrance stood, While in the midst a more than Saviour wept Such tears as only God incarnate could ! — Yet, when we ponder on Thy Person, Lord ! A gulph of fearful purity there lies Between Thine awfulness of work and word, And all frail wisdom like our own can prize. 1 Pure as primeval glory was Thy heart, It never parley'd with one base desire ; Not more immaculate, oh God ! Thou art, Than was Thine Image, whom blest worlds1 admire. But still may Rev'rence from Messiah's tears Extract Religion, and a union find 'Tween Christ and Church, that lulls alarming fears, And proves Him Elder Brother of mankind. (1) " His Son, by whom also He made the worlds." — Heb. i. 2. 48 THE WEEPING CHRIST. Thrice did the blandness of the Saviour melt His heart's deep mercy into drops of woe ; As God, though passionless, — as Man, he felt A dreader anguish than the saints can know. In the sad garden, while disciples slept Crimson'd with blood-drops, Earth's lone Martyr cried ; And o'er " Jerusalem" divinely wept And yearn'd for Her who oft Himself denied : Her doom was pictured to His mental gaze, The crash of tower and crumbling wall resounds, Fiercely the wing of Roman eagle plays And banner'd Vict'ry sweeps her broken mounds ! — But to the grave-scene, turn thee, mortal, now : Where Jesu wept, true hearts will often be ; And while we gaze upon His awful brow Come, Holy Ghost ! and let us learn from Thee That no immunities divine remove Incarnate Mercy from our common doom ; Down to our tears, descends His mortal love With eyes that moisten'd to behold a tomb ! Why did He weep ? Oh, there be depths, perchance, Of sacred darkness, too sublime for man Ever to fathom with his finite glance, — Deeper than Angels in their pureness can ! On tombless Paradise, He might have thought Of Adam's glory, when from God he came, Of Sin, with all its deathful ruin fraught When the dark Serpent into Eden came; THE WEEPING CHRIST. 49 Of unbelief, — which not the risen dead From stubborn hearts would even now dispel, Of all celestial Love had done, or said To awe the sinner from despair and hell : Or, may Suggestion, with a sacred awe, Dream that He wept the cited dead should come Forth from those glories which the spirit saw In the bright region of its boundless home ? If to this lovely creed the heart might cling, Then, oh, pale weeper ! for the loved and gone, Ne'er wilt thou yearn once more on earth to bring Back to life's gloom, some dead, but glorious one. Emanuel wept ! — enough this truth to know, Lord of our spirit, let Thy tear-drops fall Full on these hearts, till Faith's responsive glow Warm the cold breast to cry, My " All in All !" Religion, Friendship, Feeling, Love, and Truth, All in Thy tears a consecration find To soothe worn age, or sanctify wild youth, And haunt the temple of each tender mind. And when bereaved ones o'er the coffin bend To hear the earth-clod with an echoing heart, Saviour, who wept for Thine unrisen friend, Breathe o'er their souls the sympathy Thou art ! E 50 VANITY OF ALL CREATED GOOD. Vanity of vanities, saith the preacher, vanity of vanities, all is vanity." — Eccles. i. 2. " The creature was made subject to vanity." — Rom. viii. 20. " Arise and depart, for this is not your rest." — Micah ii. 10. There is no rest for man below, Soil'd earth is not our home; The sigh must heave, the tear must flow, Howe'er for bliss we roam. The hollowness of human things, The wear of fev'rish thought, Each to the heart a shadow brings, From tombs of Mem'ry bought. A broken cistern ev'rywhere Proves nature's purest joy, — Though fresh the draught imagined here, How soon we taste alloy! Yet still, prophetic youth believes Bright Edens here abound ; And fairy Hope fond visions weaves, As o'er enchanted ground. But soon dark years instruction bring, And teach the lesson grave, That over earth's most radiant thing The cypress-banners wave. The burden and the mystery Of life will soon be felt, As truths beyond cold sense to see, Will through our being melt : VANITY OF ALL CREATED GOOD. 51 Upon thee, like an inward weight Eternity will lie, And Conscience bow beneath the freight Of thoughts that never die. The Poet's wreath, the Warrior's plume, And Hero's envied bays, They cannot hide the haunting tomb, Nor lengthen out their days. The canker worm of coming Death Begnaws the core of all Blithe youth, with its impassion'd breath, Would fain perfection call. And yet 'tis hard, when vernal Health Glows brightly on the cheek, When Learning, Beauty, Wit, and Wealth Their wonted homage seek; When Life a lovely poem seems, Whose ev'ry line appears Descriptive of those sunny dreams That dazzle future years, — 'Tis hard to think of grave and gloom, In such glad hour as this, And pile, in thought, the distant tomb That shall contain our bliss ! But oh, believer young and bright, With heart and hope awake, Come hither! and with soul aright Truth's sober lesson take. 52 VANITY OF ALL CREATED GOOD. Were this vast world, with all its joy, Its glories, crowns, and charms, Secured from change and sad alloy, At once within thine arms, E'en then thy heart would hunger still, And oft in secret pine ; — The universe would fain to fill A spirit vast as thine. Christ, or Despair! l — behold thy fate To that sole choice is bound ; And blest are they, who not too late The first, through God, have found. For such will learn to look on all Bewilder'd passions love, As Sin and Satan's blinding thrall To keep us from above. Though, not that men should proudly scorn This earth of tears and smiles, Doth Wisdom teach the soul, re-born, To guard against its wiles ; Yet, knowing how the fitful Mind Doth earthward ever tend, It would those fatal spells unwind That shroud our latter end. But oh! that Book which thus reveals Life's baseless dreams below, And on the heaven false worldlings feel, Writes words of death and woe, — (1) " Neither is there salvation in any other."— Acts iv. 12. VANITY OF ALL CREATED GOOD. 53 Say, is it not the page profound That opens realms divine, And, where no pangs nor pains abound Cries, " Christian! they are thine?' Then bids thee, eagle-like, to soar Right upward for the sun, And not for this base world deplore Where Peace is never won ? The mock eternity that cheats The slave of earth and sin, Whose heart with high rebellion beats Against the law within, No longer now the soul decoys ; But this vain life appears, When rent from God, a round of joys That close in bitter tears. Our home is yonder pangless clime Where saints and martyrs meet, And with this choral-burst sublime Anthem the Mercy- Seat, " Worthy the Lamb ! for sinners slain, Who once the wine-press trod,1 Eternity shall be His reign, Who ransom'd men for God! " (1) "I have trodden the wine-press alone ; and of the people there was none with me," — Isaiah lxiii. 3. 54 THE VOICE OP GOD IN THE COOL OF THE DAY. " They heard the Voice of the Lord God walking in the garden, in the cool of the day." — Gen. iii. 8. How soothing, when the noise of day is o'er And fever'd heart-cares grow more calm and cool, To wind the bay of some receding shore, And bathe our spirit in the beautiful ! Creation is no mute unconscious mass Of pregnant matter, into being plann'd, For when behind the outer-veil we pass, Faith hears it speaking of Emanuel's hand.1 The blood- priced Earth's a sacrament of Him Whose regal glories make man's All in All, Under Whose Throne both saints and seraphim, Inflamed with burning adoration, fall. There was a time when Eve and Adam heard His voice almighty through soft twilight roll, And, like glad waters by deep music stirr'd, They felt it echoed by responsive soul. But when dark treason like a hell-cloud rose And Guilt between them and His glory came, The full warm current of affection froze, And each heart shudder'd at Jehovah's name! (1) " When He prepared the heavens, I was there .... when He appointed the foundations of the earth." — Prov. viii. 27, 29. " All things were made by Him." — John i. 3. THE VOICE OF GOD IN THE COOL OF THE DAY. 55 " I heard Thy voice, and hid myself afraid, For naked horrors seared the inward eye, And while my ruin'd soul was thus display'd The ground beneath me mutter'd, ■ Thou shalt die ! '"- Oh ! dread confession of our fallen doom, That men are exiles from their God, afar, That souls are pall'd with atheistic gloom, And, but for grace, would perish as they are. For e'en as Adam shrunk behind a tree, And paled with cowardice to look on God, Do christless hearts the Holy Presence flee, And tread the path the first transgressor trod. But, Lord of Heaven ! when Thy relenting hand The ruin'd soul hath reconciled with blood, And Thy blest Will, by holiness preferr'd, Becomes at once our glory and our good, Then, unlike Adam, by dark guilt appall'd, We shrink no longer from the Voice Divine, But love to hear it in our hearts recall'd, And see creation l with redemption shine. The challenge dread, " Where art thou ? " booms no more, But, " Here are we," anticipates the cry ; For Sinai's thunders hush their penal roar, And sound as gently as the Saviour's sigh. (1) " The creature itself, also, shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption." — Rom. viii. 21. 56 THE VOICE OF GOD IN THE COOL OF THE DAY. Where shall we hie to hear that mystic tone? To halls of Splendour, or to homes of Sin? Not there, my brother, can The Voice be known Whose breath is music heard from God within! But if thine ear be tender, clear, and true, And sensual clay no longer clog the mind, Then may thy soul His hidden glory view And hear Christ syllabled by wave, and wind. Whether, if cherub Morn her wings unfold And drops of balm each glade and glen array, — Thou lov'st to mark the orient mists uproll'd, And his bright eyelids ope the Lord of day ; Or, on the marble sea at noon entranced In breezeless glory rock'd to living rest, From some lone cliff thy pensive eye has glanced, Till ocean's calm lay mirror'd in thy breast ; Or, softly mused at sunset, sad and pale, By pebbled shore where plaintive waters meet, Till gradual twilight dropt her dewy veil And dark the seaweed slumber'd. at thy feet, — Alike in all a saintly mind can hear Some tone celestial, like a spirit glide, And hint to Nature that her God is near And all her secrets by His hand supplied. And thus, dear Lord ! in what we do or dare Be Thy meek virtues our most glorious choice ; On sea and mountain may we lift our prayer, And hear creation echoed with Thy Voice. god's curse upon the ground. In the cool evening of life's calm decay Soft o'er the soul may lulling whispers fall, And Wisdom teach our filial hearts to pray — " Father in Heaven ! for home prepare us all." GOD'S CURSE UPON THE GROUND. " Cursed is the ground for thy sake .... Thorns, also, and thistles, shall it bring forth to thee." — Gen. iii. 17, 18. Though sumless mercies teem around In ocean, earth, and air, Mysterious vengeance haunts the ground, — A curse is cleaving there ! The thorn that mars our blighted fields, The thistle that appears, Each to our soul a lesson yields That weakens thoughtful fears. And add to this, the weariness On Manhood's sunken brow, The burden and the bitterness Which darken labour now, Together with the barren soil That gives a stern reply, To hearts that tend and hands which toil Beneath a threatful sky, — These unrelenting symbols tell, O'er this sad World of ours The frownings of Jehovah fell, And blighted all her bowers. 58 god's curse upon the ground. Unbeautified and bare they seem Her landscapes, scenes, and all Which once surpass'd the Muse's dream, Which men Elysium call. The curse of Sin's avenging God Hath sear'd the blasted earth, And glooms of His judicial rod Hang o'er us from our birth : Yet, with the curse there was inweaved A mystery of love, And angels o'er the past who grieved, Sang hvmns of awe above To see while Godhead in His wrath The gates of Eden closed, Calm o'er the exiled sinner's path A ray of Christ reposed I1 — Light in our darkness yet remains, Flowers bloom among our weeds, And Grace unbinds the loathed chains With which tried nature bleeds. And Thou art branded, fiendish One ! Who tempted man to sin, A hell in hell2 thy crime hath won, To blast despair within. (1) " It shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel." — Gen. iii. 15. (2) " Art thou come hither to torment us before the time ? " (Matt. viii. 29 ;) compared with, " The devils, also, believe and tremble." — James ii. \\). god's curse upon the ground. 59 And ye, the guilty heirs of dust Who fain from earth would fly,1 Stand, and be doom'd, ye must, — Can God Himself deny? But good shall out of evil spring, And love with judgment blend, For round the curse God's ransom'd sing, " Our Father! and our Friend ! " And though pale mothers here may read Of birth-pangs and their woes,2 Yet is not Christ the woman's seed, "Whom earth to mother owes ? And if round spousal love there winds A thorny wreath of care, Myriads of married hearts and minds Prove wedlock pure and fair : Men are not tyrants, though they rule,3 If Christian lords they be, And women by subjection school Their love for liberty. And never be this truth forgot, That wedlock is a sign, The Church endures no widow'd lot, Her Husband is divine ! (1) "Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God."— Gen. iii. 8. (2) " In sorrow thou shalt bring forth children." — Gen. iii. 16. (3) " Thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee." — Gen. iii. 16. 60 god's curse upon the ground. And though cold Earth reluctant now Brings forth her fruits and flowers, While sweating anguish damps the brow By work and wearied hours, Yet in that toil emotions lurk To keep the heart awake ; — Where is our wisdom, if no work Our laggard dreams can break? And from the soil we plough and turn With Labour's ceaseless hand, Religion may her Bible learn, And think of God's command ! Spontaneous, if kind earth should bear The harvest which we need, How dull the praise, how dead the prayer That with our God would plead ! Nor be forgot, what heaven-strung Lyres Of that Millennium sings, Which every sainted bard inspires, And strikes his noblest strings. Thus though the sentence, u Dust thou art," And low in dust shalt be, Booms like a knell within the heart When wrung by Memory, — Yet may the trump of Easter sound O'er each sepulchral sod, " Awake ! thou sleeper, from the ground, And gaze upon thy God ! " 61 WEEP NOT FOR THE DEAD. 1 Weep not for the dead, neither bemoan him." — Jer. xxii. 10. " Absent from the body, — present with the Lord." — 2 Cor. v. 8. Oh, weep not for the holy dead Embosom'd in their God, But rather that high pathway tread Their sainted virtues trod : Their home is now the tearless clime Where sins nor sorrows reign, And all the pure they lost in time True hearts embrace again. The Lord who came our souls to save Dead Laz'rus did not mourn, But His sublime compassion gave To sisters left forlorn. It must be so ; for ponder well, When God's award is given, Love cannot rescue Vice from hell Nor pity saints in heaven. 'Tis true, as thoughtful years advance We muse with saclden'd mind, When Mem'ry throws a tearful glance- On scenes long left behind ! Where be they gone, the brave and dear, The brightest of the throng, Who gladden'd Home's delighted sphere With sunshine and with song ? 62 WEEP NOT FOR THE DEAD. Whither have fled the Forms well known. O'er whom affection hung, And where the laugh, whose feeling tone Like our fond echo rung? All, all have glided from our view, As though such ne'er had been ; And nothing but the heart's deep hue Retains what they have been. 'Twere vain to tell us not to weep, When Mem'ry opes that tomb Where buried joys in darkness sleep, That fill'd young life with bloom. For often in some bleak distress The Dead upon us rise, As though they knew our loneliness, And echo'd back our sighs. 'Tis then the heart-dew riseth fast, And moisten'd eye-beams tell Our Souls are with the solemn past, And feel its mighty spell ! Then weep we may, and often must, Yet not for those no more ; But rather for the living dust That would the Dead restore. Yea, let our throbbing bosoms weep, To think what pangs we gave To friends above whose dreamless sleep Funereal banners wave. WEEP NOT FOR THE DEAD. 60 How often might some healing word, Or tone of kindness spoken, Down to the depths of solace stirr'd A heart that was half broken ! Not seldom, when dejection bow'd A spirit o'er-refined, Mi^ht Love's clear rainbow in the cloud With heaven's own hue have shined : The living are indeed the dead In hope, and peace, and prayer, When thus they mourn for hearts that bled Beneath unecho'd care. part 11. But ye, the bright and blissful choir Who wreathe the Saviour's throne, Eternity hath strung your lyre, And Glory gives the tone ! We mourn ye not, we mourn ye not, Who crowd the halls of heaven, For yours is now the pangless lot, The smile of saints forgiven. Through shades of wintry loneliness While here our pathways wind, As orphans in the soul's distress, We seek some answ'ring mind, Yet proves it like some balmy dream From heaven just floating down, When round our yearning fancies beam The lustres of your crown ! 64 WEEP NOT FOR THE DEAD. On this bad earth, like us, ye knew The with'ring curse of sin, Or shudder'd o'er some hideous view Of dawning hell within. Those winged thoughts that bravely soar'd Beyond the realms of time, Those deepest prayers that once adored The King of Kings sublime, What were they, in their rapt delight Outsoaring all we feel, — But bird-wings broken in their flight, When storm -blasts round them wheel? Upward and upward did they rise From earth's pollution free, Those Eagles of The Lord, whose eyes Glow'd with eternity! But oh, at best they did but scan Far off that Living Sun, By whose rich glory rescued man From darkness hath been won. But now, the coil of earth removed, No sins their conscience stain ; We call them dead, — but Their Beloved Becomes a deathless gain.1 They sun their souls in living rays, His Form of Glory darts, While swells of superhuman praise Heave from their burning hearts. (I) " To live is Christ, and to die is gain." THE RELIGION OF SOLITUDE. 65 Thus, who would call them back to earth These holy dead, on high ? No ! rather let their peerless worth Attract us to the sky. Their task is o'er, their toil is done, Embower'd in bliss they dwell, And would we wear the crown they won ? — Then, let us fight l as well ! Far better thus than mourn the dead By selfish grief inspired, Their path to glory may we tread, By pure example fired : So shall we reach our home at last, "What e'er the wilds we trod, And find the dead from earth who pass'd TV ere still our friends in God. THE RELIGION OF SOLITUDE. "Surely the Lord is in this place, and I knew it not ! . . . . this is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven." — Gen. xxviii. 16, 17. Lone Kature is no loneliness to me, Her solitude makes my society, For there I listen to a voice that seems Like heaven-tones heard by prophets in their dreams. (1) "I have fought a good fight .... Henceforth there is laid up for me a Crown."— 2 Tim. iv. 7, 8. F 66 THE RELIGION OF SOLITUDE. Serenely awful o'er my tranced soul I hear the music of th' Almighty roll, And each deep cadence doth appear to tell, — " My Hand o'ershades thee, though invisible ! n So have I felt in regions wild and lone Where Nature loves to rear her rocky throne, Where nought intrudes to mar the tranquil mind, And nothing murmurs but the mountain-wind, Or, happy brooks that down the hillocks play And sing, like birds in sunbeams far away, Or, glancing bees that o'er the wood-born flowers Whirl their gay dance, and hum away the hours. Yet, perfect solitude there cannot be, Since all around us acts divinity ; What space to body, so is God to soul, Who all created, and Who contains the whole. The hush of nature may be holy calm Breathed by blest Angels, when they spread the balm Of beauteous quiet o'er the heart of things, And veil the landscape with their viewless wings. When wearied Jacob, pillow'd on the stone, Slumber'd at dewy night, he seem'd alone ; What Sense beheld, no sacred token found That Haran's desert was a haunted ground. But when a dream -power purified his glance, His eye unseal'd, survey'd in wondrous trance Angels ascending and descending there, And when he woke — he trembled into prayer I1 ( I) " He was afraid, and said, How dreadful is this place ! " — Gen. xxviii. \7 . THE FIRST EXILES. 67 And so, round us may guardian Spirits move To ply unseen soft ministries of love, While we walk careless o'er the greenwood sod, Nor hallow nature as instinct with God. Then read creation with religious eye If God and angels thou wouldst there descry ; To such alone the Patriarch's dream is given, — A mystic ladder linking earth with heaven. THE FIRST EXILES. " The Lord God sent him forth from the garden of Eden." — Gen. iii. 23. Though earth abounds with choral streams, And sunny Gladness smiles and gleams O'er forest glade and woodland flower, Yet Man has lost his fairest bower ! With arching glory bright and blue, Though heaven attract the minstrel's view, And bird and breeze, upon the wing, Their lyric strains in concert sing, Yet, may each pure poetic spot Where grief and guilt are most forgot, Faint shadows of our exile feel Around it, like remembrance, steal. It is not that the weed and thorn In frowning wilds of gloom forlorn Do interpose their umbrage bleak, And grimly to our conscience speak ; 68 THE FIRST EXILES. It is not that volcanoes bend The lava-mountains till they rend, That lightnings glance, or billows roar Their liquid thunder round the shore ; It is not this, — nor all the signs. The scaring marks, and savage lines, That symbol how God's flaming curse Hath sear'd our Mien universe ; But oh ! there comes an aching thought, A feeling with dejection fraught, An under-tone of discontent With our serenest rapture blent. The whence, and why, we cannot tell, But girt we are with such a spell ; A zone of myst'ry that can bind And oft enclose the calmest mind. Who hath not felt such wordless mood When cloister'd in green solitude, With nothing near, but earth and sky, And none to read him, but God's eye ! And oft, too, when we cease to roam, Amid the heaven of virtuous home, With leisure, books, and wedded love, And peace and pureness from above, E'en then, a craving thirst will rise For more than present bliss supplies; Soft yearnings through the spirit melt, And seek what Soul hath never felt. THE FIRST EXILES. 69 Whence come these moods? we vainly ask " Oh ! why is Life a wearied task, Where unreposing trials speak, The world is sad, and nature weak ? " Is it, because no being can The inward deeps of deathless man With such a rich contentment fill, As leaves the conscience lull'd, and still ? Or, shall we find the felt unrest That haunts the hour most deeply blest, In man's indwelling plague of sin, The poison'd fire that burns within ? Yes, this, and more than we divine, May round these perill'd hearts combine, To darken with mysterious hues Our radiant hours, and richest views. And when we know, that Adam's fall O'er bright creation drew a pall, And over man and nature cast The shadow of a ruin'd Past, Behold ! the myst'ry half unwinds, Why sadness dims some holy minds, And mild dejection inly sighs For brighter scenes and bluer skies. It is because, like exiles we, When roaming on a foreign sea, Each throbbing wave that beats the strand Reminds us of our own dear land ; 70 MODERATION. And thus to realms of gracious thought Are mystic recollections brought Of vanished Eden, and the bowers, Where God and innocence were ours. As exiled ones, a branded race Whom sin and self alike disgrace, Say, ought we not, where'er we roam By faith to see our forfeit home ? And never, oh ! Thou Source of Light, Let this cold earth become too bright ; Lest, world-enamour'd we may grow, And root our hearts in bliss below. Rather on high, ascended Lord ! Lift we our souls on Thy lov'd word ; And through God's Eden yearn to rove That blooms and brightens with Thy Love. MODERATION. " Give me neither poverty nor riches," — Prov. xxx. 8. I will not sigh for vast domains, For festive halls and homes of pleasure, Nor do I seek redundant gains To heap my huge and hoarded treasure ; But this I dare to ask, — a placid mind In ev'ry pulse of thought to heaven resign'd. MODERATION. 71 There is a wealth in calm desires, In chaste content and holy feeling. Beyond their reach whom gold inspires, But madly from themselves are stealing That more than income tranquil hearts possess, Which beat secure in God's almightiness. Extremes are not what man endures Unless by heavenly wisdom guided ; And gain the heart to guilt allures, When once the soul becomes divided Between what God and duty only claim From all baptized into Emanuel's name. Thus riches prove a deadly gift Which oft corrunt each calmer blessing, And to such height the heart uplift That soon it stops from e'er confessing How all we have, and are, or hope to be, Flows from the fountain-grace of Deity. 'Tis sad to think how gilded clay Hath tempted man from God and glory ! And lured him on the broad bad way That Christ reveals in warning story ; l That path whose breadth doth equal Passion's will, And widens ever to increase the ill. But there is wealth for all whose eyes Can hail true charms around them glowing, And more than mines in those supplies Creation's scenes are e'er bestowing, (1) "Wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, nd man}7 there be that go in thereat." — Matt. vii. 13. 72 MODERATION. Would men but meet them with responsive mind And seek pure riches, such as God design'd. Here is an heritage for all, A patrimonial bliss unbounded, Which e'en the orphans of the world may call Their own, by want and woe surrounded : Of nature's glories none but those complain Whose coldness feels their inspiration vain. Then, bless we God for this bright world, Its majesty of forms and motion, For all the beams by Light unfurl'd Which grace the earth, or glad the ocean ; For the mild lisp of each melodious breeze And word-like whisper of those conscious trees ! Nor be forgot the seasons' change In rounds of restless life recurring, Through which the poet's eye can range, And feel his lyric bosom stirring, When oft he views in vestal skies afar The dream-like radiance of some throbbing star. And are there not, apart from gold And Grandeur's sumptuous dwelling, Such mercies as true hearts behold With silent hymns of gladness swelling, — Health, food, and raiment, with the countless stox^e Of blessings, which enwreathe the cottage door ? Bright homes of bliss, and hearths of joy With Love's pure face upon us beaming, And sunny friends, whose smiles destroy Autumnal shades, when Doubt is dreaming ; MODERATION. ] 3 The infant's prattle, and the mother's tone [own ; Whose wedded heart seems throbbing through our Yes, these are more than gold can gain, And often fly the haunts of splendour, Where riches buy but dazzling pain That leaves the selfish heart untender, — Dead to its God, and cold to all who plead When doom'd to lie like Laz'rus in his need. And add to this, the Book Divine, The God in language manifested, Where glory streams from each true line That seems by heaven and earth attested ; Ah ! none are poor who call such volume theirs, And of its promises are heaven-born heirs. And there be sacraments and rites Our holy Church to all presenteth, With peaceful hopes and pure delights To each whose tearful soul repenteth ; Prayers, hymns and chants, and hallelujahs deep Whose choral thunders round the dim aisles sweep. Nor let us with unloving mind Forget what Art and Science granteth, What Music yields to ears refined When harps resound, or woman chanteth ; Pure are such pleasures, innocently loved, By reason sanctioned and by heaven approved Then seek we not for vast domains, For sumptuous halls and homes of pleasure ; He more than royal Croesus gains Who finds in God his gold and treasure : — 74 INFANCY IN HEAVEN. With Him the destitute have boundless store. But, oh, without Him, Wealth itself is poor ! Our noblest wealth is healing grace From out the Spirit's heart descending That leaves in men a living trace Of holy truth, their hearts amending : Here are deep riches, fit for realms divine, Gems of pure gold from God's eternal mine. INFANCY IN HEAVEN. " Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven." — Matt. xix. 14. Thou beauteous morn of sainted rest Breathing like balm along the troubled breast, Now while the sacred chimes are pealing Floats o'er my soul a soften' d feeling, That springeth not from earth alone ; — My heaven-gone babe ! I think of thee, Who in thy young eternity A sabbath first wilt call thine own. But one week since, and thou wert here Tender as Morning's crystal tear, A little flutt'ring shape of life Too frail to bear the breath of strife, — We almost feared on thee to gaze ! While something like prophetic sighs Did from parental hearts arise, When dreaming o'er thine unborn days. INFANCY IN HEAVEN. Calm innocent ! whose helpless charms Lay nestled in thy nurse's arms, We loved to watch each dawning gleam That from thy soul began to beam, And half believed it long'd to smile ; And though unlisp'd thy thought expired Within mysterious depths retired, Thy lip seem'd eloquent the while ! 'Twas beautiful in sleep to view The radiance of a rose-like hue Bloom softly o'er thy rounded cheek, — As though some Angel did bespeak Thy spirit with an unvoiced spell ; Since more than beauty then array'd Thy features, while their flush betray'd What earth-breathed tones can never tell. How often, when no eye could see I breathed a father's prayer o'er thee ! And where thy little cradle stood Besought the Source of heavenly good Thy life to overshade with love ; How did I mark with doating gaze Thy baby wiles and winsome ways, And blest for thee, my God above ! Such wert thou, ere the Will divine, " The first-born, ere it sin, 'tis mine,"1 Roll'd through our hearts its awful cry ! And, softer than aerial sigh To heaven return'd thine infant breath ; (1) u Sanctify unto me all the first-born, it is mine." — Exod. xiii. 2. 76 INFANCY IN HEAVEN. Like a dead lily wert thou laid Ere sin had cast its poison'd shade Around thee, white in lovely death. We wept, as they can weep alone Who first a parent's grief have known ; And felt as though a life-chord broke At spectral dawn when day awoke, And all was breathless in thy room ! Oh ! there the hush of graves did brood, And awful seem'd the solitude That was to wrap thine early tomb. One last, and long, and clinging look Of thy dead face and form I took, And into Mem'ry did receive An image, that shall never leave My soul, while time and truth remain ! Seldom has Death more beauty hid Under a coffin's tiny lid, Than thine, within the churchyard lain. All this thou wast ; but what, and where Thy spirit now, can none declare : For born in sin, baptized and seal'd With grace divine, God bid thee yield Thine innocence to Him on high ; Back, like a heaven-bird to its home, Borne by blest Angels, didst thou roam, And vanish'd to thy genial sky. INFANCY IN HEAVEN. 77 Oh. wond'rous change ! — the purest word By mental wisdom breathed or heard, The brightest dream that can entrance A raptured saint, or martyr's glance, Are all too weak and worthless things E'en to unfold what thou must feel, To whom Heaven's glories now reveal More than the harp of David sings ! A nursling wert thou, wan and weak ; A sigh was all thy soul could speak ; Frailer than new-born lambs that feed When dropp'd upon the sunny mead, — We only trembled, while we gazed, To think that such a cradled form Could weather out life's wasting storm, That must around thy lot be raised. A watch- tick would have been to thee The height of human mystery ; A tone, a sunbeam, or a flower Have all surpass'd thy mental power, And rapt thee in amazement deep ; But now, beyond what saints believe Thy faculties in heaven receive, And neither sin, nor weep ! Yes, in a moment, vast the change That must around thy spirit's range Have circled its divine excess Of all which can the glorious bless ! While o'er thy manumitted soul, 78 INFANCT IN HEAVEN. Transcending all the Church hath known Since Christ ascended to His Throne, — Voices and visions grandly stole. Baptismal grace and purity, Far more than time, befitted thee For scenes of splendour that await Bright spirits in that perfect state, — The sacramental host in heaven : What lofty Minds but half presage, To thee is now an open page Beyond the glance in scripture given. And oh, what bliss, which baffles thought ! To think that upward thou art caught To some chaste realm of cloudless joy, Before the touch of earth's alloy Had stain'd the virgin soul with sin ; Ere passion, or polluted deed Had caused thine anguish'd mind to bleed, — Heaven oped its doors, and let thee in ! Thus, while yon pensive chimes are pealing Floats o'er my soul a sacred feeling, Mournful, but mild, and full of prayer, — A thought beyond what Creeds declare, That thou, sweet babe ! art shrined in glory 'Mid saints and prophets, priests and kings, A spirit graced with star-bright wings, With innocents who died before thee. THE DIVINE WALK. 79 Here, in this vale of time and tears While we fulfil our fated years, 'Twill oft refresh the heart to dream What living splendours round thee beam, That issue from the Lamb who died ; While lisping cherubs, like to thee, Warble around the Deity, Soft anthems to The Crucified. THE DIVINE WALK. " Enoch walked with God."— Gen. v. 24. And didst thou choose the narrow path That sainted feet have ever trod, And know the peace high virtue hath When pillow'd on the breast of God ? Though all around thee crime and sin Their moral desert made and threw, Was thy religion felt within, And outwardly embodied too ? Primeval saint ! seraphic man ! By ardent grace so filPd and fired, Thy blest eternity began Before the common age expir'd. No spectral glooms, no pangs of death, Nor hollow cheek, nor sunken eye, Nor pallid swoon nor panting breath Betray'd the King of terrors nigh : 80 THE DIVINE WALK. Bright trophy of Atoning Blood ! Thy doom escaped them, one and all ; And as thou wert for earth too good Thy native heaven did thee recall. At once to glory upward soar'd Thy being with unwav'ring flight; No kindred for thy death deplored, No grave inhumed thee out of sight. Thou wert not ! — this seems all we know Of thine unview'd ascent to bliss ;] What more relates to thee below, Belongs not to a state like this. In flaming cars with steeds of fire Rapt in a whirlwind, didst thou rise, To mingle with that harping choir Who worship God with wing-veil'd eyes ? Or, did some mission'd angel-bands Speed from the bowers of blissful love, To waft thee with encircling hands To thy pure home prepared above ? In vain of this and more we dream ; Nor how can sainted Fancy tell Thy soar outwing'd the solar beam, And vanished through the visible! Enough to know, in heaven thou art The eldest of the saved who shine, Because they choose that better part, Which, tranquil Mary!2 once was thine. (1) " He was not, for God took him."— Gen. v. 24. (2) See Luke x. A THE DIVINE WALK. 81 And could we, like calm Enoch walk And closely with our God commune, With more than angels men might talk, And earth itself to heaven attune. We should not seek for temple-roof To overarch our heads in prayer, But find in ev'ry scene a proof Jehovah was enshrouded there ! The poet's walk through pensive scenes Companion'd with God's love must be, When doubt, nor darkness, intervenes To hide his heart from Deity. All beauty would more beauteous growr, All music more melodious sound, Did moral hues of heaven below More freshly in our ways abound. It is because the Cain -like hearts To selfish pride retreats alone, That God and glory dwell apart From that cold bliss we call our own. But when, like Enoch, men can muse, And with our Maker's smile array The path of life they rightly choose, What gleams from heaven adorn their way! Jehovah's will, Jehovah's word, Within, without, rules everywhere ; And Conscience is obey'd and heard Till man becomes incarnate prayer. G 82 THE DIVINE WALK. Abroad, at home, in sun, or shade, By rocky shore, or mountain-stream, Divinest thoughts the soul invade And nowhere can we orphans seem. For, like the Patriarch we can feel No crowds before Omniscience stand, Nor, merely that the public weal Depends on some Almighty hand ; But, Faith applies vast providence To each peculiar grief and groan, And grasps believed Omnipotence As though it ruled for Her alone. Behold a secret ! — when Faith draws Into the focus of one mind, And learns to concentrate the laws Which overhang all human kind. Awake and sing then, christian soul ! If, like the saint before the flood, Under the Spirit's true control A christless world thou hast withstood Enoch was not ; — to God he soar'd, Left the low earth defiled like this, Sought the Bright Parent he adored And melted in almighty bliss ! So, more and more to yonder fount Of perfect glory thou wilt glide ; And nearer still like Enoch mount To regions ne'er by sin descried. STRIVE NOT WITH THE SPIRIT. 83 As He was not, thou wilt not be Discern'd by what the world calls sense ; Thy dwelling-place is Deity/ And simple Faith thy sure defence. STRIVE NOT WITH THE SPIRIT. " My Spirit shall not always strive with man." — Gen. vi. 3. Most awful is the word Rolling its cadence deep, Till the roused heart is inly stirr'd From out its iron sleep, When God regrets he e'er created man,2 And like one giant sin, the earth to ruin ran ! Can mortal passion tell How heaves th' Eternal Mind, When these divine emotions swell, Commoved by human kind, — " With man My Spirit shall not always strive, For it repents Me now that such I made alive? ' In this the harvest see By Adam's sin first sown ! All vices reign, all virtues flee, And from His watching throne When scans the Godhead our apostate race, No hallow 'd feature there can His omniscience trace.3 (1) " Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations." — \*salm xc. 1. (2) "It repented the Lord that He hadmade man on the earth." — Gen. vi. C (3) " The Lord looked down from heaven upon the children of men .... 'here is none that doeth good, no, not one ! " — Psalm xiv. 2, 3. 84 STRIVE NOT WITH THE SPIRIT. For, not one thrill of thought That plays within the soul, That is not with rebellion fraught Now sin hath seized the whole That flesh and spirit, heart and will include, With utter hate of God, and dread ingratitude ! Evil, and nothing more, Behold! man's nature now; Blest Angels, did ye not deplore, When Earth her Cain-like brow Lifted beneath you, in yon spheres of light, And showed her branded front, of old so pure and bright? Thus dark the contrast grew Between us and our God ; And such the hell that met His view Where once His Image trod, That oh! it grieved Him with a godlike pang,1 The lyric stars of heaven Creation's birthday sang. But. lo ! the hour of wrath At length was full arrived ; Stern vengeance o'er the sinners' path, With whom the Spirit strived, Shall burst in ruin, and the godless world See thunderbolts of death from His fierce anger hurl'd ! Billows shall rise and roar, The clouds a sea contain, Havoc shall howl from hill and shore, And Chaos come again, (1) " That He had made man ... it grieved Him at His heart." — Gen. vi. 6. STRIVE NOT WITH THE SPIRIT. 85 Till in one floating sepulchre be seen A flooded world of death, where living forms had been. Insect, and man, and beast, Whatever lives and moves, The lofty sinner and the least Who madly crime approves, — The broken fountains of the deep shall burst, And sweep them into gloom, like things by God accurst ! And is the record dead, Which here unveils to man The ruin early vice had bred, When lawless will began Reason and Conscience both at once to sway, Till like embosomed fiends, bad passions had their play? No! judgment never dies, But lives as long as Sin The law of love and truth defies, And renders man within A jarring discord, out of tune with heaven, A wreck of sinful woe, by darkest vices driven. Go, rebel ! take thy stand On some steep rock, that frown'd In fearful gloom above the land By God's vast deluge drown'd, As if thou heard'st the desolating roar Of billows when they lash'd th' uncoflin'd dead they bore, 86 STRIVE NOT WITH THE SPIRIT. And there, let Conscience learn A lesson for all time, — That God must e'er with anger burn O'er unrepenting crime: He cannot, will not, on the sinner look, Until the weeping Heart hath guilt for grace for- sook. He will not aye contend ;* Nor can The Spirit aid, Those fiendish souls that will not mend, But their own hells have made ; Thus speaks the Holy One, whose words decree Whate'er in final depths of future doom shall be. Come, then, celestial grace ! Like dew of Hermon steal O'er the dry souls of our sad race, Until they pray and feel, That so Thy Spirit, when He plies His love, May not, by us aggrieved, return to Thee above. For His deep coming watch With list'ning heart of prayer ! And ever lift the inward latch That bids Him entrance there ; That less and less His strivings may be known, And God's bright Spirit thus seem blended with thy own.2 (1) "I will not contend for ever, neither will I be always wroth."— Isa. lvii. 1G. (2) " He that is joined unto the Lord is one Spirit." — 1 Cor. vi. 17. i a believer's wish. S7 Then, like a temple built By some celestial hand, No more shall atheistic guilt His ent'ring grace withstand, But each pure heart a living shrine will be, Where Angels view enthroned the worshipp'd Trinity. A BELIEVER'S WISH. "To depart and to be with Christ,— is far better."— Phil. i. 23. I wish I lived where Jesu reigns © In yonder sinless world above, Where not a pang the bosom pains And all is light, for all is love. There, with rapt seraphim, how sweet The anthem'd strain of bliss to blend, And thus with white-robed ] myriads greet In glory's form, the sinner's Friend. No self will there the soul defile, No shadows o'er remembrance steal, But conscience, purged from guilt and guile, Shall all the heaven of virtue feel. Those fever-dreams of sense and time Which now profane our purest bliss, Shall not infest that hallow' d clime With stains that mar a world like this. (1) " Arrayed in fine linen, clean and white, for the fine linen is the righteousness of saints." — Rev.xix. 8. 88 a believer's wish. Oh! bright excess, beyond all thought, When saints have reach'd that radiant goal Where Man, to full perfection brought, In God shall ark his wearied soul ! For, what can sense-born pleasure give When most the world itself imparts, But bribes to let base passions live Like satans in our selfish hearts ? The chastest scene, the calmest home By poet hymn'd or reason blest, — Who has not felt his fancy roam, And image forth a finer rest ? Our dream for some diviner world Can never pause in realms of time, When Hope's fair wings, by faith unfurl'd, Would waft us to that pangless clime. Safe in the shadow of Thy throne, Reveal' d Almighty! let us dwell, And in yon circling rainbow l own The hues that our redemption tell. Thou art, 0 Christ! the sinner's heaven; Without Thee, man is death and gloom, And only with that word, " forgiven," Can hearts descend the dismal tomb. (1) " There was a rainbow round about the throne .... in the midst of the throne. . . . and in the midst of the elders, stood a Lamb as it had been slain." Rev. iv. 3 ; v. 6. a believer's wish. 89 Be Thou the vital sun and shield To light our path and guide our souls; Nor let our tempted bosoms yield Except to what Thy will controls. Life of our life! be all our bliss, Torn from Thy truth, since none are blest; Without Thee, men and angels miss That centre where the creatures rest. But, taught by grace, pure spirits burn To share in Thy deep glories all Those hearts desire, that heat and burn For more than dreams perfection call. And can we doubt, if Godhead find Complacency l in Christ the Lord, That He excels whate'er the mind Creates in thought, or calls by word ? Ye heavens! though bright your splendour be, Emanuel forms your living fount, And none can rise to Deity Who do not through His merit mount. Then, hail the hour ! that summons man Beyond our sullied earth to soar To Him, Whose finite heaven began2 When first for sin the cross He bore. (1) " Behold! My servant, whom I uphold, Mine elect in whom My Soul lelighteth." — Isa. xlii. 1. (2) " My meat is to do the will of Him that sent Me."— John iv. 34. "I de- ight to do Thy will, O my God : yea, Thy law is within my heart." — Psalm scl. 8. 90 HERE WE HAVE NO ABIDING PLACE. " Here we have no continuing city, but we seek one to come." — Heb. xiii. 14. " They that say such things declare plainly that they seek a country." Heb. xi. 14. Since all we love on earth must die, And swift as hues of morning fly The hopes young bosoms store, Oh, softly let thy feelings twine Round the rich Heart thou callest thine, — For soon 'twill beat no more ! When first our virgin senses wake And of fair Earth a prospect take, Her treasures, homes, and smiles, A false eternity arrays The scene that mocks our dazzled gaze With its ambitious wiles. And yet, might reason's colder truth Unveil dark facts to wayward youth, Creation doth not hold A perfect semblance to her past; But everywhere dim shades are cast On what she was of old. The clouds of heaven for ever change, The tints of earth and ocean range Through colour's varied gleam ; And all which eyes enamour'd view, Reflect on man that restless hue That hints our life a dream ! HERE WE HAVE NO ABIDING PLACE. 91 The sweetest notes bland music brings To vibrate o'er those moral stings Which make the heart a lyre, — E'en while we listen, lo! they die In lulls of languish, like the sigh Some Angel might respire. And, look upon the face we love! More eloquent than skies above When clothed with chastest light, — Its spell of beauty is the change Expressions leave, as there they range And fascinate our sight. Thus, all we view of scene or sound With sad instruction doth abound, And preach; — " Prepare to part ! " For souls can have no resting-place Where sin hath left a withering trace And shadow on the heart. Too many tears our eyelids wet, Too many graves are open'd yet, To leave the mind at peace; And where the soul, without a thorn 1 To probe it, till it bleeds forlorn And yearns for heaven's release ? And blest are they whom Grace hath brought To bow content before the thought, — Earth's dearest ties are frail ; (1) " There was given to me a thorn in the flesh .... for this thing I besought the Lord thrice." — 2 Cor. xii. 7, 8. 92 HERE AYE HAVE NO ABIDING PLACE. Such will not, in the rending hour When Death unveils his darksome power, Like unbelievers, quail ! Here breathes true wisdom, — so to live In the glad sunshine God may give To soothe each dark alloy, That gratitude with awe may blend, And gleams of heaven and hope descend That promise purer joy. Woe ! for the wistful hearts that cling To whatsoe'er wild passions bring With fulness, fire, and force, Till idols mount the bosom-throne, Where God and grace should rule alone The soul's most secret course. And, woe to young Affection's eye That half adores what soon must die, And melt in mortal clay! Eternal beauty dwells not here, And ill becomes that tainted sphere Where Death demands his prey. But did we, like the saints of old, Hereafter through this Now behold, What pangs our hearts would save! Eternity our home would seem, And life become a brilliant dream Dissolving o'er the grave. HERE WE HAVE NO ABIDING PLACE. 93 Wild Heart of wasteful youth ! begin At once to cool the thirst of sin For ever here to bide; Life, love and earth can flatter thee, But cannot thy salvation be, Nor death, nor judgment hide! Ah! wert thou touch'd with heavenly love, Did Christ, thy magnet, far above Attract thy veering eyes, — How would the wing'd affections mount And flutter near that blissful Fount Who all our heaven supplies! Unwav'ring hearts, that pant for bliss, Will feel their perfect treasure is Where nothing false is found ; And since in heaven Messiah dwells, Such will not dread those bleak farewells With which dark years abound. " Gone to prepare a place for you,"1 Hosannah to that promise true ! It opens heaven for prayer ; If in our souls one pulse there beat Of Godhead at the mercy- seat, They long to worship there ! For heaven is not a desert cold That can no human feeling hold, — Where Christ as Man is seen ; (1) " In my Father's house there are many mansions ■. . . . I go to prepare place for you." — John xiv. 2. 94 THE SOUL'S TltUE COMPANION. They populate that region bright From earth redeem'd, array'd in white, Who once like us have been. Then lift thy soul, anointed one, Dart thy pure gaze beyond the sun Right into glory's world ! This orb is far too base for thee, Adopted child of Deity, — And be thy wings unfurl'd Ready to rise, whene'er the word " Hither come up ! " l from God is heard, " Thy mansion there behold ;" — Though all below must die the death, Eternity prolongs thy breath And Christ receives thy soul. THE SOUL'S TRUE COMPANION. PART I. " Abide with us, for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent. " Luke xxiv. 29. Abide with us ! sustaining Lord, abide ; Without Thee, vain is all the world beside ; When Thou art vanish'd, nought true souls can see But the sad loneliness that sighs for Thee. The life we bear is oft a burden'd thins: Fill'd with a load of varied suffering, o (1) " The first voice which I heard, was as it were of a trumpet talking with me ; which said, Come up hither." — Rev. iv. 1 . THE SOUL'S TRUE COMPANION. 95 Though, mask'd with smiles, the forehead seems to say " My heart is sunshine in its golden play," A thousand shadows from the soul arise Casting a tinge o'er all young natures prize; E'en from the centre of consummate bliss "We inly murmur, " breathes there truth in this?" Without, works mystery ; within, the same ; And truths, profounder than deep words can name, Float through the mind, like seraph-whispers sent From the far glories of God's firmament. Loft but low, abased and yet sublime, With hearts eternal in a home of time, Sinful, but sainted, doom'd on earth to walk, And yet with seraphim in spirit talk, — Extremes of contrast ! such our being rule ; And fever'd Life, with contradiction full, Can echo back the bleeding Soul who cried, :' Breath of our souls, for ever with us bide ! " The beautiful and bright creation yields From rock and dale, from forest and from fields, Lacking Thy presence, want that master-grace That prints the earth with each diviner trace. Oft o'er yon heav'ns when strays the poet's eye While soundless evening steals along the sky, That Afterward, to which no after comes, Seems to salute him from ideal homes That pale and pensive, from each pilgrim star Gleam through the air, and glisten from afar ; 96 the soul's true companion. Oh then, dear Lord ! amid the vast and lone Deep thought discerns Thee on creation's throne. Thy solemn grandeurs, Thy nocturnal scenes, How oft 'tween us and them there intervenes A troubled shadow, which our guilt must throw On all which manifests mere power below. But oh, amid the struggle, toil, and tears, And blighting anguish of our baffled years, The hush'd religion of a grief-worn heart How does it love Thee, — Healer as Thou art ! But when life's fitful days are spent and gone, And calm eternity is coming on, Ere the wing'd soul shall take its awful flight, Abide with us ! and death will be delight. Part II. " Abide with us." — Luke xxiv. 29. Abide with us, dear Lord ! abide ; No hearts can beat, and be untried With pangful woe or care ; But, if Thy shielding arm o'ershade The trial which Thy will hath made, Hell cannot harm a hair.1 Around us Powers of evil throng That fain would hurry souls along The wilds of sin and gloom ; And principles within us rage In blood-warm youth, or colder age, That haunt us to the tomb. (1) " The very hairs of your head are all numbered." — Matt. x. 30. THE SOUL'S TRUE COMPANION. But Thou, abiding Lord of peace ! Art light, and liberty's release To all meek sons of faith, That to Thy word divine attend, And listen to the sinner's Friend Whatever truth He saith. The sinful earth looks sad and lone, And guilty breasts around us groan, And graves how fast they rise ! As added years their hist'ry bring Of havoc, change, and suffering, "What sadness loads our sighs ! But should Thy presence be supplied, What calming powers of truth abide ! Our cross is meekly borne ; Though spent our noon, and night appears To darken through our spirit's tears, Life will not be forlorn. When sickness shades the soul with dread, And fever moans with throbbing head Till wild the pulses play, Abide with us ! blest Lord, and be A balm beyond all sympathy And awe the Fiend away. Or, should it be our lot to keep Night-watch beside the precious sleep Of parent, child, or friend, — H 98 the soul's true companion. There, as we note each ebbing breath And scan the chill of coming death, Thy dews of mercy send. Or, when the churchyard's gloom we pace, And there with tearful silence trace The tombs of friends no more, Abide with us ! that Hope and Prayer May warble words of glory there, Which back the dead restore. But oh, dear Lord, of all the wounds With which man's wearied life abounds, Not death, nor sickness, they That most disease the mind with pain, Or bid us view the w^orld as vain, Where grief and anguish swray ; But, hollow tongues and heartless smiles, And glozing friends who wrere but wiles Of falsehood lightly drest, — These melt us into more than tears, And make us feel our martyr'd years A burden on the breast ; O then, abide with us ! and calm Our spirit with that sacred balm Pare grace alone imparts ; Thy Presence like a heaven will be When all the false ones fade and flee,, And soothe our sunken hearts. THE SOUL'S TRUE COMPANION. 99 Abide with us ! — why pray we so, As if disciples did not glow With Thine own promise sure ? — " Lo ! I am with you, till the chime Of Ages sounds the last of time, While earth and man endure." Yes, Thou art " with us " in Thy word ; Thy Voice in sacraments is heard, And prayer and praise reveal How through the soul Thy blessings glide, As o'er the heart's most gloomy tide Thy radiant comforts steal. Dejection oft, but not despair, In this tried world of woe and care It may be ours to face, — Only be Thou the sleepless guide ; Morn, noon, and night with us abide Till we complete our race. We ask not blissful calms to dwell Around us with unbroken spell, Nor seek a pangless lot ; But, by the breathing of Thy word Be our faint bosoms freshly stirr'd, Nor sigh, as if forgot ! 100 OUR MORROWS BELONG TO GOD. "Take therefore no thought for the morrow; for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof."— Matt. vi. 34. Our morrows unto God belong, This day can be our own If on the Stronger than the strong We lean our hearts alone ; Casting on Christ our grief and care By constant power of heaven-breathed prayer. But, Gentiles with a christian name We gravitate to earth, And thus o'eranxious, cloud with shame The glories of our birth ; As sons who God their Father call, To Him why trust not all in all ? Oh, could we like the Saviour be, Whose meat and drink it made Heaven's will alone in life to see In what He did, and said! No longer would base Mammon find A temple in our care-worn mind. Behold ! tlv organic world of sense Rebukes the carking race, Whose creedless hearts of Providence Discern no living trace, OUR MORROWS BELONG TO GOD. 101 Though earth and sky and choral sea Are featured with divinity : — The fowls that populate the air, The lilies of the field. Fed and adorn'd without a care, Divine instruction yield ; They teach us what wise Nature can, — The arms of God environ man. And vain too that prophetic thought, Whereby the fretted soul Is oft with morbid dreams o'erfraught, The future that control ; Our being's age and body's growth, — The Lord alone predestines both.1 Why, for mere raiment, meat and drink, Our future so precast As though like Pagans we could think This life were first and last ; Forgetful that one thought sublime Outweighs a world of sense and time ! Our little faith, alas ! tis less Than what the least should prove, Making our scene a wilderness That might be one of love ; Like orphan'd souls in solitude, Denying Him we call The Good. (1) " Which of you, by taking thought, can add one cubit to his stature?''— Mutt. vi. 27. 102 OUR MORROWS BELONG TO GOD. Gaze upward, Soul ! on God the true ; Each burden cast on Him, Believe Jehovah cares for you Not less than Seraphim : The very hairs of men are number'd, Why then be with woes o'ercurnber'd ? But still these boding hearts, like seers On whom the future lowers, Project themselves o'er unborn years, And crowd the coming hours With destinies that haunt the mind, Till weaken'd faith grow wan and blind. Condemn'd be such unhallow'd care Which lets to-morrow's weight Overburden with some black despair What cheers our present state ; As if each day on life's dull road Were harness'd with too light a load ! Sufficient for the day when born Is each new pang that sighs : Let those that will not sink forlorn, In Jesu's name arise ; Since ye belong to Heaven's control Foreseen to-morrows ! — quit the soul. Simplicity is wisdom when Baptismal minds obey The law which God ordains for man, — Our duty is to-day ! SILENT PRAYER. 103 Our burden too, that cross to bear. And not forecast imagined care. And let thy teaching grace, oh Lord, Such perfect sway impart, That faith may have this haunting word To mottoe the meek heart, — Sufficient is the moment given, Leave to-morrow safe in heaven ! SILENT PRAYER. " Now Hannah, she spake in her heart ; only her lips moved, hut her v oice was not heard." — 1 Sam. i. 13. We do not pray, because we move Our lips in oral speech, For there be depths of deeper love Than words can ever reach. Nor is it prayer, when utter'd thought With ardent feeling glows, As though th' excited breast were fraught With flame that overflows : For words may flow from fluent powers, And prove a dubious sign ; 'Tis only when the truth is ours, The heart, oh Lord, is Thine ! The raptured tongue whose tones arise Like sparks of mental fire, Not ever breathes those contrite sighs Deep thoughts of sin inspire. 104 SILENT PRAYER. And oft when o'er moved fancy rolls Soft melody of speech, No inward awe the mind controls With truths words cannot reach. True prayer is that mysterious breath The Spirit from above Breathes through the heart in life, and death, And is the pulse of love! 'Tis God within, imparting grace, 'Tis heaven come down to earth, That man may look in Mercy's face, And feel his second birth ; A sense of want, of woe, and sin, A creed that Christ is All, A faith whose filial voice within Can God " My Father !" call ; Reliance on Atoning Blood, Convictions true and deep, A feeling that the Lord is good Who bids us smile, or weep ; With aspirations pure and high That souls, like saints, may be Both while we live, and when we die, From guilt and Satan free, — Behold a prayer ! a breath divine Whose sacred throb and thrill Believer, can that heart of thine With tongueless worship fill ! SILENT PRAYER. 105 In such high mood of heavenliness, Upon thy spirit's chords Devotion feels a magic stress Beyond translating words : But He, benign Interpreter! Who hears an inward groan, In heaven perceives the voiceless stir Of souls He calls His own. Unbreathed, unspoke a prayer may be, Nor vocal lips proclaim What God alone can hear and see, When Love adores His name. Then, cheer thee ! sad but sainted Heart That pines for spoken prayer, Be sure, if child of God thou art, More love than lips declare Dwells in thy depths of being still, — Howe'er the baffled word Breaks down beneath those thoughts that fill The soul where God is heard. True Christians live beyond their speech, And faith is more sublime Than syllables of breath can reach, Framed out of sense and time. Eternity, that dream of awe ! — 'Tis felt, but undefined ; And he who most of glory saw Hath least unveil'd his mind.1 (1) "He was caught up into paradise, and heard unspeakable words." — 2 Cor. xii. 4. 108 MUSIC AND THE EVIL SPIRIT. And thus when dying voice decays, And pulse and motion cease, Heaven marks the speaking eye that prays For mercy's last release. Yes, God and Christ, and Sin and Grace Hold myst'ries each and all, The ransom'd learn, when on theip face Before the Throne they fall ; Lo ! as we lie in dust and shame, Our souls are silent prayer, And He Who calls them by His name Can see devotion there. MUSIC AND THE EVIL SPIRIT. " Seek out a man who is a cunning player on a harp : and it shall come to pass, when the Evil Spirit from God is upon thee, that he shall play with his hand, and thou shalt be well." — 1 Sam. xvi. 16. PART I. Two worlds around us act and move, Though one alone we hear, or see ; And they whose souls are born above, Will not repulse that mystery Binding them both in one harmonious law, Which Faith believes, though Fancy never saw. The world we see, 'tis fair to sight, Though touch'd all o'er with taints of sin ; Gay Morn, and Noon, and magic Night Accost the charmed soul within, And, like faint beams in Memnon's fabled stone, Draw from our spirit some responsive tone. MUSIC AND THE EVIL SP1KIT. 107 Mountain, and field, and forests wide With their green coronal of trees, And Ocean, with his billowy tide Rolling in wave-born ecstasies, Cities, and hamlets, and the high-wall'd town, And sculptured marble, breathing dead renown; Yea, all bright streets, where busy men Whose ways and works around us throng, Rebuke some earthless poet, when His fancies dare assert in song That all is painted shadow, though it seem A stern reality which none can dream : — Yet, who believes our eyes behold The all that round us reigns and lives ? Since e'en those outward forms enfold A meaning, which no token gives Save to purged hearts, whose inward eyes can see Symbols that charm the faithful, and the free. Another and a holier sphere, A viewless world, unheard, unknown, More awful than Religion's fear, Around embodied minds is thrown ; And while the earth-bound walk by sense and light, That orb engirdles them by day and night! Angels, and Spirits of the blest, Stern attributes and sacred powers Nature and Providence invest, And circle this vex'd life of ours: 108 MUSIC AND THE EVIL SPIRIT. Myst'ries and motions, whence we cannot tell, Thrill through the flesh, did we but mark them well. And thou, deep charm of sevenfold grace, Sweet Music! Thou art more than sound ; For melodies from God's bright place Within thy blissful spell abound, Like broken echoes, that have thus o'erran Angelic lyres, and trembled down to man ! Oh! call not music by a word Terrestrial minds alone approve, For in it more than tone is heard, A something deep as spirits' love ; Painting, and poetry of sound are there, Blent with the lulling pause of secret prayer. Such was the minstrel's art divine When David struck the chorded lyre, Where earth and heaven in one combine, And by commingled sway inspire Soft airs, before whose superhuman spell The Fiend shrunk wither 'd to his native hell ! 1 And he, the dread and dauntless seer Whose word could seal and open skies, The awe of music did revere, And bow beneath those harmonies That gush'd around him, soft, serene, or grand, Like air-chords thrill'd by some celestial Hand. (1) "It came to pass, when the evil spirit from God was upon Saul, that David took a harp and played .... and the evil spirit departed from him.'' — 1 Sam. xvi. 23. MUSIC AND THE EVIL SPIRIT. 109 'Tis true, indeed, all nature's tones Of thunder, storm, or sea, The wave-voiced winds, and tragic groans That tune creation's melody, By instrumental art may oft appear To haunt the strains Emotion loves to hear; And harmony can also bring What mental visions love to view, Pictures beyond what poets sing, When most they make the world untrue, — Landscapes of beauty, isles of bloom and balm, Elysian verdure, and ambrosial calm. PART II. But music wields a nobler spell Than nature can alone impart, And with far more than tones can tell, She oft inspires the echoing heart ; To her belongs Association's power, That haunts remembrance in its purest hour. Melodious counterparts of mind How often do some chords impress When Genius, with a hand refined, Creates the sounds we inly bless ! — All passions, hopes, all principles and fears Melt into music, and entrance our ears. Thus, harmony to man may seem A soul in sound, express'd and heard, Or like an Angel in our dream Who whispers some celestial word, 110 MUSIC AND THE EVIL SPIRIT. Till o'erfraught minds, with feeling's warmest glow Thrill into tears, and softly overflow. And oh, ye dead! who never die, For though removed from outward gaze, Your resurrection is the sigh Pure mem'ry to your virtue pays, — Though unbeheld, how oft in music's strain Your deep eyes look into our hearts again ! Yes, chords are touch'd, whose tones awake And strike the soul's electric string, That vibrate, till they seem to break With those intense appeals that bring Youth, home and childhood, fields, and faces dear Back to the soul, which bathes them with a tear! Thus music, like religion, oft May purify the springs of mind, By lifting it to realms aloft, For peace and purity design'd ; 'Tis inspiration, though mere sound it seems, Prompting the good to more than glory dreams. We praise Thee, God! for this fine spell Unfathom'd harmony can wield ; Oh, teach us to employ it well, That it may grace and grandeur yield, Whether by organ- chant, or choral hymn That rolls and deepens down cathedrals dim. And when responding hearts conspire In blissful home, to hear and feel True melodies that never tire, But with soft myst'ry round us steal MUSIC AND THE EVIL SPIRIT. Ill Like silver drops of some melodious shower, Heard in the dewy trance of morning's twilight hour, — Then, doubt we not, while passions melt Beneath what wizard sound excites, That men, in such high moods, have felt A deeper charm than earth's delight; For who can tell whence harmonies descend, Or how their spirit with our own can blend ? There's something more than common air Through instrumental skill awaking Pure notes, resembling dying prayer, Or sighs from hearts half-breaking; When such deep myst'ries in a strain abound, Some feel as if a Spirit framed the sound. Thus, music proves a sacred thing, A power no earth-born word can tell, A heaven of sound it seems to bring On earth awhile to float and dwell, — A breaking forth of melodies above, A speech of Seraphim, on lips of love! And oft methinks the tones that die And soundless grow to mortal ear, May re-ascend, their genial sky, From whence they sank to our low sphere, Like that bright choir who soar'd from Judah's plain, To chant in heaven what Earth ne'er heard asrain.1 o (1) " A multitude of the heavenly host praising God .... it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven." — Luke ii. 13, 15. 112 MAKE THEE AN ARK. " Make thee an Ark . . . Behold! I, even I, do bring a flood of waters upon the earth .... Come thou and all thy house into the Ark." — Gen. vi. 14, 17 ; vii. 1. Though youth's bright world looks fresh and fair, And high the pulse of feeling dare, While syren Hope sings everywhere Of promised bliss to come, — Yet be there si that resurrection which the heart 206 THE PARADISE OF THE DEAD. Thus should we speculate on parted Mind, And speak with tones of reverential truth Whene'er the screening veil of sense behind Religion enters, and on age and youth, Dreams with pale awe, and hails the sumless host "Who still are loved, and not to faith the lost. Rehearseth, we can bid their cherish'd tones To wake, and hear their wonted footsteps glide ! " But, deep the thought ! momentously sublime To think, — that not one pulse of conscious mind That Will Divine hath ever cause to play In human being, hath a single rest Experienced, since the primal throb began ! The spirit-people of the Land Unseen, Millions on millions though the number be, Are conscious, — more than when by flesh encased, And clogg'd in action : not a Soul's extinct ! Still Adam thinks ; still Alexander feels ; Caesar hath being, Cleopatra lives, And, those crown'd butchers whom the world calls brave, Are feeling more than when they battles fought : Yes, all who have been great, or good, or vile, Patriarchs, prophets, and the lords of mind, Heroes and warriors, and those laurell'd priests Of truth, the poets of eternity, — All are a living, though a sightless, race ; Each in himself a hell, or heaven, become ! For Mind is everlasting; and the Man Is there in essence, when all adjuncts fail. Thus may the dead a more than sermon preach To awe the living, and this truth impress, — That as we die, for ever we endure ! The same in principle the heart abides : For Morals in their root continue one And changeless, though the soul hath taken wing. " Two worlds thus claim us, by a sleepless law; But, one moves round us, palpably instinct With life and passion, and, alas ! absorbs In the wild vortex of its vain delight, What to the other, (though unseen) we owe Of faith, and conscience. Thus, for time we live As well as in it ; thus, our hearts deny THE PARADISE OF THE DEAD. 207 Yes, be our epitaphs of brighter cast, And breathe our elegies a purer tone! Xor speak, as if corporeal life surpass'd The consciousness a spirit calls its own : Mere flesh can moulder, yet the Soul survives, And in that thought there live ten thousand lives! Eternity that waits behind the veil ; And, when the living from our gaze retire, "We talk as though they lived not ; but were quite From Being parted, as to sight no more ! But, this is madness in the garb of sense ; The blinding mock of Epicurean dreams, Dilating time into eternity, And which eternity to time contracts. For faith and reason round this truth converge, — The dead are living ; but, this lite unheard, Unfelt, unknown, beyond our dreams to shape, Or thought to model, — can but little move Man by the flesh imbruted, and enslaved. " Yet, be there moments when the heart exclaims, ' Where are the Dead ? the Minds who once look'd forth In light from eyes, in language from kind lips, And, by the daring of immortal deeds Breathed on our own, like inspiration? Where, Where be the Spirits, who once felt, and fear'd, Who dream'd, desired, and acted like ourselves? Where have they fled ? In blank absorption, lost ? Merged in the infinite, engulf'd, or gone ? Melted to nothingness ? Is this their doom ? ' Oh ! wait awhile : for, e'en as wintry Earth By the green outburst of her glorious spring, Hidings of heavenly power in nature's breast Infolded, proves — so this material scene Of earthly visible, and sensual vain, With hidden radiance of celestial life Our God will garment ; for the reign of saints Shall yet be witness'd, shining over all Conspicuous, with a glory undescribed : The shell of Matter shall at once remove, Like a strange dream the Visible depart, And lo ! at once the quick on earth will stand By angels circled, and by saints enthrong'd, And in the midst, — Christ paramount appear! 208 THE PARADISE OF THE DEAD. PART II. Pity the dead! — nay, rather mourn for those Who battle on through Life's harsh scene of care, In whore grieved breast the thorn of trial grows, While in the crowd all echoless they are : Bearing some poison'd shaft within the heart, — They feel, bad World! the hoilowness thou art. " Meanwhile, the bodiless in secret live, Till all be ripe for this revealing act Of sudden, swift, and strange apocalypse ! " Holy of Holies ! in thy shrine august High o'er all heavens, ethereally removed From man's conception, — dwell the dead redeem'd. There the saved myriads of the seal'd first-born Present with Christ, from Him perchance acquire (As to and fro the beatific host He moves, and ministers the food of thought) Truths, which on earth experience did not gain. Patriarchs who dimly on the distant Christ Gazed in a promise, now with clearness look On Him they long'd to worship ! prophets, too, The meaning and the majesty of strains Mysterious, — these by actual Christ expound; Types are resolved ; and shadowy rites unveil'd; The mystic Lamb on typing altars laid, And gospel, by Aaronic priesthood taught, — The great Original doth here unfold, And proves Himself sole archetype of all. While they who died in dimness, or dismay, (Haunted by fears, and harrow'd to the last By many a tremor,) in restoring beams Of comfort, look upon their Lord, and live. — And there, is Concord! — all those hostile notes Of human dissonance, which now destroy The solemn harmonies of sainted Minds, These doth the Lord by melodizing grace Attune to oneness, till all souls agree. Thus may that world, where parted spirits meet, A school of saintship for the church elect Be found : there may Christ his priesthood act, And God's magnificence of truth unveil ; THE PARADISE OF THE DEAD. 209 Pity the dead ! — no, rather weep for them Who on vex'd earth must suffer, toil, and sin, And pray, their passion's burning tide to stem And keep close watch o'er waywardness within ; Who hour by hour repentance must renew, And mourn how little for their Lord they do ! But oh! the dead, the justified and saved, Children of glory wrapt in Jesu's arms, The darkness of the sepulchre they braved, And there are shielded safe from earth's alarms ; Pure in the brightness of ethereal bliss, They would not change it for a scene like this! The spirits of the just made perfect now Have each in heaven their beatific calm ; Serenity arrays each kingly brow, And through each heart distils celestial balm ; Their hope as cloudless as their peace divine, — Secrets of splendour round them reign, and shine. And He is there! the kingdom's Light and Lord, Who out of time and toil has call'd them home, And now fulfils each wise and glorious word True faith believed, when doonrd on earth to roam, — Or, more and more the merit of His blood Teach to the Spirits, who around Him throng. And, bound they not with throbs of burning joy Their hearts within them, while th' Incarnate shows His wounds, how deep ! His mercy, how divine ! Till round the Saviour rapt hosannahs rise, And, in the minstrelsy of heaven, we hear, 1 Worthy the Lamb ! for He was slain for us,' Down the deep ages of eternity Roll like a torrent of melodious praise." From " Luther, or, The Ideal of the Reformation.1' Fifth Edition. 210 THE PARADISE OF THE DEAD. E'en Christ, who beautifies the spirit-throngs, 'Mid their deep worship of adoring songs. But, ah! fond Nature, in thy bosom yearn Feelings that oft our passive faith o'erflow ; And with such flame intense affections burn That time, nor truth, can quench their secret glow ; Down the deep heart some unvoiced thoughts remain, And bid us sigh to see our dead again. " My beautiful, my bright, my darling child! Her smile was eloquent with soul to me ;" Thus the wan mother in her anguish wild Echoes the regions of eternity, [breath When round the heart-strings thrills the seeming Of some loved daughter, tomb'd in early death ! " And thou, my dead, my unforgotten boy! Prop of our home, and pillar of our race, Genius was thine, and brow of princely joy, And more than beauty clothed thy classic face ; How did I dote, and for thy future build Schemes that parental hearts alone have fill'd!" So grieves a sire, when love's ideal hours Roll their sad cadence o'er his dreaming brain, When the dead Past resumes a living power, And with such resurrection smiles again, That hand in hand his child he seems to hold, And hear the voice that lull'd him so of old ! And thou, lone sister! who pale watch didst keep Night after night, around some fairy child, Marking each dimple that in rosy sleep Sunn'd the pure face, as though an angel smiled, — THE PARADISE OF THE DEAD. 211 When Death withdrew it to th' unseen abode, Thy heart to madness almost overflow'd ! But, peace ! fond mourners : calm your souls to rest, The dead you weep are still alive to Him, — Lord of those mansions, where the bright and blest Are pure and peaceful as the seraphim ; No sin infects, nor sorrow clouds that scene Where the saved dead since Adam's death have been. Here, while we travel through the dust of time, Dark imperfections oft the soul defile ; "Whate'er the circumstance, or change, or clime, Creation's noblest is but vain and vile : What are our woods and fields, our mountains, glens, and streams, To God's bright landscape, that in glory beams ? Then, hush thy moan, Affection ! curb thy will ; Think of the dead as to perfection brought, In heart all holv, as the conscience still Feels the rich calm the " Blood of Sprinkling" wrought ; No cloud to tinge the colour of their days, — They harp the anthem of redemption's praise. Dead though their forms in dust sepulchral lie, Ecstatic faith the spirit loves to view, And longs to vision with prophetic eye What awful raptures must pervade them through ; For, on Eternity's unwrinkled brow They feel the glorious dead are gazing now ! 212 REPENTANCE. " Repent ye, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." — Matt. iii. 2. Wake, power divine, awake! Arm of the Lord ! arise, And from our spirit take The mist that round it lies ; Each blinding shade of self dispel That veils the sin we love so well. Stern Preacher of the wild ! Enrobed with camel's hair, Convince cold hearts defiled, And melt them into prayer ; Through conscience be thy thunder sent, — " Arise ! cold sleeper, and repent.'' Bold lightnings of reproof Through each dead conscience dart, Till we no more aloof From heaven shall hide the heart ; E'en as of old Judea heard, Be all our souls with anguish stirr'd. Lift, brave Elijah, now That voice of burning truth ! Till shame upon each brow Of weeping age and youth Shall print the scarlet blush, that tells What pang in deep repentance dwells ! REPENTANCE. 213 Thine axe,1 Conviction, lay Down to the roots of thought, Until Remorse shall pray O'er what vile sin hath wrought ; For, all which love doth not inspire Must perish in God's penal fire. And let Repentance prove Its vigour by the fruit ; That cannot spring from love Which doth not bud, and shoot, And by a life of tears and prayers Attest the change God's will declares. Thy fan, O Spirit ! wield, And purge the chaff-strewn floor, Until the garner yield Of wheat a precious store ; Baptized with fire, so let us be, And bid our hearts resemble Thee. " Repent ye ! " — 'tis the cry By Conscience echoed back ; From earth and vaulted sky Along our sin-worn track, We hear its awful cadence roll Like thunder, through our warned soul! Nor let religious pride On fruitless names repose ; For heaven hath aye denied A faith of forms and shows, (1) " Now also the axe is laid unto the root of the trees."— Matt. iii. 10. 214 REPENTANCE. And rather than rank falsehood own, Will raise a seed from out the stone.1 " Repent!" — again we hear That cry of just alarm; And let it shake the soul with fear, To rouse that opiate charm That lulls the hypocrite to death, And cheats him to his latest breath. Repentance ! — what is life But matter fit for tears? Since, all we are is rife With worse than what appears : If tried without, men are but sin, Yet, God doth weigh the heart within ! Our virtues oft are self In bland disguise conceal'd ; Our charities to pelf Some wretched incense yield ; And, holy graces are at best But weakness by religion dress'd. But when to this we add The lying dreams men live, And to the base and bad Their blood-bought moments give, — Oh! must we not the Baptist seek, And vengeance on our vices wreak ? (1) " God is able of these stones to raise up children." — Matt. Hi. 9. REPENTANCE. 215 Repent we then, — yet, where ? Not as Iscariot did ; But by the Cross in prayer Be our deep anguish hid : On Jesus gaze we,1 till the sight Shall melt our hearts, and make them white. Repentance stern and true Exceeds all common wo : Despair for crime may rue And scalding tear-drops flow, But Self in this alone abounds, — Repentance rests on higher grounds. What is it, but a change By Godhead work'd within ? A principle whose range Subdues the love of sin? 'Tis man renew'd, and heaven resought, With hate for what our guilt has wrought. And what can such create? Not all the powers of earth ; The perfect forms of good and great In wisdom, truth, or worth ; Not heaven with glories, hell with pain Could sinful man for God regain! The faintest sin defies A universe to crush The strength which in it lies; And so, 'twill madly rush (1) " They shall look upon Me whom they have pierced, and shall mourn." -Zech. xii. 10. 216 THE SUBLIME OF PRAYER. Downward, to face th' infernal Deep Where blasted spirits burn and weep ! But, oh, there is a Power This granite of the heart To soften, in that hour Ere conscience quite depart, — Atoning Love, through guilt forgiven, The rescued heart can raise to heaven! Such pure contrition springs From Mercy's bleeding charm, Whose inward magic wings The soul with safe alarm ; And thus, when wrought by Christ above Repentance works by weeping love.1 THE SUBLIME OF PRAYER. " I beseech thee, shew me thy glory." — Exod. xxxiii. 18. Heroic guide of Judah's race Who saw Jehovah face to face, Sublime of men ! — behold him now, As here enshrined, within the cloud Which wraps him, like a burning shroud, He boldly puts the prayer, " 0 God, unveil Thy brow ! " Eternal ! in the flaming sign What though I saw dread beams combine, When Sinai's bush transform'd to fire, (1) " Faith which worketh by love." — Gal. v. 6. THE SUBLIME OF PRAYER. 217 Or, on Thy cloudy pillar gazed, — Yet, when the legal mountain blazed With thy descending pomp, I dared for more aspire! " And I have fasted, pray'd, and felt For forty days my being melt With wond'ring awe, as thou didst trace That ' Pattern ' whose mysterious plan O'erveil'd the future Christ for man, And prophesied, in types, the hidden truths of grace. " And, I have heard that thunder-tone Which thrills high angels round the Throne, — The rollings of orac'lar Voice; And seen Thy solemn lightnings play, Which lit me up that rocky way When Thy dread law decreed for life, or death, the choice ! " And now, I would no symbol see, But gaze on full orb'd Deity, — Thy glory let me witness now! God of my soul ! before I die Centre on Thee my thirsting eye, And let thy lustres bright through all my being flow !" So pray'd the meek, but yet the bold, Giant of grace, who would behold The Self Eternal ! — -God reveal'd Not in the shadow, nor the sign, But in deep radiance all divine, Where dwells the viewless God, all gloriously concealed ! 218 THE SUBLIME OF PRAYER. It was, indeed, a prayer sublime Surpassing what hath soar'd from time, Or nature, — scaling that dread Height Where Attributes are searchless things, And Seraphim reverse their wings, And shrink, and shudder back before Essential Light ! Yet, God is moved by mighty prayer ; And Moses found his answer there, When, ark'd within the cloven side Of Horeb's sacramental rock, — Jehovah " pass'd " him, while the shock Of glory shook the soul, till awed convulsion cried ! * But we, who with reverted gaze Can rend the veil of typic days, May in the Church a glory view, Outshining far what Moses saw, When God in thunder gave the law, And lightnings red and fierce around Mount Tabor flew. And is not this the prayer intense Of all, who soar above what Sense With Self and Sin, combine to claim, — That more and more meek hearts may rise, And vision with prophetic eyes What hidden splendours haunt Jehovah's hallo w'd name? Divine ambition must be ours, That faith so form the mental powers Under Emanuel's teaching grace, (1) "The Lord descended .... and Moses made haste, and bowed his head toward the earth, and worshipped." — Exod. xxxiv. 5, 8. INSPIRATION OF THE PAST. 219 Till Love in earth, and sea, and air, May find reflected ev'rywhere The glories that effulged before great Moses' face. And, how seraphic proves the spell In those deep hearts, which love to dwell Within the inner shrine of things ! Who can all scenes in Christ behold, And see, as in bright trance unroll'd, What charms He there unveils, or quiet rapture brings. Standard and type for all who pray! Be this the Liturgy we say To Him who hears the spirit -cry, " Thy deeper glories, God ! un shroud ; Break, I beseech Thee ! break the cloud, And on Thyself unveil'd, oh, let me rest mine eye !" The highest saint who heavenward soar'd, Prophets, or priests who God adored, In this vast prayer their motto find : Such hearts will hunger, Lord of grace ! To look upon Thy perfect face, And in that light supreme to love all human kind. INSPIRATION OF THE PAST. " Your fathers, where are they? And the prophets, do they live for ever ?" — Zech. i. 5. " God .... in time past, spake unto the fathers." — Heb. i. 1. PART I. Our fathers, where be they, The prophets of our past ? — Like solemn dreams, long flown away And with th' eternal class'd ! 220 INSPIRATION OF THE PAST. Those patriarchs of the soul, Of lion heart and mien, Scorning the world's depraved control,— They hallow'd hist'ry's scene; Heroes of faith and prayer, They fought salvation's fight, Ready to do, and boldly dare When God reveal'd the right ! Such were those mental sires Who made our English mind, Whose page the saintly heart inspires, Whose words entrance mankind. — Yes! they, indeed, were men Of loftiness divine ; And not till such shall breathe again, Will British glory shine. We want heroic hearts Like those who burn'd and bled, When Rome, with her resistless arts, Denied the church's Head. The dungeon, steel, and stake, A bloody doom, or block, — Not one of these their vow could break, When summon'd to the shock ! Peaceful as lambs, as lions brave, The saints of hoary time, — Still may we hear them from the grave Preach with a voice sublime ! INSPIRATION OF THE PAST. 221 Their tongues are tipp'd with fire, Their accent sounds the free, And into us such men inspire Their own eternity ! PART II. Our fathers, where be they, The guides of vernal youth Who taught our infant lips to pray, And vow'd the heart to truth ? The prophets, who foretold What life's worn scene would be, And bid us in our God behold The hopes that make us free. — All fleeted by, and fled To orbs of bliss unknown ; Their dust is with the countless dead, And we, — must walk alone ! But in time's weary track Of sorrow, change, and care, How oft their words come rolling back, And breathe us into prayer ! Oh! little did we think What their hoar'd wisdom spake, How soon our lofty hopes would sink, And life's gay bubble break ! 222 INSPIRATION OF THE PAST. We call'd them gloomy seers, Too boding, dull, and sad ; And, when their eyes were dimm'd with tears, Our own smiled ever glad ! They warn'd us of the world, And gave each rose its thorn, And when fond hopes their wings unfuii'd, They often look'd forlorn. They bid us walk with God, And Christlike bear the cross, Learning true wisdom in the rod,1 And love from earthly loss. And, have our lives gainsay'd The warning truth, and word That once, ere Time these hearts betray'd, Would oft have conscience stirr'd ? Ah, no ! — in grief and gloom Their counsels and their cares Accost us from their distant tomb, And tell, the truth was theirs ! And thus, while sage and sire Wither from earth away, If living Souls such worth inspire, Their love may light our day. Though mortal was their breath, Immortal breathed the mind ; For, how can That be sunk in death, Whose wisdom rules mankind ? (1) "As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten." — Rev. iii. 19. HEARTS WHICH HAVE NO ECHOES. 223 Dead prophets, then, seem nigh, And round us dwell and reign ; And all who in the Saviour die, Shall see their sires again. HEARTS WHICH HAVE NO ECHOES. " The heart knoweth his own bitterness ; and a stranger doth not intermeddle with his joy." — Prov. xiv. 10. Some hearts lie wither'd in their transient spring Long ere the yellow leaf of change began ; Seldom to them does human summer bring A beaming welcome from the soul of man. Cinctured as by a preternat'ral spell, Languid their pulse of low dejection beats ; Yet, none who mark their smile-clad face, could tell How dark the mood that back from man retreats ! And what, though circumstance may seem To gladden life with fortune's envied glow, Or, on their brow some bright delusion beam, Hiding the haunted gloom that reigns below, — They bear a burden language could not speak, They feel depression far too fine for tears, And blush to fancy the betrayful cheek Should wear the paleness of their inward fears. Yet, say not such sad martyrs of the mind Are fever'd by ambition's vulgar fret ; Nor think thev loathe the love of human kind, Or, hate warm hours when echoing souls are met. 224 HEARTS WHICH HAVE NO ECHOES. But in them dwells the deep and voiceless thought,- That all which reigns without, or rules within, With grave-like hollowness is ever fraught, Or, canker'd through with selfishness and sin ! And oft the bitterness of secret pride Rankles beneath the play of baffled will, While feeling, wounded by some fate denied, Bleeds at the root, though all without look still. And, there be aspirations, strong and deep, And wing'd desires that, eagle-like, would soar, Which never waken from their wordless sleep, But prey upon the spirit more and more. And when quick minds, electrically strung As though each chord of feeling moved on fire, Some pang would tell, how oft the fearful tongue Has felt each accent on the lip expire ! And thus, there is a loneliness of heart, In all deep souls a never-enter'd shrine Where neither love, nor friendship takes a part, And no eyes witness, but, Jehovah ! Thine. But shall we mourn, that each is circled round With veiling myst'ry from the ken of man ? That waters deep within the soul abound No word has fathom'd, and no wisdom can ? No, rather let such merciful disguise Move the just thinker into grateful prayer ; — For who could live beneath terrestrial eyes, If such could witness all secreted there ! HEARTS WHICH HAVE NO ECHOES. 225 And if no mantle by our God were thrown Round fallen souls, to hide man's world within, — How should we hate, what now we love to own, And cry for darkness to conceal our sin! None are so chaste, unselfish, and sincere As not to feel the taint of Adam's fall ; So, heaven in mercy hides that inmost sphere Where each dreads each, and all would censure all. Yet, beats One Heart all other hearts above, Whose sympathy no human errors tire, — E'en Thine, pure Lord of uncreated love, Incarnate Semblance of the heavenly Sire! There, may we prove deep tenderness divine, And yet, so human that it wept and sigh'd; And when to coldness cumber'd hearts incline, Haste we to Him who loved us till He died ! There is no self in that almighty Heart, Xo chan£ino; motion in the casual will, For Thou, Lord Christ! celestial mercv art, And though we shun Thee, Thou art gracious still. 0 balmy thought! which like nocturnal dew By stars distill'd upon the herbless plain, — When worse than midnight shades all mental view To think of Jesus, and our souls regain ! Others may gaze with half-averted eyes Coldly to spurn, or scan the wo we feel, But o'er His heart are breathed our inward sighs,1 And through His breast our veil'd emotions steal. (1) " In all their afflictions he was afflicted, and the angel of his presence (Christ) saved them." — Isa. lxiii. 9. Q 226 THE RELIGION OF THE YOUNG. Nor can one shade of sorrow clothe the cheek, Nor teardrop from the spirit's fountain roll, But He interprets what no tongue can speak, And reads the thinking volume of the soul ! Here boast the Saints, what no bright Seraph can, — That they have sympathy upon the Throne ; Christ loves the Angel, but he feels for man, Whose very nature hath become His own. No hearts beat echoless, if they believe A more than Brother l in yon heavens is theirs, Who loves them most when all alone they grieve, And with His incense doth perfume their prayers. His love is greater than our heart, and knows What secret burden loads our inward sigh ; And wordless pangs to Him are open woes, Clear as the glories that emblaze the sky. Dear Lord ! be ever thus our Friend divine, Our Anchor sure while rocking tempests roll, And, when departing into hands like Thine, Relume Thy promise,2 and receive the Soul ! THE RELIGION OF THE YOUNG. ". Remember now thy Creator, in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not." — Eccles. xii. 1. And wilt thou bring a virgin heart, And lay it on the shrine Of holy Love, that so the part Of Mary shall be thine ? — (1) " lie is not ashamed to call them brethren." — Heb. ii. 11. (2) " Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me."— Psalm xxiii. 4. THE RELIGION OF THE YOUNG. 227 Retreat beneath the Saviour's eye, And to His tones of heaven reply With more than breath can say, or sigh To Wisdom so divine ? Then may thy youth securely rest On more than earth bestows ; Eternity within thy breast Already throbs, and glows ; Thou hast, ere sin thy breast alloy, The colour of celestial joy Which brighten'd o'er that sainted boy, Whose cry, " Speak, Lord ! " arose.1 He to the Temple, when a child By his dear mother brought. Ere manhood's guilt the heart defiled With years of sinful thought, — Like a young priest his ephod wore, And on his girdled form he bore The truth of what meek Hannah swore,2 When she the Lord besought. Thus, in the vernal prime of youfh How blest are they who bring Their souls a sacrifice for truth, And round Christ's altar sing ! (1) "The Lord came and stood, and called as at other times, Samuel! Samuel ! Then Samuel answered, Speak, for thy servant heareth." — 1 Sam.iiiAO. (2) " She vowed a vow, and said: If thou wilt give unto thine handmaid a man-child, then I will give him unto the Lord. . . . Samuel ministered before the Lord, being a child, girded with a linen ephod."— 1 Sam. i. 11 ; ii. IS. 228 THE RELIGION OF THE YOUNG. Ere shades of evil darkness fall, Like folds of that primeval pall That soon or late envelops all On earth now wandering ! Age has not loosed the silver cord, Nor at the fountain-head Doth weariness exhale that word, — " My pleasant things are fled ! " Far otherwise ; hope's morning dews Fall freshly on thy fairy views, And nature wears those lust'rous hues O'er life by feeling spread. In youth there breathes a sunny bloom, A buoyancy and glow Which seem to triumph o'er the tomb And gladden off dull wo ; Elate as lofty, swells the hope That longs with dangers firm to cope, And ever round some daring scope, An eager glance to throw. When years have cast their blighting frown, And wither'd prospects pine, While on the head time's hoary crown Betrays old age is thine ! — Then, sinner ! 'tis a rueful sight To view thee through thy heart's deep night, In horror seek that saving light Which flows from truth divine. THE RELIGION OF THE YOUNG. 229 It is not that a dread " too late !" By mortal dare be sigh'd ; Nor ever to a brother's fate Be hope of heaven denied : But, oh ! methinks when harrowing fears Haunt the dark mind, and bitter tears Like drops of anguish damp the years Of those who God defied ; When mem'ry's weak, and conscience quails, And life's gay tone is dead, "While hideous doubts the heart assail That base experience bred. — 'Tis awful on death's couch to find Some ruin'd Shape of wo reclined, Sick of the world, but unresign'd. In dust to lay his head ! Divinest Spirit ! truthful Lord, May youth remember Thee, And gladly in thy glorious word A bright hereafter see : — There, bloom the Canaans of the young, There, fields with hallow'd fruitage hung, Richer than God's own poets sung, To wave in Galilee ! Thy grace bestow, that vestal hearts May more and more be given To Thee and Thine, ere youth departs From God, by passion driven 230 THE SYMPATHY OF CHRIST. Further and further, o'er that way Where virtues into vices stray, Which only leave the soul to say, — Bad earth is my best heaven ! THE SYMPATHY OF CHRIST. " Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee." — Psalm lv. 22. Go, cast thy burden on the Lord, Thou laden bosom ! dark and lone ; Nor deem thyself by Him unheard Whose heart beats human on The Throne. A Man of sorrows and of tears The Saviour once was like to thee, And learn'd to face those mortal fears That fill'd His soul with sympathy. 'Tis thus we mark Him, homeless, sad, A pilgrim whose unpitied lot Was shunn'd by all the gay and glad, And often by cold friends forgot! Yet, learnt He thus from finite wo What heaven's calm glories could not teach, — For there, no tides of anguish flow, And no dark cares that kingdom reach. And, is it not a whelming thought, That Christ should leave His heavenly throne To be on earth affliction taught, And suffer more than grief hath known ? THE SYMPATHY OF CIIKIST. 231 Oh, had Pie in yon realm of bliss But simply fathom'd what we feel, Could mortals from their sad abyss To Him as brother, ere appeal? But when we read His matchless life, That wept, and sigh'd, and sorrow 'd o'er The heavy pangs of human strife, And all which burning conscience bore, — Such life becomes a lovely proof That into his deep bosom pass'd Experience, which can ne'er aloof From pilgrims now on earth be class'd. Nor deem, that when on high He soar'd And o'er the radiant heavens retired, By chanting hosts to be adored Whose hymns are by His Blood inspired, That what below as Man He felt, Is now engulph'd in bliss eterne ; — Still through His heart emotions melt, And in Him pure affections burn. His regal crown is all divine, And glory-flames engird Him now ; But, Faith beholds Him still the same, For human feelings line His brow. And thus, O weary wand'ring soul, By tempest worn, and toss'd, and tried, Though surging waves around thee roll, Thine anchor is The Crucified ! 232 THE SYMPATHY OF CHRIST. Thy sin confess, each sorrow tell, Bold on His love thy burden cast, — In heaven who yet remembers well The storms through which on earth He pass'd. A mother may her babe forget, An exile ne'er his home recall, Nor orphan'd child the hour regret That reft him of parental all : But, oh, whate'er the scene or clime, Devotion may Immanuel see Whose heart expands o'er man, and time, — Who bled for our eternity ! Yes, sympathies intense and deep, Surpassing what our souls contain, Still through His breast in glory sweep, And shall for ever glow and reign. Sinless, and therefore touch'd in heart With all which blighted moments bear, — In heaven, O Priest divine ! Thou art, A man-God, with our feelings,1 there ! By gentleness, by grief, and grace, By depth of sigh, and tears profound, Faith views Thee to our fallen race In links of loving union bound. Both heaven and earth in Thee combine, In whom the mystic wound2 appears, (1 ) " We have not an High Priest that cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities." — Heb. iv. 15. (2) " Every eye shall see him: they also which pierced him." . ... "In the midst of the elders stood a Lamb as it had been slain." — Rev. i. 7 ; v. G. NO PEACE FOR THE WICKED. 233 That gash'd in death Thy Form divine, And crimson'd it with gory tears. Then, lay thy burden on the Lord, Child of dejection! pale and lone; Thou canst not sigh by Him unheard, Whose heart can answer from His Throne. NO PEACE FOR THE WICKED. " There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked." — Isa. lvii. 21. How like a spirit shrieks the startled Wind, As though the Air to agony were torn, When Conscience hears it with a haunted mind, Waking at midnight, fearful and forlorn ! No peace apart from purity abides ; Deep in the heart some dark unrest will be ; Though calmest azure gild the ocean-tides, Stern are the currents which no eye can see ! What, if the World, that sees by sense alone, Seldom below the surface of our smiles Surveys the secrets which to God are shown, — Believes mock gladness which the truth beguiles, Though laughing mirth and swells of dalliant joy Ring from the wicked mouth, and worthless mind, Be sure there lurks an unbetray'd alloy Of sad rebuke, that gilded face behind ! 234 NO PEACE FOR THE WICKED. The peace of sinners is the trance of death, The stagnant quiet of some horrid tomb ; Or, like the pause before a parting breath That shakes and shudders o'er eternal doom ! But oft this lulling opiate of the heart, By passion drunk when principle expires, Fails in some hour to do its fiendish part, When Vengeance lights her agonizing fires. And thus, the wicked have no vital peace, Nothing that reason, truth, or knowledge makes ; The Blood of Sprinkling hath not brought release, Nor calm'd the tempest which dark conscience shakes! In vain may riches, rank, and power, and pride, Fawn round the creedless heart and christless will, — There is no heaven but in bad self denied, And less than Godhead can no bosom fill. Man's peace is grounded on majestic truth, [prayer, Enlightened conscience, hope, and faith-breathed And they who seek it in hoar'd age, or youth, Yearn for God's Holy One to guide them there ; There, to that harmony of thoughts divine Breathed from Jehovah into heaven-born souls, Where all bright properties of bliss combine To make the calm no outward storm controls. Pure Lord of Peace ! Thou Saviour high and dear, Till Thou serene us with Thy saving word, Dejection haunts us in our gayest sphere, And nothing smiles where no rebuke is heard ! NO PEACE FOR THE WICKED. 235 Cold gnaws the worm that on pale conscience feeds, — A darksome pang of dreariness within ; And oft in silence sad remembrance bleeds O'er bosom'd stores of unrepented sin. The grave ! the grave ! its hideous gloom appals The craven souls which no atonement seek, And from hereafter comes the hell that calls The blood of gladness from a blooming cheek ! To guilt eternity a dread appears, And God Himself is vision'd as a foe ; And how the Throne dark retribution rears Shades a bright present with prophetic awe ! Martyr in soul ! with all thy painted smiles, Hie thee at once to free Salvation's ark, And shun the snare of those satanic wiles That dazzle myriads into regions dark. Lo ! where The Church with mild maternal tone Thy soul invites to share mysterious peace,1 Pure as Emanuel once proclaim'd His own, — Born of The Blood that purchased man's release. Such is the rest, divinely rich and deep, Beyond tempestuous waves of wo to break ; Soft as the trances of that blissful sleep That lull'd the Saviour on the storm-rent lake. Let but the Spirit of The Lord descend And o'er our bosom brood with dovelike sway, Then shall Jehovah be our guardian friend, Point to glad Zion, and protect the way. (1) " Peace I leave with you ; my peace give I unto you." — John xiv. 27. 236 AN INFANT'fe DEATH. So will the hollow rest poor worldlings love, No longer o'er the cheated bosom reign ; But Peace, descending from her Prince above, Becalm our conscience, like His breath again.1 AN INFANT'S DEATH. " Rachel weeping for her children." — Matt. ii. 18. " Thus saith the Lord, Refrain thy voice from weeping, and thine eyes from tears .... they shall come again from the land of the enemy." — Jer. xxxi. 16. Pale mother ! art thou weeping Beside yon cradled form, That now reclines, unsleeping, In fevers raging storm ? Fair mourner, let me feel for thee, Engulph'd in such an agony! Thine eyes are red with sorrow, And sunken back with wo ; Or ever dawns to-morrow, Thy heart will overflow, While tears of burning anguish lave The victim of an early grave. Such death seems like the rushing All sudden, fierce, and strong, Of chainless whirlwind, crushing The forest-boughs along ; As onward sweeps that rending blast, Wild ruins tell its wings have pass'd ! (1) "Then said Jesus unto them, Peace be unto you .... and when he had said this, he breathed on them." — John xx. 21, 22. ? AN INFANTS DEATH. 237 Yet, mother ! when caressing Thy darling in thine arms, While brooding o'er the blessing It treasured in such charms, Did not this dream thy soul appal, — " Perchance my living flower must fall?" And often, when surveying Its mournful depth of eye, A something seem'd arraying Soft features for the sky, — A pensive meaning, sad and mild, Too earthless for an earth-doom'd child ! But since the soul hath parted, Above that baby face Thou bendest, broken-hearted, — For, cold as sculptured grace, The whiteness of that cherub brow Maternal teardrops moisten now! Yet, wilt thou be repining, And nurse the pang unmeet Because, no longer shining Thy glow of love to greet, — Infantile charms and elfin ways Are welcomed by thy doting gaze ? Oh ! picture, then, what anguish Thy child escapes, and grief, How life prolong'd would languish. When none could bring relief, 238 an infant's death. What sin and sorrow, care and crime They shun, — who die in dawning prime ! Like cherubim surrounding The Throne where Jesu reigns, With more than bliss abounding, And touch'd by no earth-stains, Unbodied infants, in the blaze Of Godhead, lisp their perfect ! lays. Nor dream, because unspoken In flesh, the word of grace, — Thy darling had no token Of God's paternal face ; Baptismal myst'ries oft unfold A germ of Christ no creeds have told. Think not, that when translated To realms of hallow'd bliss, An infant can be rated By such base world as this : — By heaven transformed, its mind expands, And more than scripture understands. Then, cheer thee ! stricken mother, Let praise ennoble tears ; Thy babe has found a Brother In yonder heaven -bright spheres ; For God's Elect, the Undefiled, Was once on earth a cradled Child ! (1) " Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings thou hast perfected praise." Matt. xxi. 16. an infant's death. 239 Though now enshrined in glory, What here below He felt, As read in awful story, — Doth yet remembrance melt ; As if the babe His bosom press'd, For ever thrill'd That gracious Breast ! Though viewless, yet not banish'd To spheres unconscious now ; Thine infant hath but vanish'd In heaven to lift its brow, Where babes redeem'd, in radiant white Girdle the Throne, with angels bright. God soothe thee ! broken-hearted, Who to the font didst bring The child that hath departed, — Hark ! sumless infants sing Anthems that reach Emanuel's soul, Whose Blood was shed to save the whole. A babe by death thus taken Embodies Christian truth ; And with no vow forsaken, Nor broke by sinning youth, But wearing God's regen'rate sign, In beauty soars to bliss divine. 240 CHRIST THE PERFECTION OF OBEDIENT WILL. " Then cometh Jesus .... to be baptized .... Thusitbecometh us to fulfil all righteousness." — Matt. iii. 13, 15. Thou, who didst rend the heavens to be The Man, in whom God's eye could see A breathing Antitype of all His wisdom could perfection call, — From thy sad manger to the tomb, Through shades of grief, and storms of gloom, Implicitly Thy passive will Each dictate of the law did lovingly fulfil. When Peter's rude and reinless zeal Would fain have had him scorn to feel The pangs a felon's death must bear, How did the Lord of Life declare ? — " Get thee behind me, Satan ! thou Of man, not God, dost savour now ; Disciple if thou dar'st to be, Martyr thy human will, and meekly follow me !" 'Twas thus the Eremite who saw How Christ obey'd baptismal law, And lowly as a lamb descend Beneath a sacrament to bend, And in God's mystic waters lave A form which was the world to save, — At once recoil'd with holy dread, And, gazing on the Lord, aloud his wonder said : CHRIST THE PERFECTION OF OBEDIENT WILL. 241 "Wilt Thou, by God and angels prized, Prince of all peace ! be e'er baptized By one like me, whose atom worth Is but a speck of sinful earth ? — Rather, baptize me with that fire Of holiness Thou dost respire ; Too abject am I thus to stand, Or on thy sandalFd feet to lay my soiled hand." So spake th' Elijah of the wild ; But He, of woman born, and mild As moon-lit water, when a breeze Tones the soft accent of the seas, — Bent o'er the Baptist His meek brow, And answer'd, " It becomes us now ;" And lo ! at once the laving stream Shed o'er His awful face its sacramental gleam. But, as He riseth from the bank, The heavens that scene of wonder drank Into their depths, who saw their king To God such ritual glory bring ! Obedience then received a crown Surpassing all sublime renown, The Law obtains from perfect will Bodied bv angels forth, who all His work fulfil.1 But, while by yon enraptured Heaven Peals of divine applause are given, (1) "Ye his Angels, that excel in strength, that do his commandments, hearkening unto the voice of his word." — Psalm ciii. 20. R 242 CHRIST THE PERFECTION OF OBEDIENT WILL. And downward on His wings of love Descends the everlasting Dove, And ere that thunder-voice hath ceased Proclaiming how The Father's u pleased," — Let the saved Church a truth discern, And man's o'er-reas'ning heart a lofty science learn ! Subjection is our love divine ; Believer ! let such law be thine : " All righteousness," however small Cold reason may its canons call, Compliant Faith will yearn to do, Finding in Christ her model true ; Nor dare to dream men suffer loss When duty points the way, and God provides the cross. They err, who think 'tis christian love If men perform what minds approve "When moral science can perceive Why Godhead will indulgence leave ; Such only in plain duties see Connexions with eternity : — Yet, what we trace not, Heaven may find To be of laws the best to educate mankind. We glorify self-will alone, When reason that divine will own Which plainly man with God connects, And so, all else with pride rejects. But, Cains in mind ! recall it well, — Proud reason once in Adam fell, A fruit by shunning not to eat, Beoause it could not prove that such was just and meet. CHRIST THE PERFECTION OF OBEDIENT WILL. 243 And, turn we to our gracious Lord "Who, though He was th' Incarnate Word, Did yet the circumcising seal In babyhood submit to feel ; And show by sacramental blood How Jew and Gentile equal stood, To Him related by a rite Where patriachs of the past with us in church unite. And thus in Jordan's haunted wave The condescending Lord did lave ; And in baptismal waters bend Because He was the sinner's i( Friend V And would inaugurate the love That God had mission'd from above, And thus the " righteousness" complete, Whence sprung our mercies all, and all our graces meet! And, wouldst thou like thy Master be ? Go, find Him at that ancient sea, Where the awed Baptist on His head The sacrament of water spread ; There, as thou wander's t, seek a will, That would all rectitude fulfil, And consecrate thine inmost soul To that unfathom'd law no reason can control. And then may He, whose glory came On mystic plumes of dovelike flame,1 That Spirit, who on Christ did pour The sevenfold grace His priesthood bore, — (1) " Lo ! the heavens were opened unto him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and lighting upon him." — Matt. iii. 16. 244 DIVINE THIRST. Some drops of saving unction give By which believing martyrs live ; Till thou, in all thy works and ways, Shall unto God devote the priesthood of thy days. DIVINE THIRST. " My soul thirsteth for God." — Psabnxlii. 20. As pants the hart for living brooks So pines my soul for Thee ; Away from this lone earth it looks, And longs Thy face to see. Thrice Holy One ! athirst I am From man's false world to fly, And on the glories of the Lamb To feast my fasting eye. 'Tis here, a bleak and barren land "Where hearts and hopes are vain ; But Faith perceives at Thy right hand, Supernal wonders reign ! There, pleasures bloom which cannot lead Compliant souls to sin ; And all celestial Love decreed, Victorious martyrs win.1 No shades of guilt or sorrow now Athwart remembrance roll ; Eternity unveils its brow, And God enshrines the soul. (1) "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life.' Rev. ii. 10. CHIEF OF SINNERS. 245 Those pulses of ethereal bliss That here so feebly play, Shall throb within a realm like this, Divine beyond decay ! At length we find our purest dreams Of finite rapture flown, When saints are basking in the beams Which glorify Thy Throne. The Past will not return in sighs, The Future ne'er appal, — The Present charm celestial eyes1 With Christ, the All in All ! And dared men like rapt David feel, Our frigid hearts would be On fire with archangelic zeal, Thine heaven of Heavens to see ! CHIEF OF SINNERS. 11 Jesus came to save sinners, of whom I am chief." — 1 Tim. i. 15. Deep in the dust, oh, let me lie, And thence behold the Saviour's eye ; 'Twill radiate my soul with heaven, As gleaming through that word — " Forgiven !" The more I think, the more I feel This heart hath proved in wo and weal, A Cain-like rebel to my God, Whate'er the path experience trod. (1) " Now are we the sons of God . . . but we know that when he shall appear, we shall be like him ; for we shall see him as he is.7* — 1 John iii. 2. 246 CHIEF OF SINNERS. It is not that gone life hath been By outward act, or inward scene, Tinged with those tragic hues of hell Beyond the gloom of words to tell ; It is not that blind Passion dared To argue down what God declared, That Reason, Law, and Truth, in vain Begirt me with their blended chain ; Nor is it thus, because I dread To muse on all I've done, or said, Till back the heart-tide seems to gush And bid my harrow'd conscience blush ! — Oh ! not for such keen anguish burns, As more of heaven my spirit learns ; But this is what I dread to see, — How Self dethroned the Deity ! Ay, Self has proved the spring of all Enamour'd eyes perfection call ; Thought, will and motive, deed and word, In each, vile Self has been preferr'd. Here, is the Upas-blast of sin ! That poison-blight that acts within, That venom'd source of vicious life, With treason to the Godhead rife. 'Tis that by whose defiling breath The soul deserves eternal death ; A taint whose superhuman power Contaminates man's purest hour; CHIEF OF SINNERS. 247 In vain the Pharisee may dare To voice his arrogance with prayer, And scorn like him to be distrest Who bowed his head, and smote the breast. l For Sin is Self, howe'er disguised ; And what applauding wonder prized, To Him who bares the spirit through, — Is rank with treason, and untrue ! It matters not, what form it takes When human wrill our God forsakes ; — The essence of a fiend we find, Not in the flesh, but in the mind. When passions nurse their lava fires, Or brutal lust the blood inspires, Or vice and vulvar riot rei^n — There, sin reveals its coarser stain. But oh ! believe not in the soul Where bland Refinement wields control, Where Art, and Taste, and Beauty dwell, And Culture charms with graceful spell, — E'en thus, while nature's glories rise To fascinate our partial eyes, Where Painting, Poetry, and Speech, New thrones of regal magic reach, Where private zeal, or public worth Adorn the land that gives them birth, — Believe not, in such bright display That sin and self have died away ! (1) " The publican . . . smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a sinner!"— Luke xviii. 13. 248 THE TREASURE AND THE HEART. Yea, rather doth refinement shroud A godless will beneath a cloud, And lull the conscience, till it fails To learn if God, or man, prevails. Thus, " chief of sinners ! " forms the cry Of saints who have that purged eye By grace bestow'd, their souls to see Stand front to front with Deity! On such adoring minds will dart The eyes of Him, who bares the heart, Till each fine chord of feeling there Thrills into dread, and throbs with prayer. THE TREASURE AND THE HEART. " Lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven .... for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." — Matt. vi. 19, 21. Men of faith's heroic mould ! Who your birthright have not sold, But the heirship of God's truth Have preserved to age from youth, — Let the freedom of your soul No debasement draw from earth, But the Law of heaven control What you deem of peerless worth. Glory, God, and Grace alone Must ascend your spirit's throne ; Idol-dreams should never dare Encroachment on high conscience, there ; THE TREASURE AND THE HEART. 249 Christ is jealous in His love, And no half-devotion bears ; If we seek a crown above, — Listen, what His lip declares ! " Let not earth your treasure be, Ne'er from rust and robber free ; But in heaven behold a mine Where the gold is all divine ; That which mortal love doth measure As in time the truest spell, Ere becomes the witching treasure Where false hearts delight to dwell." Miser! with thy golden heap Glaring through perturbed sleep, In thy wealth no wisdom lies, But thy soul doth sacrifice Heaven and hope, with all the bliss Which on high the pure await ; If dead gold thy treasure is, — Cursed seems thy canker'd state! Worldling ! who for earth-prized gain Creed and conscience both wilt strain ; Fill'd, and fever'd o'er with cares Doom'd to be but Sorrow's heirs, Dwarf 'd and mean thy nature grows, Day by day intensely vile, Deeper far than Virtue knows, Coils the serpent in thy smile ! 250 THE TREASURE AND THE HEART. Patriot ! in whose haughty plan Is reveal'd a heaven for man, Madly dreaming time and sense All in all for man dispense, — Brain may work, and genius build Schemes of most colossal name, But o'er visions unfulfill'd Thou wilt sing the dirge of shame ! Student ! cloister'd in the cell, Haunted with the hoary spell Books of sages and of seers Breathe from immemorial years, Rich and radiant are the hopes Round thy soul that beam, and play, But ambition with thee copes, And of this thou art the prey ! Poet ! thou art priest of song ; Heaven and earth to thee belong ; Beauty, grandeur, love and grace Circle round the bardic race ; Seize thy harp, and sweep the chords Till they glow with mental fire, And like oracles, rich words Roll from thy melodious lyre; But if gold, or gain intrude On thy soul in solitude, If mere passion for renown Should assail thy minstrel-crown, THE TREASURE AND THE HEART. 251 Should thy chant, debauch'd and base, E'er for some foul end be sung, Angels weep for thy disgrace, — Would thy harp were never strung! Lord ! and must affections be FilFd with dust and dead to Thee If around one heart they twine, Just as if it were divine ? — Then, 'tis true, no creature can Saint, or seraph's heart enchain, But it mars the mighty plan, — God alone as God must reign ! Mother! 'tis a beauteous sight When thou watchest day and night Fondly round some elfin creature Budding with maternal feature, Oft in cradled slumber rock'd, Flush'd with fascination's dreams, While each baby hand enlock'd, Clasp'd in adoration seems : But if love should Christ betray, And devotion steal away From the God of babes, and men, — Wilt thou not be chasten'd then ? Or, perchance, when fever'd breath From thy little one is heaving, Thou wilt learn by infant's death That thy soul has God been leaving ! 252 THE TREASURE AND THE HEART. If upon thy sailor boy, Star of home and social joy, Far amid the wild sea- waves Where his head the tempest braves, Thou art dreaming, when thy prayer Heavenward should in faith be swelling, Canst thou hope thy God is there, If no grace be in thee dwelling ? Wife, and parent, husband, child, Let not feeling be defiled By a worship that withdraws Love from those celestial Laws That in creatures claim the heart; Here the Lord erects a throne In whose glories none have part, Where He reigns, and reigns alone !" Hide our treasures, Lord, in Thee ! And regen'rate hearts will be Glowing ever more and more While they scan Thy heaven-born store, With the bliss bright angels feel When before the Lamb they bend, Chanting with impassion'd zeal, — "Glory's fount ! and sinner's Friend I"1 (1) " They sung a new song . . . Thou art worthy . . . for thou hast redeemed us to God." — Rev. v. 9. CONVICTION, AND CONFESSION. 2o3 CONVICTION, AND CONFESSION. " He will reprove the world of sin . . . because they believe not on me." — John xvi. 8, 9. "O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me V — Rom. vii. 24. " Wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked." Rev. iii. 17. There was a time, when earth appear'd From each cold mist of sorrow clear'd, A landscape clothed with calm and grace, Whose flowers conceal' d the serpent's trace. Then, Nature seemed a fairy world Where beauty all its wings unfurl'd, Till soil, and sea, and sun, and sky Entranced me with their poetry ! Brightness and bloom o'er objects threw The witch'ry of that wond'rous hue That makes the very ground to glow With gladness beaming hearts bestow. And as with Nature, so with life, — It look'd with radiant magic rife, Where hearts, and homes, and friends, and smiles, Around me group 'd their dearest wiles. I did not hear the booming knell, Nor let the tomb its wisdom tell ; Sickness and sorrow, change and grief, Appear'd too dark for my belief ! And when from Heaven's most awful book My blinded heart some utt'rance took, The God I worshipp'd was my own, Without a sceptre, law, or throne ! 254 CONVICTION, AND CONFESSION. 'Twas thus, religion's peerless claim A sentimental lie became, It touch'd the fancy — but the heart From ruling grace beat all apart ! But He, who bowed the heavens in love, Beheld me from His shrine above, And so my sensual trance awoke, With legal Sinai's lightning-stroke ! Then, dread conviction through me burst, And I sunk down, accurst ! accurst ! No more I lived, but seem'd to die1 Like them who dare their God defy ; Both blood and brain with horror felt Vengeance divine my being melt : What once I loved, grew loathsome now, And stamp'd, like Cain's, my branded brow ! Creation's glories ceased to shine Upon a heart depress'd as mine ; And round her fairest landscape stole The blight and blackness of my soul. Where'er I went, whate'er I saw, The haunting Curse of holy law Came like my shadow ; dread and deep It quiver'd o'er my harrow'd sleep ! And there were moods, so darkly tried And with such shades from hell supplied, That earth around my conscience reel'd, While God and Guilt stood both reveal'd ! " I was alive without the Law once, but when the commandment came I died.'' — Rom. vii. 9. CONVICTION, AND CONFESSION. 255 Matter and mind, and time and space, Sun, air, and sea, with heaven's bright face, Whate'er I saw, or felt, or heard, — Echo'd The Law's condemning word ! " Oh wretched man !" (thus breathed my groan) " The body of this death to own ; As though the corpse from out its grave Were fasten'd to some living slave1 I bear without, and drag within The clinging weight of woful sin ! — Who can deliver, and my soul Rescue from this abhorr'd control ? " My virtues, now, to vices turn'd, As more enlighten'd reason learn'd The pureness of that perfect Law, Which sees what Conscience never saw. Eager with light from God's own eye It can the shades of sin descry ; Nor could one pulse of feeling play That throbs not in its searching ray ! And thus, gay sinner ! down to dust Be all thy tow'ring virtues thrust ; The law of God is legal death By guilt inhaled at every breath.2 (1) " Who shall deliver me from the body of this death (or dead body) .'"— Rom. vii. 24. (2) " In the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die"— Gen. ii. 1 7. ' The commandment which was ordained to life, I found to be unto death." Rom. vii. 10. 256 the believer's destined work. Go, cultivate a grief divine ; A noble wretchedness be thine ; A heaven-born pang, like Paul's, profound,- The bleeding of the spirit's wound. Nor fancy, as we God ward rise And grace soars nearer to the skies, Our sainted calm will deeper grow, As if we had »true heaven below. Insatiate Conscience, strong and stern Will evermore this wisdom learn, — That our perfection is to prove Imperfect is man's purest love ! Oh ! bless we God, for gracious tears, For sunken hopes, and shadowy fears ; Those Hearts are not for glory meant Who feel no glorious discontent : Enough for souls this truth to gain, — In Christ alone we live and reign ; And all w7ho would perfection find Must seek it in the Saviour's mind. THE BELIEVER'S DESTINED WORK. " Ye are the salt of the earth .... ye are the light of the world .... let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven." — Matt. v. 13, 14, 1G. The World exults to crucify That truth it loathes to feel ; And thus, all time repeats the Cross, And Christians must through shame and loss Maintain a martyr-zeal. THE BELIEVER'S DESTINED WORK. 257 Such cannot on this christless earth Expect a brighter doom Than what the Prince of Glory bore, When he rebuked the world of yore And gain'd a borrow' d tomb ! But not for this, with craven hearts And love of selfish ease Shrink they from conflict, or the crowd, And in dull cloisters bent and bow'd Enjoy a bad release. Alas ! for their religious mock, Whose creed is Self disguised ; Our sacrament of second birth Anoints us to contend with earth, — Have we our unction prized ? The heavenliness of blissful calm In some poetic shade, Where Nature is the nurse of thought, And all seems with religion fraught, And for devotion made ; For such indeed mild spirits yearn, And long for dove-like wings Awray to flee, and be at rest, With God and angels purely blest Above sublunar things. And, most divine to musing hearts When sick of toil and strife, Monastic bowers of peace and prayer Where time intrudes no fev'rish care To fret the saintly life. 258 the believer's destined work. But, where is then the martyr's will ? — That oath by which we vow'd Under Christ's banner, in His name To battle for His crown and claim Amid earth's warring crowd ? Mistaken victims of themselves ! Who violate their creed And fly with ^recreant heart and will, Instead of facing stern and still The front of battle's need ! 'Tis not by flight, or fear we gain The jewel'd crown of bliss; But by enduring unto death, And battling to our latest breath, We reach reward like this. The world is dark, the world is dead, Corruption broods in all; Those painted splendours which appear, Glitter like spangles on a bier, And worse than gloom appal. Hero for heaven ! baptized and brave, The vow is on thee, — fight ! Full at the Fiend, the flesh, and world, Be all thy weapon'd graces hurl'd, And God shall guard the right. Or, if thou wilt the mystic wrords Of " light" and " salt" translate- Then, shine by contrast in the dark, And by correction probe and mark The evils of our state. THE BELIEVER'S DESTINED WORK. 259 We live in evil times ; and tongues Against the truth contend ; When Motive, Principle, and Power, Around us in rebellion tower And loud their challenge send ! Then, soldier ! put thine armour on, And wield thy weapons bright ; With spear and breastplate, sword and shield, Thus panoplied, — go, take the field And foremost fall, or fight ! How can we " shine," unless we face A world of guilt and gloom ? Or, be like salt's corrective force, By hallow'd deed, or high discourse, If life itself entomb ? Earth needs the grace, and wants the beams Embodied grace imparts, When worldlings view a valiant band Maintain with hope and heart and hand The creed of sainted hearts. A cloister's gloom, a cowl, and cell May oft a mind conceal, Where rancour pride and envy reign, While Passion gnaws a viler chain Than what true world-slaves feel. Lord of the church ! of creeds, and souls, Thy wisdom make our own, — Not of. but in this world to be, And hear the summons, " Follow me," From manger to the throne ! 260 the believer's destined work. Contention with a christless world, Here is our law of life ; The salt must spread, the light must shine, Unless we cross the will divine And shrink from duteous strife. 'Tis easy, when the flesh-born will In solitude retires, To choose the calm of constant prayer, And thus avoid the fretting care A public fate inspires. Yet, social is the cause of God ; And Christ demands a creed That shall not seek monastic shade Of all but righteous self afraid, — But front the dreadest need. True salt and sunlight make us, Lord! Thy Spirit forms them both ; So may we best Thy word obey, And rev'rence thus by night and day Our sacramental oath. The crowded world Thy Sceptre rules ; And Thou not less art there Than in the lull of lone retreat ; And saints may thy pure guidance meet In duties ev'ry where. But while we seek to shine and act, In all our words and ways Thy veil, Humility ! bestow, And over us protection throw, Lest we aspire for praise. THE SACREDNESS OF FLOWERS. 261 The work, but not the worker, seen, — Behold! a heaven-drawn plan1 For saints to lead their life in God ; Such path a Saviour's virtues trod And made it bright for man ! THE SACREDNESS OF FLOWERS. "Consider the lilies."— Matt. vi. 28. " Glorious beauty is a fading flower."— Isa. xxviii. 1. "All flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass."— 1 Pet. i. 24, PART I. Ye silent poems ! that from Nature's book Warble of Eden to our inward ear, Filling the thoughtful eyes that on ye look With the soft myst'ry of a sacred tear, Not the chaste stars, whose lidless eyes salute The musing gaze of man's poetic mind, Throned in their skyey radiance, — dare dispute The spell ye wield o'er every heart refined. Since God, from Whose ideal wealth of thought All that is bright, or beautiful, or fair By shaping wisdom into form was wrought And thus committed unto the sun and air, — Made the wild flowers like earth-sprung stars to shine With gleams of almost sacramental power,2 Dull is the heart that hails no tone divine When such accost him from the vernal bower ! (1) "Let your light so shine that they may see your good works, and glorify youk. Father which is in heaven." — Matt. vi. 16. (2) " They toil not, neither do they spin, yet .... Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these." — Mutt. vi. 28, 29. 262 THE SACREDNESS OF FLOWERS. Nor dream, that He who marks the sparrow's flight Forgets the dew-fed darlings of the spring ; Angels are not more in His watchful sight [bring. Than the soft flowers which breeze and brightness For such adjustment doth His hand ordain Amid all forms and faculties to be, That 'tween the snow-drop and vast earth there reign Proportions pure as Science loves to see. Were the huge world one atom more or less In gravity, from centre to the pole, The flowers would lose their bending loveliness, Like living sympathies with Nature's whole. Despise not, then, Philosophy and Pride, The golden king-cup and yon daisy small, You could not from the universe divide That infant bud, without deranging All ! And in man's world, where sin and wo prevail, Harshness, and heat, and hurry so abound, — How sweet the hush of some sequester'd dale, Where slaves grow freemen upon nature's ground ! There can we hold communion meek and mild With flowers, that deck some grove, or wood, And guard their innocence as undefiled As when their greeting Maker call'd them " good." Orphans of Eden, their parental soil Has long been wither'd, and by weeds o'errun ; While burden'd manhood, with a brow of toil, Endures the desert, and outworks the sun ; THE SACREDNESS OP FLOWERS. 263 But these, like babes whose mothers we deplore, Still do their budding features love to keep A soft sad trace of paradise no more, And waken memories that well may weep ! Of old, before the God Incarnate came, Oft did high song, and sentiment, and art Borrow from flowers an ever-beauteous fame That feeds the mind, and purifies the heart. But since the hour a lily blush'd, and bow'd Its head of grace beneath Emanuel's smile, Divine and deep associations crowd The dreaming soul that o'er them bends awhile. " Behold the lilies of the field ! and learn From their sweet lives, who neither toil, nor spin," — Well may such consecrating words return, And waken truths whose echoes sleep within ! And might we shape one h allow 'd dream of Him Whose life was pure, mysterious, deep, and lone, Whose glory to the wing-veil'd seraphim Shone from the Cross, more wondrous than His Throne, — Thought may imagine hours of wordless calm, When all un watch' d, Messiah's human soul Found in far meads a meditative balm, And in bright flowers a beautiful control. As God, He made them, and as Man, admired The blooming product of His lovely power ; And heaven's own poets, by their hues inspired, Repeat, " Behold " them ! when they bless a flower. 264 THE SACREDNESS OF FLOWERS. PART II. The Lord, who thus celestial radiance threw Round the gay lilies in their regal dress, Hath long receded from the Church's view, And Earth seems flow'ring in her loneliness : But still the Saviour's cry, " Behold ! " remains Deep in the ear, and haunts the spring-toned breeze, Where pilgrim Thought along secluded plains Roams by the liowers, beneath romantic trees. Seems it, as though a consecration hung On the rich bloom of each innocuous flower, And grace beyond what minstrel lyres have sung, Since Christ admired them in His teaching hour. And they are beautiful as infant eyes, Sparkling, or pale, when pensive, blue, or mild ; Now, softly vocal, while the air-tone sighs, And then, in breezy motion dancing wild ! And like pale visions view'd in mem'ry's dream, So to the serious mind may flowers appeal, As though beside them roll'd Life's hurried stream, — And teach the sternest what the wise would feel ! For oft, like infants nursed on Nature's breast, The dawning buds come forth in sun and dew, Rosy as childhood in rich beauty drest, When life enchants it with a fairy hue : And beaming girlhood, in its beauteous grace, Seems like a new-blown flower in bloom to be, When fancy muses on that vernal face, And thinks, how soon that spring of heart will flee ! THE SACREDNESS OF FLOWERS. 265 And have not sentiment and soul-breathed song From flowers a classic inspiration caught ? — Their spells of beauty to the bard belong, And grace his lines with many a lovely thought. In hoar'd cathedrals, solemn, huge, and grand, Where tombs have tongues, and eloquently preach, "Who has not felt the winged mind expand, Soaring to thoughts beyond mere earth to reach ? But, there hath Scripture traced those marble flowers Which yet to fancy wear a stony bloom That triumphs o'er decay's funereal powers, On hero's cenotaph, and martyr's tomb, — And since all matter ought to mind attest Deep truths, significant of sacred worth, Are not the lilies by their Maker drest Types of the pure, unstain'd by sordid earth ? Emblems of those, the gentle and the good, Plants of the Spirit, wrho delight to grow And in the hush of hallow'd solitude, Nurse the meek grace His will and word bestow? There is an air of chastity and calm Breathed from the pureness of a vestal flower, Like a sweet mem'ry of gone Eden's balm That shames coarse passion in its rudest hour. And wrhen on couch of languishment there lies Some pale-worn victim of disease and pain, Oft can a flower relume the sunken eyes, As though they gazed on garden-walks again ! 266 THE SACREDNESS OF FLOWERS. Or, when the boy by Circumstance is led From the green hamlet where young life began, And 'mid the large loud city round him spread, For fields and groves, views artificial man, If some chance flow'ret near his path should lie, How does it thrill association's law, — Making the heart for home and country sigh, And tread the landscape rosy childhood saw! So have I mark'd, amid some fever'd court Crowded with dens where degradations hide, Where passions vile with poverty resort, And orphan'd babes have hunger'd, wept, and died, Some lonely window, with a sickly flower Pining as pale, still struggling to endure, — And thrill'd to think how Nature's lovely power Could thus the heart of wretchedness allure ! Contemn not this ! for in bleak haunts of wo Undying thoughts of sylvan life remain ; And many a poor man, while his tear-drops flow, Hails a sad violet through a broken pane ! We bless Thee, then, Thou Lord of flowers and trees ! Bought by Whose blood, the whole creation lives ; Glowing with health, or martyr'd by disease, Hail ! to each beauty Thine Atonement gives. And when Affection seeks the solemn grave To sprinkle flowers upon the guarded mould, Where in chill darkness sleep the perish'd brave Whose mem'ries beautify the days of old, n FOLLOW CHRIST. 267 0 Thou ! the Resurrection and the Life, Thy viewless presence grant at this deep hour, And to sad mourners, with dejection rife, Reverse the emblem of that votive flower. Behold the lilies! " — Lord ! we would obey ; But still they wither, while their charms delight ; And in the lustre of their rich array Lurks the cold shadow of their coming blight : But thou, believer! not, like flowers, wilt fall Ne'er from the dust in blooming grace to rise ; But when for thee, Earth's citing trump shall call, Eternal spring shall fascinate thine eyes ! Celestial beauty, undecaying bloom Clothes the pure flesh with more than lilies wear ; And thou, transplanted from the wintry tomb To heaven, wilt be a flower of glory there. FOLLOW CHRIST. " Jesus saith unto them, Follow me; and . . . they followed Him." — Matt. iv. 18—20. The sheep who know the shepherd's tone Delight to hear his voice ; His guiding way becomes their own, His wish their willing choice : So is it with regen'rate souls, Whose love the law of grace controls ; Let but the Shepherd of the spirit call, — Like echoes they reply, and leave their noblest all ! 268 FOLLOW CHRIST. So was it in the church of old : — As walking by the sea, The Lord of Mercy did behold The twin elect of Galilee, — Two fishers there, who cast the net The produce of the Lake to get ; But when that " Follow Me ! " from Christ was heard, The laden ships they left, responsive to His word. So is it now ; if hearts be true To Him whose shepherd-cry Will never cause the heart to rue, If sov'reign Wisdom try How much for Him we dare to be ! — Abroad, at home, by land or sea, On crowded mart, or in resounding street Where all the mingled tides of sin and struggle meet. We must not seek monastic cell, Nor yearn for cloister'd shades ; Nor sigh for some Arcadian dell, And green poetic glades Where blissful Quiet can enjoy The bower of peace without alloy ; But rather rest where providence doth say, — " Move in thine orbit here, for Wisdom chose the way." They are not meek who fretful ask, Or pine for distant spheres ; Let Heaven be view'd in evry task And that will soothe our fears : FOLLOW CHRIST. 269 We should not e'en by thought rebel ; For God works all things wise and well, And for each being doth unroll the plan Eternity decreed, before the hills began ! To sigh for some romantic spot Of solitude and peace, And clasp in dreams a perfect lot Where care and sorrow cease, — To God must breathe of discontent, Howe'er with sainted feeling blent ; Our proper sphere in providence must be Where Christ in spirit comes, and utters, — " Follow Me \" Localities alone confine The gilded mocks of earth ; But they who bear a charm divine That seals our second birth, — Above what space and sense afford, Can hear the language of their Lord ; And so, when Mammon tempts, or Belial reigns. — Bound at the Master's cry, and burst their venal chains ! Thus to the publican there came A " Follow Me," that drew His heart to hear that holy Name Which Heaven proclaim'd the true ; All circumstance, and scene, and lot, The den, the dungeon, or the cot, — Let but the voice of duty call us there, And Faith may hallow each, by watchfulness and prayer. 270 FOLLOW CHRIST. And hence, mav those who dwell Far from the hurried mart, Where sylvan homes with quiet spell Attune the thinking heart, — When haply through harsh cities loud They wind amid the toiling crowd, Or, through damp courts and dusky lanes of wo See haggard Want and Age, with shrunken features go, — Oh ! let them not presume to say That there, amid the strife, No saintly JMinds can muse or pray, And consecrate a life To heaven-born cares, and hopes of bliss, Which lift them o'er a doom like this : For, while fond mem'ries oft some village roam, They glory in the thought, that grace can find a home Wherever love and prayer abide : — And thus, dear Lord ! may we Eemember that calm Yoice that cried, To Levi,— « Follow Me !" Whate'er the pathway life must tread, Around us be Thy graces spread, And thus no time, nor toil, nor space, nor scene To hide Thy word from us will ever intervene ! If such Thy will, by wooded streams, Or vales of blissful calm WTiere the deep hush of holy dreams Inspires unearthly balm, FOLLOW CHRIST. 271 Where from green hills the gladden'd eyes Look speechless hymns beyond the skies, — If there embower'd, Thou wilt our lot to be, Lord of the landscape fair ! we glow to " follow" Thee. Or, if Thy regal Word decide, That cities throng'd and loud Which billow with the restless tide Of life's tumultuous crowd, Should be our peopled deserts, where Unecho'd hearts conceal each care, — Still may our souls by meek compliance find, The ever-present Christ, an anchor for the mind. Love need not quit the humblest call, But calmly work and wait ; Our safety dwells where duties all Attend our mortal state ; Messiah did not die to give Each heart the choice where faith would live ; But this He grants to all who seek for grace, — The guidance of His truth, and glory of His face. Yes, " Follow Me ! " be this the word, The motto of our lives ; Morn, noon, and night, let such be heard, When sin, or Satan strives; Should Passion rage, or Pride begin, Or treason-banners rise within, — (1) " Lord, lift thou up the light of thy countenance upon us . . . Thou hast put gladness in my heart."— Psalm iv. 6, 7. 272 A NAME WITHOUT A NATURE. In all we feel or fancy, do or dare, Let Thy mild " Follow Me," pursue us everywhere ! Great Captain of the meek and good, Whose crimson guilt and stain Shall never, through Thine awfui blood, Assail their souls again ! — In self-denial, grief, or loss, In all we have of care and cross, Thy hand of mercy out of heaven bestow, And let us feel its grasp, where'er our footsteps go ! Thy path was one of pain and grief, A sacrifice of love ; And never came such vast relief As did Thy cross remove ; We ask not then poetic fields Where life all bloom and brightness yields ; But this we seek, — a soul from murmurs free. Whose heaven on earth it proves, in all to follow Thee. A NAME WITHOUT A NATURE. "Thou hast a name that thou livest, and art dead." — Rev. iii. 1. " Many will say unto me, in that day, Lord ! Lord ! have we not prophesied in Thy name? . . . Then will I profess unto them, 1 never knew you.'; — Matt. vii. 22, 23. When plaintive knells peal sadness o'er the wind, And echoes haunt the mind With thoughts, whose voiceless depths of awe infold Meanings which are not told, A NAME WITHOUT A NATURE. 273 Dark fears from hush'd eternity arise Too deep, except for sighs ! Men dare not speak it, — but they ponder this, Where wings the parted soul ? — to agony, or bliss r r^ There is a terror, but a truth intense, In all those words dispense, That tell what imitation's power achieves, When formal man believes, That he God's Christ by nature, as by name, His own can truly claim, — While far as earth from heaven his spirit lives On that base food alone, the power of pleasure gives ! And marvel we. such midnight error can So darken over man, That he a hollow lie for truth mistakes, And life for death forsakes ? — And thus, while dead in selfishness and sin, Can never gaze within The deeper fountains of the soul to prove, Whether from earth they rise, or stream from grace above ? The mystery doth here its web unwind, — Self-love deludes the blind ; And in the blindness of bad hearts they see A shade of miscall'd Deity ; And, like their god, a false religion seems Reflecting back their dreams ; And so, from year to year they live, and die, Feeling their souls secure as angels in the sky! T 274 A NAME WITHOUT A NATURE. Void of all grace, perceptive reason can So educate the man, And unto plastic mind and morals give Those forms, by which men live In seeming concord with what heaven requires : Yet, God alone inspires Life from The Spirit, and that sacred love Whereby all saints on earth, are yet in soul, above. Thus can the outworks of religious grace Impress their lovely trace On creed and conduct, character, and all The world-slaves " nature " call ; Reason and Sentiment may both forbear To doubt what texts declare ; And ritual zeal so mechanize the soul That much the Church decrees, may wield a due control. The beauty of unblemish'd morals, too, May guard its vestal hue, Nor vulgar passions by their vicious reign Cast o'er the law a stain ; And thus, complete in all mere sense admires, — Who doubts, that faith inspires So fair a specimen of social truth Beheld in solemn age, or seen in sunny youth? Love will not criticise a brother-soul; And when the death-knells roll Their dirge-like cadence, while the living sigh To think, how soon we die ! A NAME WITHOUT A NATURE. 275 Oh, marvel not, blind Charity conceives That he who this world leaves With such a sanctity around him spread, Hath up to glory's throne by angel-bands been led ! Still, dare we not Truth's warning tone forget, For, ah ! 'tis needed yet : — " Lord," on our lips most orthodox may be, And none our danger see ; And yet not Christ, but our own will presides O'er all those inward tides Of thought and feeling, passion and desire That from the outer sense to inward life retire. Yes! we may prophesy and preach, And high distinction reach ; O'er our mute dust pale monuments arise, Or, throne us in the skies, While the loud trumpet of a world-wide fame Rings through all hearts our name ; And when rapt eyes our sculptured praises read They glisten with the thought, — here lies a saint indeed ! And yet our soul's eternity the while Unlit by glory's smile, Though canonising praise adorns our tomb, May be immersed in gloom ; And realms of horror round that darkness burn Where hypocrites must learn, How vast a gulf between profession lies And that celestial life w^hich moulds us for the skies! 276 THE HOMELESS ONE. But, Lord, while we in self-abasement lie Beneath Thy searching eye, Home to the centre bare the soul within ! Where hides a bosom-sin Which oft amid pure seemliness of life With secret lust is rife; While some, professing to uphold Thy throne, Have cast all devils out, except their spirit's own ! l From such delusion, God ! our conscience save, That to the very grave And e'en beyond it, — to the Judge on high2 Extends the cheating lie ! That spell of Satan, whence a worldling dreams He is the all he seems, And will not view a hypocrite in heart, Till Christ shall rend the veil by that dread word. " Depart ! " THE HOMELESS ONE. " The Son of Man hath not where to lay his head."— Matt. viii. 20. Could Fancy, in some dream sublime, With circumstance have clothed the time When God incarnate should appear, To roll the curse from earth's dark sphere, (1) " Have we not in thy name cast out devils?" — Matt. vii. 22. (2) " Many will say to me, in that day, Have we not prophesied in thy name?"— Malt. vii. 22. THE HOMELESS ONE. 277 With what a pomp of heaven-bright rays Would she have circled round His ways ! — Angel, and harp, and seraphim Would all have been foretold for Him. Sun, moon, and star, with sky and sea, Would each have felt a sympathy — Some impulse, like a throbbing awe, Through Earth had thrilFd, w^hen Christ she saw ! But, not in Glory's pall He came ; Nor did an earthquake's throb proclaim The world's Creator was a child, Born in our flesh, but undefiled. No fameless offspring of the poor On mountain bleak, or barren moor, Was ever rock'd on mother's breast To outward sense so little blest As when the Babe Divine appears Baptized by Mary's virgin tears. — Those pearl-drops of the heart that flow While mothers o'er a first-born glow. — And as the inns no room afford To cradle Earth's infantine Lord, But in the manger's welcome cold The virgin must her Child enfold, — In this, prophetic shades we find Of that dark lot by Heaven design'd Hereafter to o'ershade The Man, In working out redemption's plan. 278 THE HOMELESS ONE. Grandeurs, indeed, to Christ belong ; But shine they not in bardic song, — Such as the lvric choirs of earth Are wont to chant for hero's worth. Ne'er did our world such meekness view, Such self-oblivion, vast and true ! His very Majesty was mild, — The Man of Sorrows never smiled. Shrouded in purity of soul, Amid the clouds which round Him roll The truceless war of tort 'ring hate, — Behold the Sad One meet His fate ! The fox his cave, the bird his nest, But wrhere His glorious head to rest My Saviour had not! — doom'd to roam From earth to heaven without a home. Oh, miracle ! that dazzles thought With all the wealth of Godhead fraught, That He, who died the world to save, Was buried in a borrow'd grave! And yet beneath that bland disguise What glory in suspension lies ! — Jehovah, in our manhood shrined, Is mock'd by unappall'd mankind. But He, by whom yon worlds were made, Whose will their huge foundations laid, Though matter, motion, time and sense Were slaves to His Omnipotence, THE HOMELESS ONE. 279 Repress'd His Godhead ; nor allow'd Full beams to flash from out the cloud ; For, at the glance of one dread ray The Universe had shrunk away ! For Him no monuments arise, No motto'd pillars seek the skies ; Unlike the earth-gods fame admires,- — His awful life no world inspires. Alone, beyond all loneliness, That e'er a burdened soul could press, Emanuel's heart through toil and tears Went beating on its destined years. Martyrs there be, whose bosoms bleed "When by mysterious Heaven decreed In the hush'd depths of their lone heart To bear untold some venom'd dart ; But neither saint, nor angel could Uncurtain that veil'd solitude Where Christ alone,1 unstain'd by sin, Baffled the powers of hell, within. And thus, eternity nor time, Nor sorrowing earth, nor heaven sublime, Except in Christ, — did ever see A Soul without a sympathy ! And wilt thou, ere thy course be run, Betake thee to the Homeless One ? Then, sinner, count the mighty cost ! — To thee the world is blind and lost; (1) "I have trodden the winepress alone ; and of the people there was none with me."— Isa. lxiii. 3. 280 THE FIRST SOUL IN HEAVEN. Not rashly bear His awful name ; Nor dream that fortune, bliss, or fame, Or aught that hero-worship loves, The Lord of meekness e'er approves. In fasting, solitude, and fears, Through buried pangs, and hidden tears, Unecho'd, and by most, unknown, Prepare, like Christ, to live alone. Yet oh ! within thee, dark and deep When thy crush'd thought retires to weep, And harshly cold, its iron heart The world presents to all thou art, — Then, think of Him ! and back recall The Homeless, who was Lord of all ; A God with angels round His throne, Too poor to call the grave His own ! Pillow in prayer thine aching breast On Him, who had not where to rest His head on earth ; but Who in heaven Can feel thy heart, and cry — forgiven ! THE FIRST SOUL IN HEAVEN. " By faith Abel . . . obtained witness that he was righteous, God testifying of his gifts : he being dead, yet speaketh."— Heb. xi. 4. " No man could learn that song but ... the redeemed."— -Key. xiv. 3. In hush'd eternity alone Before all creatures were, Jehovah held His awful throne Unworshipp'd by a prayer. THE FIRST SOUL IN HEAVEN. 281 There was no space, nor scene, nor time, Nor aught by names we call ; But, center'd in Himself sublime Was God, the All in All ! But through eternity there ran A thrill of coming change, And lustrous Shapes of life began Around His Throne to range. Radiant with rapture, pure as bright Angelic myriads rise, And glow and glisten in the light Of God's approving eyes. In volumed waves of golden sound Roll from celestial lyres Those swelling chants, that peal around From new-created choirs. But, hark ! amid the shining throng Of Shapes who arch their wings, A single Voice another song © © With mortal cadence sings : © Alone he seems, and chants apart In unexpected notes A music, where the grateful heart In strains of feeling floats : A beauteous Soul ! whose seraph brow Is bright with glory's hue, — Lo ! angels pause to hear him now Their harping praise outdo. 282 THE FIRST SOUL IN HEAVEN. Their choral rapture swell'd as deep As purity could pour ; But they, who have not learn'd to weep, Could never God adore With such a burst of whelming love As earth's first martyr sang, — When, glory to the Lord above ! The voice of Abel rang. Angelic harps their key-note found In God, as great and good ; But Abel's heart did beat and bound As only sinner's could ! " Worthy the Lamb ! who shall be slain ; Redemption crowns my song, Ye seraphim! your notes retain, But these to me belong." — Thus might the primal Soul who came Forth from its bleeding clay, Kindle the heavens with His bright name, Who is our Truth, and Way. And with that song of glory blent A humbling depth of tone, Which to the ransom'd harper lent A music all its own. Angels for bliss and being sang Their ecstasies on high ; But how the heavens with wonder rang When Man awoke the sky THE FIRST SOUL IN HEAVEN. 283 With that new song, Kedemption gave To Abel's pardon'd soul ! — Till angels ceased their wings to wave, Nor let their chorus roll, But listen'd with entranced ears To that bright martyr's strain, Whose notes were born of banish'd fears And breathed of ended pain. But from that hour when rescued man Enter'd within the veil, And heaven's delighted host began To hear redemption's tale, — Myriads of blood-wash'd souls have flown To where the first one went, Till he who once hymn'd Christ alone, Is now wTith numbers blent. Each nation, kindred, home, and clime Helps to increase the throng, Making the heavens grow more sublime With Earth's redemption-song. Each minute, guardian angels mount With some new soul on high, And hear it, close to Glory's fount, Deepen that endless cry, — " Salvation ! through the bleeding grace Of God's incarnate Son, Whose merit for a banded race A more than Eden won." 284 HUMAN FEARS. And louder, louder, yet will grow That song before the Throne, As added saints set free from wo Shall make the strain their own. Lord ! grant that we on earth begin To tune the heart's deep lyre, And by prophetic notes within Anticipate the choir Who ever round Thee chant, and sing The song no angels can, — " Hail ! Prophet, Priest, and destin'd King Before the world began, " Prostrate beneath Thy face to fall And cast our crowns before Thee, Oh Thou, The Everlasting All, Be this our brightest glory ! " HUMAN FEARS. " O thou of little faith ! wherefore didst thou doubt V'—Matt. xiv. 31. Around us moves this God-made world With all appeals of blended power ; And o'er our heads unfurlrd The heavens, that change each hour. Above, beneath, where'er we gaze On sky, or soil, or sea, Some chord is touch'd, that plays And thrills, oh God ! from Thee. HUMAN FEARS. 285 Divine as deep the eloquence Through form and fact creation wields, When through the veil of sense CD A solemn vision yields Stern truths, that teach the soul to pray And ponder well with deepest awe, Till conscience own the sway Of Heaven's interior law. For, though in calm, the Poet sees Eich beauty reigning like a queen, And grace from flowers and trees Bedecks some fairy scene ; Yet Nature hath her moods of ire, Deep thunders of prophetic tone, Lightnings of ghastly fire, And winds with conscious moan ! Darkness and thunder, wave and wind, — Amid them let the christless think, And soon the awe- struck mind Will in dejection sink. For, oh ! that echo faint and broken Of God, the holy and the just, Within us like a token Awaken will, — and must ! And then, judicial conscience yearns To know where God and man can meet ? And with this question burns, — " Is there a mercy- seat ? " o 86 HUMAN FEARS. But what can mere creation preach ? Is mercy mirror'd on the sky ? Can all earth's glories reach The source of one deep sigh ? Is there a grace to heal our sin, Atonement for the guilt-stain'd hearts ?- Without, not yet within, No answer Earth imparts ! In health, and hours of reckless glee, We mould a god from mortal smiles, And thus, from judgment free, Enjoy our transient wiles. Still conscience is not murder'd quite ; But in some gloom of anguish rolls Its challenge for God's right Athwart our echoing souls. Then, to the root of moral life Our being rocks with more than fear ; And in that harrowing strife The Judge seems drawing near ! Hence, like disciples on the deep When yawning billows o'er them swept, While lapp'd in lovely sleep The Lord calm slumber kept, — Our souls are in tempestuous fright, Our bark of hope is sinking fast, And death's eternal night Sterns all around us cast ! HUMAN FEARS. 287 Then, fear we, Lord ! and learn at length What saints must feel before they die, — A sinner has no strength Except to grace he fly. " Oh ! Little Faith," — alas, how true ! Our christless fears in calm and storm, Darken from Faith's own view Thy mercy's present form. And thus, 'mid promises divine, And with the wealth of Godhead stored, Like orphans, — Christians pine As if they had no Lord ! Shame on our sunken hearts ! and base, That men like creedless martyrs live, Though God redeem'd our race With all a God could give. Oh ! had we faith, though earth and sky To second chaos were confounded, Christ would not hear the cry/ — " By death we are surrounded !" But, calm as was the Saviour's brow, Who slept amid the thund'ring wave, — Each soul would prove him now A Lord who lives to save. Rebuke then, Christ, not waves and winds, But rather raise our blush of shame, That men with heathen minds Can bear Thy blessed Name ! (1) "Lord! save us, we perish I"— Matt. viii. 25. 288 THE SAVIOUR TEMPTED. Anchor of Souls ! in life and death Though loud the storms of anguish be, May Love, with latest breath, Her haven seek in Thee. THE SAVIOUR TEMPTED. " Then was Jesus led up of the spirit into the wilderness, to be tempted of the devil."— Matt. iv. 1. And wert Thou by the prompting Spirit led Through desert lone, to face satanic power, Oh, second Adam! our anointed Head, — To balk the demon in his blackest hour ? One moment, by baptismal waves we hear From opening skies deep melody descend, And drink that Voice with reverential fear Which hail'd Thee, Son of God, whom Grace did send : The next, — and Thou art in yon homeless wild Fasting and foodless ! with no eye to see How the lost angel tempts thine, undefiled Manhood to break the bond of Deity. 'Twas even so : and if when Satan threw A fiendish shade of subtlety and hate, By tempting wickedness of words untrue Into the heart of man's primeval state, — A myst'ry darkens o'er the deepest mind That ponders o'er that scene with prayerful thought, How can we dream (unless by sin struck blind) A tempted Christ with less of myst'ry fraught ? THE SAVIOUR TEMPTED. 289 Thus doth our Athanasian symbol teach A truth sublime that deep in Godhead dwells, Something beyond a soaring thought to reach, Surmounting all that winged reason tells, — How in Emanuel God and man unite Both natures true, in properties and powers ; The first retained its uncreated light, The second, sin except, was weak as ours ! In act quiescent, though by Godhead there, Divinity did not the man withdraw ; And thus obedient down to weeping prayer The Infinite became, by finite law. So may we read, with simple hearts and pure, How thus between the Darkness and the Light A duel was ; nor let cold science lure Our souls from faith in that mysterious fight. No dream it was ; no parable, no trance ; Nor mental ecstacy, that rapt the soul Beyond the bounds where time and space advance Their true conditions, or their just control : Close to the record simply may we cleave ; Then, each temptation will to man impart Myst'ries that crush no reason to believe, And awing wisdom that improves the heart. Tempted by Satan, lo ! the Adam first Yielded, and fell beneath a boundless lie ; And by his fall condemn'd mankind were curst, — In whose one death all generations die ! u 290 THE TEMPTATION APPLIED. But, when again the Prince of Evil would A second Adam likewise have assail'd, — Based on eternity, our Rock1 withstood And humanly o'er sin and hell prevail'd ! Vainly to crush Him thrice the Tempter brought The magic fulness of infernal skill ; Nothing that sense or inward feeling wrought, Assail'd The Holy One with shade of ill. Far o'er the fiercest hunger faith arose ; No pride of life His meekness could o'erwhelm ; And kingdoms of the world, as painted shows, His heart rejected from its holy realm ! He came to suffer, long before he reign'd, So, back to God our human will to bring ; And no temptation from the demon stain'd, That perfect virtue, saints and angels sing. Hail, Son of Mary ! arch Elect2 of heaven ! Victim divine whose blood redeem'd our fall, Conquer'd by grace, to Thee the world is given, — Wield Thy love-sceptre, and subdue it all ! THE TEMPTATION APPLIED. We have not a high priest which cannot he touched with the feeling of our infirmities ; but was in all points tempted like as we are." — Heb. iv. 15. Come to the desert where sad Jesu went, Lone Sinner ! — there, as in God's mirror see Reflected truths, by gracious wisdom meant To balk the arch-fiend when he tempteth Thee. (1) " Who is a rock save our God ?"— 2 Sam. xxii. 32. (2) " Behold mine Elect! in whom my soul delighteth." — Isa. xlii. 1. THE TEMPTATION APPLIED. 291 Prophetic actions, typically deep, Forecasting what the future Church shall feel "When blasting trials round her bulwarks sweep And fiends and foes combine against her weal, Were those dark trials, when, by grace upheld, The fasting Saviour with a Demon fought ; And by His word the Powers of Darkness fellVl, And back to perfect heaven our nature brought. Unknown, the virtue that is never tried ; And principle by keen temptation proves How much for God and glory is denied The earth-born will, our ruin'd manhood loves. The triple1 force of this perverted world Aims at our hearts a threefold blow of sin ; And souls, that w^ould not from their faith be hurl'd, By providence without and prayer within Defence must find ; — apart from these, they fail The world, the devil, and the flesh to fight ; Darkness and doubt will o'er their creed prevail And, Cain-like, plunge them in deistic night. How did Emanuel each infernal dart Repulse unwounded from His perfect soul ? — By words divine ! those bucklers of the heart, Temper'd by Heaven against the fiend's control. Alas ! for souls, if in their peril'd hour When sin and self, those Satans of the mind, Besiege our graces with commingled power, — Staid reason prove the only shield we find ! (1) " All that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life."— 1 John ii. 16. 292 THE TEMPTATION APPLIED. Nor let the righteous who to love belong, Dream that temptation will not dog their path ; When saints are weak, alone they seem the strong, And self-mistrust a true foundation hath. E'en in pure ecstacies of prayer and praise When nearest round the Throne of bliss they move, Visions from hell may float before their gaze And hide the glories of the heaven they love! Here is our wisdom, — with a wakeful mind The sense to watch, and pray down each desire That tempts the conscience to be base, or blind, By fanning embers of unhallow'd fire. And oh ! what deeps of consolation ope Like heavens of comfort, in this creed divine, — That not alone with darkness thou wilt cope, For in temptation, Christ believed, is thine ! He left His Throne, a stricken man to be, Tempted and tried, by anguish spent and worn, And drew from earth that boundless sympathy By which He lives,1 to succour the forlorn. Then cheer thee ! O thou troubled, toss'd, and tried ; Orphan'd in spirit, dream not of despair, Open yon heavens, — and lo! The Crucified Echoes thy heart in beating concord,2 there. Thy Lord beseech by all on earth He knew, Facing the demon in his dreadest hours ; Whose soul remains as tender and as true As when it wept o'er Judah's fated towers ! (1) " He ever liveth to make intercession for them." — Ileb. vii. 25. (2) " In all their affliction He was afflicted."— lsa. lxiii. 9. THE SINFULNESS OF SIN. 293 A mother may her new-born child forget, And exiled hearts their genial clime forego, — But Christ in heaven eternalizes jet Each tone of manhood He obtain'd below. E'en there, behold our sympathizing Priest In feeling human, as in form divine ; And seraphs listen, when of saints the least May boldly cry, — " Incarnate Love is mine ! " THE SINFULNESS OF SIN. 11 Sin, that it might appear sin, working death in me by that which is good ; that sin by the commandment might become exceeding sinful." — Rom. vii. 13. Sin colours all we are and prize, And, like our shadow ne'er departs ; E'en when we sleep, its blackness lies In full-length brooding o'er our hearts ! The cleansing grace of Blood Divine Alone can wash the stain away, " So let it bathe this heart of mine ! " — Believers thus for ever pray. Sin struck the moral root of man And poison'd there the branches too ; From Adam down to us it ran, And venoms all we think, and do ! Still, not on earth, but heaven above Rebellion first its flag unfurl'd, When God's bright Angel left his love, A fiend became, and sought our world. 294 THE SINFULNESS OF SIN. O mystery! too deep for all Except for Truth's omniscient eye, That one in heaven from faith could fall, Whom nothing from without did try. But refuge in this thought we find, That sin no perfect substance is ; But mere negation, bad and blind, Which cankers man and mortal bliss. Dark paradox of will perverse, Self-worship forms the secret ground Where Sin begets that boundless curse Hearts without God, have ever found. Self- preference frames a hell within, Eternity in seed is there ; Whence death and darkness now begin The torment souls undone will share. How sin commenced, vain reason tries To speculate, till thought grows wild ; But modest Faith this truth can prize, — That God is pure, though man defiled. Sole Teacher of all saving truth ! Divine Convincer of our need, Guardian of age, and Guide of youth, Under the Cross we learn our creed : Sin blasted with primeval blight Our first estate in Eden's bowers, Cover'd Creation o'er with night, And crush'd her prospects with her powers ! THE SINFULNESS OF SIN. 295 And since that most stupendous fall, Matter and Mind, with secret groan, Have ceased not for their God to call, Like orphans left to sigh alone. All pangs, and penalties, and pains, Sickness and sorrow, grief and care, Where ruin frowns, or anguish reigns, — The sinfulness of sin is there ! The babe who dies ; the tomb that opes For buried joys, or broken hearts ; Each leaf that falls from wither'd hopes As friend on friend from earth departs, What prove they all, but seal and sign How sin hath havoc' d earth and man, And, as the foe of law Divine, Merits the everlasting ban ? But, seek we this sad truth to know, How sin by virtual root can be A deicide, who strikes a blow That aims at awful Deity? Then, look we to supernal Grace, Almighty Love in flesh unveil'd, Whose worth restored our sunken race To heights beyond what thought hath scaled ! Did grateful awe His form attend ? Or, round Him adorations fall, And with encrowning anthem blend In one loud burst, — " Hail ! Lord of all ? " 296 THE SINFULNESS OF SIN. Alas ! vile earth an atheist proved ; His life became embodied woe, And He whom God supremely loved Was hated, worse than fiends below! ' Sin nail'd Him to the felon's tree, Marr'd His meek face, and spear'd the side; Nor was one sigh of sympathy Breathed o'er Him, when the Man-God died ! Well might Creation feel affright, And Earth's dread anguish seem to say Her sun could not endure the sight, — But dropt its lid and look'd away ! Yet man, the sinner, does not shake, Recoil nor shudder, groan nor weep ; And while the very dead awake, His heart retains its iron sleep! Lord of the Soul ! while thus we find Ourselves in what the past hath done, Teach the bad conscience of the blind Of spirits all Thou art the Sun. In Thy pure lustre, sin appears A contrast fell to man and God ; And makes them tremble at the tears That gush'd where bleeding Mercy trod ! Religion thus atonement brings Where faith and fear in one combine ; While purity from pardon springs, And proves them both to be divine. (1) "If God were your Father, ye would love me .... ye are of your father the Devil, and the lusts of your father ye will do."— John viii. 42, 44. 297 CONSCIOUS LIFE IN THE WORLD OF SOULS. " Give place : the maid is not dead, but sleepeth." — Matt. ix. 24. " God is not the God of the dead, but of the living."— Matt. xxii. 32. "To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise." — Luke xxiii. 43. Men are not dead because they die, From outward sense receding ; But where extends no mortal eye A spirit-life are leading : In some vast orb, where unveil'd glories shine, They wait the pealing of the trump divine ! What, though the slaves of tyrant sense, Wild hearts with sorrow blind, Dare catechize Omnipotence As though it mock'd mankind, And tempt some daring Sadducee to say, " On life unseen can Reason dart her ray?" But, like as reason sense can lift Into some higher sphere, So can pure faith, heaven's peerless gift, O'er reason's mark'd career Soar on wing'cl thoughts, and bid rapt feelings roam In dreams immortal round the spirit's home. That spirit-home ! that clime of souls, The palace of the blest, Where neither storm nor shadow rolls Athwart the halcyon breast, — Oh! there embower'd, unbodied saints repose, And each pure heart with placid virtue glows. 298 CONSCIOUS LIFE IN THE WORLD OF SOULS. They are not dead, whose bodies die, Commingling with cold earth ; For soul is man's eternity And hath such godlike worth, That no corruption makes its pulse to pause ; Nor can mere death arrest its might v laws. Created once, it lives, and lives For ever, and for ever ! The God of souls a fiat gives That flesh from it may sever, But round itself no trance sepulchral steals, And when unearth'd, far more of Godhead feels. The life men touch, and see, and taste, Is but organic show ; And onward as fast moments fleet Our organs weaker grow ; But character enfolds eternal doom, Bearing a life that breathes beyond the tomb ! And, might some parted Soul return Back from the viewless state, Our yearning minds would meekly learn What things of myst'ry wait The flesh-deliver'd, who from bondage free Fly to that Hades where elect ones be. Secrets of glory might disclose Their rich contents to man ; And truths beyond what Learning knows Or Science ever can, — CONSCIOUS LIFE IN THE WORLD OF SOULS. 299 Mio-ht then illuminate with earthless gleams Myst'ries, which make us tremble in our dreams ! But He, who is of life and death Puissant Lord and King, Who portions out all human breath, Forbids the dead to bring Intelligence from that far world unknown, To whose veil'd wonders countless souls have flown. Six thousand years have almost roll'd Their human waves along, Since Death, the uncontroll'd, Hath triumph'd o'er the strong, The weak and bad, the beautiful and brave, And made the earth-scene one enormous grave ! And yet, of all our sumless dead Not one hath back return'd To soothe some heart that inly bled, And for this secret burn'd, — - To understand, how spirits think and act, And what the glories which the dead attract ? In vain may restless minds entreat, Or, for such knowledge groan ; Silence before the Mercy-seat Befits the faith we own, When Hearts bereaved some parted soul pursue, And soar beyond all sacred guidance true! Oft in the hush of holy night, In shades of solemn grief When bow'd beneath some awful blight, With none to bring relief, 300 CONSCIOUS LIFE IN THE WORLD OF SOULS. How have we sigh'd to see that viewless state Where dead Immortals for their glory wait ! But, ah ! the universe is dumb To each high-breathed prayer ; From earth and heaven no answers come, But echo only, " Where ?" When lonesome thinkers in the churchyard cry— " Where be the souls whose bodies round me lie ?" But, calm thee, murm'ring heart ! lie still ; Nor wise beyond The Word Attempt to mount, lest haughty will To Christ should be preferr'd ; Enough to know, that all in heaven who trust God shall awaken from sepulchral dust. They " are not dead, but sleeping," — Bright words of balm and grace ! To Anguish worn, and weeping Above some marble face When placid Death has closed the silken lid, And from our hearts the soulless glances hid ! But in that hour of deepest trance While bend we o'er the dead, And into realms of thought advance Where Scripture hath not led, — The calm seraphic each white feature wears Seems to embody what The Christ declares When Death a transient " sleep " He calls ; And thus, from hearts half-breaking Rolls back the cloud that flesh appals, And prophesies the waking CONSCIOUS LIFE IN THE WORLD OF SOULS. 301 Soon to begin ! — when time's last trumpet rolls The blast that summons bodies back to souls. Meanwhile, though " earth to earth !" Be o'er their temples cried, The souls who shared a second birth No dust and darkness hide ; Wafted by angels to immortal bowers, They muse in paradise, w^ith conscious powers. Beyond such creed faith dares not go, Nor speculate on more ; True wisdom loves her sphere to know, Nor lets the heart run o'er In aimless dreams, which can no love inspire, But mock the fancy with a lurid fire. When Laz'rus back to life was brought He breathed not what he saw ; As though oblivion's spell had wrought, Or, some celestial law The lip restrain'd, and lock'd in silence all Whate'er in Hades did the dead befal. And she, the maid of Judah's race Whom Christ to earth restored, When life's young bloom inspired her face, And she, whom Love deplored, Clasp'd in a mother's arms, again was prest Heart close to heart, and breast to echoing breast ! — No whisper gave she of the scene To wrhich her spirit fled ; Nor, conscious look'd that she had been Communing wTith the dead, — 302 THE GLORY OF THE MOUNTAINS. Glory and Music might have seen and heard, For which on earth we find no sign, or word ! 0 Thou! to Whom both life and death Belong, and e'er obey, The grace to consecrate each breath To Thee, our Truth and Way, — Be ours to prize ! and then, both dooms will be Soothed with the thought, that each is sway'd by Thee. THE GLORY OF THE MOUNTAINS. " The Lord called to him out of the mountain." — Exod. xix. 8. " The Glory of the Lord stood on the mountain." — Ezek. xi. 23. How glorious are the mountain-kings ! that overawe the soul, And by their majesty of mien become their vast control ; An era forms it in the hearts which first beneath them bow'd, When haughtily some Alpine-peak out-soar'd the highest cloud ! They are not what the dull believe, a mass of speechless earth, But with embodied eloquence proclaim their regal birth ; Like anthems mute but magical, to inward thought they praise That Infinite of Architects, who their foundation lays. THE GLORY OF THE MOUNTAINS. 303 Be glory to the mountains! then, — what poetry they make When canopied by lucid air, or mirror'd on some lake ; Or, when the ravish'd pilgrim cries, from off some wooded brow, 1 Three hundred cloven summits lift their ice-bound foreheads now ! " The throned Archangels who in bliss on seats of glory rest, And through eternity behold the landscapes of the blest, Can scarce, to our imperfect dream, sublimer views enjoy, Than what these Alpine monarchs form, — the moun- tains of Savoy! The magic of their whiteness seems miraculously pure, And upward their ascending snows our lifted hearts allure ; And radiant are the icy spells their soaring masses wield, When seventy leagues cannot o'ershade the dazzling sight they yield ! All glory to the ancient hills ! that to the godless preach Sermons of more stupendous power, than erring man can reach ; Dumb orators to sense they look, but how divinely grand The deep significance they bear, to hearts that under- stand ! 304 THE GLORY OF THE MOUNTAINS. The stillness of their frozen trance is more than thunder's tone, — Resembling that celestial hush that deepen'd round the Throne When silence through the heaven of heavens for half an hour there reign'd, And seraphim before their God eternity sustain'd ! It is not that the clouds array with myriad-tinted hues Those peaks of alabaster ice, that pinnacle our views ; Nor is it, that our sateless eyes are spell-bound by the scene Of rocky scalps ten thousand feet above some black ravine ! Nor is it, that the glaciers lift their crags of gleaming snow, And move down in a noiseless march, to meet the vale below ; Nor all the dreadful joy that chills the soul of him who braves Montanvert ! from thy summit vast, the ever-frozen waves. Far more than this do mountain-spells to echoing minds impart, When through the veil of outer sense, they reach the central heart, — There enter with mysterious power, like Purities to reign, And over all its hidden springs, a moral influence gain. THE GLORY OF THE MOUNTAINS. 305 Thus oft amid the crowded street, or some contracted room, Or in that hour of mystic sway when all things wear a gloom, The Alpine monarchs lift their peaks, and in remem- brance rise And elevate our sunken hearts through their bewitching skies. They cause our very souls to blush, to think how base and weak Are half the fancied woes we feel, or morbidly would speak ; Until their awful summits seem to lift the rallied mind, And bid it soar to peerless heights above depress'd mankind ! But, what a lofty sacredness do regal mountains claim, AY hen we connect their giant forms with that mirac'lous fame That clings and cleaves to each and all celestial archives bring, — The truths that martyr'd seers foretell, or sainted harpers sing! Then, glory to the sacred Hills ! that rose in childhood's years : And by their ever-awing names inspired our faith and fears, — Moriah's mount, and Amalek, Gilboa and the scene Of Herman and of Horeb too, where God of old has been. 306 THE GLORY OF THE MOUNTAINS. How Gilead and Gerizim's forms, with Lebanon, appeal, And Ebal's, whence the curse roll'd down, — to man's religious zeal, And make us through believing awe invest a moun- tain's brow With magic and with deathless might, beyond what lips avow. And who but recreant hearts forget, how much sub- lime event Hath to the hills of Palestine, a solemn beauty- lent ?— Behold the peaks of Ararat ! for there the ark did ride And floated o'er the deluged world, who had our God denied. a And, were not Earth's primeval shrines upon lone mountains built ? Upon them rose the Altars green, where offer'd bloo was spilt ; There sacrifice from votive hearts, with incense prayer was given, And who forgets Moriah's hill, and Abram's crown from heaven ! And did not in deep thunder-tones the Decalogue descend From Sinai's brow of burning gloom, and with dark conscience blend THE GLORY OF THE MOUNTAINS. 307 Such horrors of unearthly sound, that pallid hosts did cry,- Oh, let not God directly speak, or we the death must die ! " But neither what dread Moses saw, or hoary Tishbite heard, Hath ever man's responsive mind with such emotion stirr'd As have those hills and heights divine, where Jesu pray'd and trod, Who by the priesthood of His grace, brings pardon'd man to God. 'Twas on some mountain that He met the Demon in that hour When all the gather'd crafts of Hell combined their gloomy power ; And thus on hills of loneliness, in lofty hush afar, Emanuel kept His midnight watch, and pray'd beneath the star. And, when His form transfigured grew, with glory more than bright, That dazzled into dim eclipse the powers of mortal sight, 'Twas Horeb in its soaring grace that witness'd what appear'd, When God Himself unclosed the Heavens, and pale disciples fear'd ! But ah ! of mountains all that speak to ears of list'ning time AA ith tones of superhuman truth, and eloquence sub- lime,— 308 THE GLORY OF THE MOUNTAINS. Dread mountain of The Crucified ! in faith we turn to thee. And echo with revering hearts, the name of " Calvary !" And, next to this eternal Mount, be that where Jesus taught His sermon on Beatitude, with grace and glory fraught, — Those lessons which divinely tell how pure that Heart must be That hopes to hymn the Lamb above, and gaze on Deity ! So, when the Lord of light arose, from out this world of gloom, And reascended back to God, His splendour to assume, Thy mountain, Olives ! was the spot, from whence he upward soar'd, While underneath a cloudy shrine, the prostrate band adored. Then, glory to the mountain-kings ! they charm the brave and free, And like the homes the Muses haunt, respire of poetry ; Keligion, Law, and Grace combine, around their form to cast A witchery of more than earth, while time and being last. Lord of the Everlasting Hills ! thou life of Nature's scene, Whene'er upon some mountain-brow our musing steps have been, Like altars which from earth to heaven in lonely gran- deur rise, Not seldom have such heights become, for mental sacrifice : REASON MURMURS. 309 There in the hush of Christ-like hours, oh, teach us how to pray, And 'mid their lofty calm of scene, adore the Truth and Way ; Till what begins in poesy, shall end in deepest prayer, The mountains into temples turn, and God be hallow'd there. REASON MURMURS WHEN THE RIGHTEOUS DIE. 1 ' The righteous perisheth, and no man layeth it to heart . . . none considering that the righteous is taken away from the evil to come." — Isa. lvii. 1. The noblest wealth our world contains Is holiness of heart ; All other gold it gets, or gains, But proves the meanest part. Most regal is that glorious will, Enslaved to God alone, That finds it freedom to fulfil Each mandate of His throne : Blest Angels, by a law like this Partake their perfect heaven ; And could not feel consummate bliss If other law were given. Obedience is adoring joy, Rebellion brings despair ; And would the heaven of heavens destroy If self-will triumph'd there ! 310 REASON MURMURS Yet, holiness may not avoid The doom corruption brought ; Since Adam fell by sin destroy'd, Hath Death his carnage wrought ! The sting, but not the stroke of death The Lord from man removed ; And they who draw the briefest breath Are oft the most beloved ; Beloved by God, and angels too, And thus from grief and pain Rapt far above our sense-bound view, With Christ in heaven to reign. But oh! how cold the world becomes, As saint on saint departs To brighten in elysian homes With pure and perfect hearts ! As if from out yon starry choir That chant around the sun, Some choral planet quench'd his fire Which we were gazing on. Impov'rish'd seems our orphan'd earth When good men pass away ; Time cannot spare their solemn worth, But needs it, day by day. But still, for them we dare not grieve The christian path who trod, If early call'd this life to leave For glory, and for God. WHEN THE RIGHTEOUS DIE* 311 To tliem the gain, to us the loss High Providence assigns ; And so appoints a deeper cross Than mortal thought divines. Genius, and worth, and wisdom, all From God alone arise ; And when He will His own recall, They seek their natal skies. Then hush thee ! murm'ring Heart ; and let Profound bereavements teach Lessons more pure than pale regret By discontent can reach ! The righteous die, but still they live A life of soul in bliss ; And what eternity can give, Outweighs a world like this. Men would not marvel, could they see The lustres round The Throne, Why saints and martyrs yearn'd to be Where all the just have flown ! Sorrow, and sin, and change no more In heaven their love alloy ; The fever of harsh time is o'er And Christ their perfect joy! We talk and think, as if our world Were all Jehovah made, And, when from some false mountain1 hurl'd Tremble, as if betray'd ! (1) "In my prosperity I said, I shall never be moved . . . Thou hast made my mountain to stand strong." — Psalm xxx. 6, 7. 312 REASON MURMURS. Yet, earth is but a point in space ; Our being, scarce a breath ; And he who will not life disgrace Must die before his death.1 The booming knell, the opening grave, The vacant room and chair, Should summon us to hopes that save The mind from meaner care. Hereafter is the home of soul, The paradise of thought ; And with its unsubdued control Lord ! be our bosom fraught. As friend on friend, revered and wise, Leave wither'd hearts alone, — Lift our low dreams beyond the skies Around Thine argent throne ! Weaker and weaker grows the spell Which binds the soul below, When more than burning numbers tell By grace begins to glow Deep in those hearts, whom death has fill'd With placid grief profound ; Where every pang is lull'd and still'd By Him who gave the wound. Thus with the dead the living hold Communion grave, and high ; Their bodies are but pulseless mould, But, — spirits claim the sky ! (1) "I die daily."— 1 Cor. XV. 31. THE POETRY OF SPRING. 313 Thy church, oh Christ ! is unconfined By what men hear, or see, Since all who own a saintly mind Are in eternity By hope and faith, — from whence they draw Breathings of praise and prayer ; While He, Whom martyr' d Stephen saw1 Becomes their magnet, there ! THE POETRY OF SPRING. " Lo the winter is past, the rain is over and gone ; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come." — Cant. ii. 11, 12. "Bless the Lord, O my soul . . . He sendeth the springs into the valleys — watereth the hills from his chambers — causeth the grass to grow — appointeth the moon for seasons . . . 0 Lord, how manifold are thy works ! in wisdom hast tnou made them all: the earth is full of thy riches." — Psalm civ. passim. The budding glories of a green-hair' d spring Dawn with bright verdure ; and wild birds ope their wing, And sun-born gladness through the soft air glows, While the young breeze with laughing gush o'erflows. A seeming consciousness inspires the Earth As though the soil were blooming into mirth ; And, like rich blood in some glad creature's veins, New tides of life are flushing through her plains. Music and motion haunt each vernal bough, Like living spirits fill'd with joyance now ; Here, lyric tones ; there, wave-like murmurs rise, And there, the cadence of contented sighs. (1) " Behold! I saw the heavens opened, and the Son of Man standing on the right hand of God."— Acts vii. 56. 314 THE POETRY OF SPRING. Each branch by choral winds is freshly stirr'd, Each leaf seems chanting like a little bird ; And such the spirit that empowers the breeze, It bends with music the compliant trees. Hark ! o'er the pebbles trip yon gurgling streams, And lisp and laugh, like infants in their dreams ; Or else, make liquid stanzas as they run, In mellow whispers warbled to the sun. The fairy magic of each new-born flower Mirrors the charm of heaven's creative power ; Beauty comes forth, like melody from lyres Swept by some hand that Poesy inspires. Look where you may, expressive gleams of youth Dart through the conscience this celestial truth, — That Christ is working resurrection -life, And making all things with His fulness rife. The silken azure of yon ruffled sea, The wing'd emotions of each bird, and bee, Blent with a chorus of the festal streams, — All sway the sense, and beautify our dreams. And when morn reddens, until soft and soon The golden brightness of unbreathing noon O'erveils the landscape with a slumb'rous light, Still shall creation yield intense delight. Let but the heart be spiritually clear, Let but our soul this God-made earth revere, And then, will something true religion greet From stars on high, to insects at our feet ! THE POETRY OF SPRING. 315 For what is nature, but a book divine Where Godhead dictates each material line, Where each pure object proves almighty Thought Forth from its viewless depths to vision brought ? Alas ! for souls, if men baptized can find Nothing in nature to accost the Mind ; Since all around them, did they read it well, Bears the high meaning of some holy spell. Sense cannot see them, — but bright angels may Direct the sunbeams that adorn the day, Entone the breeze, and oft at vesper hour Close the bent eyelid of each baby flower. Cold science worships philosophic Cause, And 'stead of God, reveres vicarious laws, Orphans Creation of Jehovah's care, And longs to silence what her scenes declare. 0 Thou ! by Whom all seasons reign and rule, Fount of the fresh, the fair, and beautiful ! For ever may Thine angel-spring impart This glorious symbol to our answ'ring heart, — As wintry earth her floral garb assumes, So will the dead, when summon'd from their tombs, Rise at Thy voice in resurrection-dress, And beam with everlasting loveliness ! 316 ®jK 23*atttutrts. BLESSED ARE THE POOR IN SPIRIT. FIRST BEATITUDE. " Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." Matt. v. 3. When God in thunder Moses brought His law of fire and flame, Eternal Duty then was taught In dread Jehovah's name. Yet breathes there more than Moses now Deep wisdom from above ; Though mildness clothes That gracious brow Whose ev'ry line is love. It was not thus His type of old Imperial Law declared ; When round Him pealing thunders roll'd And red-wing'd lightnings glared ; The people shudder 'd, like a leaf, Amid their black'ning gloom ; And Conscience saw no just relief Beyond, or in the tomb ! But, bright the contrast now appears ! When the mild Lord of grace From the green mount dispels all fears By His benignant luce. BLESSED ARE THE POOR IN SPIRIT. 317 The breeze, soft lyrist of the spring, Was harping o'er the flowers ; And humming bees upon the wing Enjoy 'd their golden hours; A vernal radiance threw its gleam Of gladness o'er the hill D s 5 While, rich as love-tones in a dream, The gushing of the rills. And like the season, — so the word Was mild as Mercy's breath; No curse was in His counsel heard, Nor doom of legal death. The Christ who comes the lost to save, With blessings did begin ; And thus from guilt, and death, and grave, Eedeem'd the heart within. Humility and meekness were The groundwork Jesus laid ; And He, whose life was living prayer, Their perfect types display 'd. All mental grace, all moral gift, Whate'er men seek, or find, Is blasted, — if it proudly lift, Or bloat, the conscious mind. Contingent, finite, from the dust, What Nothings are we all ! For in the tomb the proudest must A worm his brother call. 318 BLESSED ARE THE POOR IN SPIRIT. All pride becomes a fiendish spark Of hell, within the soul ; And He who dreads that region dark, Abhors its least control. The poor in spirit, blest are they Above the world who live ; Their wisdom is to watch and pray, And, like their Lord, forgive. Nor seek they for ambition's wealth, Or sigh for world-applause ; And, calm in sickness as in health, To Heaven commend their cause. True meekness is that master-grace Which saints and martyrs wore ; And He who led proud Judah's race,1 — How mild a mien He bore ! We cannot back to God return From the base depths of sin, Until beneath the Cross we learn To form the Christ within.2 And was He not, of worlds the Lord, In meekness all divine, Who, with each high and heavenly word A lowly grace did twine? A passion for imperfect good, — Behold ! what fosters pride ; While God himself is aye withstood, No idols are denied. (1) " Now the man Moses was very meek." — Numb. xii. 3. (2) " I travail in birth again until Christ be formed in you." — Gal. iv. 19. BLESSED ARE THE POOR IN SPIRIT. 319 But, mortal ! woulclst thou blessed be ? — From finite good retire ; And in the depths of Deity Thy soaring thoughts inspire. In humbleness of mind believe A true contentment reigns, Desires that no compunction leave, And joys which bring no pains. Then turn thee, 0 insatiate Soul ! From broken cisterns fly ; For, couldst thou drink their blissful whole, They still would leave thee dry. The utmost in all creatures fails An inward lull to bring, Since, when our purest dream prevails, Unrest keeps murmuring ! Low as some weaned child to lie Before Immanuel's feet, And in the guidance of His eye To find a safe retreat, Like Him to crucify the will As merciful and meek, And each just orb of duty fill Whene'er we act, or speak, — Be this, disciple of the Cross ! The glory of thine aim ; And though on earth thou reap the loss, In heaven perceive thy gain ! 320 BLESSED ARE THEY THAT MOURN. Yet, saitli He not, that here below Beatitudes begin For all, whose hearts by meekness grow Above the self of sin ? A kingdom of the mind is theirs While yet on earth they bide ;l And heaven seems dawning through the prayers God's Spirit hath supplied. Celestial Dove of Grace ! descend, Thy gentleness impart ; Till Faith shall build the Sinner's friend A temple in her heart. BLESSED ABE THEY THAT MOURN. SECOND BEATITUDE. " Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted." — Matt. v. 4. Oh, paradox divine, as deep ! — The blest are those who wail and weep, And bear that burden which no hearts allay : With rose-buds though the World be crown'd While rubied wine-cups circle round, — In fev'rish gloom her false dreams melt away! The Man of Sorrows, in whose tear The Church can type her own career, The God-man, whose profound extremes combined Whate'er of glory and of gloom His awful Person could assume, — On mourners stamp'd the name of blest mankind. (1) " Theirs is the kingdom of heaven." — Matt. v. 3. BLESSED ARE THEY THAT MOURN. 321 Mysterious though such gladness be, Far deeper than film'd Hearts can see A saint embosoms 'mid the world's alloy, — An inward heaven of lofty hope That can with outward trial cope, Nor, meddle strangers with that wordless joy! ! But not o'er all sad minds that mourn Like orphans in a world forlorn, Have lips Almighty thus pronounced the " bless'd ;" For, grief is oft a selfish chord Whose earth-tones can no proof afford That God and grace have e'er the will imprest. The mourners who u about the streets " - Of thronging life the stranger meets, Full often are they but proud Sin in tears ; 'Tis worldly sorrow working death That now intones their anguish'd breath, And fetters them wTith darkness, and with fears. Spent Minds, like these, none dare believe Are purely blest, because they grieve Or pine that earth no more their heaven supplies ; But, blest are they who mourn writhin That rankling wound of venom'd sin, — Waking, beyond all wo, their soul-heaved sighs ! For, sin is that stupendous grief Which out of God finds no relief, (1) "A stranger doth not intermeddle with his joy."— Prov. xiv. 10. (2) " The mourners go about the streets." — Ecclcs. xii. 5. 322 BLESSED ARE THEY THAT MOURN. A tainting curse that cleaves to flesh and soul ; And so abhorr'd around The Throne, The very heavens l appear to groan And bow dejected at its dread control ! 'Tis true, bland nature's tear-drops flow, To mark cold Earth a churchyard grow, While tombs rise countless as the waves at sea; Sickness and sorrow, change and care, And pale-worn features ev'ry where Reveal the hollowness vain life must be. But, Zion's mourners grieve and pine, To think that Law and love divine So seldom o'er man's caitiff bosom sway, — How all the Trinity of grace One bosom-sin will oft displace, And give to passion's dream its boundless play! Such weepers mourn before The Lamb, And cry, " Oh! wretched that I am ! Who shall deliver me, and burst my chain ?" Their hearts are crush'd, and inly rent To And what base alloy is blent With that fine gold, where virtue feels no stain. For this they blush, and burden'd lie, In self-abhorrence shrink and sigh ; And when they think on Jesu's awful groans, And how the garden soil was wet And crimson'd with His bloody sweat, — Their hearts beat prayer, which Godhead hears alone ! (lj " Be astonished, O ye heavens, at this, and be horribly afraid, be ye very desolate, saith the Lord .... My people hath forsaken me! " — Jcr. ii. 12, 13. BLESSED ARE THE MEEK. 323 Tis here a grief sublime appears ; And rays of glory light the tears Of souls, which mourn for Heaven's almighty wrong : Oh ! then descends the Paraclete And calms them with mild comfort meet, And turns their sadness to victorious song. Dejected minds, who thus are blest By sealing grace, are more impress'd, And bland and meek as charity become : Reflective awe and deep'ning prayer The growing work of God declare, And bid them pant for heaven's unclouded home. So, when these days of darkness cease, And holy death shall bring release From sorrow's gloom, and sin's intense alloy, How will they glory in that God Who said, while Earth's bleak wilds they trod, — That they who sow in tears, shall reap in joy! BLESSED ABE THE MEEK. THIRD BEATITUDE. "Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth."— Matt. v. 5. Thy ways, O Lord, are unlike ours, Thy thoughts surpass our own ; 1 And angels, when they scan their powers Fall wing-veil'd round the Throne ! (1) «' My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord.1' — Isa. lv. 8. 324 BLESSED ARE THE MEEK. Eternity Thine eyes peruse, Omniscient is Thy mind ; And whatsoe'er Thy wisdom choose Is perfect in its kind. But we, by pride and passion stain'd, Our good no longer know, And when we dream the goal is gain'd, Have reach'd intenser wo ! Ay, Good and Evil, Pain and Bliss, — In vain blind heathens thought To image in a world like this Those models which they sought. Our Centre true they could not see In aught the creatures bring ; But Christ who show'd us Deity, Unveils that holy Thing. But yet, a paradox this wears To men who walk by sense, Which deep humility declares The heart's sublime defence ! Resistance seems a noble gift To reason's haughty view ; And passions that proud self uplift Re-echo it as true. But He, whose will was crucified Throughout His sad career ; Whom earth abhorr'd, and man denied One sympathetic tear, BLESSED ARE THE MEEK. 325 By bearing outrage, wrong, and hate, This heaven-born lesson taught, — That souls are not divinely great Except with meekness fraught. Submission tender, mild, and deep, Not sullen, stern, or sad, But gentle as when angels weep While they o'erwatch the bad, — Such the chaste virtue Christ commends Believer ! as divine ; And if the heart thy Master bends, That lovely grace is thine. And who with such a just appeal To injured souls could cry, " Like Me must true disciples feel If doom'd to live or die ? " — In Christ the Lamb and Lion met, Their graces were combined ; And blest are those who follow yet The path He left behind. Whether before the Council placed, Or girt with savage yell, Or else by fiendish mock disgraced Whose accent came from hell ; Or, nail'd upon the wrenching cross In one incarnate pang, While foes beneath Him rage and toss, And impious gibings rang,1 — (1) "They that passed by reviled him, wagging their heads." — Matt. xxvii. 39. 326 BLESSED ARE THE MEEK. However tried, 'tis patience all ! From Him no wrath-tones roll ; To God ascends each dying call That rent His yielded soul.i And who can have a Christlike heart. Except his moral tone When call'd to feel life's bitter part, Recall the Saviour's own ? Oh, never ape that burning Pair2 Whose vengeance seem'd on fire, Because they could not meekly bear. What fann'd their zealous ire ! Yet, deem not that in stoic frost Warm feelings must be chill'd j Or that impassion'd minds are lost When thus by patience still'd. Perturb'd emotions, strong and keen, When pure Religion's cause Demands a hero for her scene. Infringe no hallow'd laws : But, guard thee well ! lest temper stain And poison glorious zeal, Till selfish anger's secret reign Proves all the god we feel ! Meek charity, that master-grace The peerless type of heaven, — (1) " Father! into thy hands I commend my spirit." — Luke xxiii. 46. (2) " And his disciples James and John said, Lord, wilt thou that we com- mand fire to come down from heaven and consume them V — Luke ix. 54. BLESSED ARE THE MEEK. 327 Oh, let it from thy creed displace What cannot say, " forgiven ! " Nor ever let the sun go down Upon our inward ire ; They cannot wear a Saviour's crown Whom love doth not inspire. Pure Lord of lowliness and love ! Thus, make Thy model dear To all who live for thrones above, By bearing crosses here. Thy meekness hath its own reward, Calm blessings line its path ; Without, it keeps celestial guard, Within, what peace it hath ! The proud are poor, 'mid all the gold Ambition's pride obtains ; The meek are rich, though none behold The beauty of their gains. No acres may to them belong, No scenes of garish pleasure ; But yet they chant a mental song O'er Truth's divinest treasure. And was not He, a Spirit meek, Exemplar of all grace, Who bow'd the heavens on earth to seek The ruins of our race ? Then, Lord of Gentleness ! be Thou For ever at our side ; 323 BLESSED ARE THEY WHO HUNGER And when we mark Thy wounded brow, Abhorr'd be human pride ! We are not Thine, unless we bear Thy yoke upon our souls, And welcome in each cross and care The Hand which All controls. Disciples true the Christ reflect, And must His shadows be ; And none but craven souls reject The watchword,—" Follow Me!" Yes, " follow thee ;" Lord, grant the will, And Love at once agrees Their heaven to taste, whose hearts fulfil What Thy calm word decrees. In life and death such spirits burn To hear Thy Voice divine, And glorify each grace they learn By using it as Thine. BLESSED ARE THEY WHO HUNGER AND THIRST FOR RIGHTEOUSNESS. FOURTH BEATITUDE. "Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled."— Malt. v. 6. The hand of Him who framed the earth Hath rlll'd it with harmonious grace, That men, who boast immortal birth, In each created thing may trace AND THIRST FOR RIGHTEOUSNESS. 329 How wondrously celestial Art From all without that meets the eye, — Appeals to our most inward heart, And proves two worlds in harmony. The world we see, and what we are, Illustrates that accordance due Which reigns from insect up to star, And hallows all we feel, or do ; If thus our hearts delight to prove How faculties their objects find, And render life a hymn of love To Him, who hath both worlds combined. But, still there is a craving force In appetites to sense allied, Which Nature in its noblest course Hath never to the brim supplied ; Though charm'd and fed, they are not fill'd, But fever'd oft with discontent ; The cry for " more !" no joy hath still'd — Unrest is with fruition blent. Though sumless orbs of beauty roll In burning magic through the sky, When mortal gaze commands the whole, — For brighter longs the asking eye ! And, when we hear the tones that make The sweetest heaven that sound can bring, Melodious thirst they do not slake For some diviner murmuring. 330 BLESSED ARE THEY WHO HUNGER But while both eye and ear demand What no imperfect sense enjoys, Spirits who under grace expand A bliss partake that never cloys, — The bliss of hung'ring more and more That "righteousness" may ere dispense To sainted hearts an added store Of purer calm, and innocence. Behold ! a hunger and a thirst Which God Himself will soothe and slake, — Ambition by no fever cursed, A hope no blighting sorrows break ; For, all those winged dreams that rise And flutter round a world divine, When Heaven unveils its hidden prize Will find far more than dreams combine : — Perennial glories there surpass All which seraphic Minds desire, Whom angels with themselves may class, With fervid hearts for God on fire ! Of finite good who only drinks, — Such water will be found in vain ; A deeper want than Passion thinks, Will soon enkindle thirst again.1 The man who lives by sensual dross, May banquet on some hollow bliss, But yet this truth his mind will cross, — I was not made for food like this ! (1) "Jesus said . . . Whosoever drinketh of this water, shall thirst again.'' John iv. 13. AND THIRST FOR RIGHTEOUSNESS. 331 Hunger and thirst, — oh, they be all Which carnal wisdom can create, What e'er encrowning words may call The glories which enwreathe the great ! From joy to joy the jaded sense Pursues each worn and wearied path ; Though big may be this world's pretence, The mind eternal hunger hath ; Within, what flaming thirst there burns ! That each polluting draught excites, As passion and supply by turns Fever the day, and fret the night. But grace forms them, to whom is given A glorious passion fix'd on God, Who breathe on earth the air of Heaven, And tread the ground Emanuel trod ; Their creed and conduct are combined In unity of peace and power, And mirror forth a saintly mind When darkness clouds the drearest hour. They must be tranquil, who are made By God, the guardian of the blest, Of neither Hell nor Earth afraid While panting for elysian rest : Their hunger is a holy thing, Their bosom-thirst a painful bliss ; And lauding seraphs shake their wTing Of rapture o'er unrest like this ! — ■ 332 BLESSED ARE THEY WHO HUNGER What is it? — but to nobly pine More Christ-like in true love to be ; Or, body forth the will divine, And heaven in all things ever see ; Till rectitude a nature grow, And holiness the spirit's breath, And faith alike, in weal or wo Adorn our life, and vanquish death. But if indeed the hunger'd mind And thirsting heart for Jesu Ions:, — Then will they not meet nurture find To nurse and make religion strong ? Incarnate God ! such mystic food Thine own ordaining words supplied, Which in Thy Body and Thy Blood A banquet for the soul provide.1 Thy sacred flesh, oh ! let us eat, And drink Thy blood, in myst'ry there, Where Faith Thy bleeding Form can greet 'Mid swells of sacrificial prayer : — The blasting spells of unbelief Must sure those famish' d hearts infect, Who feel no pang of wordless grief When they such angel-food neglect ! Soul of our souls ! almighty grace A sacramental life impart, And by some inward power erase Whatever dulls the deaden'd heart : — (1) " Whoso eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life : and I will raise him up at the last day." — John vi. 54. AND THIRST FOR RIGHTEOUSNESS. 333 For holiness a hunger give, And yearning of intenser love That we on Christ may learn to live, Like daily manna from above. In Heaven, we need no sacrament ; Nor signs, nor symbols there are found, When glory with its full content Shall each elected saint have crown'd ; — Adorn'd in robes of radiant white They neither thirst nor hunger more, But bask in beams of pure delight With all their toils and trials o'er. Around the Throne in rich array Perfect and sinless are they now, And in God's temple night and day Before the shrine of glory bow ; The Lamb Himself their food supplies And on His fulness they can feed, Who follow Him with tearless eyes, Where paths to living fountains lead.1 BLESSED ARE THE MERCIFUL. FIFTH BEATITUDE. " Blessed are the merciful; for they shall obtain mercy." — Matt. v. 7. When God to man His awful image gave In pure creation's primal bliss, The Wisdom that hereafter came to save A sinful world so vile as this, — (1) See Rev. xiv. 4, &c. &c. 334 BLESSED ARE THE MERCIFUL. The brightest feature of the Godhead drew By deep impression on his soul, And bade compassion most divinely true Reign o'er his breast with unsubdued control. Our mix'd emotions may be good, or vile, They govern by ambiguous laws ; But Mercy is of nobler cast and style, And rooted in no selfish cause ; — How godlike, let Emanuel's life declare ! Whose heart with such compassion beat, That His pure soul to each sad tone and prayer On earth became an echoing mercy-seat. Let stoic schools from other creeds erect An iron system cold and dead, That would from God-created souls reject Emotions out of pity bred : — Men are half-monsters, if no heart were left To throb with pathos, and to feel Like Jesus, when He saw a home bereft, And down His cheek compassion's tear did steal ! Thus mercy forms the Saviour's darling grace, And in Him took a shape divine; In word and deed, behold its beaming trace Throughout th' Incarnate Myst'ry shine ! His heart replied to each pale Wo that wept, And echo'd back man's deeper sigh, When by the grave no icy grandeur kept The tear of manhood from His sacred eye. BLESSED ARE THE MERCIFUL. 335 The haughty coldness of inhuman creeds May scorn compassion shedding tears, And blandly pouring over sorrow's needs Those genial tones that soften fears ; And science may to selfishness ascribe What soft-eyed pity for the wretched feels ; But, heaven -born Virtue bears the heathen gibe, Nor checks the tear that from compassion steals. Of men the wisest, bravest, and the best, The lofty-hearted, firm and free, On whose proud name an empire's glories rest, Who guide the land and guard our sea, — No leaden calm of unimpassion'd mind A boast has been, or proved them brave ; But all pure links, connecting kind with kind, They deem'd them holy, and beyond the grave ! Men are not wise because they cannot weep, Nor basely soft because they sigh ; For there be fountains in the heart that sleep That moisten oft the sternest eye ; The sainted heroes canonized by time, And martyr'd hosts, who burn'd or bled, — The wide earth doth not deem them less sublime Because they soothed the sad, or mourn'd the dead. The perfect God, though passionless as pure, Hath symbolized His awful name By deep emotions, which the heart allure, And bend the will before His claim : 336 BLESSED ARE THE MERCIFUL. He speaks not only in the whirlwind's tone, But with the calm of cooling eve ;l And oft holds back the thunders of His Throne That dreadless minds may love Him, and believe. But Thou, blest Archetype of love divine ! In whom the Trinity express Whate'er by union God and man combine Of moral grace, and loveliness, Thy soul was tender as thy flesh was true, And throbb'd with thrills of deepest power ;- Unmoved in godhead, but a living hue Of warm emotion tinged Thy farewell hour.2 And art Thou now, embodied Lord of love, In such deep calm of bliss enthroned, That to the Priesthood of Thy grace above, Though deep the sigh dread anguish groan'd,- It cannot ripple into feeling there Thy heart of tenderness, and truth ? Oh ! is it echoless to high-breathed prayer, Utter 'd by Sin and Wo, from Age or Youth ? That creed reject ! 'tis infidel and wrong ; The Church adores a Priest in heaven To Whom compassions most intense belong, By which he feels for man forgiven ; And He is touch'd with sympathies that thrill Through the rich glories round His Throne ; (1) " The voice of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day." — Gen. iii. 8. (2) " My God. my God, why hast thou forsaken me? " — Matt, xxvii. 46. BLESSED ARE THE PURE IN HEART. 337 For all those splendours leave Messiah still The weeper's Refuge, and the widow's own.1 Fountain of Mercy! whose melodious word Peals in the soul like Pity's voice, Be each chaste heart by such compassion stirr'd As makes Thy love its peerless choice ; For, if with mercy for their fallen clay Men are not melted, nor commoved, — How will they shrink from that awarding day When barren creeds by Christ are unapproved ! Souls cannot love, unless like Him they feel For human sorrows, hopes and fears ; And learn to soften with benignant zeal The bitter gush of orphan tears : For God is Love ; compassions wreathe His name ; And children of pure grace are we When, like His echoes, we become the same, And Love on earth reflects her Deity! BLESSED ABE THE PUBE IN HEABT. SIXTH BEATITUDE. " Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God." — Matt. v. 8. How blessed are the pure in heart ! And none are blest beside ; For nought of heaven can grace impart If pureness be denied. (1) " An High Priest . . . touched with the feeling of our infirmities." — Heb . 15. " Thy Maker is thy husband ; The Lord is his name."— Isa. liv. 5. Z 38 BLESSED ARE THE PURE IN HEART. Can sightless eyeballs see the Sun, Though earth be bathed in beams, And o'er each hill he shines upon A ray of rapture gleams ? No more can tainted spirits gaze On glories round The Throne ; Mere darkness would become That blaze Pare hearts can bear alone ! The Moon cannot her image glass On restless waves that rise, For, when the storm-winds o'er them pass Her broken semblance dies; And so, where passion's lurid fires The love of truth erase, No sight of God the soul inspires, But all grows blind and base. By heavenly likeness hearts discern The secrets most divine ;* Just as we live, so much we learn Of Thee, O God ! and Thine. j Those inward eyes of purity By which the mind beholds Ideal truths sin cannot see, When God Himself unfolds, — Unless we have them, vain is all The science stored within; Our creed the world may holy call, But such proud wealth is sin. (1) " The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him." — Psalm xxv. 1 1. BLESSED ARE THE PURE IN HEART. 339 And here, behold that peerless law Proving the Gospel's worth, Beyond what sage or poet saw, When most he soar'd from earth : That law is purity intense, A chastity divine, A sacred glow of innocence, That keeps the heart a shrine, — A shrine of holiness and power Whence praise and prayer ascend, To seek what soothes the sternest hour That can the Christian bend. Then, weigh thy heart ! disciple, keep That ceaseless pulse of life ; Which even through innocuous sleep Can throb with sin, and strife. Mysterious, ever-active spring Of central thought and will ! To which time, sense, and motion bring Perpetual good, or ill. By thee we live, and love, and hate, The inward man art thou ; Thy nature dooms our final state, And that is forming now ! Oh ! watch we then, with jealous eyes That world, where God alone1 Searches the secret thoughts that rise Like shades before His Throne. <\) " I, The Lord, search the heart.'*— Jer. xvii. 10. 340 BLESSED ARE THE PURE IN HEART. As local space the body holds, So, God the mind contains ; And who can dare what He enfolds To mar with sinful stain ? He dwells in us, and wre in Him, — The Temple of all souls ! And pure as prostrate seraphim Be all which He controls. For if the ground by Moses trod With sanctity was fill'd, When erst the flaming bush of God The o'erawed patriarch still'd, Sublimer far than thought can trace Is He, the all-divine ! Who is in Christ our dwelling-place1 And all-embracing Shrine. Defilement thus doth God profane, And horrible is sin ! Since he whose heart endures a stain Dares sacrilege within : Eternal spring of purity ! Descend, propitious Dove ; From heart- corruption make us free, By turning law to love. The blessed are the pure, indeed, And wretched, the defiled ! In whose dark bosom dwell and breed Lone passions, fierce and wild. (1) " Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations." — Psalm xc. 1. " In Him we live, and move, and have our being." — Acts xvii. 28. BLESSED ARE THE PEACEMAKERS. 341 By likeness only, souls can see The glories Heaven contains ; But minds that nurse impurity Would feel them worse than pains ! For purity is heaven below, And sin the hell of man, And all eternity will show, Will be, — what time began.1 BLESSED ABE THE PEACEMAKERS. SEVENTH BEATITUDE. " Blessed are the peacemakers; for they shall he called the children of God."— Matt. v. 9. When first rebellion in the will began, And faith in God to faith in self was changed, Wild discord woke within the soul of man And headlong impulse o'er his being ranged. For, peace expires where purity is lost, And purity by love to God begins ; Who calls him " Father ! " — let him count the cost And pluck the right eye from his bosom-sins.2 And who, with such a God-beseeming grace Could weave heaven's garland round the tranquil mind, As Christ, who purchased for our forfeit race The peace divine that lulls heart-torn mankind ? (1) " He that is unjust, let him be unjust still ; and he which is filthy, let him be filthy s^Z." — i2eo.xxii.il. " This mortal must put on immortality." — 1 Cor. x\. 53. (2) " If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out."— Matt. v. 29. 342 BLESSED ARE THE PEACEMAKERS. Lord of our lineage, and of saving calm, When first from veiPd eternity He came, — A natal anthem o'er night's dewy balm Sang the rich notes of His melodious name ; And they breathed, " Peace on earth ! to man Good- will ! "— And, ere he soar'd to His primeval bliss, " Peace " was the word that hung soft music still Round the sad myst'ry of an hour like this.1 The first of blessings, like the last, is found Thus by our Lord, as deepest and divine ; And ne'er may calm and confidence abound Till faith and feeling round this truth combine. Where low'ring envy, wrath, or secret pride, Ambition, av'rice and revenge are nursed, Here can no halcyon from the heavens abide, But all is chaos, with convulsion cursed ! Base passions are the serpents of our soul That bite and sting to bitterness the heart, And where they wield their unsubdued control, Angels and grace from that foul den depart ! But when these hearts atoning Blood makes white, Soft o'er our spirit broods the mystic Dove ; Like the hush'd band, who watch'd their sheep by night, A " peace on earth," replies to peace above. (1) "The first clay of the week came Jesus, and stood in the midst, and saitli unto thern, Peace be unto you." — John xx. 19. BLESSED ARE THE PEACEMAKERS. 343 Then like our Lord, magnanimous and meek, Move where we may, our end is still the same ; Firm to our vow, in all we do or speak We dare embody our baptismal name. No longer as the Lord of Hosts, and war, Doth God the glories of His will unfold ; But, radiant as the lull of evening star As Lord of Peace His pard'ning smile behold ! l And saints on earth resemble Him in heaven Who help to circulate the calm of love, And by imparting what to each is given, Prove their high lineage from the Lord above. Makers of Peace ! your task divine complete, Two sever'd hearts in unity restore ; And bid mild harmonies of friendship meet To rule in homes, where they have reign'd before. For ah ! how mournful, when two friends depart Wider and wider unto distance stern, While each one holds the arrow at his heart And, but for pride, would lovingly return ! And, more than beauteous is a god-like word Breaking soft balm o'er that tempestuous hour When some vile Satan of the soul hath stirr'd, And maddens nature with demoniac power. " The Lord of Hosts is his name." — Isa. xlvii 4. " The Lord is a man of war." — Exod. xv. 3. " Now the Lord of Peace himself give you peace always."— 2 Thess. iii. 16. 344 BLESSED ARE THE PEACEMAKERS. To stand between like mediating Grace, And make two alienated minds agree, — ■ Sublimes our being, and reveals the trace Of true adoption into Deity. And, blest are they who private love promote In bow'rs domestic, where meek Virtue dwells ; While feelings motherly their aim devote To people home with unclistracted spells. And not unblest are they, who nobly guard The lofty sacredness of Public weal ; Theirs the rich peace, that bring its own reward, When Empires at the throne of Godhead kneel ! And He, in whom all unities reside, Celestial fount from whence communions flow, Husband of Souls, who took His chosen Bride And call'd it by the name of, Church, below, — How can we love Him, if we dare to rend By the rude harshness of sectarian will That Mystic Body, where all members blend And by their harmony due office fill ? How can we love Him, if our " Church" we choose As pride, or reason, and presumption sway ? — Defend us, Grace ! from babylonian views, And teach us, not to argue, but obey. Be ours submission, Mary-like and meek, Who love the path anointed martyrs trod ; Learning to crucify what most we seek When Self would image a sectarian God. BLESSED ARE THE RIGHTEOUS. 345 So shall we have that wordless peace of mind, A wealth beyond the golden worlds to buy, — A boundless heart that beats for all mankind, As though it throbb'd beneath the Saviour's eye ! True source of harmony, and sacred peace, Spirit divine ! without Thee all is vain ; Descend, and with Thy lulling power release The souls that suffer from a selfish chain. A loving will that leaps at Duty's call Do Thou bestow, whate'er the trial be, — Bearing the cross which heaven provides for all Whose faith, 0 Lord ! exults to honour Thee. Unfathom'd peace ! my Saviour's final prayer, Deep in pure Godhead doth thy basis lie ; Eeign like a glory everywhere, And guard us while we live, and when we die ! BLESSED ARE THE RIGHTEOUS, WHOM MEN REVILE. EIGHTH BEATITUDE. '•' Blessed are they which are'persecuted for righteousness' sake when men shall revile you .... and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely for my sake : great is your reward in heaven." — Matt. v. 10, 11, 12. " My years are in the yellow leaf, Though few their number found," — But, God is greater than thy grief And knows thy deepest wound ; Be this thy balm, in some distemper' d mood When sad thoughts sing their dirge in mental solitude. o 46 BLESSED ARE THE RIGHTEOUS, This world becomes a barren scene To eyes of sunny youth, When vices have victorious been, And falsehood vanquished truth, Where good men weep, and Worth droops in the shade, And minds of most heroic mould, are blighted and betray'd ! Thus, to pale martyrs of the Cross Distracted earth appears An orphan'd Realm, where pain and loss Demand perpetual tears ; And, were it all that God for man decreed, Who would not in despair for widow'd nature bleed ? But soon will dawn a radiant clime Where sin nor sorrows reign, Beyond the clouds of changing time To shadow, or to stain ; A whole eternity of balm and bliss Where pangless hearts forget a life so false as this ! And let the full-toned anthem rise In swells of grateful joy, That Faith beholds with prescient eyes What time nor tears destroy, — A perfect life, compensative of all Impetuous thoughts presume unworthy heaven, to call ! It was not thus ere christian ltelit Arose in heathen gloom, WHOM MEN REVILE. 34 H For then, the soul immersed in night Found life a living tomb ; Confusion reign'd o'er providence denied, And when of death it thought, the craven bosom sigh'd ! But now a beam celestial plays From out the Page Divine ; And o'er the gloom of grief-worn days What dawning glories shine ! O'er ruin'd hopes descending to the grave The banners of the Cross, — sublimely do they wave ! And thus what Sense injustice deems, That saints can suffer wrong, No more a christless problem seems To them by faith made strong ; For o'er them, hark! th' anointed u Blessed," breathed From Him who round His head the crown of anguish wreathed. Yea blessed are the souls that bear For Christ, and his pure laws, The moral pang and mental wear Which friend, or foe can cause ; Since all we suffer, if the will be sound, Plereafter in the heavens shall to our bliss redound ! And thus when God incarnate taught Upon the mount enthroned, How they should be to glory brought Whom scorning earth disown'd, And so enjoy, by His great mercy given, A crown that shall outshine what seraphs wear in heaven, o 48 BLESSED ARE THE RIGHTEOUS, A vision then before Him rose Of all His Church would be, As doom'd to battle with her woes, Till death and darkness flee ; And not one heart that since has broke, or sigh'd, His " Blessed !" did not then a soothing balm provide ! Hosannah ! cry unwav'ring hearts Whom Persecution brands, And bear unmoved infernal darts When hurl'd by godless hands ; 'Tis thus the soldiers of the truth are train'd, Those heroes of the Lord, who heaven's own laurels gain'd ! By love, and patient suff'ring led, More Christ-like men become ; And meekly while the path we tread That leads our spirit home, Our graces brighten while they vanquish wo, And saintly virtue springs from soils where trials grow. And, do we not corruption feel Our purest dreams assail, While wounds that grace alone can heal Make harrow 'd conscience pale ? — But, these are cleansed by consecrated fire, As persecuted saints more soaringly aspire. When clothed with age, or clad with youth, Whate'er life's era be, Men glorify the force of truth Who God in anguish see ; WHOM MEN REVILE. 349 And prove what strength His promises impart Who, high upon His Throne, can hear the fainting heart ! In all things should the Church reflect Her regal Lord divine ; And ne'er with sin, or change, or sect, Her vestal charms1 combine : To suffer, is the privilege of love In which the saints outsoar what angels do above ! Then wonder not, if sighs or tears, Or contumelious shame, Inweave the web of perill'd years, Nor God's deep wisdom blame ; But rather, in earth's malediction see A shadow of the Cross endured, O Lord ! by Thee. Those peerless graces hearts require To fit the saints for heaven, Are burnish'd by that sacred fire To martyr'd anguish given ; Love, Faith, and Valour, are the three which make The stature of the Soul her full perfection take. And, thus conform'd to Thee and Thine Seraphic minds ascend, Till with Thine image, Lord ! they shine And with Thy glories blend ;2 So proud a bliss heroic saints procure Who with undaunted hearts their giant pangs endure. (1) " That I majT present you as a chaste virgin to Christ." — 2 Cor. xi. 2. (2) "If we suffer, we shall also reign with him." — 2 Tim. ii. 12. 350 THE SILENCE OF THE SOUL. "Joseph could not refrain himself .... Cause every man to go out from me. And there stood no man with him, while Joseph made himself known unto his brethren." — Gen. xlv. 1. The depths of ocean roll unseen However loud the storm-blasts ride ; And where the whirlwind's rage hath been Foam whitens o'er the flashing tide : But, underneath in waveless trance The spirit of the water sleeps, And thunderbolt and lightning-glance Disturb not its unechoing deeps. But 'tis not thus, majestic souls The tempest of their heart betray When wisdom chastens, or controls By principles of regal sway: Unlike the sea, their surface lies Becalm'd without ; all pale and proud, Where not a ripple meets the eyes Of them who make the vulgar crowd. And thus the heaven-born Spartan bears With mien and manner undisturb'd Whatever doom his God declares ; And by divine restraint hath curb'd Those passion-bursts, that wildly break From mere excitement's madding hour, When stormy pangs the bosom shake And palsy reason's noblest power ! THE SILENCE OF THE SOUL. 00 i Who that has heard the gush of wo From some wild mourner by the grave, Or seen the scalding teardrop's flow A sunken cheek of sorrow lave, Or, listen'd to those sobs and sighs, Like echoes of a breaking heart ! — And has not, with perturbed eyes, Felt the full pang that scene imparts ? But, grief there is far more sublime Enacted in this world of glooms, That haunts us through memorial time With shadow deeper than the tomb's ; — 'Tis when we hear an earth-clod fall Upon the coffin's lid of death, And with clay-accents which appal, Thrill the warm blood, and choke our breath ! With stealthy eye we dare to scan The face of some bereaved one there, — But lo! he looks a tearless man Whose loss no outward signs declare ; No shudders through his bosom heave, His features with no anguish move ; And worldlings guess he does not grieve, Because he was too stern to love! But, look again ! and thou wilt see Yon sighless man who sheds no tears, A mass of buried agony, Far deeper than to sense appears ! 352 THE SILENCE OF THE SOUL. His very calm is wo congeal'd, A wordless depth of cliill despair ; And what no stormful pang reveal'd, Felt like a frozen tempest there ! Thus the damp churchyard he will leave To mingle with the haunts of men ; And shallow minds might well conceive His gladness soon revived again : But ah! they wrong him; when alone, The buried pangs of mem'ry rise, And through his dream there wakes a groan Which tells how deep dread anguish lies ! Hush'd are high feelings, when their course Springs from the soul's pure fountain-head ; Though language cannot speak their force, Yet, far beyond what lips have said, Down the deep spirit's veil'd recess They nurse their harrow'd nature true ; And those mankind for stoics guess Bear hidden wounds, which none can view ! The storm-voice of some open grief Too often proves a shallow heart ; And there be pangs from earth's relief That proud and pure stand all apart ; Like the stern patriarch's, when he felt Fond yearnings of the brother rise, — The voiceless heart they inly melt, And shun the gaze of common eyes. THE SILENCE OF THE SOUL. 353 So dwells there in each virgin mind Some bashful grace, that will not bare Its beauty unto coarse mankind, But comes to God in secret prayer : The tumult of religious talk, Impassion'd tones of self unveil'd, With all that crowds life's vulgar walk, — Heaven has not for her children hail'd. All delicate within abide The Godward secrets of the soul, And, neither spoken, look'd, nor sigh'd, Unwitness'd reign with just control. — Thus, Nature doth her toils pursue, In sacred darkness works alone ; And all proud science searches through Seems but the shadow of Her throne. Her glories are God's u secret things ;" Her wonder-works, — no eye can see The plan whereby Perfection brings Their essence out of Deity ! All matter, motion, growth, and life Are myst'ries here, which man defy ; And are with deeper wisdom rife, Than Science reads below the sky. And He of hearts the savin g lisrht, Our living Sun, within whose rays A soul can bear the blackest night That deepens round misfortune's days, — A A 354 RECONCILIATION. Alone He was ; unseen, unheard, In vigil, fast, and awful fears ; Few pangs He breathed through mortal word, But spake them by His blood-shed tears ! At midnight, on calm mountains cold Awed Angels might have heard Him pray ; But not disciples could behold What suffering in His silence lay ! And He who seeks a sacred heart, In solitude must learn to feel ; Nor to the blushless world impart Those deeper thoughts the wise conceal. In lofty silence, sad and meek Thy cross confront, and bear it well ; And if thy soul an echo seek, To Christ the hidden anguish tell : In thy lone chamber kneel, and pray Where none but God, and thou art nigh ; And He who said, — " Our Father say"1 In heaven will hear thy holy sigh. RECONCILIATION. " First be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift." Matt. v. 24. Pure glory of forgiving love ! Whose archetype exists above In God the reconciled ; (1) " When ye pray, say, Our Father." — Luke xi. 2. RECONCILIATION. 355 By nine degrees1 of soaring worth May our wing'd souls ascend from earth To Thee, the undefiled ! Bootless are sacramental forms, If in our hearts the hectic storms Of sullen anger dwell ; Angels in mien, but Cains in mind, — Men dare to dream their God too blind To see their bosomed hell ! No mortal hate with love divine Can ever in one soul combine,— Deceit must both deprave ; For love is that seraphic glow That cannot chill before a foe, But seeks him to the grave. Proud thoughts create a mental war, Nor let us see the truth we are, But hide from self our sin ; Aloud men cry o'er wrongs they feel, But all the wrongs thev do, conceal Like pharisees within. Could we ourselves as clearly scan, As we unshroud our brother man, How humbly might we walk ! (1) In a strain of beautiful inspiration, Chrysostom, when commenting on Matt. v. 44, says, " Ei<5e? oaov? ixvefin j3adixd$," k. t. X. ''Do you observe the scale he has ascended, and how he has placed us upon the pinnacle of virtue?" &c. &c. The Ninth to God for Him. Do you mark the summit of philosophy ?" — Chrysost. Horn. 356 RECONCILIATION. And never in the maddest hour When vile self-worship wields its power. Of our meek virtues talk ! Let conscience learn, the sharpest word Our ulcerated pride has heard, Is tender, more than true ; Since all that envious eyes can see, Is pure to what Divinity In man's vain heart can view ! Thy temper soothe, thou ireful one ! Nor ever may the west'ring sun Go down upon thy wrath ; Thy brother seek, each fault confess, And wdth sad tones of mild distress Win all the love he hath ! If by cold word, or thought, or deed Thy heart has caused his own to bleed, Promptly that ill repair ; Nor dream that thus to condescend Will one bad shade of meanness blend With aught thou feelest there. But if in soul, a sullen thought With scowling pride of anger fraught, Toward friend or foe remain, — Presume not, where Christ's altar stands To offer with polluted hands1 What heaven must so disdain ! (1) "Who shall stand in his holy place? lie that hath clean hands." Ps. xxiv. 3, 4. KECONCILIATION. 357 First to a brother give thy heart ; Let bitterness of soul depart, And then that meal partake, Where Love Incarnate bleeds and dies In His memorial sacrifice, Presented for thy sake. Fathom thy deeps of sinful mind, Keen to thyself, to others blind, — Be this thy noble plan ! Beneath enamell'd smiles and ways Let Conscience dart her searching rays, And thou wilt pity man. Self-ign'rance makes blind Nature proud, And o'er clear error casts a cloud Of flatt'ry's genial power ; But Self illumed by heaven's own ray Can melt that painted mist away, And humble ev'ry hour ! Vain hypocrites, and worse than vile, If passions dark our soul defile And fiendish thoughts are nursed ; While outwardly in church and creed, We call ourselves a " holy seed," — By God we are accursed ! Heaven's lineage must heaven's likeness wear, And not alone by praise and prayer Authentic worship prove ; When Faith beholds her God of grace, The brightest feature she can trace Is that which glows with love. 358 RECONCILIATION. Then, grant us, Lord ! a heart like Thine As deep in mercy, as divine, — Celestial, mild, and true ; And learn we all, the more we live ; The godlike must like God forgive1 All daring wrong can do. Creation seems imstinct with love, A parable of His above, — Father, and Friend of all ! And not a raindrop Earth renews, And not a sunbeam lights her hues, "Which does not grace recall.2 O'er just and unjust, what a shower Of raining mercies falls each hour, Bought by atoning Blood ! From Whose vast merit all that is, Derives each energizing bliss That makes our common good. Two Bibles thus our hearts may teach A pure sublime of man to reach, — By loving our worst foe ; Since Nature, like the Gospel, pours O'er "good and evil" all her stores That each may Godhead know. (1) "Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect."— Matt. v. 48. (2) " Love your enemies . . . He maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust." — Matt. v. 44, 43. 359 AN INFANT SOUL IN FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD. " Hid from the wise and prudent . . . revealed unto babes." Matt, xi.25. Mysterious infant ! on whose fairy brow A far-off glory seems reflected now, — A pensive, mild, and melancholy ray, Like the last hue of heaven's most lovely day. Thou living hare-bell, 'mong the human flowers That bud and blossom in domestic bowers ! Pathetic azure in thy gentle eye Gleams like the stillness of a kindred sky : I gaze on thee, till unshed tears begin To well from fountain-depths of thought within ; And feel most awe-struck, when I try to trace Th' unfathom'd soul that lights thy tranquil face. Feeble to sense and sight indeed thou art, But oh ! within thee dwells a mighty heart Capacious of eternity, and God, E'en now, before the travell'd earth is trod. Fragile those organs that connect the soul With those blent world-scenes, which our own control ; But let not creed! ess science this declare, — That God and angels are unvision'd there. Souls in pure essence, are, like grace, unknown, For all we hear is but the outward tone, A broken echo of a voice within Muffled by earth, and jarr'd by jangling sin. 360 AN INFANT SOUL But, if The Spirit must a soul renew Ere heaven can open on its blissful view, Then must the babe unbreathed communion hold And have with Christ some intercourse untold. No iron myst'ry of electing grace Can for sweet infancy defend its place ; All, all, baptized or not, in glory fly To Jesu's bosom, when they close the eye ! And none but fiends in theologic creed Who banish infants to a hell decreed, That are not raptured, when Immanuel gains Souls by redemption, where no Bible reigns. Sinless in fact, untempted babes depart To where, oh Christ ! enthroned in bliss Thou art ; And, ere time's language to their lips is known, They learn The Cross before salvation's throne. And who remembers not some deep-eyed child, Pathetic, pale, and exquisitely mild, Purer than chisell'd alabaster shines Where sculptured poesy hath traced its lines ? But 'tis not beauty, delicate and bright, Nor limbs elastic as incarnate light ; Nor that seraphic grace of brow and cheek, Dimpled with thoughts no budding words can speak,- 'Tis something finer than all beauty far, Tender as dreams beneath a twilight star; A heaven-like stamp of sacredness that glows O'er each calm feature in its chaste repose. IN FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD. 361 And who denies, prophetic babes can see Secrets and Shapes that throng eternity, Visions of glory, such as elder man Has never imaged in the course he ran ? A wordless infant in some mystic hour May have The Spirit in His deeper power, Converse with angels, and in God behold Truths that heroic saints have never told. The tearful radiance of a baby's eye, The pleading music of its pensive sigh, The looks that seem so spiritually deep Turn'd on beholders, till they almost weep ! — May be the symbols of a faded heaven To infants in angelic slumber given, Which leaves them, when they face the world again, In dim remembrance and in dawning pain. And none can tell, but hov'ring babes above To babes on earth may whisper tones of love, Melodious fragments of cherubic song On glory's breeze, for ever borne along. And, childless mother ! let a thought like this Serene thy bosom with a sainted bliss, That e'en as earth-worms in the dust that wind Compared with eagles, when they leave behind Earth, cloud, and sea, to reach the orient sun, — Are all the triumphs tow'ring saints have won, Rank'd with the wisdom that an infant knows When o'er its eyelids drops the last repose ! 362 THE SINGLE EYE. Bright from the waters of baptismal life, Stain'd by no sin, nor touch'd by earth-born strife, Straight to its God thy sinless babe hath flown And join'dthe myriads which enwreathe His Throne ! THE SINGLE EYE. " If thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light." — Matt. vi. 22. E'en in their ruins, men are noble still ! In whom fair lines and lineaments remain Of what they were, — e'er sin by lawless will Brought on the glorious soul a guilty stain ; And not with harsh irrev'rence should we dare One trace despise, that Heaven has treasured there. As round a gloomy shrine, in grand decay, Where crumbling arch and ruin'd pillar fall, Remnants of beauty yet the pile array And the dead sculpture into life recall, As oft monastic hearts which hide the ages gone, Thrill o'er the scenes Religion gazes on, — So, 'mid the sinful waste of men perverse Faint hues and harmonies of Eden dwell, Not all remanded by the righteous curse That on the forfeit soul of Adam fell : Ruins men are, and yet we inly feel Without such, how could God to mind appeal ? THE SINGLE EYE. 363 And thus to Reason doth the word of grace, Though dimm'd and darken'd, yet its truths direct ; Where God has stamp'd some everlasting trace Which nought but vice will impiously neglect : Here is the " Eye " by which the soul discerns Wisdom and worth, and moral beauty learns. But if by earth-fed passion, lust, or pride, Greedy of gain, or gorged with self-esteem, — Our sacred reason is just power denied, The central life becomes a ghastly dream, Where all our faculties and functions blend In dread confusion, which can never end ! For then, Incarnate Wisdom so declares, That which by nature should our light become And starlike lead us through the night of cares That deepens round us, till we reach our home, — Itself is darkness ! and the beam that glows Is that which falsehood to blind feeling shows : Most awful wreck! beyond all thought to think, When from The Spirit reason turns away ; And sin and self in their corruption sink Deeper and deeper, as they grow the prey Of that delusion in whose horrors meet All that a fiend desires to form deceit ! How great the u darkness," not e'en Christ hath said ! As though such midnight of the mind surpass'd Whate'er rebellion of the heart, or head By finite language can be calFd, or class'd : — Darkness that e'en from Him a wonder drew, To Whom no sight in earth or hell, was new ! 364 THE SINGLE EYE. Single the eye, when jealous conscience guards Its vestal chastity by prayer and truth, And not to Reason, but to Grace awards Those hallowing charms that season age and youth. Those godlike principles by which men live, And the dread soul to its own Author give! Resist we, then, the sorceries of sin ; The lust of income and the love of power Cloud the clear Eye, whose vision acts within, And ought to rule and rectify each hour; So will Thy reason, with no jaundiced gaze, Interpret duty through a blinding haze. Truths, by inversion, worse than falsehood be; When the keen eyesight of the conscience fails, With God, nor guilt, nor man's eternity Thy darken'd spirit just connexion hails; Thy truth is falsehood! and it tempts thee on To that deep gulf where ruin'd souls have gone. Religious principle and moral code Diseased by passion, most perversely act ; And Vice, recoiling from heaven's narrow road, Dares its own decalogue of self enact ; Thy light is darkness out of hell begot, And in thy soul an atheistic rot ! Oh! better far be reasonless and mad, Than thus transform the rectifying guide Which God ordain'd to govern good and bad, And legislate on virtue's lovely side; THE SINGLE EYE. 365 For when distorted, conscience proves a curse, Whose cruel wisdom makes condition worse. As though the needle in its compass were Reversely guiding o'er a sea of gloom The storm-heaved ship, while lurid tempests glare, And ocean blackens like a billowy tomb ; Wreck'd must she be, and ruin'd, though she rides In foaming triumph o'er the furious tides. — Thus, when that principle of holy light By Heaven endow'd to be our guardian helm, To guide the soul amid earth's sinful night, Becomes perversion, — must it not o'erwhelm All the high movements of a heaven-born will, And erring life with death and darkness fill ? Nor dream, that when by damning vice depraved, The central light of reas'ning conscience fails To warn the victim of desires enslaved, That mortal wisdom o'er such doom prevails ; — An Archimedes in the world of mind Who fix'd his lever and hath raised mankind, If not with him the single eye and pure For inward guardianship of soul remain, — His teachings prove but spell-words to allure The hearts that hear them, into vice and pain : The rays of genius when to darkness turn'd, What fiendish laurels have they found, and earn'd ! Spirit of wisdom ! pure and perfect Light, Come from Thy region of celestial grace, 366 THE FIRST-BORN. Through the bad gloom of unbelieving night Dart the mild beams of Thine immacTlate face : By loving Thee, saints learn to grow divine, And as they live, resemble Thee and Thine. The single eye that God and glory views, Whose seeing power by holiness is keen, And doth o'er all things Christ supremely choose, Be this our wisdom in the perill'd scene ; So shall we vanquish by enduring ill, And find it heaven to do our Fathers will. THE FIBST-BORN. " The Lord spake, Sanctify unto me all the first-born ; it is mine." Exod. xiii. 2, [C. H. E. M. BORN MAY 4TH, 1848.] My first-born ! when I heard thy faint low cry, Home to the heart was echoing nature stirr'd With more than man can tell by tear, or sigh, Or fondness image through a shaping word ; For, life is deeper than our language far, And dimly mirrors but the half we are. The fountains in the inward deep of soul Seem'd broken up with preternat'ral start ; And onward gush'd with sweetest uncontrol The new-born raptures of a parent's heart : Each chord of feeling trembled like a tone That haunts the harpstring, when the hand is flown THE FIRST-BORN. 367 How shall I doat upon thy dawning smile When conscious reason first begins to play ! And watch the beauty of each dimpling wile Clothing thy cheek with what the lip would say, Were but the gladness of thy spirit heard In the lisp'd cadence of some little word. Holy is childhood! — through that lovely age Incarnate Mercy did not shun to live, And thereby circl'd life's commencing stage With halo pure as innocence could give, — A charm that consecrates an infant now, When the first sacrament bedews its brow. Nor doubt, the infant Christ at mother's knee The priceless volume of celestial love Conn'd day by day, — that parents hence might see How lisping babes ascend to truth above ; Nurtur'd for heaven as their young spirits grow, By wisdom strengthen'd, in this world of wo. Nor let some Cain-like reason coldly ask, How with the mind of some unspeaking child Regen'rate love can ply its living task, And to the heart teach lessons undefiled ? — Baptismal grace exceeds w^hat eyes discern, And more than science dreams, a babe may learn. Think how Emanuel when man's world He walk'd Stoop'd to those little ones, that round Him came ! And, when of more than angels knew He talk'd, Anthem'd with high-toned joy God's mystic name1 (1) " Jesus rejoiced in spirit ... I thank thee that thou hast hid these things from the "wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes." — Luke x. 21. 368 THE FIRST-BORN. Because what hoary sages oft refuse, That for some nurseling God's free-will doth choose ! So, with a sacredness from heaven decreed, My first-born ! by the Church environ'd round, May the blest Spirit help thy dawning need From hallow'd stores, that in His breast abound, Who e'en in glory can remember still How on the earth He felt each infant thrill ! Lamb of the flock ! within thy Saviour's fold Calm may'st thou roam, by living pastures green Mid waters bright, — with footstep never bold Follow The Shepherd through life's destined scene; Thou wilt not want, if He become thy guide, With rod of love and staff of grace supplied. Coil'd in the secret of His purpose vast, Firstling of Hope ! thine unread future lies, — But should thy doom for ripening years be cast And thou be spared to light enamour'd eyes, How will maternal fondness round thee twine, And my heart gladden when it dreams of thine ! To aid thy lip Christ's glorious name to speak, And hear thy sweet mouth lisp its little prayer ; To watch emotions mirror'd on thy cheek When first religion is reflected there, While, with lock'd hands of reverential love, Thou kneel'st to ask a blessing from above, — By soft degrees to view thee conscious grow Of God and nature, mind, and scene, and man ; THE FIRST-BORN. 369 Gently to chide each fault, and calm each wo As only echoing hearts of parents can, — Delights like these will anxious toil repay, And sun my spirit with perpetual ray. And, should my darling add to loveliness A frame responsive to those fine appeals, That earth's dumb eloquence doth aye impress On each who nature's wordless poem feels, — With sacred rapture shall I watch thee try To read God's epic, in the glorious sky ! But, oh, of joys the brightest, purest, best Will that be found, — when first thy budding mind Words of redeeming grace and truth arrest, And glorify thy love for human kind ; Or, when thy broken accents would explain What childhood feels for God's incarnate pain.1 But, these are dreams : sad omens creep Round my chill'd spirit, when it looks on thee, Making the moist eye almost bend and w^eep O'er the veil'd depths of hush'd futurity ; For soft dejection in thine infant gaze, Like dim prediction, seems to tell thy days ! God shield thee, darling ! — like a dew drop now, In radiant freshness on the tree of life Trembles thy being ; but with prescient brow I darkly ponder, lest disease and strife (1) " I learn to believe in God the Son, who hath redeemed me" — Catechism 'Church of England. B B 370 JUDGE NOT. Crush thy soft nature, now so fair and frail, And bid thee into death at once exhale ! Mysterious God ! should this deep trial come, And thou, my first-born, find the infant's grave ; Long ere thy sire shouldst thou be summon'd home, And Heaven remand the treasure that it gave, Oh ! teach me, Lord, this awful prayer to say, — " Blest be His name, who gives, and takes away ! " JUDGE NOT. " Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged ; and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again." — Matt. vii. 1. Eye of the Lord ! in Whose omniscient ray Our motives play, Like motes in sunbeams, each distinctly bare, Can sinners dare Eash judgment o'er that secret heart to strain, Where Thou dost reign Alone, from Whom no buried thoughts are hid ?— Men are forbid To scan a brother with censorious eye ; Or sternly cry, " Let me the mote from out thy vision draw," As though they saw JUDGE NOT. 371 With holy clearness of unclouded view The pure and true : — While in their eye-glance dwells a sinful beam Men little deem, How all who virtue love, will virtuous be, From self set free ! A flagging heart, and feeble mind To glory dead and wisdom blind ; A neutral cowardice of heart, That shrinks from taking noble part When Christ, and Church, and Creed demand The prowess true of heart and hand, — Lord ! not for such Thy words assign The counsels faith believes divine, When Thou dost bid each duteous mind Abstain from judging mortal kind. The truth must e'er the falsehood fight, For wrong will still besiege the right ; And they are craven to the Cross Who for dread of earthly loss, Or else because the coward will Recoils from rude oppressive ill, — ■ Refrain from branding sin and crime ; And so caress the vassal time, That vice and virtue, false and true Become the heart's chamelion hue ! Avaunt ! such antinomian ease, Whose gospel is self-will to please. — 372 JUDGE NOT. But, come ye inspirations given Fresh from the heart of Christ in heaven ! Mild Charity, and modest Thought, And Meekness with Devotion fraught ; With radiant Candour, rich in love, And motherly, as born above, — Which, mindful of Redemption's plan, Embraces universal man. From harsh, from hasty, and severe Or cutting words, be conscience clear ! Baseless as bad, and blighting too, False judgments men hereafter rue ; When through some good and gentle heart Our arrowy tongues emit the dart, That venoms with a vile distress A wound that bleeds in loneliness, Until it wears the mind away, — Of harrowing words the speechless prey ! The perfect Judge is God alone ; And he usurps His legal Throne Who rashly dares to pierce and scan Those spirit-fibres of the man, — Motives ! which are of acts the soul, And subject to divine control : By man unprobed, in all their change They move within His mental range By Whom is mark'd the embryo sin, Ere yet 'tis born the soul within. JUDGE NOT. 373 But e'en when action, motive, thought Are into clear exposure brought, And all that meets our human gaze Harrows the soul with stern amaze, — Man must not wield the judge's rod, Or make himself the bar of God ! Love in that light, oh ! let there be By which our hearts a brother see ; Since, blind and partial are we, when Hurt feelings try our fellow-men. Be merciful ! for sinners all Are they who Christ their glory call ; Such Minds can weep where others frown, To see how soon we wander down Those sad descents of worldly sin Which tempt without, and try within. — The holy are the humble, too ; Rather in silence will they rue The faults and failings brethren show, Nor be the first a stone to throw ! Their sin we view ; but not the strife Or writhings of that inward life Where passion, conscience, and desire In some convulsive mood conspire ! Nor, can we measure with just mind How circumstance with choice combined ; Or, mad temptation, swift and wild, Tore like a fiend the heart defiled ; Or, how resistance unto prayer Fought with the Crime that conquer'd there. — cW4 JUDGE NOT. 0 God ! before whose perfect eye Are cloud-stains on the crystal sky, 3 Were we but judged by those degrees By which malign suspicion sees A brother in his conduct fail,- — Martyrs would at the judgment wail ! Rather through love's kind error be Victim of fond credulity, Than, like some cold and cutting blast Which near the frozen sea hath past, Breathe o'er thy brother words that wring The soul with unvoiced suffering ! — When David danced before the Ark How seem'd he to suspicion dark ? So oft may atrabilious mind See through a medium false and blind Conduct, that looks to hasty thought With sinful baseness sadly fraught, But which some candid noon reveals Mere outbreak of a heart that feels ! Come, then, celestial Archetype for all, To Thee we call ; And ere the bolt of censure can descend On foe, or friend, Oh ! introvert the spirit's eye, to scan Our inward man ; In this, what living error should we see Our souls to be ! The arm reversed, would then no censure throw On friend, or foe ; (1) " The heavens are not clean in his sight."— Job xv. 15. ENCOURAGEMENT TO PRAY. 375 But, as dark evils that deserve a stone Would brand our own ! Crown'd Lord of gentleness ! and pitying grace, All pride displace ; Lest haply men before Thy judgment-seat Such justice meet, As tongues and tempers which on men descant Too often grant ! ENCOURAGEMENT TO PRAY. " If ye, then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?"— Matt. vii. 11. All that of Eden now remains Lives in that lovely page of God, Where o'er green earth a beauty reigns As when by Christ at evening trod ; l Oh ! were it not for this pure story, Our hearts could not conceive the glory Which yet that paradise of words arrays With all those hues of heaven, that spell-bound Adam's gaze. The weed, the thistle, and the thorn, And stooping Labour's moisten'd brow, Are types and tokens men are born Under the primal ruin now ; (1) " The Voice {i.e. Christ, the Divine Word) o: the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day." — Gen. iii. 8. 376 ENCOURAGEMENT TO PRAY. The kingly mind of innocence Seem'd crush'd by sin's omnipotence ; And riper passions round our virtues prey, And with envenom'd tooth begnaw their strength away. But, still beneath man's ruin lives One feeling that survived the Fall, — That which parental fondness gives To them who hear their children call : Men are not fiends, but still reply Like echoes, to each filial cry A son puts forth in some beseeching hour, When soften'd childhood feels a parent's magic power. Divine emotion ! deep as pure ; Without thee, Scripture breathes a tone That could not alien hearts allure To bend before the Mercy-throne : But when " Our Father ! " tunes the word, Dead feelings in their tomb are stirr'd ; And, like the ladder joining earth and skies,1 They form attractive steps, by which to heaven we rise. And thus hath Christ affections used, When pleading oft with prayerless mind, And shown that, though by sin abused ; There is a law that wields mankind By which parental natures prove The throbbings of eternal love, (2) " A ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven." — Gen. xxviii. 12. ENCOURAGEMENT TO PRAY. 377 When Hunger seek them with dejected cry, — " Food for thy famish'd child ! or he must die." And, Lord, if thus the sin-worn heart So much of paradise retain, Why dare we doubt in heaven Thou art Eesponsive to each prayer-breathed strain ? Did faith but ask, and knock, and weep, What giants would become the weak ! And conscience realize Thy love as true As when its death-gasp groan'd, " Forgive them what they do!" Suspicion is the ice of prayer, That chills to death enrapt desires ; Our souls too seldom seek to share The fervour of adoring fires, That once of old made martyrs burn For doctrines Love alone can learn, And cast around them, wheresoe'er they trod, That fulness of high faith, — a fatherhood in God ! Did men but know how vain and weak God's heroes, at the best, must be, Like children would they constant seek A Father-God in heaven to see ; Not as a Judge with iron brow, Before Him would they bend and vow ; But from the deeps of man's parental heart Gather some loving gleams of what 0 God ! Thou art! 378 DIVINE FAITHFULNESS. Saviour of souls, our Truth and Way, Bread for the famish'd hearts that pine ! Instruct us like Thyself to pray " Father! Thy will be done, not mine." — Tender has been the tearful thought A babe-cry to some mother brought ;l But, far more tender is The Heart above Whose echoing depths repeat the name of holy "Love!"2 DIVINE FAITHFULNESS. " The mountains shall depart and the hills be removed, but my kindness shall not depart from thee." — Isa. liv. 10. The mountains shall from earth depart, The hills may be removed, But thou of God elected art And as a " bride " beloved ; Our God as soon might cease to be, As break His covenant with thee. Election flows from no high worth In fallen souls foreseen ; For, where is good on this bad earth That free grace hath not been ? Did God demand prevenient love, Heaven would not shrine one soul above ! (1) "Can a woman forget her sucking child? They may forget ; yet will I not forget thee." — Isa. xlix. 15. (2) " God is Love."— 1 John iii. 16. DIVINE FAITHFULNESS. 379 Thou barren Heart! that hast not borne The hopes that make thee sing,1 Oh, dream not thou art left forlorn In widow'd suffering : — For like a wife, in youth forsaken, Back to thy Lord shalt thou be taken. Though toss'd on life's tempestuous sea Affliction's waves run high, For one small moment heaven from thee Averts its loving eye, Believer ! soon will mercy's overflow Around thine anguish brightly glow. No crisis can our God subdue, No change His will surprise ; Close to His ancient counsel true His grace for ever lies; The " Lord of Hosts " reveals His name In love eternal, and the same ! He does not find a lovely thing And love what He discerns; But His pure love becomes the spring Of what in martyrs burns Of holy passion, zeal, and prayer By God's own Spirit kindled there. Then, courage ! torn and troubled mind, The Glorious One appears ! Nor let Dejection leave thee blind With her impassion'd tears : (1) " Sing, O barren, that didst not bear." — Isa. liv. 1. 380 DIVINE FAITHFULNESS. Soon shall thy blest Redeemer come And guide thee safe to glory's home ! No weapon'd hand its deadly wound Shall in thy spirit make; Nor all the raging tongues around That bond of goodness break Which God in Christ for thee doth hold, And His deep heart of grace enfold. With sapphires thy foundations fair1 Shall soon by Him be laid ; Nor shall oppressive wrong be there As though thou wert betray'd ; Terrors themselves shall learn to fear A kingly saint to Godhead dear ! The Spirit's love, a love divine Though earth and heaven decay, — Is true, O Lord! to Thee and Thine Though worlds dissolve away; Had souls true faith, they could not dread Infernal midnight round them spread ! A dying world for dying men For saints hath heaven decreed ; And wisely plans the where, and when, Each burden'd heart must bleed ; But, Love this truth can understand, — Each blow is from a Father's hand. (1) "I will lay thy stones with fair colours, and lay thy foundations with sapphires." — Isa. liv. 11. THE TWO GATES OF LIFE. 381 And thus while fortune, home, and friend, And social bliss, no more Around us their rich magic blend As they were wont of yore ; Reflected on our falling tears The iris of God's love appears. Timeless and changeless is the plan Before all worlds begun, From whence that mercy reacheth man Incarnate merit won : — Though toss'd, and by the tempest shaken, Believer, thou art un forsaken ! THE TWO GATES OF LIFE. " Wide is the gate and broad is the way that leadeth to destruction . . . strait is the gate and narrow is the way that leadeth unto life." — Matt. vii. 13, 14. Grief more than revelation tells Shaded The Lord of Glory's heart, Where slept within its aching cells Deep woes no syllables impart ; Pure is the Bible, and a perfect Book, — But Christ had depths where Language could not look ! All echoless by worded sign Some buried pangs there must have been ; And saint, nor angel can divine What pass'd behind that mental screen, Where in dread myst'ry, voiceless, lone and deep, Pale thoughts of Christ did o'er man's future weep ! 382 THE TWO GATES OF LIFE. Tongue cannot speak, nor soul conceive The gloom that blacken'd o'er His mind, When thoughts prophetic bade him grieve O'er sinful wrecks of sad mankind ; Sorrow like this might soften hearts of stone, — But, ah ! how infinite His pangs unknown ! For each lost soul the bloody sweat And crimson tide of anguish rlow'd, And in his righteous spirit met All penal claims to justice owed, For sins beyond arithmetic to count, Through the vast myriads of their vile amount ! But more He felt, who bled for man, When from His cross uprear'd on earth His prescience saw that sacred plan By angels deem'd of priceless worth, — Attract but " few," for whom His Mercy died, To bear the cross, and love the Crucified ! Of all dark burdens that oppress And crush warm spirits into wo, Ingratitude from those we bless Outweighs the direst hearts can know ; Fiends may abhor, but never can betray The souls which trust, and for them toil and pray ! But how did uncreated Love A sacrifice divine achieve ! When God emerged from light above, Around His awful head to weave THE TWO GATES OF LIFE. 383 A thorny crown, this forfeit world to save, And rolFd thick darkness from the hideous grave. Yet, when the unborn ages rose Before Him, in his parting breath, And He beheld what creedless foes Would still deny his priestly death, — A deeper sadness must have overhung his heart, Than all which sacrificial pangs impart ! Two paths He saw, two gates appear'd, Contracted one, the other wide ; Along the last, unfelt, unfear'd, What myriads rush'd, for whom He died ! Broad as their wills, and wild as passion's law The way of ruin which for them He saw ! But o'er that strict and narrow way So wisely hemm'd by holy Truth, He mark'd a sainted number stray, Faithful as few, from age to youth ; Such are the souls, who count the world no loss When they have nail'd it to th' atoning cross ! So is it now, to saints who read The high and haughty scene of man, By that pure light good angels need 1 Before they learn the mystic plan, Whereby the wisdom of God's secret will Winds its clear way through vice and virtue still, (1) " To the intent that now unto the principalities and powers in heavenly places, might be known by the Church the manifold wisdom of God." — Eph. iii. 10. 384 THE TWO GATES OF LIFE. And, in and over all supreme, Reaches the grand result forecast ! — However vast and varied seem The mixing shades around them mass'd, All true expressions of man's life must be Born of the flesh, or breathed from Deity. Ambition's fretting pride of thought, The hero's falsely-worshipp'd fame, With all that mock renown hath wrought To gild the nothing of a name, — If Christless, are unsanctified and vile, And only blast the victims they beguile ! Learning, and Art, and lofty Mind, Unless beneath the cross they grow, Prove but the forms of self refined, "Whose " broad way " leads to final wo ; Sin yet is sin, howe'er by spells array' d, And out of Christ, what are we, but betray'd ? " Broad is the way," — oh, crushing thought ! That must have made Emanuel sigh, To see the soul His anguish bought But live to sin, and love to die ! — Enter the " wide gate " with a maniac glee, And quench bad mirth in glooms of agony ! " Narrow the path," — but, yet it leads To life's consummate goal of bliss ; And, though their self-denial bleeds, Children of light will enter this ; THE POWER OF THE REDEEMERS EYE. 385 Though few in number, round their heavenward ways Hover the glorious dead of elder days ! O'er such high path decreed by God Led by The Spirit, let me roam ; For where my Saviour's feet have trod Bright footprints point me to His home, — That City clothed with more than crystal rays, Her gates salvation, and whose walls are praise. Patriarch and prophet, priest and saint Denial's path preferr'd ; And when their sunken hearts grew faint, They listen'd for that living Word That warbled round them in the deepest night, — My yoke is easy, and my burden light !" THE POWER OF THE REDEEMER'S EYE. " The Lord looked . . . and Peter went out and wept bitterly !" Luke xxii. 61, 62. Not poet's lyre, nor painter's line Could e'er express that look of Thine Saviour of men ! on craven Peter cast : — Eternity was in Thy gaze, And through dark conscience darted rays That lighten'd into truth his present, and his past ! Deep eloquence was there, Beyond the lightning's glare Red with the fierceness of the flaming storm ; c c 386 THE POWER OF THE REDEEMER'S EYE. Nor, might loud hurricanes that sweep In thund'ring air-tones o'er the deep Till the rent ocean heaves like agonizing forms, — So terribly the mind appal, As that one gaze in Pilate's hall Shook to his moral root that recreant man ! Apostate as he there denied That Lord, to Whom his worship cried, — " Though all desert Thee, Christ ! my spirit never can." Dungeon, nor death, nor chains, Nor all which Persecution gains Should tempt him from The Truth to fly ; Though all betray'd Him, he would stand Faithful among a faithless band, And boldly for His Lord, exult to bleed or die. Resolve then reign'd in ardent power ; And feeling hued that full-toned hour With the rich colour hearts delight to show, In some rapt mood when men appear Sublimed above unhallow'd fear, And with celestial warmth reflect an angel's glow ! In such high noon of seraph zeal, Our breasts an inspiration feel Lifting us far beyond each low-born aim; Wing'd thoughts surmount the walls of time, And waft us to that world sublime Where Heaven's clear arches ring with Christ's mag nific name ! THE POWER OF THE REDEEMER'S EYE. 387 But He, to Whom all hearts lie bared, In that flush'd moment then declared How thrice, e'er jet the wakeful bird would crow, — The saint who seem'd so nobly fired As if by Heaven's own warmth inspired, Vanquish'd by shameful dread, would all his vows forego ! And, more or less than Man were he Unmoved who in this hour can see A brave Apostle from His banner fly ; Assaulted by Satanic power And sifted in that searching hour, — Thrice did his caitiff mouth the Lord of Love deny! If mortal pain could mar the rest That broods within an Angel's breast, Sure might St. Peter's crime have drawn his tear, — Who swore with ireful oath untrue He ne'er the blest Redeemer knew, — And sacrificed his vow upon the shrine of fear ! But, while a third denial hung With impious accent on his tongue, Behold ! the crowing of the cock begun ; And back with its reverted gaze Bedimm'd with more than tearful haze, — Look'd the calm eye of Christ on that apostate man ! He " look'd," — oh ! what a look was there Of pity, love, rebuke and prayer; Angelic, human, and divine the spell ; 388 THE POWER OF THE REDEEMER'S EYE. Wielded by Christ in that dread look, His eye of cow'ring Peter took, — - Till down his weeping heart before it writhed, and fell ! 'Twas but a glance, and yet it cleaved The veil asunder, that had weaved A hiding darkness round his trait'rous heart : It open'd that vile gulf within Where lurk the powers of latent sin, And made him from himself to shudder back, and start ! But for an instant, bent that look Which out of treason Peter shook Into repentance, bitter, deep, and dread ; — Yet, shined it with intense control Like God's eye beaming on his soul, Ruling his after life in all he did, and said. By day, by night, where'er he went, As o'er his head the firmament, — Thus o'er his heart with holiness and light That piercing glance of Jesu cast Celestial power, where'er he pass'd, And overarch'd his soul with meaning, and with might. 'Twas with him, when he watch'd or wept, Or fasted, toil'd, or woke, or slept ; Hunger'd and roofless, wearied, rack'd and worn, — By shore or sea, abroad, at home, Where'er his burning zeal could roam, Here was the guiding star, that saw him, though forlorn ! THE POWER OF THE REDEEMER'S EYE. 389 In prison, and o'er chains it threw A glory which that Angel knew, Who saw his features radiant in -repose, When, calm as some bright infant's breath He slept upon the brink of death,1 In some fond dream of Christ, forgetful of his woes. And will not fond Devotion say, That when his form inverted lay In bleeding anguish on his cross oppress'd, — That still the gaze from Jesu's eye Beam'd on his soul, till life's last sigh "Wafted the Spirit home to its loved Saviour's breast ? But, in this page of man may we As in some truthful mirror see Reflected warnings, that may well o'erawe The boldest, who believe they stand Like rocks of faith, on every hand, — As did Saint Peter once, before his heart he saw ! There, while he weeps a bitter shower Of anguish in convulsive power, Lord of our spirits ! may those teardrops fall In scalding virtue o'er each heart, That little dreams how Satan's art To more than Peter's crime may soon betray us all ! Yea, doth not our baptismal vow Bend o'er us like a burden now, And crush pale conscience into sacred tears ? (1) " The same night Peter was sleeping between two soldiers, bound with two chains." — Acts xii. 6. 390 SPIRITUAL DECLINE. For, leagued with flesh, and fiend, and world, Oh! have we not to nothing huiTd [years? The awful promise made, — that God should have our For gold, or pride, or pomp, and pleasure, As though they form'd divinest treasure, How basely have we barter'd mind and will! Betraying our predestin'd cross, That we should count our life a loss, Except for Christ we lived, self-crucified and still. Sole Healer of the wounded heart ! Who now ensphered in glory art, When Peter-like, our prostrate vows wre break, Let no red lightnings of Thy wrath Flash their dread fury o'er our path, Xor, regal thunder-tones Thy terrors o'er us wake, — But, turn Thee with subduing eye, And from Thy bliss beyond the sky Look as Thou didst on Thine apostle's fears : So melt us into anguish true That we may our dread treason rue, And bathe Thy mercy-seat with love's remorseful tears ! SPIRITUAL DECLINE. 11 Oh ! that I were as in months past! as in the day when God preserved me, when his candle shined upon my head . . . when the secret of God was upon my tabernacle." — Job xxix. 2 — 4. " Oh ! that with me, as in the months of yore, My heart was basking in the smile of God ; When all I saw the sweet impression bore, His eye o'erwatch'd me through the way I trod. SPIRITUAL DECLINE. 391 " Then, did the candle of Jehovah beam With loving radiance o'er my rising hours, And life roll'd onward like a happy stream That carols music to the list'ning flowers. " Bright with the dews of pure devotion, lay My spirit open to each breath from heaven ; And all who saw me, in their hearts might say, — Dead paradise re-blooms in sin forgiven ! " Precious was Christ ! beyond angelic speech In might or melody to e'er reveal ; Nor could the songs of sainted rapture reach All His incarnate glories made me feel. " Dear was the temple, and the hour of prayer, And dear the spirit of that ritual whole When all my faculties were hallo w'd there, And heaven seem'd dawning on my inmost soul ! " And when the Emblems of embodied Love Bleeding for man, to my awed sense were brought, Like Stephen, view'd I in the world above The Christ, by whom a sacrament is wrought." — Thus moans in secret many a voiceless heart Heavy with gloom, and harrow'd by distress ; Dull, cold, or dead, as grace and gift depart And leave the sad one to his loneliness. Yet, dark believer ! may such morbid strain Issue from shades of cowardice and sin ; And what thou dreamest a majestic pain, May prove the sign of hollowness within ! 392 SPIRITUAL DECLINE. There is a trinity in mortal time By past, by present, and by future made ; And Conscience wields a potency sublime When each before her stands, in truth array'd. Then must we feel how time's divisions mould One character, in which our fate will rest ; Eternity in seed we now behold As heaven, or hell, now ripens in the breast ! Oh ! thus not idly with a weak lament Sigh o'er some privilege, that breathes no more ; Religion scorns a laggard discontent As feebly sickens in pale dreams of yore. Not grace from thee, but thou from God hast gone, By cold illapse declining day by day ; Or, from the paths which lead true virtue on Turn'd into tracks which tempt the soul away. Cold in thy prayer, in praise reluctant grown, Seldom at church, the eucharist forgot, Thy creed, self-will, no master but thine own, — Behold ! the secret which explains thy lot. Obedience is religion's breath of life ; Constant and pure denials must we bear ; Each day should be with crucifixion rife, Each hour be haunted with the soul of prayer. Saints learn by loving, and by love they live; Who walk with God, must from themselves depart : And, Peace descends not from her Prince above, Except for God to purify the heart. SPIRITUAL DECLINE. 398 Mourners in Zion are oft the minds that fail To hold their Master's cross supreme in view ; Or, let some lust o'er discipline prevail And render them to Church, and creed, untrue. Thus like a secret rust the world begins Eating its way, until our hearts corrode ; Pleasure and profit veil their inward sins, And wide as passion seems the " narrow" road ! From virgin youthfulness the soul declines When from both God and grace it dares to roam, And can no longer in the Word Divine Shelter the heart, for true affection's home. ;i Oh ! that with me as in pure moments past My God were present," — vain such cry, indeed, Except repentance can thy spirit cast Low at the mercy-seat to lie, and bleed. Leave sigh and sentiment for Duty's cross, Haste thee to works of sacrifice and prayer ; Count a gain'd world to be a gloomy loss, And prize hereafter as thy holy care. So may the smile of Godhead back return Effulging o'er thee, as in days of old ; Dead in thyself, to live in Jesus learn, And round His throne God's covenant1 behold ! (1) " There was a Rainbow round about the throne . . . and lo ! in the midst of the Throne . . . and in the midst of the elders, stood a Lamb as it had been slain." — Rev. iv. 3; v. 6. 394 THE GUIDING TENDERNESS OF GOD. Earth, sense, and time will more and more recede, Conscience be cleansed, and childlike prayer arise ; Eternity will grow thy grandest need, God be thy goal, and heaven thy genial prize ! THE GUIDING TENDERNESS OF GOD. " I will instruct thee ... I will guide thee with mine eye" — Psalm xxxii. 8. Eye of the sleepless One ! Whose lids have never closed, But since the first-born hour begun Have on our world reposed ; Blest are chaste hearts who, as meek infants catch The ray parental from affection's eye, — For each chance gleam of mild expression watch, And all the counsel there, with loving faith descry. By gentleness, 0 God, Thou wouldst Thy children lead O'er perill'd ways by martyrs trod, Or through life's verdant mead : Not the stern rod of discipline to wield Does Thy pure grace, apart from sin, incline ; But when reluctant hearts refuse to yield, Some iron law instructs the spirit that is Thine. Yet, were we like a child Loving, and pliant too, Thy perfect guidance pure as mild Would guard life's opening view ; THE GUIDING TENDERNESS OF GOD. 395 E'en as a glance by some fond parent turn'd On her frail little one, that waits to see Those looks where young affection's lore is learn'd, — So would one hint of grace attract our souls to Thee ! But our unharness'd will Too oft from Thee retires, When hurried passions haste to fill Each orb of bad desires ; Then, from Thine eye of gentleness and grace Like prodigals in creed, we rush away, And need the bit and bridle1 ere we trace Backward our sorrowing course, to where life's duty lay. Oh ! for a watchful heart, A waiting mind of prayer, To view Thee, gracious as Thou art, — " Our Father !" everywhere. Orphan'd in soul, nor friendless, should we seem Did but the mind a sacred vigil keep ; For ever would Thy guardian eye-glance beam, — Star of our troubled life, both when we smile, or weep ! Unless we watch that " Eye," Thy will we cannot read ; For, softer than a vernal sky It dawns on human need In gleam and glance, no prayerless hearts discern, And love's unwatchful gaze ma,y oft forego : — Only by looking upward, can we learn Wisdom divinely bland, to chasten weal and woe. (1) " Whose mouth must be held in with bit and bridle, lest they come near unto Thee." — Psalm xxxii. 9. 396 THE GUIDING TENDERNESS OF GOD. 'Tis thus Thine awful Word To God's elect appeals With tones harsh reason has not heard ; — And, conscience never feels What pathos there and purity abound, If cold and critical exactions find No proofs of heaven, except by radiance crown'd That darts resistless light through eachunhallow'd mind. Then grant us, gracious Lord ! In Thy blest page to see The faintest hint thy heaven-breathed word Imparts from truth, and Thee ; Mild as the eye-beam of a friend we love So will each Promise, Threat, and Precept dart Glances of truth, — as if God's eye above Were gazing through them, to inspire the heart ! Bend, pride of reason ! bend, Become a little child ; And God to thee will condescend In wisdom undefiled ; Oft, where the haughty scribes of learning fail God to discern in Truth's unerring page, Infants of grace by simple love prevail, Wing'd by the Spirit's power to heights beyond their age ! Wait for the Eye of Heaven, O sinner ! watch thee now ; And in the light of sin forgiven Lift thy rejoicing brow : THE POETRY OF CLOUDS AND SKIES. 397 Hereafter, when the Universe shall die And Time and Nature meet in last decay, Myriads will shrink before that with'ring " Eye," And, like affrighted worlds, beneath it fade away ! THE POETRY OF CLOUDS AND SKIES. "Number the clouds in wisdom." — Job xxxviii. 37. "God rideth in his excellency on the sky.'' — Deut. xxxiii. 26. " The firmament showeth his handy work." — Psalm xix. 1. The speaking magic of poetic skies Affects the soul, and fascinates the eyes ; Look where we may, some cloud-born grace we find To shade the mirror of responsive mind. Seldom a tintless heaven of torrid air Scorches the landscape with a cruel glare, Till the tann'd forehead of the breezeless Earth Wrinkles, and droops beneath that more than dearth : But oh ! what language in yon cloudy forms, — Those floating memories of vanish'd storms ! As there they gleam, in gentleness and pride, Our hearts ascend, and with their motion glide. And, why did God thus beauteously array Calm noon, chaste eve, and recommencing day, But that the echoin°: mind should inlv feel How heaven and poetry to man appeal ? Lord of the woods, and waves, and living air ! All lead to Thee when purified by prayer ; — Connecting thus with beauty, colour, grace, The dying Mercy that redeem'd our race. 398 THE POETRY OF CLOUDS AND SKIES. Let but Thy merit through creation shine, And what was common, now becomes divine ! The beautiful on earth, the bright above, Are open sacraments that preach Thy love. How rich the consecrated dome of heaven, When to some priest in Nature's shrine is given A power, in all ethereal forms to see Symbols, and signs of present Deity ! The skies have meanings ; and emotion seems Oft to array them with impassion'd gleams, — Colours intense, as if a conscious hue Blush'd o'er its birth, and brighten'd at our view ! Painters and Poets from the skies have brought Fancies and feelings, to inspire their thought : Beauty is there ; and Sentiment can rise To noble pathos in the naked skies. Home of the Seasons ! and the haunt of storms, Now fierce with gloom, now fair with opal forms, Dark in thy strength, or smiling in thy play, — I love thy magic, and believe thy sway! Region, by God's own hand bedeckM and clad, In all thy moods some influence can be had ; A spell that through the eye-glance charms the soul, And clothes our feelings with thy far control. But, most I love thee, golden, calm, and deep, When isles of radiance on thy bosom sleep ; Or, robe-like clouds in rich confusion lie, As though veil'd angels floated up the sky THE POETRY OF CLOUDS AND SKIES. 399 Garb'd in the vesture of thy woven sheen, And left an outline where their veils had been ! — So exquisitely touch'd the tinted air, Seraphic creatures might be mansion'd there ! And who can tell, since first the heavens have spann'd Their arching glories over sea and land, What vast impression from the varied skies Hath soothed our spirit, while it charm'd the eyes ? When to the captive, through his dungeon-bar Gleams of blue heaven come glancing from afar, Through fields of childhood Fancy seems to roam And wind the pathways Freedom wound at home. And think, how Sickness, when the pulse renews Its beat of vigour, hails yon skyey views, — How with new gush of health each glance of love Seems to be answer'd, when it looks above ! There mem'ry, too, and meditation find Symbolic hues to mirror forth the mind ; Sky and the soul like sympathies can meet, Till what our hearts express, the clouds repeat. And when, pure Lord of loneliness and wo ! We dream Thy pilgrimage of pain below, Faith may conceive, how oft Thy harass'd eye Drank the deep quiet of congenial sky. And, as ascending to Thy Throne of light A cloud received Thee, from the spell-bound sight Of those sad watchers, who beheld Thee soar Back to the bliss where Thou wert throned before, — 400 THE TWILIGHT OF OUR BEING. So, when our hearts the sweep of heaven survey And typing fancies o'er its surface play, Let not Religion this true thought disdain, — A cloud1 shall waft Thee to our world again ! THE TWILIGHT OF OUR BEING. " One day, known to the Lord, not day, nor night." — Zech. xiv. 7. "Jesus said, What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter." — John xiii. 7. " Though what I do ye know not now, Hereafter sainted hearts shall see," — Saviour! before that will we bow And learn our cross by loving Thee : Grant to our souls the grace on God to live, And clasp the counsel which thy precepts give. Such partial light and shade become The vexing life our bosoms feel ; For, could we clearly view the home That yonder shrines in heaven conceal, How should we turn with loathing sense away From those stern duties, which demand each day! All light would make our hearts presume, — All darkness end in black despair ; But God has so arranged the gloom As best becomes the cross we bear : — An ampler vision might elate the mind, And deeper shadows would eclipse mankind. (1) " Behold ! hecometh with clouds, and every eye shall see him." — Rev. i. 7. THE TWILIGHT OF OUR BEING. 401 " We know in part," and part of this How weakly can the wisest know! Our purest heavens of hallow'd bliss Are tinged with soiling earth below : — Put into language, oft doth wisdom seem The broken semblance of a baseless dream ! Such clouds and darkness round the path Of God to man encircled lie, That he who heavenly science hath This dismal truth can scarce deny, — That Earth seems moist with melancholy tears Dropt from the eyelids of some thousand Years ! Yet, sorrow is the penal bane Attemper'd to a world of sin ; For where our God hath ceased to reign Darkness and Death must enter in; Repenting eyes should learn to see by prayer Truths that transcend what mortal lips declare. Above, below, mysterious all The moral facts our souls would scan ! Who can uplift that iron pall That covers o'er creation's plan? — A thinking Titan with a godless mind To shudd'rino; angels seems a monster blind ! When David read man's glorious frame Ecstatic awe o'erpower'd his view ; And, hymning forth Jehovah's name, He trembled into words, how true ! D D 402 THE TWILIGHT OF OUR BEING. " How fearful am I, when by Love survey'd, Moulded by heaven, and wonderfully made ! " ' Awake, what mysteries we enclose, And when we dream, more wondrous far ! 'Tween life and death our limbs repose, And none can tell the truth we are; Time and eternity so blend and meet, As they will mingle at the Judgment-seat. But, when from dust to God we turn, An ign'rance that itself doth know Led by The Spirit, is prepared to learn True wisdom lisps in prayer below ; Content in darkness to adore His ways With whom 'tis glory to conceal their rays.2 All Eye, all Ear, all Presence, Power, In contact with creation's whole, Closing the eyelids of each little flower, Or, bidding worlds around Thee roll, — Essential Deity ! Thou dread Unknown, Angels would shudder to unveil Thy Throne ! And yet, deep myst'ry proves the light From whence our reas'ning darkness gains A lustre that restores the sight When blinded by some mental pains : God is a Fact, from whose unfathom'd All Eternity will not remove the pall. (1) See Psalm cxxxix. 14. (2) " It is the glory of God to conceal a thing." — Prov. xxv. 2. THE BLESSED VIRGIN. 403 And as our God alone discerns Himself, in Essence, Truth, and Will, So, faith from Revelation learns To bow before a myst'ry still ; For God Incarnate is an awful shade [pray'd. Within whose depths the Church hath mused, and And what Thou doest, Lord, in life, Is dark indeed to those who roam Anguish'd, and worn by wasting strife, Creedless in heart, without a home ; Each grave that opens, and the friend who dies Some pang of myst'ry to the soul supplies. Why virtue droops, and Vice unveils A blushless front of gain and glee, Involves a problem that prevails O'er sceptic Minds, who cannot see That mortal life our education is, And builds up final wo, or future bliss. THE BLESSED VIRGIN. *' Hail ! thou that art highly favoured; the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women." — Luke i. 28. Ave Maria ! blest o'er women all Who e'er on earth embodiment have found, Maiden and mother, both in thee we call With peerless favour by Jehovah crown'd. 404 THE BLESSED VIRGIN. Ave Maria ! virgin meek and mild Unstain'd by passion's soul-polluting fires, Faith cannot view thee with thine awful Child, Nor thrill with more than sentiment expires ! Ave Maria ! since thy sex began Woman presents no type to rival thee ; Nor can the feelings of a fallen man Echo thy thoughts of inward purity. Ave Maria ! o'er the Babe Divine Bending with awe, maternally entranced, — How must have throbb'd that vestal heart of thine, On Jesu's forehead when thy fond eyes glanced ! Pure are the fountains of parental love, Whose depths of bliss ineffable remain ; Not the deep ravishment of lyres above Could e'er attune it with too sweet a strain ! But thou, o'ershadow'd with The Spirit's power, By heaven's bright herald hail'd supremely blest, — Far more than myst'ry clothed that sacred hour When hung the Child- God on thy virgin breast. Boundless eternity and breathing time Blend in communion at thine awful bliss, And bid us wonder, in a trance sublime, That earth was hallow'd by a scene like this ! The purest image saintly Thought can see Of maiden calm, with motherhood combined, Becomes too earth-born when compared with thee, Nursing The Babe whose Blood redeem'd mankind. MAR10LATRY. 405 Well may the poet's harp, and painter's hue, With all that Sculpture's marble dreams express, Become ethereal, when they bring to view Outlines that hint thy solemn loveliness. Yet, can chaste minds beyond all visual show Adumbrate much that reverence demands, Ave Maria ! when our hearts o'erflow To see the God-Babe in thy vestal hands. Feeling and Faith, with poesy and prayer, Mingle their charms to make one beauteous spell; And what no melodies, nor hues declare, Our hush'd emotions unto Godhead tell ! MAKIOLATRY. •■' Jesus saith unto her, Woman ! what have I to do with thee ? Mine hour is not yet come." — John ii. 4. "I fell at his feet to worship him: and he said unto me, See thou do it not! I am thy fellow-servant: — worship God."— Rev. xix. 10. And yet, forbid it, reason, faith, and love, Both mortal powers, and Attributes divine, Ave Maria ! that as Queen above The worship due to God, should ere be thine. Honour'd and holy, blest indeed wert thou, To be the mother of His mortal frame Before Whose face the universe shall bow While rapt eternity resounds His name ! The stain, that tempted Eve on woman brought, Ave Maria ! is by thee reversed, — Mother of Him whose dying merit wrought A ransom for the race by Sin accursed. 406 MARIOLATRY. So, to the Church's heart, be ever dear Anointed Virgin ! 'mong all women blest ; High o'er thy sex, we none like thee revere Within whose womb incarnate God could rest. But ah ! we dare not, from the Lord of Lords Rob the due glory that to God pertains ; Nor crown a creature with adoring words, And echo, " Queen of Heaven!" with impious strains.1 Not sinless wert thou, in the sight of Him From whose dread gaze the blushing heavens retire,2 "While round His Throne, the o'erawed seraphim Prostrate their crowns, and cast their quiv'ring lyre! They tell us, how all deeps of tender grace Fresh in thy heart abide for evermore ; And when the contrite seek thy pitying face, Those wells are open'd, and the faint restore : But, blest Redeemer ! what is finite love Though most ideal in sublime excess, With that compared, which drew God from above To agonize for our dark guiltiness ? — (1) Bishop Bull's sermon will at once recur to the devout memory of every churchman, on the true eminence which the Virgin Mary ought to occupy in his esteem. Moreover, in "A Proposal," &c. drawn up by the non-jurors, Collier, Spinkes, and Campbell, for a union with the Orthodox Greek Church, the distinction between what is, and what is not due, to the Blessed Virgin, is well put. " Though they call the Mother of our Lord Blessed, and magnify the grace of God, which so highly exalted her, yet are they afraid of giving the glory of God to a creature, or to run into any extreme by blessing and magnifying her; and do hence rather choose to bless and magnify God, for the high grace conferred upon her, and for the benefits which we receive by that means." — Lathi) ur if. s Non-jurors, pp. 315, 31G. (2) "The heavens are not clean in His sight." — Job xv. 15. MARIOLATRY. 407 Less than a raindrop to the boundless sea, The vastest love created souls can feel When rank'd by His, who clothed Divinity With flesh, and suffer'd all that man could feel ! Ave Maria ! were thy vestal glow Of pity purer than blind error dreams, — Yet unto Christ dost thou thy nature owe, And all thy goodness from His spirit streams. But, when they dare this awful dream propound, — That e'en as mother o'er a son prevails, So at thy plea all grace and gifts abound And at thy prayer His goodness never fails ! They say the sunbeam can enrich the sun From whose bright essence its fair beauty flows ! — By such false creed from blinding fancy won, That gives to Mary, what to Christ she owes. Ye pious martyrs of a faith untrue, Who from the fount of God's unfathom'd heart Turn to broke cisterns, whence dark ages drew Deluding errors that will not depart, Mercy and Grace in Christ embodied live ; Straight from His love let each repenting Soul Draw the true pardon He alone can give, Nor dream that woman can a God control ! That creed is sacrilege which dares deny The sympathies His bleeding Manhood learn'd, When Christ from glory came to weep and die, And back to heaven with human heart return'd. 408 GOD OUR TRUE CENTRE. Away with doubt ! men want no Virgin's plea, No angel, saint, nor martyr's prayer to bring, To gain the mercy that endures in Thee Thou of all grace the unexhausted Spring ! Ave Maria ! maid and mother blest, High above woman's soar'd thy peerless lot ; And with due rev'rence on thy name we rest, But shrink to credit what thy truth is not. And oh, in yonder beatific light Could thy deep calm be ruffled into care, As creature, thou might'st shudder at the sight Of sinners, prostrate at thy throne, in prayer ! Ave Maria ! this dread thought o'erpowers And awes the suppliant, that would worship thee,- That Jesus is thy1 Saviour too, and ours, The same in time, as in eternity. GOD OUR TRUE CENTRE. " Return unto me, for I have redeemed thee." — Isa. xliv. 22. "And ye shall find rest for your souls," — Jer. vi. 16. Our centre true is God alone, In Whom man's aching breast Beneath the umbrage of His Throne Can find a perfect rest ; For, less than God enjoy'd, would leave within us still A fev'rish want of soul, the finite cannot fill. (1) " Mary said, My spirit hath rejoiced in God my saviour." — Luke i. 4C, 47. GOD OUR TRUE CENTRE. 409 Yet, ruin'd years must haply roll In anguish, gloom, or wo Along the worn and wearied soul, Before this truth we know — What broken cisterns prove the hollow joys we love, While hearts forsake the Fount of living bliss above ! This world is wound with fatal spells Attracting youthful sense ; And each gay scene some falsehood tells To mar life's innocence : Nothing but grace divine can disenchant the earth, And bid the soul aspire for what becomes its birth. A fascinating mist o'erveils Bewilder'd time and space When Passion's demon-power prevails, And lures a sensual race To dream polluted earth a paradise can be, And mould imagined heavens apart from Deity ! The bloom of hope, the bliss of health, The bounding thoughts of joy, With all that springs from tyrant wealth, — What myriads they decoy ! Till glory, God, and grace, and all by promise given, From souls recede away, and let this world seem heaven ! But, worst of all base spells that blind The conscience with deceit, Is that which makes our God mankind And bows us at their feet, Awaiting till they crown, by some awarded praise, The nothing Fashion gilds with her inglorious rays ! 410 GOD OUR TRUE CENTRE. Alas for them ! who madly think Immortal nature can From lips of purest homage drink What truly freshens man ; For deep within the soul a thirsting sense abides For something nobler far, than fame's uncertain tides ! Since, what is fame, but second-life In other spirits led ? A feeling with this impulse rife, — That our creations spread Ideal worlds of thought, through which we love to roam, And find in kindled hearts a false, but fancied home ? But thou, believer ! think of this, — God is our only rest ; And he who worships finite bliss Will live and die unblest : The infinitely good man's true proportion makes, And ev'ry gift but Christ, the trusting heart forsakes. 'Tis true, the creedless world is ours ; l But, only when we wave Heaven's banner o'er its hostile powers, And for the truth are brave ; Thus panoplied by grace, and girt by secret prayer, We face embattled fiends, and fight them everywhere ! But never be this creed forgot, — That men are exiles here ; And they who seek a heav'nly lot Will love a heav'nly sphere ; (1) " All things are yours .... the world, or life, or death." — 1 Cor. iii.21, 22. GOD OUR TRUE CENTRE. 411 And oft in soaring dreams of purity ascend To that celestial home, where saints and martyrs tend. The Spirit's love breathes now, or never, When souls for God are train'd Till mortal vice and evil sever From bosoms, where they reign'd : For, by this truth intense all mighty hearts must live, — Eternity will blast what time doth not forgive ! Hail ! vast Relief of souls that love, Lord of regen'rate hearts ! Faith can discern in Thee above A glory that imparts Far more than angel-life, to them who seek for rest And their hereafter lay, like John,1 upon Thy breast. As roll the waters to the wind A moment lifted high, So, swelling passion heaves the mind Upward to meet the sky ; But when the storm declines, and waters cease to roar, The folded waves lie down as level as the shore. So is it with delirious joy Where mad excitements reign, Or, blind emotions man decoy Some glitt'ring lie to gain : — Raised and enrapt awhile, his heaven seems half begun, But when the dream resolves, unrest is all he won ! (1) "There was leaning on Jesus' bosom one of his disciples, whom Jesus loved." — John xiii. 23. 412 MOTHER'S GRIEF. 81 Weeping for her children because they are not." — Jer. xxxi. 15. The laughing azure of thy lovely eyes Oh childless mother ! like dejected skies, With such dim tearfulness is overspread, As softly hints thou dreamest of the dead. Bereaved thou art of that unfathom'd bliss, — - A first-born infant ; and a pang like this E'en to the centre hath thy spirit stirr'd, Too deep for sighs, too sacred for a word ! Cold the wan beauty of thy placid cheek ; And tones of pathos, when I hear thee speak, Ring like a knell that haunts sad mem'ry's ear, And melts warm feeling into woman's tear. Unwatch'd, thou lovest o'er thy book to bend, And solitude becomes a sainted friend ; While, rapt in stillness, oft thy dreaming soul Wings its lone flight to where no earth-clouds roll. But wilt thou, mother ! in this trance of gloom Hover and dream around thine infant's tomb ? — Dark fancy ! dar'st thou lift the coffin-lid, And view in anguish what the grave hath hid ? Those dawning gleams of consciousness and grace, The chiselFd beauty, and the cherub-face, How oft doth speculation these recall, And tell thee thy sweet babe possess'd them all ! mother's grief. 413 But, when some cry of infancy is heard, Like sleeping water by wild music stirr'd, — Thy heart-strings vibrate to each plaintive tone As if that weeper were indeed thine own ! Untold the myst'ry, solemnly intense, Clothing the brow of sacred innocence, Is that pale meaning left by lovely death When back to God returns an infant's breath ! And, there be chords in each maternal heart With which our coarser sex can have no part, — Too deeply toned for all, save Him who cried, " Behold thy mother !" while He bled, and died. But, lady, there is balm, and blessing left, And healing words, for hearts like thine bereft ; Nor childless orphan can the Church become : — Though Christ hath vanished to His viewless home Yet shall the Comforter on thee descend, And heaven-breathed solace with thy spirit blend ; The Lord surrounds thee, when thou seest Him not, And God must change, ere grief can be forgot ! Be grace thy refuge ! — calmer thoughts will rise And rays from heaven illume thine inward eyes ; Till in their brightness loss becomes a gain, While God is thank'd for this mysterious pain. And now ! bethink thee, to thy babe in heaven How much of glory hath redemption given ! Worn by no race, at once it reach'd the goal, Sinless on earth, and now — a perfect soul. 414 MOTHER S GRIEF. Think, what a dignity to thee belongs Thus to have deepen'd the angelic songs, — Thus to enrich with thy departed gem The lustre of Emmanuel's diadem ! And feel'st thou not, when God and glory seem To awe thy spirit with a solemn dream, An infant makes the skies familiar be, And helps to humanize the heavens for thee ? Isles of cerulean air, which float and form Between rent clouds when riven by the storm Prove far more exquisite to pensive eyes Than the blank radiance of unruffled skies ; — Thus do the fairy scenes of calmer life By Mercy sent, to soothe our wild'ring strife, With more expression to the heart appeal Than the bright mirth unthinking bosoms feel. So, childless mother ! will it prove with thee, When once the storm-clouds of dejection flee ; Calm gleams of hope wTill gild thy darken'd way, And teach thee more, than when thy world was gay. Nor, let harsh murmurs o'er thy doom arise As though Godwrong'd them, whomHis wisdom tries; Sorrow becomes a world where Jesu bled, And dust was borrow'd to receive Him dead.1 Our sins would set eternity on fire, Did not Jehovah with His grace conspire To stop the evil in its vast career, And by atonement learn mankind to fear ! (1) " In the place where he was crucified there was a garden .... there laid they Jesus." — John xix. 41, 42. mother's grief. 415 And thus, lone weeper ! let thy heart in prayer A truth beyond bereaving pangs declare ; Remember sorrow, but no sin forget, And count the mercies which embrace thee, yet ! One vast Bethesda though sad earth appears, Besieged with trial, and beset with tears, Remorse for guilt should round experience rise And conscience deepen while dejection sighs. Death, tomb, and darkness, for all being wait, And none are destined for a pangless fate ; — But yet, dear Saviour, in the direst hour Thy promise wields a superhuman power. Though sinless angels bask in perfect bliss, None but the pardon d breathe a boast like this, — " Behold a Brother ! who, divinely free, Became incarnate, and wept blood for me !" In Christ, bereaved one, for thy childless grief Dwells the pure source of all divine relief ; To minds that echo thee, most dear thou art, — But oh ! far dearer to thy Saviour's heart. That living flow'ret which thy God had given Hath love transplanted to its bower in heaven ; There, shall each grace to perfect beauty rise, And bud with glory when it breathes the skies." 416 iWfi draper #oo§u THE TWO BOOKS. " You here have an order for prayer, and for the reading of Holy Scripture, much agreeable to the mind and purpose of the old Fathers ; — nothing is ordained to be read but the very pure Word of God, the Holy Scriptures, or that which is agreeable to the same." — Preface to the Book of Common Prayer. Two Books there be, which loyal Churchmen love,. The one from earth, the other from above ; Yet is the first from out the last derived, And for the same truth hath ever toil'd, and strived. Perfect as peerless, pure and all-divine, Where God in language moves through every line, Where each calm word enrobes celestial grace And dust and Deity meet face to face. — Is that Shechinah of almighty speech Where dwells The Spirit, time and man to teach ; Beneath whatever name 'tis known or heard, Scripture, or Bible, or the Sacred Word. With such, comparison must be profane ! Yet, laud we not in too heroic strain Britannia's Liturgy, for matchless power To guide the conscience through its perill'd hour. THE TWO BOOKS. 417 Calm deep and solemn, chaste, and most sublime, Breathing eternity, yet full of time, Pure as seraphic lips in heaven desire, And fervid as the souls of saints on fire With rapture, — is the Litany we love : Sickness and sorrow both its blessing prove, And oft have mourners in the heart's despair Found a deep refuge for dejection, there. A healing softness, and a holy balm That book pervades, like inspiration's calm, — Subdued intensity and sacred rest Which never fail the lonely and distrest. For, oh ! we need not morbid passion's force, Nor hurried feeling in its reinless course ; Nor problems dark, for reasoning pride to scan, But what we need is, — mercy- tones for man ! The sun -bright angel, who adores and sings, Covers his brow with reverential wings ; And perfect saints who most their God adore Sink low in feeling, ere by faith they soar. The past breathes here the poetry of time, And thrills the present with a tone sublime, Till buried Ages of the Church's youth Rise, and recharm the world with ancient truth. — Thou glorious masterpiece of olden Prayer ! Deeper thy wisdom than cold words declare ; Ever opposing some recurrent sin States act without, or Churches feel within. E E 418 THE TWO BOOKS. Not light men want, but love, — exceeding all An age of idols dares devotion call ; A childlike frame of purity and peace, Where Christ in conscience works divine release. And, who the archives of thy past can see, Nor recognise the eye of God o'er thee, Presiding there with providential gaze To fit thy teaching for these fallen days ? Creedless and proud, high-cultured, full of self, Greedy of gain, and worshippers of pelf, — Our Wealth grows christless as the world gets old, And none seem sages, but the bad and bold ! Then, bless we God for Prayers where men are taught Low at the Truth to bow rebellious thought ; Each lawless working of the will to chain, And yield to God the bosom's throne again. Repentance, bitter, stern, profound, and true, Obedient hearts, that yearn to dare and do, Whate'er the doctrines of the Cross command, — God send the Church, for this apostate land ! Rather as servants, than as sons, we bow Down at the shrine of awful Godhead now ; Heirs though of grace, in Christ our own we claim, How have we barter'd our baptismal name ! Hence sad humility, and fear becomes The sinful race who leave celestial homes ; Cries of dejection, more than chants of joy, Returning prodigals may best employ. THE TWO BOOKS. 419 Nor be forgot, how England's Prayer-book gives Pure, full, and plain, The Word by which she lives ! Not dungeon'd in some dead and alien tone, But where the peasant-boy perceives his own. There, lisping childhood, when it longs to learn Truths for which prophets bled, and martyrs burn, In such pure liturgy of grace may find All which can feed the heart, and form the mind. — As looks some mansion, where gay windows shine And glare and grandeur viciously combine, While loud Excitement in each chamber leads The heartless round a life of pleasure needs, Near some hoar'd fane religiously serene Where saints have sigh'd and martyrs often been, — The contrast, felt between such book of prayer And all sectarian novelties declare. For, common prayer, if catholic and true, Must not be tinged with individual hue ; Nor, souls of myriads their proportion find In the chance prayer of one vicarious mind. Lord of the Church ! of sacrament and rite, In this may all adoring hearts delight, — " How apostolic is the root of all Our Church maternal would devotions call !" The heart of cent'ries still within them lives, Takes from the past, and to the present gives That hoary spell which hallows thought and word, And wakens feeling in its finest chord. 420 BAPTISM. Since, not from Rome, but ancient Gaul we bring The choral hymns our altars chant and sing ; And many a word devotion breathes upon, Hung on thy lips, thou loved and lone St. John I1 Source of the Church ! true Paraclete for all, Long may such prayers on Christ for mercy call ; No deeper grace can Thy pure wisdom give, — Than what our lips repeat, our hearts may live. BAPTISM. " The washing of regeneration." — Tit. iii. 5. " Born of water and of the Spirit." — John iii. 5. Thou little trembler, robed in white, Nursling of heaven ! sweet neophyte Before the font arriving, — The birth-dawn of thy spirit's life With holy fulness be it rife, While hearts for thee are striving With God in prayer ; that soon thy shielded charms May rest secure in Christ's baptismal arms. A silence breathed from God above, A halcyon of celestial love Now broods with blest control, Under the Throne of Him who came In form as weak as thy young frame, — Thrilling the inmost soul (1) See Palmer's " Origines Liturgic;e," for historical proof of this. baptism:. 421 Of all, whose unfilm'd eye of faith perceives More than mere water on the forehead leaves. Bright students of the ways of God ! Who since Incarnate Mercy trod The forfeit earth of man, Bend your adoring eyes to learn Truths deeper than your thoughts discern1 Shrined in redemption's plan, — Ye viewless Seraphim ! this rite attend, And your calm watch with Christian worship blend. Thou innocent ! with man compared, Thee hath eternal Truth declared A child of wrath and sin; But now, adopted, seal'd, and sign'd By Him who hath redeem' d mankind, For thee will now begin That second birth renewing grace imparts2 Through this deep sacrament, to infant hearts. Oh! if Emanuel ne'er had said " Let children to Mine arms be led," Parents might shrink aghast A creature in the world to bring, Whose soul the curse of God may wring When time and earth are past ! (1) " Which things the Angels desire to look into." — 1 Pet. i. 12. (2) " Seeing now that this child is regenerate and grafted into the Body of Christ's Church." — Baptismal Service. " Seeing now that this child is regenerate ... .it hath pleased Thee to regenerate this infant with Thy Holy Spirit, to receive him for Thine own child by adoption, and to incorporate him into Thy Holy Church." — Baptismal Service of Church of England. 422 BAPTISM. But for the promise of baptismal grace What sight so fearful as an infant's face ? All that a birth of flesh can give What is it, — but a doom to live, A heritage of wo, A destiny of guilt and death, A curse inhaled at ev'ry breath Life breathes from sin below? — By grace uncharm'd, destruction seems to lower On the sad babe, ere time can count its hour. But, at yon font where Jesu stands With greeting heart and gracious hands, Ready to clasp the child, Pale infant ! there, a breath from heaven Shall to thy dawning soul be given Through Him, the Saviour mild, — Who, while He thunders from His regal Throne, Loves the sweet age on earth He eall'd His Own ! The Root of Sacramental grace Is The new Adam of our race, The Man Divine who bled ; Hence cometh our celestial birth, Beyond the parentage of earth, From our generic Head, — The Lord from Heaven, whose vital spirit gives All force by which the mystic Body lives. More than our first-born parents knew Before they proved to God untrue, Works this regen'rate gift; (1) "And He is the Head of the Body, the Church."— Col. i. 18. BAPTISM. 423 Angels, who on their trial stood, Exceed not this majestic good That may thy soul uplift : A child of God ! — can seraphim aspire To aught sublimer in their sinless choir ? From thee the curse is roll'd away ; Thy soul's new birth begins to-day ; A cov'nant-right to all Immunities and blessings high The heart of Jesus can supply To them who heed His call : Now, to the stillness of thy soul is given, Like breezeless water, to reflect a heaven ! A city and a crown are thine If thou be true to grace divine, Bearing thy destined Cross; Lo! on thy forehead lies the seal Where symbol both and sign reveal That Life must gain by loss : l Firm to thy vow, beneath God's banner fight, And keep thy panoply of graces bright. Christ guard thee now, thou little one ! His glory be thy Shield and Sun Whate'er thy lot may be; Incorp'rate with the Church thou art, To thee may life and love impart The truth that maketh free : (1) " He that loseth his life for my sake shall find it:1— Matt. x. 39. 424 BAPTISM. New prospects ope, new principles and powers Rise into play, and rule thine unborn hours. And, if in secret darkness lie The seeds of heaven, which none descry, Dormant and cold within, — May God's reviving breath awake, Till such dark bond of slumber break And grace o'ermaster sin : That latent germ baptismal life bestows Doth oft in elder hearts its buried power disclose. How water, word, and grace combine To work creative spells divine, In vain let Reason ask! Children are awful mysteries Within whose depth no spirit sees But His, — who has the task Of overcoming through celestial birth That born corruption, which is bred from earth. Hence ! reas'ning sceptic, harsh and cold, For, never will thine eyes behold Tokens that sense defy : Nature in secret .works her plan, Her growth escapes the sight of man ; Then, hush thy heartless cry, — As if the weakness of the water could Deprive the soul of sacramental good ! True Wisdom loves the word " obey" And loving hearts but live to pray, Believing Christ as true ; BAPTISM. 425 Safe in His arms, thou mother mild, With hope baptismal place thy child ; And doubt not1 He will do A work regen'rate in that infant soul, — Baptizing nature with divine control. Henceforward, as a Priest and King, Thy babe becomes a sacred thing, An heir of grace and glory ; Mother ! to whom such charge is given, Now rear it for that Throne in heaven Scripture unveils before thee ; So discipline the dawning mind and will, That each some priesthood unto God may fill. " Our Father !" now thy babe may cry, Whose Elder Brother rules the sky, — The Man Divine who came By bleeding merit to atone For all the guilt sad earth must own, And give the child a name New as the sacramental birth, which then Through water and by Spirit comes to men. Blest privilege ! both deep and pure, Which might our trembling hearts assure That we are Christ's indeed : Our robe baptismal, — keep it white, And never wilt thou lose the right Which marks the heavenly seed (1) "Doubt ye not therefore, but earnestly believe, that he will likewise favourably receive this present infant," &c. — Baptismal Service. 426 BAPTISM. Of all who, grafted into Christ by grace, Born in the Church, are God's adopted race. Oh ! that on man's expressive brow Baptismal pureness beaming now Maturer life might see ; How should we bless that rite of heaven Where grace is felt, and sin forgiven By mercy, full as free ; And find God's Spirit ne'er that man forsook, Who keeps in age, the vow his childhood took! But, soil'd and stain'd by sin and crime, Corruption deepens with our time, And thus our hearts o'erlay That seed of heaven, The Spirit granted When the new birth was first implanted On our baptismal day : Yet, not for this, let souls profanely try From faith to hide what holy means supply. Rather, repent we ! till the soul Shall yield to that sublime control Which heals the broken-hearted, — Who in atoning blood begin To bathe the soul, and wash their sin, Mourning they e'er departed From that blest Lord, whose intercessions plead, And never pause, till souls no Saviour need ! 427 THE CATECHISM. "Who gave you this name? My Godfathers and Godmothers in my Baptism." — The Catechism. If they who stand beside the source Of some famed river's mountain-flow, And ponder on its trackless course To meet the far-off waves below, Can feel a pensive influence born, — Then how, on each Sabbatic morn, The men of God must inly feel A musing depth of voiceless zeal When at the fountain-head they stand, Of youthful life's untraced career, As round them groups an order'd band Of earnest children, shy and dear : Encircled thus, to hear and speak, With glist'ning eye and glowing cheek, — These truths baptismal, pure and high, Which link our being with the sky ! " Go, feed My Lambs," The Saviour cried To Peter's large and loving heart ; And, ever have those words supplied What cannot from the Church depart, — A past'ral right to form and feed God's nurslings, by His grace decreed To have the food of heaven ; and live By all His word and wisdom give. 428 THE CATECHISM. What, though the catechizer teach Unfathom'd truths, which far outsoar What raptured saints and seraphs reach When most their minds a God adore, — Love brings a light that truth explains Beyond what science ere attains, As Heaven by intuitions mild Gleams on the conscience of a child. Each falt'ring tongue of bashful youth, If now the Priest by welcome bland Attunes to some almighty truth, Beyond a child to understand, — Is not the most gigantic soul Which awes the world by deep control, A mental babe with lisping mind, Compared with angels, in its kind ? The Gospel o'er the cradle bends, And gently leads each growing child ; Nor at the Font its mission ends, But follows it with accent mild ; And so by her maternal voice The Church directs the infant choice, And loves to dream on each white brow The mystic Cross is mirror'd now. God shield each lamb, and little one ! For now the world before it lies ; And cold were he who looks upon Those cherub lips, and chasten'd eyes, THE CATECHISM. 429 Nor feels his heart-pulse throb with prayer That all the Sureties did declare, When first the white-robed babe was given To Jesu's arms for life and heaven, — Hereafter each in faith may keep ! Alas! the infant-grace departs ; Enough to make mild angels weep Already stains each youthful heart ! Wilder'd by many a temper wild Wilful and vain becomes the child, Till robes baptismal wear no more The whiteness at the Font they wore ! Yet, Shepherd of Thy blood-priced fold, If Thou didst stand at mother's knee, And as a spotless Babe behold The virgin brow that bent o'er Thee, — Thy spirit hung on each high word ; An echoing conscience loved and heard While Patriarch, Saint, and Prophet brought Lessons to rear Thy human thought.1 Lover divine of children dear ! In Whose fond arms an infant lay, E'en now the Church believes Thee near To hear their budding accents pray ; And oh ! if child-born mem'ries still Thy depths of manhood yet can fill, Look from Thy Mercy- Throne on high, Hear children lisp, and mothers sigh ! (1) " Jesus increased in wisdom." — Luke ii. 52. 430 THE CATECHISM. Nor let the stern and sceptic mind 'Tween Christ and childhood take its stand ; And, reas'ning here with falsehood blind Presume to hold His secret Hand, — Who works by love's mysterious law A grace cold reason never saw ; And by His Spirit, present now, Recalls the child's baptismal vow Back to the Soul, perchance with fear ; And opes the spring of thought within, Until Religion's vestal tear Is dropt o'er some remember'd sin : New hopes awake, and conscience burns With hallo w'd blush, as more it learns Who at the font His welcome gave, — Still longs in heaven the child to save ! Lord of simplicity and truth, A scene like this the oldest need, To mind them of regretted youth And bid them writh compunction bleed : A babe-like spirit, born of love, — What purer gift can grace above Grant to the saint, who lives below More childlike for the heavens to grow ? 431 CONFIRMATION. " Do ye here, in the presence of God, and of this congregation, renew the solemn promise and vow that was made in your name at baptism, ratify- ing and confirming the same?" — Order of Confirmation. Lord of the blissful worlds above, Incarnate Light, celestial Love ! Send from Thy prayer-moved mercy-seat The grace of grace, Thy Paraclete ! — A touching sight for solemn tears, Like prophecies of future years, Under the aisles of hoary fane Is now enacted : — faith, and prayer, O'er each young conscience come and reign, And, with The Spirit, bless them there ! Round the raiPd altar humbly kneeling, On each bow'd form, o'erfraught with feeling, Anointed hands will soon be laid ; And righteous prayers be duly pray'd : Nor, doubt we that a gift divine Shall with the mitred priest's combine, — An ancient rite, replete with glory, By meek apostles used and loved, Church of the Lord ! is now before thee, By martyrs blest, and saints approved. But oh ! ere yet the sealing grace God's death-pang won to bless our race, 432 CONFIRMATION. In answer to this prayer descend, — " Arise, 0 Lord ! this child defend, Daily increase that store divine Of love and light which make him Thine/' — Member of Christ ! thou child of God ! Thy central heart examine now ; The narrow way, if thou hast trod, Renew, and ratify thy vow. To you baptismal life was given By virtue of its Source in heaven ; And vow'd ye were, for Christ and Cross To count the world as painted dross : — The burden now 'tis yours to bear ! And can ye unto Christ declare That awful vow, your spirits bore, When ye, as tiny babes were brought, Baptized, and made for evermore God's own to be, in will and thought ? Thou, of thy feeble self afraid ! Trembling with truth, a pensive maid, — Through thy fringed lid the tearful gaze The secret of thy soul betrays ; And through that veil of virgin white Soft tremors reach thy mother's sight : — Pale candidate ! though pure and young, Thy heart is trepid unto tears, And with a saintly horror wrung, Lest sin betray thine unborn years ! CONFIRMATION. 433 " Your promise, can ye here renew ?" That deep reply, — " Oh Lord, we do ! " Oh, is it not an awful word By God and list'ning angels heard ? Heaven echoes back its binding vow, And fiends abash'd, before it bow ! And writhe in darkness, thus to see A virgin heart whom grace inspires, So consecrate to Deity Its faith, its feeling, and its fires. But, at the altar kneel in prayer ; Tremble, but hope, for Christ is there : He will not fail, this burden'd hour, To strengthen thee with loving power ; And when confirming hands are spread In faith upon thine awe- bow 'd head, — Thrill'd into speechless thought, whilst thou Wilt feel eternity draw nigh, The heart of Him who hears thy vow In heaven responds to every sigh ! He knows thee, loves thee, reads thy soul, Can circle thee with blest control, And, in return for thy vow'd heart, Himself by gift and grace impart. — But, ah ! mistake not ; hectic zeal Is but the flush warm fancies feel : Of such beware, impassion'd youth ! Nor heed what thrill'd emotions say ; They only love, who live the' truth, And walk in peace the perfect way. F F 434 MARRIAGE. Poetic thrills may soon depart, And barren oft, some burning heart ! Emotions in themselves are nought, Except to Christian action brought ; Nor is one glorious promise given Unless to hearts that throb for heaven. — High feelings to the sense appear A creed the world may beauteous call ; But Christ hath made this doctrine clear, One daily Cross transcends them all! MARRIAGE. "An honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church." — Form of Solemnization of Matrimony. What, though the birthday of this God-made Earth Seraphic harpers rose to sing, AVhose choral ecstasies proclaim' d its worth And caused heaven's crystal arch to ring, — All was imperfect, till a Priest was there Creation's mouth to be, and mind, and prayer. Vain the vast splendour which no eye could see, The melody that none could hear ; But when God utter'd, " Let Mine Image be ! ' Creation thrill' d as Man drew near; And what was meaningless, and cold, and dead, Warni'd into life beneath a woman's tread. As man for earth, so woman was required The crowning grace of man to form ; MARRIAGE. 435 Alone, not even Adam was inspired To feel creation's godlike charm : And thus Faith hears this fiat from The Throne, " It is not good for man to be alone." So ere the fall, a Priest almighty brought A bridal Eve to Adam's heart ; A living echo to the love he sought, A help-meet never to depart, A true companion for the soul to be, Fresh from her God, in faultless purity. Marriage is holy! — Let no heathen fire Around the christian altar flame ; Impassion'd souls let sacredness inspire And hallow hymeneal claim : Belials in sense are minds by flesh overruled, And love is vice, unless by virtue school'd. How hush'd and holy is yon bridal scene Before God's altar! — view'd by one Who e'er in faith to Cana's home hath been That marriage-group to gaze upon, Where the pale water blush'd itself to wine, Moved by a miracle of grace divine ! Stainless in vesture, as the lilies white, With flower-buds in her wreathed hair, Fearful and trepid, with o'erawed delight Lo! the young bride is flutt'ring there With dropping lids in mild dejection bent. And young heart with a holy conflict rent. 436 MARRIAGE. In that pure breast what garner'd feelings play Like pulses with mysterious beat ! — To think sweet girlhood now hath wing'd away And Love must quit a calm retreat, Sacred to thought, by friends and forms no more, And truths, which make the reeling heart run o'er ! It is not, that a voiceless dread awakes Suspicion lest her choice be wrong ; No horrid vision o'er the future breaks To which both guilt and grave belong : Yet, sadness looms around her like a spell, As oft in marriage-chime there seems a knell ! Our life is myst'ry ; and the brightest joy That flushes round a feeling heart, Seems coldly shaded by some dim alloy Doom'd never from man's world to part : — * True mirth with mournfulness is oft allied, As living: babes suggest the ones who died. 'DO And she, the bridal star of beauty now, Oh! marvel not, as there she kneels, That, ere the wife can dawn upon her brow, Back to bright girlhood fancy steals; Dead joys revive in tombs to fancy dear, Melt through the heart, and mingle with a tear ! Last eve, at halcyon twilight's dreamful hour When none but God the soul could see, She pray'd and ponder'd in her girlish bower, And sigh'd, young Past ! her thoughts o'er thee ; MARRIAGE. 437 Flower, fruit, and pathways, all instinct with truth, Seem to accost her like the spells of youth ! She mused on what her unborn life might fold Within its undevelop'd scene ; On wings of love recall'd the times of old, And wept o'er all bright hearts had been ! And scarce perceived the pensive moonlight throw Its calm cold lustre on the lake below. But, maiden ! ere they spousal ring be worn, Beyond a mother's purest gift, The Church hath up to Heaven's high portals borne A prayer that shall thy soul uplift To heights of bliss, serene as brides attain Who o'er all wedded love seek Christ to reign. Hearts are espoused by every hallow'd claim, If wedlock far diviner prove Than mere clay-throbs, which boast the common name Of what flesh means by mortal " love :" — Christ and the Church1 are shadow'd out by this, And cast heaven's radiance round an earthly bliss. (1) "A man shall leave his father and mother, and shall be joined unto his wife .... this is a great mystery, but I speak concerning Christ and the Church."— Ephes. v. 31, 32. 438 VISITATION OP THE SICK. " Bear our heavenly Father's correction; there should be no greater comfort to Christian persons, than to be made like unto Christ, by suffering patiently adversities, troubles, and sicknesses." — Order for Visitation of the Sick. Sermons in sickness heaven can preach, When pangs and penalties may teach What Custom rarely sees, — How health is mercy next to grace, And should inspire a sinful race The God of health to please. Strange, that our hearts are so accursed That nothing, save a gift reversed, Can make men prize their good ! Blessings look dim which seem to stay, But brighten, when they wing away From souls who Christ withstood. So is it with the fields of youth, The shrines of tenderness and truth And all fresh boyhood proved ; When we survey the scene no more, Or, dream to life the dead of yore Whom once we fondly loved, — Oft does the inward blush arise To think how calmly we could prize Redundant mercies, then ! We marvel, why our love was cold, And boyishly our past behold Now we are wither'd men ! VISITATION OF THE SICK. 439 Parental bowers of peace and home, And lanes our truant steps did roam, Make landscapes in our soul ; While votive tear-drops Truth can shed O'er imaged graves, where sleep the dead Whose eyes our hearts control. Thus longs atoning love in vain The past should o'er the present reign, That what was once, might be ; But youth, and all young hours possess'd, In thine abysmal darkness rest Thou pall'd eternity !— And thus, in sickness when we lie With languid pulse and fever'd eye, Pining, and pale, and lone ; While throes of secret anguish burn, — Love, through each throb, would have us learn Truths which become our own. Remember'd blessings round us throng We valued not, when health bloom'd strong, Which challenge holy tears ; And, if chance gleams of skyey blue Our half-unblinded window through Salute some pallid fears, — How does the distant landscape seem, Apparel'd by poetic dream, And bid us yearn for fields, Brooklet and forest, bank and wood, And each green shrine where solitude Religious silence yields ! 440 VISITATION OF THE SICK. And dearer far the dearest grow With whose heart-tides our own did flow, When now no longer heard ; Ideal hearts around us beat, And airy lips of love repeat Some long-forgotten word ! But, what transcends the all of this On the sad couch of pain we miss, — Christ's hallow'd courts of grace ; Where litanies divinely call From blending souls that prostrate fall, For God's uplifted face ! Not seldom hath the sainted chime Of sabbath-bells become sublime Yet mild, and melancholy, When pensive Languor far away Has heard their ebbing dream-tones play, In sickness, sad and lowly ! Like Zion's harping saint it cries1 " To thee, oh Lord ! my spirit flies, And fain before the shrine My kneeling heart would humbly pour The chanted praise I hymn'd before, In courts of grace divine !" But, sacred Mother ! bring release ; Come, lift the latch, and with soft " Peace !"2 Enter the sick man's room ; (1) "My soul hath a desire and longing to enter into the courts of the Lord." — Psalm lxxxiv. 2. (2) " The minister of the parish coining unto the sick person's house, shall say, ' Peace be to this house ! ' " — Order for Visitation of the Sick. VISITATION OF THE SICK. 441 O'er that pale brow thy cross did seal Shed the soft dews of balm that heal, And light each haunted gloom. Far better thus with Thee to live, And hear a saintly mourner sigh. Than run where feastings reign ; Wisdom beyond the schools to reach Thy heaven-breathed words of solace preach To hearts subdued by pain. Counsels divine, in tone serene, Varied with grave rebukes between, Thine Office now imparts ; And there beside yon dying bed The Body and the Blood are spread, Which feed our famish'd hearts. Lord Jesus ! Thou art present there Entempled1 in each awful prayer, — The room our altar is ; Angel and saint we realise, And vision with prophetic eyes Scenes of seraphic bliss ! Go, man of pleasure, mindless thing ! Whose life-boast is to laugh and sing ; Be ours the chamber lone Where prayer and musing sickness meet, And find before the mercy-seat, What health has never shown. (I) " Inhabitest." 442 THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD. Here may authentic priests, O Lord ! Thy grace dispense, and soothing word, Like almoners for heaven, — Teach to oblivious hearts a lore Thy peerless martyrs taught of yore When conscience hears, " forgiven." If health have joy, the sick partake This boon divine, — for Thy dear sake To suffer, not complain ; And, ere the sun of life go down, Above their cross to see the crown Of kings, with Thee to reign ! 1 THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD. A VILLAGE FUNERAL. " Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ." — Order for the Burial of the Dead. The bells are tolling with a dreamy chime That melts and mingles with the air around, Mourning for her who died in vernal prime, Queen of the village by her virtues crown'd. Last week she bounded, full of girlish life, Fleet o'er the turf, elastic as the breeze, Radiant as morn, with bloom and beauty rife, Fresh as the wave that gambols on the seas : (1) " If we suffer, we shall also reign with Him." — 2 Tim. ii. 12. "Jesus Christ .... made us kings and priests unto God." — Rev. i. 5, 6. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD, 443 But Christ recall'd her to His home on high To harp in glory God's incarnate love, Ere guilt had waken'd one remorseful sigh Or, earth untuned her for a heaven above. Oh ! gently lay her where the yew-trees wave Their verdant darkness o'er some grassy tomb, And sunbeams learn the language of the grave, Tinging their brightness with a temper'd gloom. There shall the daisy rear its infant head, And fairy wild-flowers drink the dew of spring, While o'er the turf that greenly wraps the dead, Autumnal winds their plaintive descant sing. 'Tis the same spot her rosy girlhood sought Where fresh from school, with bright companions gay, In maiden fancy, free from troubling thought, She work'd her sampler, or retired to play. And, not unmiss'd will her sweet form be found As there beneath yon immemorial tree, Familiar children from the cots around Renew their hours of holiday and glee. That blue-eyed darling whom she frequent bore Safe in fond arms o'er many a stile and field, — Her gaze will sadden in such dreams of yore That oft to childhood calm dejection yield. Dear is the quiet village church to me, Saxon, and simple, touch'd with tender glooms ; Lifting its widow'd form most gracefully As though 'twere conscious of encircling tombs ! 444 THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD. Whatever shade expressive clouds can throw, Or, hills wood-crested may around it cast, — I love to view it in the vale below Connect the present with our storied past. Oft have I paused, when lull'd by pensive bliss, To hear the curfew, mellow'd on the wind, Waft the farewell of day to scene like this, Soft to the ear, as soothing to the mind. But, far excelling what chaste morn bestows, The hush of twilight, or the harvest-moon ; And all mere landscape to the minstrel shows When silent thoughts their sacredness attune, Is felt, — when village fun'ral winds its train Slowly and sadly to some churchyard gate, And our deep Service1 tones its godlike strain, To scatter darkness from bereavement's fate. Hark ! from the woodland floats the forward breeze A low sweet dirge, the village-maidens sing, Whose white robes glisten through the waving trees As on the dead to her last home they bring. Now, sob not mother ! for thy beauteous child, Though like a tendril from thy heart it grew ; Eternity she felt, ere time defiled Or made her soul, untender and untrue. And thou, hoar'd grandsire ! with thy grief-worn face,. Oft did the prattler on thy knee recline, And hold up features fancy loved to trace, Which matrons told thee, in thy youth, were thine, — (1) " The priest, meeting the corpse at the entrance of the church, shall say, 1 1 am the resurrection and the life."'— Order for the Burial of the Dead. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 445 I see thee now, with tott'ring step advance, Wan are thy cheeks, and drops of aged wo Bedew thy visage, and bedim thy glance As onward to the grave the mourners go. But One is present, whom no eye can see Except by faith, and that is, Christ the Lord ! — And "Weep not!"1 childless mother, comes to thee, If thy heart open to His gracious word. Thou blessed Ritual ! throbs of Jesu's heart Yet in thy tones of thrilling mercy live ; When yawns the tomb, how wonderful thou art In echoing all God's inspirations give ! The u Resurrection and the Life"2 is near, By Spirit present, and in love as deep As when he touch'd the young man's open bier, And gently bid wild anguish not to " weep." As o'er that grave the " dust to dust " awakes A dismal echo in the bleeding soul, How the damp earth-clod on the coffin breaks, Till the deep tides of inward anguish roll ! Yet, o'er the tomb heaven's canopy unfolds, And, hark ! these words of soothing magic sound, While Grief looks upward, and by faith beholds The Lord of Life and Resurrection crown'd, — (1) "The Lord had compassion on her, and said, Weep not!" — Luke vii. 13. (2) " I am the resurrection and the life !" — John xi. 25. 446 THE CHURCHING OF WOMEN. " Blest are the dead, who in the Lord depart ; Yea, saith the Spirit, for their pangs are o'er ; Serene as heaven Christ keeps the sainted Heart Whose works are ended, and that weeps no more." THE CHURCHING OF WOMEN. " We give thee humble thanks, for that thou hast vouchsafed to deliver this woman thy servant, from the great pain and peril of childbirth." — English Prayer-Book. In mothers love there hides a spell Maternal hearts alone can see ; Transcending more than tears may tell, Or man could be ! Far down within the spirit's deep Her fountains of affection lie, Like currents that in darkness sweep Nor face the sky. Tender abyss of peerless love ! To Heaven's omniscient eye-glance known, — The Woman-born, Who reigns above, Thy claims doth own. A pillow'd Babe on mother's breast, Beneath Him throbb'd the virgin's heart, And, Woman ! thou on Him canst rest, Whoe'er thou art. Oh ! magic force of nature felt Far as the sun and sea extend, Beneath whose law all beings melt, And spirits bend. THE CHURCHING OF WOMEN. 447 The Indian mother, stern and strong, Cradles her infant on the tree, And wildly chants her loud wood-song For lullaby. And the stern Negress, seeking food, Fastens the babe upon her back, To roam each rocky solitude, Or lion's track : Yet, doubt not, each as fondly loves With all the fire of woman's soul Her perill'd babe, howe'er she roves With full control. Nor scene, nor change, nor earth and sky Exhaust true love's maternal spring ; Distance and time before it die, Whate'er they bring ! A passion 'tis, so pure and deep, That while bereaved fathers moan, Oft, wordless mothers only weep In heart alone ! But why did God such love create Unquenchably supreme, and pure ? — Because from mothers spirits date Their curse, or cure. Thus, saints and martyrs, heroes, all Whom wond'ring Time delights to praise, In heaven itself may still recall Their infant-days, 448 THE CHURCHING OF WOMEN. When learn'd they from maternal lips Lessons of holy love and prayer, No clouds hereafter could eclipse, Nor soul's despair ! Then, pallid mother, draw thee nigh, Perill'd by pangs, but saved in birth ; And gently lift thy downcast eye, From heaven to earth. The virgin whiteness of that veil Becomes thine inward purity, And hides upon thy forehead pale What angels see Of blissful worship ; — deep and mild As mothers for their first-born pay, And love, with conscience undefiled, Offers to-day. Thou art the parent of a soul, The mother of a deathless mind ! And Christ to thee imparts control For such design'd ; Self-discipline, and prayer-born love, And persevering wisdom calm, Breathe, Holy Spirit, from above With soothing balm ! That from thine Altar she may part In saintly mood serene and high, And worship Christ with yearning heart Until she die. THE COMMINATION. 449 Mothers are more than mines of wealth If God- devoted souls they be ; And public glory, truth, and health In them to see Becomes us : — When do nations sink Into dark graves of sin and wo ? When Church and State no longer think What debt they owe To christian mothers, — unto whom Both God and nature have consign'd Existence, from whose dawning bloom They nurse mankind. THE COMMINATION " Is much to be wished .... to the intent that being admonished of the great indignation of God against sinners, ye may the rather be moved to earnest and true repentance." — Prayer-Book. As Time grows old, the earth from heaven recedes More distant far; No conscience bleeds To feel the burnings of that inward scar, Which so discolours o'er with sin Th' apostate soul we bear within. A period was, when God and angels came So near to thought, The Church's name With the fine strength of holiness was fraught ; Her frown cast midnight where it fell, — Her blessing wove a guardian spell ! g G 450 THE COMMINATION. But now, we boast an intellectual blaze That scatters all Cold Reason says Before the majesty of mind should fall ! Dazzled with light, but dark in love, Sin loathes the Truth that looks above. Sensual and proud, a Belial age is ours, Drunken with pride And grasping powers By which the godless Will is gratified, — Greedy of gold, at hirst for pelf, And seeking heaven in worshipp'd self ! Thou fond admirer of a holy time When earth touch'd heaven ! And thrills sublime Were to heroic saints and martyrs given, Of something purer than blind sense Can to a coarse rude age dispense, — Marvel no more that Discipline lies dead : Self-will reigns now! Laurels, not ashes, crown the christless head And wreathe man's brow : For sackcloth, singing-robes are worn And none but saints now seem forlorn ! When God was fear'd, due fasting calm'd the blood; With naked feet Then Penance stood Low at the porch, the past'ral band to meet, Sackcloth'd by shame, with downcast eyes, Sprinkled with ashes, heaving sighs : THE COMMINATION. 451 Severely gracious, thus the Church's rod Wielded o'er sin The claim of God ; And o'erawed penitents to weep within, Driving them forth with scalding tears To feel the pang of righteous fears. Thus, with mount Ebai's menace Zion's song Was well combined ; And true as strong The healing power with which it calm'd the mind : Indulgence then was not in vogue Nor framed its pleasing decalogue ! But with her holiness, the power departs A Church can wield O'er chasten'd hearts, Led by subduing love themselves to yield To mild correction's lawful charm, That keeps the soul from sinful harm. Too oft our Church is self-election now ; Our creed the will, And few avow That Christ is throned in christian temple still, — A Presence and a Glory there Receiving praise, and hearing prayer ! Awake ! awake ! thou Arm of God, awake : Put on thy strength, Thy fear forsake Church of our fathers ! be thyself at length ; Bride of The Lord, a mother kind, Watchful, but not to error blind. 452 THE COMMINATION. Spirit divine ! in this her trial -hour Of sinful dread, Inbreathe a power That shall to glorious duty lift her head ; — Whose panoply is ardent prayer, Which more and more each gift should bear. And we, as children of our Mother dear, In evil days Oh ! let us fear ; And in our Lentine gloom on Ebal gaze, And, as the tenfold curses roll Let each, 0 God ! subdue the soul ; For, art Thou not a Sin- consuming fire, Awful as pure In Thy dread ire ? — Never may Sense our creedless mind allure, To think that hell alone can burn In fictions, which dark fancies learn ! Mercy, Lord Christ ! most infinite Thou art ; But, judgment true Will cleave each heart That will not dread Thee in some darker hue ! Before Whom prostrate worlds must fall, And worship Him who sways them all. So, when the priestly comminations roll In thunders deep, Till each awed soul In the hush'd centre of pale conscience weep, — Our sackcloth let repentance be, Remorse, the ashes God can see ! PRAYERS AT SEA. 453 So will lost Penance in such hour revive ; Sorrow for Sin In prayer will strive ; And, wash'd and whiten'd by the Lamb within, The heart renew 'd God's word descries Piercing and pure as angel-eyes ! Back to the world, in penitence and prayer Then may we speed ; If wounded there, — Then look we upward while our spirits bleed ; For, on The Throne there beats a Heart In all true grief that takes its part. l PRAYERS AT SEA. " Glorious Lord God! at whose command the winds blow, and lift up the waves of the sea, and who stillest the rage thereof." — English Prayer - Book. Fond mother, with thy wakeful ear, Hark ! how the storm-blasts through the welkin roll ! Thunder alarms the breast of guilty fear, And arrowy lightnings glance from pole to pole. Louder and louder sweeps the gale ; Fierce, full, and large, the hissing raindrops fall ; And midnight Terror, with emotion pale, Begins in secret on her God to call ! Calm as a flower yon nursling lies, Pock'd into silence on thy cradling breast ; Yet doth thy bosom heave with unheard sighs That move thy spirit into sad unrest. (1) "In all their affliction He was afflicted." — Isa. lxiii. 9. 454 PRAYERS AT SEA. But, not for thy domestic bower, Or, those who sleep within its guardian shade, — Art thou awake at this convulsive hour To hear the crash wild elements have made. Yet, rides thy heart the rolling deep, Toss'd on huge billows in tumultuous swell, And voiceless tremors through thy bosom creep For thy lone sea-boy, loved at home so well ! But lately, on thy breast he lay His head in fondness, parting for the sea, And would not brush the manly tear away Which flow'd from boyhood, and that fell on thee ! And now, amid the shrouds aloft, Perchance he grapples with the creaking mast ; Yet can Remembrance hear thy blessing soft, And feel thine arms maternal round him cast. Mother! The Church confronts the waves; Her litanies can lull their angry roar ; And He who watcheth o'er the ocean-waves Can make the sea as tranquil as the shore. Christ on the waters, forms a throne For all who trust Him in the tempest wild, Far as the pilgrims of the deep can roam, Or billows lullaby a sea-born child. Safe is thy darling in this hour, Dearer to heaven, than mother's heart can know; Calmly entrust him to that sleepless Power, Deepen thy prayers, but let not doubts o'erflow! PRAYERS AT SEA. 455 Mirthful and bright, thy sea-boy ran Around thee once, through garden, grove, and field ; But now, emerging into ripen'd man, Conscience and creed their helming influence wield. Precious, yon Bible ! — 'twas thy boon ; And, mother, where thy parting tear-gush fell, Oft on the deck, beneath the sacred moon He reads the warnings thou hast scored so well! And that high book of hallo w'd Prayer A treasured sister gave, with farewell kiss, — Oft will he clasp it on the ocean there, And hail the sabbath as a holy bliss. God of the winds, and waves, and seas ! Whom all the vassal elements obey, Whether by palmy shores the placid breeze Soft as a seraph's wing, descends to play, Or tempests heave the mountain-surge, Flashing with foam beneath some lurid glare, While the drench'd mariners the vessel urge, — We thank Thee for our oceanic prayer! Or, when the booming death-guns pour Peal after peal, redoubling as they roll ! Or, Vict'ry shouts her patriotic roar Of loud huzzahs from seaman's gallant soul, — Lord of the Deep ! by thee inspired, Our Church for each some high -breathed prayer imparts ; That they whom valour hath for vict'ry fired, Should have the Prince of Peace to hush their hearts ! 456 THE GUNPOWDER TREASON. Seldom can inland worship prove Toned with such tenderness divinely deep, Like God's own halcyon calming from above The wailing hearts that o'er some lost one weep, — As when beneath the tranced air While moonbeams like a shroud enrobe the wave, Soft fall the tones of that funereal prayer When parts the billow for a seaman's grave ! Tearful the watching comrades stand, For round a dead one how intense the spell ! — Brushing large tear-drops with a rough-worn hand, They look, but cannot speak, the word "farewell!" Peace to the dead ! he waits that hour When the last trumpet shall untomb the sea, And with such life-blast all the waves o'erpower That risen dust shall soar to Deity ! THE GUNPOWDER TREASON. ( We adore the wisdom and justice of thy Providence, who so timely inter- posed in our extreme danger, and disappointed all the designs of our enemies." — Prayer-Book. Two Wills alone can make our world to move, Finite below, or Infinite above ; And all which reason and religion say, Points to the question — "Which should lead the way ?" Science the first, but Faith her God will call Alpha of each, and Omega of all. THE GUNPOWDER TREASON. 457 God is in hist'ry ; an almighty Soul, A secret Energy, a divine Control, Will of all wills, yet leaving manhood free, Binding our time with His eternity : No chance can reign, till His dread glory dies, And orphan'd earth for vanish' d Godhead cries. God rules in hist'ry ; — read by this deep plan, Gone ages harmonize their truths for man ; While he, unconscious of those secret laws That link the second with a Primal Cause, Obeys each bias, acts his perfect will, And yet leaves God supreme in purpose still ! So grant us, Lord, a providence to trace, Directing all things for Thy chosen race ; Kingdoms and kings, the palace and the cot, Insect or seraph, none can be forgot, — For, in the hollow of Thy hand repose Atoms, and wrorlds ; — o'er each Thy goodness flows. And well, on this day, doth our Church decree Anthems of love, which heave our hearts to Thee, Celestial Watcher ! whose soul-reading eye Did from yon heavens the miscreant plot descry, And by that wisdom saints exult to own, Forewarn'd the empire, and preserved a throne. Ripe was the plan ! each purpose deeply laid, And Treason gloated o'er a Church betray'd ; A helpless Victim, soon to be destroy'd, Look'd Freedom then, to faction overjoy 'd ; 458 THE ROYAL MARTYR. The oath was sworn, the sacrament was taken, — But England was not by her God forsaken ! Praise to the Lord ! let choral harpers sound ; Praise to the Lord ! yet saints repeat around, The Angel of whose presence then was nigh And bared foul Treason to the open sky, Blasted her guile, and by protective charms Shielded our throne, and saved the Church from harms. And, mixed with praise, let some remorseful prayer The darksome burden of our guilt declare ; For, what but mercies can outnumber sin ? — Whiten our hearts, then, Saviour's Blood ! within ; Till, hallow'd by celestial truth we raise That living hymn where Life becomes a praise. THE ROYAL MARTYR. Blessed Lord, we magnify thy name for thine abundant grace, bestowed upon our martyred Sovereign." — Service for King Charles the Martyr. Oh, burning plague-spot on the brow of Time, The with'ring curse of regicidal crime ! — Mock'd and betray 'd by treason- bands And massacred by murd'rous hands, On this day soar'd to endless fame, Ascending in Emanuel's name, True to his creed, above man's impious charter, Charles the revered, — the Church's royal martyr ! Who has not read, till blood and brain were fired With holy wrath against self-will inspired, THE ROYAL MARTYR. 459 When Loyalty, inert and cold, Parley 'd before the bad and bold ; When faction, treason, falsehood, all In one combined on Heaven to call ; Baptized religion into murder's cause, And sanction'd regicide with sacred laws ! Alas ! for Country, Church, and Crown, and Creed, When rnartyr'd Principle must burn and bleed ; Or else, a regal Conscience die Into a mean and miscreant lie, — Forswearing all the truths that shine With radiance drawn from truths divine, Because Democracy would dare to sing Her psalm of blood o'er England's headless king ! Oh ! Thou, from Whom both king and kingdom draw Their source, their wisdom, and undying law, Now let our Church's sighs and tears Soften the Empire into hallow'd fears ; For, on her rests that curse of crime, A sacrilege that burden'd time, Crimson'd our soil with that horrific stain, — The blood of monarchs, when by God they reign ! Who sign'd his warrant with an impious glee Proved how satanic blinded souls can be : As christian, monarch, husband, friend, Can Time to us a nobler send ? His failings rose from junctures bad Which might have turn'd an angel mad : 460 RESTORATION OF THE ROYAL FAMILY. Passion ran high ; and lust for lawless power Eaged like a fiend in that ehaotic hour. Ruler Divine ! Whom heaven-born souls obey, At least Thy Church on this remorseful day That murder'd king may well recall Who prized her glories more than all, For whom his royal spirit strove With anguish of exceeding love : True to her martyr' d king, this day be kept, And weep for him, who oft for her had wept ! Nor be forgot, how crimes historic teach Warnings profound that may the wisest reach. — Dead sins are living preachers now ; And weeping hearts of prayer avow That, Lord except Thy grace prevent Men still are on some madness bent ! Wisdom thev want, and meekness more to own The sceptred lordship of Thy boundless Throne. RESTORATION OF THE ROYAL FAMILY. " 0 Almighty God ! we yield thee praise and thanksgiving for the wonderful deliverance of these kingdoms from the Great Rebellion, and all the miseries and oppressions consequent thereupon." — Prayer-Book. Friend of the friendless ! Thou art there When throbs a soul with silent prayer In hours of sadness holy ; And viewless angels hover nigh With placid brow and pensive eye, To watch our melancholy, « RESTORATION OF THE ROYAL FAMILY. 461 " Stand still ! and your salvation see,"1 — Duty and blessing both from Thee Lord, here may faith discern ; Submission is that saving power Which glorifies the darkest hour, Could Love that secret learn ! The Cup that Jesus bow'd to drink, Though feeling start, and flesh may shrink, Disciple ! thou must drain ; A suff'ring Head each member thrills ; We conquer, by enduring ills, And bleed before we reign ! Thus, when dead ages we untomb, And wander down their peopled gloom Beholding what hath been, — A patient mind and quiet heart Have ever borne the hero's part In hist'ry's troubled scene. There can we view the Will Divine Through all things thread its secret line, While Man and Nature bow ; Pharaoh and Cyrus, and Assyrian bold, Were but the rods those Hands did hold That wield creation now. For, Judah was a prophet2 vast Whose types the christian Church forecast, Which thoughtful eyes may read ; (1) "Fear ye not! stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord.'' — Exod. xiv. 13. (2) See August. Faust. 1. b. xxii. c. 24. 462 RESTORATION OF THE ROYAL FAMILY. Her exodus from Egypt shows Our rescue from engulfing woes, As God's anointed seed. Submission, passive, deep, and pure, Has ever proved a matchless cure For what the Church has borne ; Her watchword was, " Stand still ! and see The unbared arm of Deity, Since thou art unforlorn ! " Thus, when apostate creeds began To blight the erring mind of man, How meekly bore his wrong That five-times banish'd Saint,1 who kept The truth unstain'd, while ruin swept In Arian blasts along ! Still breathes a theocratic air In Church and creed, if God be there, As Faith cannot deny ; ITnweapon'd, save by inward grace, Believers move with martyr-pace Beneath the dreadest sky. The worst of kings seems nobler far Than mad Rebellion's impious war, In havoc, blood, and fire ; The sin of witchcraft,2- — brand it well, Its birth-seed is the pride of hell By which dark fiends aspire ! (1) St. Athanasius. (2) " Rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft." — 1 Sam. xv. 23. RESTORATION OF THE ROYAL FAMILY. 463 A Nemesis for injured kings, Sooner or late atonement brings, — Dead empires this declare ; Some thunder-blast of whelming wrath Will burst upon that nation's path Who robs a Kingdom's heirs. And ever, as this day returns, Oh, Saviour-God ! our spirit learns Where safety true resides; That not our merit, but Thine arm, Not foresight, but Thy prescient charm Our refuge still provides. In orphanhood the Church may roam, And crownless monarchs need a home, To exiled anguish sent ; Base Faction with Iscariot breath May shout for dungeon, rack and death, — But Faith can be content ! Content to watch, and weep, and wait, And bear the ban of iron fate With uncomplaining heart ; Her patience is a holy strength Subduing crime with prayer at length, Which Christ and grace impart. Sun of the Church ! Thou Saviour bright, A glory gilds the darkest night Affliction can endure, When Thy pure Spirit sheds a ray On saints who keep the narrow way, Like angel-paths secure ! 464 THE ACCESSION. "O Lord our God! who upholdest and governest all things in heaven and earth, receive our humble prayer, with our hearty thanksgivings for our Sovereign Lady Queen Victoria as on this day set over us by thy grace and providence, to be our Queen." — Prayer-Book. This world is like that creature vast ! The royal dreamer had to face ; Whose head from burnish'd gold was cast, But when you reach'd the talon'd base Vile metal there begins its lower sway, And slowly crumbles into worthless clay ! But, who like monarchs this can know, At whose accession all things wear The richness of that regal glow, And triumphs of the festive glare A coronation and a crown present, With all the pomps of shouting welcome, blent ! The spangles on the mourning-dress Worn for some princely head that lies Cold in sepulchral nothingness, Are scarce removed from courtly eyes, — Ere happy mourners to another king Their venal chant of vaunted homage sing ! Alas ! for Royalty, if state and throne If splendour and monarchal pride Were all that kingly hearts could own, Or, crowns and courts for them provide, (1) " This image's head was of fine gold . . . his legs of iron, his feet part of iron and part of clay." — Dan. ii. 32, 33. THE ACCESSION. 465 A fate like this the mind would overpower And harrow princes in their calmest hour ! The kingdom of the soul exceeds Whatever realms and riches bring ; And oft a monarch inly bleeds To find himself a friendless Thing, — In crowded loneliness to speak and smile, And be unechoed in his heart, the while ! And, unreality must oft surround The pageantries of royal state ; Deceits and dangers there abound While secret anguish gnaws the great : Peasants can weep, but Princes dare not show The aching centre of their voiceless wo ! Flatter'd by many, loved by few, Before them group and gather all Who seek to veil each covert view Their serpent tongues the u country" call : Too oft fair loyalty is glozing speech Gilding the cause cold self desires to reach ! Hence, Thou for whom a realm is kept O'er which the sunbeams ne'er go down, Wider than what the eagles swept, When Koine became a huge renown, — The Church anoints thee with her unction now, And drops the crown upon thy jewell'd brow. While thrones descend, and empires shake, 'Mid loud convulsion fierce and far, And strife and civil discord make Pale Europe rock with coming war, — H H 466 THE ORDINATION. God of our glories ! 'tis in Thee we own The deep foundations of a christian throne. Lift we our heart-breathed hymn on high To Thee, incarnate King of kings ! Under whose providential eye A coronation- anthem sings Each patriot soul, — who Church and Crown can see Reposing grandly, when they rest on Thee. The life-blood of a loyal heart Flows bravely through our British veins ; Nor shall this hero-truth depart From cot and palace, shore and plains, — That kings on earth a regal shadow throw Of Him, to Whom all worlds subjection owe. THE ORDINATION. " The congregation shall be desired, secretly in their prayers, to make their humble supplications to God for all these things : for the which prayers, there shall be silence kept for a space." — Rubric for the Ordering of Priests. Saviour of spirits ! if the burden'd life Our ransom'd being into action bears, Be ever with some wordless myst'ry rife That mocks what Adoration's lip declares, Oh ! is it not, when truth's devoted hour To thine own altar some young Levite leads, Or, the high gift of thine absolving power Endows the priesthood for celestial needs ? THE ORDINATION. 46 Yes, long as awed remembrance can remain Shall I that everlasting moment feel, When in the silence of St. Asaph's fane Heart, soul, and conscience did these words o'ersteal,- " Receive Thou for Thy priestly work divine, A promis'd unction from the Holy One ; Anointed be thou at this hallow'd shrine, — Watchman of Zion ! lo, thy work begun ! " Absolve for Christ what sin pure grace forgives, For Him reserve what He himself retains ; Dispense the food by which the spirit lives, — The ruling sacrament wherein He reigns." And when a stillness, thrilling, rapt, profound, Breathed from the depths of each adoring soul, Eternity seem'd closing all around And shaded conscience with divine control ! With seven-fold gifts that Grace did here descend Hearts to illumine with celestial love, And to each priest below some unction send Perfumed with incense from The Priest above, — Let Faith believe ; and ever hope and pray Lord of the Temple ! Thou wert nigh to bless Each shepherd, vow'd to feed Thy flock that day And fold them safe in life's vast wilderness. To guard, premonish, and with truth provide The Saviour's Body, here on earth that roams ; Pure unto death, to preach The Crucified, And beckon pilgrims to their sainted homes, — 468 THE ORDINATION. Such was the charge we messengers received, Such the high call our stewardship obey'd ; Wo be to us ! if truths were un believed, Our bosom Christless, and the Church betray'd ! Thus, living shepherd of immortal sheep ! If to our past'ral work the soul was given, Though for sad errors all must wail and weep, Still, let us hope there breathed a gift from Heaven ! Years since have roll'd, of trial, change, and grief, But still that ordination-vow is heard ; And what can soothe us with sublime relief But, " I am with you ! " oh! Incarnate Word ? And, blent with awfulness of faith and fear, For each young watchman then for Christ ordain'd Prophetic fancy sketched some quiet sphere, Where souls for Jesus might be sought, and gain'd. Visions, perchance, of rural cots retired Hover'd around the priested hearts of those Who, ne'er by sad ambition inly fired, Haunt the lone hamlet where the poor repose. Such was the scene our peerless Herbert loved, Pictured in quaint and quiet Walton's lines ; Which Hooker sought, and Hammond's taste approved In whom the image of a pastor shines. Yet, little boots it, what our destined place In the large vineyard of the Lord may be, — Weave but the spells of Thine ordaining grace, And time and scene are lost, 0 Lord ! in Thee. THE EUCnARIST. 469 Whether in haunts of fever, homes of gloom Where squalid Wo retreats, and yearns to die, The toil-worn pastor cheers some tatter'd room, And calms the mis'ry of a mourner's sigh ; Or, haply down where greenwood dales retire Through hawthorn lanes he wends his thoughtful way, What time pale sunset gilds the village spire, And seeks the cottage where he comes to pray, — Alike, if duty, discipline and care, Faith, hope and meekness shall adorn his path, A shepherd finds his flock, and feeds them there, And the rich promise of his Master hath ! Spirit of light, of past'ral love and peace, Divine Sustainer ! send Thine unction now ; And teach the Watchman, time gives no release To light the burden of a priestly vow. But, bear thou up, and bear thou nobly on ! To warn the wicked, and the saints to guide, Till thou be summon'd where the dead have gone, Who lived for duty, and for Jesus died. THE EUCHARIST. ;< Thou dost vouchsafe to feed us, who have duly received these holy myste- ries, with the spiritual food of the most precious Body and Blood of thy Son, our Saviour Jesus Christ." — Communion Office of the Church of England. Banquet of bleeding Love ! by Christ prepared, Feast of all feasts ! we turn to thee, Which dying Grace alone declared Manna of immortality ; 470 THE EUCHARIST. For, when the tomb-call must at length arrive, The dead shall feel thee in their dust alive ! l Here, sacrifice and zeal in one combine, With brotherhood of blissful love ; And faith-born feelings, most divine, Alighting from their source above ; Creeds and commands, and penitence and prayer, With purity and pardon, mingle here. And, who can celebrate the mystic rite, Perfect and pure, predestined Lamb ! 2 Nor feel their glory of delight Who realise the dread I AM, And worship Him with tender awe intense In the deep shade the words " Do this" — dispense ? List ! now the pealing organ-swell is o'er And hymned chants dissolve away, And through yon temple's arched door Cold worldlings seek the din of day, — Sublime the hush ! as though the dead drew near On balanced wing, our beating hearts to bear. Let the stoled priests their order'd stations take ; The shrine of sacrifice and prayer Lord Jesus ! Thou wilt not forsake, But be our felt Atonement there ; Renewed by faith, and realised in love, While o'er Thine altar broods the Mystic Dove. (1) " Whoso eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life ; and 1 will raise him up at the last day." — John vi. 54. (2) " The Lamb slain from the foundation of the world." — Rev, xiii. 8. THE EUCHARIST. 471 Oh ! rapt communion, which can raise the soul To the clear heights of sin forgiven Scatter the spirit-clouds that roll, And feed us with the food of heaven, — Thine is the hour, when dead and living meet In blended homage at one Mercy-Seat ! Who comes with cold or criticising heart The outward elements to scan, In this high feast can have no part Where God comes down to sup l with man ; Seeds of eternity within it lie, Which bud on earth, to blossom in the sky. Though bread look bread, and water water seems To carnal vision dull and cold, Yet, Sacraments outsoar the dreams Of them who nought but sense behold ; Faith is the eye by which believers view Christ in the tokens of His Presence true. Thou Nourishment for all baptismal souls! A food high angels cannot share, The vastness of Thy charm controls The hearts which palpitate with prayer Into an awe profound, — but full of grace From God incarnate, bleeding for our race ! Incorp'rate with Emanuel's Body all By sacramental union grow, Who Christ their Resurrection call Though sinful dust they seem below ; (1) "I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me." Rev. iii. 20. Si 472 THE EUCHARIST. Though accidents of flesh form what men see, Something beyond, may living temples be! Soul of all rites ! mysteriously sublime, By whom the fainting Church is fed, Though veil'd in garbs of sense and time, We know Him, as he breaks the bread ! 2 When Christ dispenses that almighty food, — Receive my body and partake my blood." Refreshment, pardon, and renewing grace God's Eucharist to each imparts, That prints a reverential trace Of Jesus on their sainted hearts : — And, who are they who need no heavenly gift High o'er the world their sinking hearts to lift ? Humility, and hope this feast inspires, Chastens the mind, and calmeth fear ; And cools the uncontrolled fires Of those who fancy heaven is near, — Dreaming they stand on Zion's topmost place Long ere they learn to wind around the base ! A green oasis in this herbless life, This desert lone of dreary hours, Where Time foregoes each warring strife And Love renews her languid powers, — (1) "Ye are the temple of the living God."— 2 Cor. vi. 16. " Your bodies are the temples of the Holy Ghost." — 1 Cor. vi. 19. (2) " It came to pass, he took bread ; and their eyes were opened, and they knew him." — Luke xxiv. 34, 35. THE EUCHARIST. 473 Proves the blest Eucharist, to all who know The weight of this mysterious life below ! Thy strengthening presence, Lord ! we pilgrims need, Sinful, and oft with sadness worn ; As here our bosom?d sorrows bleed Till even pleasures look forlorn, And hues sepulchral robe the world around, That looks like LazVus in his grave-clothes wound. And, what a bulwark for the Church hath been This feast of sacrificial love ! For Time has no dark error seen, The Bread and Wine could not remove ; Christ and the creatures, matter, grace and mind In these pure symbols meet, to bless mankind. Dove of the Church ! Thou Paraclete, descend. And such anointing grace impart, That round Thine altar each may bend With chasten'd will, and contrite heart ; Not with a conscience dread as caitiffs feel, But, touch'd like Peter, with impassion'd zeal, Thus we adore Thee, Thou almighty Priest ! Prophet of hope, salvation's King ; The greatest there become the least, And learn the song of heaven to sing,— :i Worthy The Lamb o'er men and worlds to reign^ Who back to God redeem'd lost souls again ! " 474 GOD SAVE THE CHURCH. " I speak concerning Christ and the Church." — Ephes. v. 32. " Which is the pillar and ground of the truth." — 1 Tim. iii. 15. God save the Church ! and guard her free, "Whom Christ ordain'd on earth to be A sacramental guide and friend, Our creed to mould, and heart amend. God save the Church ! — I mean by this What by her principle she is, Whose pure Ideal stands aloof From all that Party takes for proof. Nor high, nor low, true churchmen call ; By this alone they stand or fall, — As children of a parent dear Her voice maternal to revere. God save the Church ! — from Christ she came, And proved her apostolic name When Rome's Augustine vainly tried To get her free-born faith denied. (1) Concerning the primitive freedom and Catholic antiquity of the British Church, the following extract from a rare tract by Lloyd, formerly Bishop of St. Asaph, will be reverently appreciated by all loyal churchmen : — w For near a hundred years there was almost no possibility of communication between Rome and Britain, and therefore it was no wonder if there was grown a great strangeness between them. Besides, in that interval of time the Roman Church was much altered from what it was formerly .... The Britons, whom that Emperor had left to themselves, continuing in their primitive liberty, a hundred and fifty years after this, when Pope Gregory the First would make Austin the Monk their Archbishop, they told him plainly, ' We will not be thy subjects : ' they knew of no ' authority he had over them.' .... By these instances it sufficiently appears that Rome had made great altera- tions in other things, and made bold to impose them on other Churches as con- GOD SAVE THE CHURCH. 475 For, long before the Danish clan Or Saxon, o'er rent England ran, The monks of Bangor move in glory Through the page of British story. God save the Church ! — sectarian mind In prayerless reason bound and blind, From her, serene repulse hath met, Whose crown remains unsullied yet ! Science and Learning, Art and Song, Around her name and nature throng ; Hero and sage, and saint and martyr Have gloried in her heaven-seal'd charter. So, when I read th' historic past, And see how Persecution's blast By rack and dungeon, fire and hate, In vain besieged her queenly state, — ditions of her communion. It appears that these Northern Churches were shut out of her communion ; they were called the schismatics of Britain and Ireland, for no other reason but only because they would not receive these alter- ations, nor submit to the authority by which they were imposed .... Where- soever they found the Roman tyranny abetted against them, there indeed they stood upon their terms ; and laid the schism upon them who were the cause of it, and would ' no more communicate with them than with Pagans,' as Bede tells us. The Scots of South Ireland stood thus little more than thirty years after Austin came over; all the other Scots and Picts held out nearly a hundred years longer : but the Britons much above two hundred years. And yet, the Churches that stood at this distance from Rome, all the while continued communion with each other, and kept their religion THE SAME IN ALL POINTS THAT IT WAS WHEN THE ROMAN EMPIRE STOOD, AND THE SAME THAT WAS ANCIENTLY IN THE PURER ROMAN CHURCH." — Lloyd's "Primitive Church" pp. 64, 65, 69, 70. (1) "If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you." — John xv. 7. " Because I live, ye shall live also." — Johwxiv. 19 — combined with, — "Lo! I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world," Matt, xxviii. 20; and, "My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me : and I give unto them eter- nal life, and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand." — John x. 27, 28. 476 GOD SAVE THE CHURCH. Present and future both appear Enlink'd with her sublime career ; In whom unchanged by friends or foes The apostolic life-blood glows. God save the Church ! — we challenge all Who English archives dare recall. To match her sainted roll of men Whose lives recall'd St. John again.1 Parochial watchmen, pure and high Whose worth and wisdom near'd the sky, And meek and martyr-like became, — Eternity enshrines their name ! Howe'er ungrateful Time forget On earth to pay the lauding debt, Delighted angels watch'd below Their counterparts in pureness glow. God save the Church ! — whose rites control, Chasten, subdue, and calm the soul ; Something of earth, but more of heaven To all her prayer and praise is given. (1) " ' My hope is that I shall shortly leave this valley of tears, and be free from all fevers and pain ; and, which will be a more happy condition, I shall be free from sin, and all the temptations and anxieties that attend it: this being past, I shall dwell in the New Jerusalem, dwell there with just men made perfect ; dwell where these eyes shall see my Master and Saviour Jesus; and with him see my mother, and all my dear relations and friends. But I must die, or not come to that happy place ; and this is my content, that I am going daily to it ... . And now, Lord, — Lord, receive my soul !' Thus he lived and thus he died like a saint, unspotted of the world, full of alms-deeds, full of humility, and all the examples of a virtuous life, which I cannot con- clude better than with this borrowed observation, ' All must to their cold graves; But the religious actions of the just Smell sweet and blossom in the dust.'" See Walton's Account of Herbert's Death. GOD SAVE THE CHURCH. 477 Time and eternity appear To melt the sigh, and move the tear, As oft her liturgy of love Lifts man below to God above. Majestic, too, her haunted shrines ! Where sentiment with stone combines, — Chantry and choir, and arch, and nave Where lie the buried pure and brave, Breathe mute, but magic eloquence ! And through the eye to soul dispense A wordless power of inward prayer Born of the creed, — that God is there. Nor, be forgot our ivied fanes That crest the hills, and dot the plains ; Where gothic roof and graceful tower Wield o'er the heart a witching power : So hush'd and heavenlike seems the spot That time and turmoil are forgot ; And Nature her lone sabbath keeps Where child, and village patriarch sleeps. God save the Church ! for rich and poor Alike expands her gracious door, Who from the cradle to the grave Watches the soul Christ died to save. The peerage of the Church are those In whom the Saviour's image glows ; And in the poorest, grant that we God's noblemen by saintship, see ! 478 GOD SAVE THE CHURCH. There, prince and peasant, man and child, Learn saving wisdom undefiled ; And nought is hid by Godhead spoken To conscience bruised, or spirit broken. But, most because the Word of Heaven Is purely to the people given In British language, broad and free, — Church of my fathers ! love I thee. God save the Church, and save the Queen ! Mitre and Throne have ever been To weal and wo alike related, By truth revered, and treason hated. God save the Church ! be this our cry Both while we live, and when we die ;! (1) Ecclesiastical annalists of the Elizabethan period relate, that when that good and great prelate, Archbishop Whitgift, was expiring, the only words he could intelligibly express were, " Pro ecclesid Dei! pro ecclesid Dei!" But, what can rival the saintly glories which encircle the dying bed of the illustrious Hooker, as recorded in the quaint page of Walton? " The doctor had occasion to inquire his present thoughts : to which he replied, — • That he was meditating the nature and number of angels, and their blessed obedience and order, without which peace could not be in heaven; and oh! that it might be so on earth ! ' After which words he said, — ' I have lived to see this world is made up of perturbations ; and I have been long preparing to leave it, and gathering comfort for the dreadful hour of making my account with God, which I now apprehend to be near; and though I have, by his grace, loved him in my youth, and feared him in my age, and laboured to have a conscience void of offence to him and to all men, yet, if thou, O Lord! be extreme to mark that 1 have done amiss, who can abide it? And therefore where I have failed, Lord show mercy to me; for I plead not my righteous- ness ; but the forgiveness of my unrighteousness, for his merits, who died to purchase a pardon for penitent sinners. And since I owe thee a death, Lord let it not be terrible, and then take thine own time : I submit to it! Let not mine, O Lord, but let thy will be done ! ' With which expressions he fell into a dangerous slumber, dangerous as to his recovery; yet recover he did, but it was to speak only these few words, ' Good doctor, God hath heard my daily GOD SAVE THE CHURCH. 479 For, rail her foemen as they will, The Church is England's glory still ! petitions ; for I am at peace with all men, and He is at peace with me; and from which blessed assurance I feel that inward joy, which this world can neither give nor take from me.' More he would have spoken ; but his spirits failed him, and after a short conflict betwixt nature and death, a quiet sigh put a period to his last breath, and so he fell asleep." INDEX. PAGE A beauty clothes her hectic cheek .... 33 Abide with us ! sustaining Lord, abide 94 All that of Eden now remains 375 And didst thou choose the narrow path 79 And did the gentle Saviour sigh 150 And must a father slay his only child ? 165 And must we, now the God-man reigns 18S And wert thou by the prompting Spirit led 288 And wilt thou bring a virgin heart 226 And yet, forbid it, reason, faith, and love 405 Around us moves this God-made world 284 As Christ was God in flesh array'd 154 As Lord of this terrestrial sphere 29 As pants the hart for living brooks 244 As Time grows old, the earth from heaven recedes 449 Ave Maria ! blest o'er women all 403 Banquet of bleeding Love ! by Christ prepared 469 Bird of beauty ! upward soaring 115 But should our sceptic hearts decline 1S5 Chill o'er the heath autumnal shadows fall 138 Come to the desert where sad Jesu went 290 Could Fancy, in some dream sublime 276 Deep in the dust, oh, let me lie 245 E'en in their ruins, men are noble still ! 362 Enthroned in dread eternity 1 Eternity of waters ! there thou art 191 I I 482 INDEX. PAGE Eye of the Lord ! in Whose omniscient ray 370 Eye of the sleepless One ! 394 Fond mother, with thy wakeful ear ' 453 Eriend of the friendless ! Thou art there 460 Go, cast thy burden on the Lord 230 God save the Church ! and guard her free 474 Grief more than revelation tells 381 Heroic guide of Judah's race 216 How blessed are the pure in heart ! 337 How glorious are the mountain-kings ! that overawe the soul . . . 302 How like a spirit shrieks the startled Wind 233 How soothing, when the noise of day is o'er 54 Humility doth mark 1 70 If they who stand beside the source 427 I love the still romance of lonely fields 146 In hush'd eternity alone 280 In mother's love there hides a spell 446 "It is not good for man to be alone" 40 I will not sigh for vast domains 70 I wish I lived where Jesu reigns 87 Lone Nature is no loneliness to me 65 Lord, and whither shall we go ? 21 Lord of the blissful worlds above . , 431 Men are not dead because they die 297 Men call it wisdom, when they grow 14 Men of faith's heroic mould ! 248 Most awful is the word 83 My first-born ! when I heard thy faint low cry ........ 366 " My heart is cold, I cannot pray " 162 Mysterious infant ! on whose fairy brow 359 My thoughts are with the dear and dead 25 "My years are in the yellow leaf " 34 a Not poet's lyre, nor painter's line 385 Now Heaven and Earth in linish'd beauty rise 12 INDEX. 483 Oh, burning plague-spot on the brow of Time 458 Oh, paradox divine, as deep ! 320 Oh ! that with me, as in the months of yore 390 Oh, weep not for the holy dead 01 Our centre true is God alone 408 Our fathers, where be they 219 Our morrows unto God belong 100 Pale mother ! art thou weeping 236 Precious words ! with glory burning 7 Pure glory of forgiving love ! 354 Saviour of spirits ! if the burden'd life 460 Sermons in sickness heaven can preach 438 Shades of the soft and stealing night 159 She dies, as countless martyrs die 37 Since all we love on earth must die 90 Sin colours all we are and prize 293 Some hearts lie wither'd in their transient spring 223 The bells are tolling with a dreamy chime 442 The budding glories of a green-hair'd spring . . . . . . . . 313 The dead in body are in soul alive 201 The depths of ocean roll unseen 350 The dew-drop, in whose mirror lies 198 The ghastliness and gloom of death 118 The hand of Him who framed the earth 328 The laughing azure of thy lovely eyes 412 The mountains shall from earth depart 378 The noblest wealth our world contains 309 The sheep wrho know the shepherd's tone .267 The speaking magic of poetic skies 397 The World exults to crucify 256 Their names and numbers who can tell 173 There is a mute but mighty voice in tears 46 There is no rest for man below 50 There is religion in the common earth 3 There was a time, in ages dead 194 There was a time, when earth appear'd 253 This world is like that creature vast 454 484 INDEX. PAGE Thou art not dead, my vanish'd one 125 Thou beauteous morn of sainted rest ' . . . 74 Thou dost, O God ! transcend the All 131 Though earth abounds with choral streams 67 Though sumless mercies teem around 57 " Though what I do ye know not now 400 Though youth's bright world looks fresh and fair 112 Thou liquid bow of beauty and of grace 122 Thou little trembler, robed in white 420 Thou, who didst rend the heavens to be 240 Thy ways, O Lord, are unlike ours 323 Two Books there be, which loyal Churchmen love 416 Two Wills alone can make our world to move 456 Two worlds around us act and move 106 Under the lidless eye of heaven . 141 Wake, power divine, awake! 212 We do not pray, because we move 103 WTiat, though the birthday of this God-made Earth 434 When first rebellion in the will began 341 When God in thunder Moses brought 316 When God to man His awful image gave 333 When Time shall lay his lenient hand 17 When plaintive knells peal sadness o'er the wind 272 Whom have I in the heavens but Thee 178 Ye bright-wing'd choir ! who in the blaze 181 "Ye shall not surely die!" 43 Ye silent poems ! that from Nature's book 261 R. CLAY, PRINTER, BKEAI) STREKi HIM.. HOSPITAL FOR CONSUMPTION AND DISEASES OF THE CHEST, BROMPTON. ESTABLISHED FOR THE RECEPTION OF PATIENTS FROM ALL PARTS OF THE KINGDOM. SEntrer tf)e immediate patronage of HER MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY THE QUEEN, HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE ALBERT, AND HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN DOWAGER. Vice-Patron.— HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUKE OF CAMBRIDGE, K.G. President— HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF RICHMOND, K.G. Vice-Presidents. of I OF OF His Grace the Lord Archbishop Canterbury. His Grace the Lord Archbishop York. His Grace the Duke of Norfolk, His Grace the Duke of Leeds. The Most Noble the Marquess Lansdowne, K.G. The Rt. Hon. the Earl of Arundel and Surrey, M.P. The Rt. Hon. the Earl Jermyn, M.P. The Rt. Hon. the Earl of Galloway. The Rt. Hon. the Earl Cadogan. TheRt. Hon. the Earl ofHarewood. The Rt. Hon. the Earl of Eldon. The Rt. Hon. the Earl of Bur- lington. The Rt. Hon. the Earl of Yar- bo rough. The Rt. Hon. Viscount Canning. The Rt. Hon. Lord Ashley, M.P. The Rt. Hon. Lord Lovaine. The Rt. Hon. Lord James Stuart, M.P. The Rt. Hon. Lord Dudley Stuart, M.P The Rt. Rev. Durham. The Rt. Rev. Winchester. The Rt. Rev. Lincoln. The Rt. Rev. Ripon. The Rt. Rev. Salisbury. The Rt. Rev. Worcester. The Rt. Rev. Oxford. The Rt. Rev. Calcutta. The Rt. Rev. Jamaica. The Rt. Rev. Madras. The Rt. Hon. Lord Teign mouth. The Rt. Hon. Lord Colborne. The Rt. Hon. Lord Feversham. General the Hon. Sir Edward Paget, G.C.B. Sir Thomas Baring, Bart. the Lord Bishop the Lord Bishop the Lord Bishop the Lord Bishop the Lord Bishop the Lord Bishop the Lord Bishop the Lord Bishop the Lord Bishop the Lord Bishop of OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF The Rt. Hon the Lord Mayor of the City of London. Treasurer. — John Labouchere, Esq. 16, Portland Place. Honorary Secretary.— Philip Rose, Esq. 22, HaDs Place. Chaplain.— The Rev. Henry Du Puy, B.A. 6, Robert Terrace, Chelsea. HOSPITAL FOR CONSUMPTION Consulting Physicians. John Forres, Esq. M.D. F.R.S. F.G.S. 12, Old Burlington Street, Physician in Ordinary to Her Majesty's Household, Physician Extraordinary to His Royal Highness Prince Albert, &c. C. J. B. Williams, Esq. M.D. F.R.S. 7, Ho]les Street, Cavendish Square, Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians, Professor of Medicine, First Physician to the Hospital, University College, London, &c. Physicians. G. Hamilton Roe, Esq. M.D. 6, Hanover Square, Senior Physician to the West- minster Hospital, &c. Theophilus Thompson, Esq. M.D. F.R.S. 3, Bedford Square. W. H. Walshe, Esq. M.D. 40, Queen Anne Street, Cavendish Square, Professor of Clinical Medicine in University College, Physician to University College Hospital, &c. George Cursham, Esq. M.D. 5, Savile Row, Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians. Assistant Physicians. Richard P. Cotton, Esq. M.D. 4, Bolton Street, Piccadilly. Richard Quain, Esq. M.D. 23, Harley Street. John J. Bowie, Esq. M.D. 13, Alfred Place West, Thurloe Square. Committee of Management. The Rt. Hon. the Earl of Arundel and Surrey, M.P. The Rt. Hon. the Earl of Eldon. The Rt. Hon Lord Lovaine. The Hon. OctaviusDuncombe, M.P. Mr. F. J. Augarde. John Ball, Esq. Charles Beachcroft, Esq. Robert Frederick Browne, Esq. Charles Burrows, Esq. Henry Cremer, Esq. John De Gex, Esq. Robert Dickson, Esq. M.D. J. W. Farrer, Esq. R. Gardiner, Esq. Alfred Griffin, Esq. Otho Hamilton, Esq. William Haselden, Esq. Sir John Hare. The Rev. C. Kingsley, LL.B. Captain William Lyon. The Rev. Robert Monro, M.A. The Rev. Robert Montgomery, M.A. Frederick Muller, Esq. Benjamin Shaw, Esq. Edward Speer, Esq. Ex-Officio Members. The President. The Trkasuri.r. The Chaplain. The Two Senior Consulting Physicians. The Two Senior Physicians. The Honorary Secretary. Secretary. — Osborn P. Cross, Esq. Hospital, Brompton. APPEAL. The Committee of this Institution appeal with confidence to the Public, on behalf of a class of Patients excluded from all other Hospitals — the victims of Pulmonary Consumption. There is scarcely a disease of any severity which does not find ready admission into the wards of our general Hospitals, and many complaints of comparatively rare occurrence and trifling importance have Institutions specially devoted to their treatment; but Consumption, the most frequent and destructive malady in existence, finds the doors of all our Hospitals closed against it. The plea on which the consumptive patient is refused admission into other Institutions is, the lingering nature and almost certain fatality of his disease. Hut these very peculiarities give him the strongest claim on our sympathy. For AND DISEASES OF THE CHEST. when the poor man falls ill, the very sources of his subsistence are dried up ; acute diseases impoverish and embarrass him, but chronic diseases ruin him ; those who are dependent upon his exertions share his destitution, and are pre- vented from earning their own livelihood by the necessity of ministering to his wants . To provide him with an Asylum, to surround him with the comforts of which he stands so much in need, to ensure him relief from the sufferings entailed by his disease, to afford him spiritual consolation, at a period when the mind is perhaps best adapted to receive with benefit the divine truths of religion, and to enable those who depend upon him to earn their own subsistence, are the great objects proposed to be accomplished by this new Hospital. But though the original object contemplated in its establishment has been to afford an asylum to the Consumptive Patient, it is by no means the only one. By bringing a large number of such Patients under the same roof, an opportunity will be afforded of more carefully studying the nature of this destructive malady ; and assuredly there is some ground of hope, that He who has given man much power over nature, who has provided him, in the works of His own hands, with many powerful and effective remedies, and has so often crowned his well-directed efforts towards the alleviation of the sufferings of his fellow-creatures with success, may yet vouchsafe to guide him to some means by which this His greatest scourge may be stripped of its terrors. At least, the Committee feel that they are fully jus- tified in pointing out to the attention of the Public, that if medical science be ever destined to achieve the great triumph of removing this fatal malady, or to effect the humbler good of arresting its progress with certainty, the hour of such im- provements must surely be hastened by the establishment of an Institution which will afford ample means for deep and sustained investigation of the disease. The following statement will show the magnitude of the evil which this Insti- tution was formed to remedy. Of the 60,000 deaths which occur every year in England and Wales from slow and lingering diseases, about 36,000 are probably due to Pulmonary Consumption. One-ninth, therefore, of the total mortality at all ages, and more than one-fifth of the mortality of adults, is due to this cause ; and as the duration of the disease, taking one case with another, is about two years, it follows that about 72,000 persons are constantly suffering from Consump- tion, being at the rate of four persons in every thousand of all ages, and eight in every thousand adults. Again, of the 45,000 deaths occurring every year in the metropolis, about 5,600, or one-eighth of the total mortality of the metropolis at all ages, and little less than one-fifth of the mortality of adults, arises from this fatal disease : and upwards of 11,000 persons, being about one in 170 of the entire population of the metro- polis, and more than one per cent, of the adults, are constantly wasting away under the attacks of this lingering malady. Of these 10,000 cases, about three-fourths occur in males, of whom a large pro- portion are working men, unable to provide for themselves and families, systema- tically excluded from our general Hospitals, and uniting in their own persons every conceivable claim to sympathy and assistance. It may be well to add that many — very many — of these poor sufferers are the acknowledged victims of unventilated workshops, ill-constructed dwellings, vitiated atmosphere, long hours of work, and the want of open places for exercise and recreation ; so that they may fairly claim from their richer brethren not sympathy only, but compensation for the injury which their neglect has inflicted upon them. HOSPITAL FOR CONSUMPTION, &c. To all who have felt the power of the Destroyer, or who have reason to fear his attack — and what family throughout the country has not had sad experience of his presence ? — an earnest appeal is now made, in the full assurance that those who give their support to this Institution will combine the work of mercy with that of justice, and aid in furthering as many important objects as are found united in any Charitable Institution. QUALIFICATIONS AND PRIVILEGES OF GOVERNORS AND SUBSCRIBERS. VI.— Every benefactor of £31 10s., or upwards, at one time, or by instalments, becomes a Governor for life. VII. — Every subscriber of £3 3s. per annum, or upwards, becomes a Governor. VIII. — Every person making to the Hospital a bequest of £100, or upwards, may nominate a Life Governor : in the event of no such nomination being made, the executor first named in the Will shall be entitled to the privileges of a Life Governor. XIII. — Persons becoming Governors by donation or anrual subscription are entitled to recommend one In-Patient and eight Out-Patients annually for every donation of thirty guineas, or annual subscription of three guineas : — nominees, or executors of persons having made bequests to the amount of not less than £100 to the Hospital, are entitled to recommed one In-Patient and eight Out-Patients in the year. Annual Subscribers (not Governors) are entitled to recommend four Out-Patients in the year for each guinea subscribed. XIV. — Every Incumbent who shall permit collections to be made in his church for the benefit of the Hospital, shall be entitled, during his incumbency, to the privilege of recommending one In-Patient and four Out-Patients annually, provided not less than £31 10s. be collected, and the patients whom he may recommend be resident within the limits of the parish or district from which the collections have been derived; and every Clergyman, not being an incumbent, who shall preach for the benefit of the Hospital, the sum collected not being less than £52 10-s. shall be entitled to the privilege of recommending one In-Patient and four Out-Patients, resident as above, during the year ensuing the date of his sermon. Persons having Letters of Recommendation from Governors for Admission as In-Patients, must attend at the Hospital to be examined by the Physician in attendance, when (if proper cases) their Names will be entered upon the Books, to be admitted in rotation. Applicants can be examined on any day except Sunday, and are to attend at Two o'clock precisely. Should the person recommended be not a proper case, information of the same will be sent to the Governor, with a fresh Letter. Persons living at a distance are not required to attend personally to be examined, but a Medical Certificate (a form of which can be had on application to the Secretary) may be sent with the Governor's recommendation. Persons having Letters of Recommendation from Governors or Subscribers as Out-Patients, can be seen by the Physician on every day, except Sunday, and are to attend at One o'clock precisely. U. CLAY, I'KINTKK, iiHKAL) STHXHX HILL. A THIRD EDITION, Revised and rearranged, with additional matter, &c. kc. THE GOSPEL IN ADVANCE OF THE AGE. WITH A CHAPTER ON THE SPIRIT OF THE BIBLE AND THE SPIRIT OE THE AGE. BY THE REV. R. MONTGOMERY, A.M. OXON. This Work has been translated into German, and, among other independent testimonies to its character, the Publishers have the satisfaction to quote the following : — From the Bishop of Lincoln. " I think the ' Application ' of the \York well calculated to be eminently useful at the present juncture, to extreme parties on both sides, by inculcating that moderation which has ever been the true characteristic of the Church of England." From " The Times;'— July Uhy 1846. " The object which Mr. Montgomery proposes to himself in the present volume, is the establishment of the fact, that all works undertaken and conducted irrespectively of the divine commandment and accompanying' blessing, are unprofitable and void; and that in religion alone we are THE GOSPEL IN ADVANCE OF THE AGE. justified in seeking for the principles that must guide us in our conduct ', and form the basis of all institutions? "In the application of the argument to the various relations of society, and to the doings of men as members of the social fabric, we may legitimately claim some interest ; and we go heartily along with Mr. Montgomery, that spiritual blindness is manifest to-day in the conduct of the legislature to the unhappy poor." " There can be nothing clearer than that a practical denial of Christianity exists, wherever the precepts of Christianity are systematically disregarded." " We will do Mr. Montgomery the justice to state that in the great amount of evils which he sees necessary to remedy, he does not omit to mention with due emphasis the momentous evils that are found within the bosom of the Church." " We have reason to believe the author's labours have been appreciated by authorities whose approbation, to most of his pro- fession, comes with peculiar force — we mean his spiritual superiors. We trust the book has been of service in the quarter to which it particularly addresses itself." From the " English Review," — October 1, 1848. " Mr. Montgomery, in the eloquent and able work which we have men- tioned above, traces with great truth the evils of our social system, and points out, as the only infallible remedy for them all — true religion^ and the recognition of its claims by the rulers of the land. And most cor- dially do we go along with this author in his enunciation of this principle, at once so Christian and courageous. Would that such sentiments might gain the acceptance which they deserve from those to whom the destinies of this nation, humanly speaking, are entrusted ! But, at least, we have reason to feel grateful to writers who, like Mr. Montgomery, expose the hollowness of the schemes by which politicians too frequently expect to promote the material and moral welfare of the community; and who draw attention to the true remedies for our national evils." From Canon Townsend's " Scriptural Communion with God." — Fart lY.p. 253. " A distinguished writer and poet of the present day, published lately a work, entitled 'The Gospel beeore the Age.' The object of the work was to point out, that not only was the Gospel the best remedy for that THE GOSPEL IN ADVANCE OF TILE AGE. ' restless appetite for some vast and vague amelioration? which the corruption of fallen man can never derive from himself; hut that the words of Christ to Nicodemus suggest that remedy, in language universally applicable to the agitation and presumption of an age which seeks other cures for the evils of society and of human nature." From the " Church op England Quarterly,"— October, 184.4. " The theme which Mr. Montgomery has taken up is far larger, and, at the same time, more definite, than we had imagined from the title of the book ; it is no less than maintaining that the claims of religion are, in every sense, and under all circumstances, paramount, above all secular tilings, and at the root of all secular things, and furnishing the only principles in the light of which anything can be rightly done, or any instiiution be set upon a solid foundation ; and this religion not the mawkish sentimentalism called Natural Theology, nor even those commonplace and elementary truths of Christianity, which are usually understood by the phrase, the Gospel; but Christianity, in its length, and breadth, and height, and depth, as coming from God and leading to him. A noble theme, and right nobly is it handled ; and fain would we hope, and prophesy, if we durst, that it is but the forerunner of other works of the same high stamp : for, if we mistake not, Mr. Montgomery has now found his proper element ; there he will feel it to be so, and will delight in it, and grow more and more into conformity with it, and may hope to produce English discourses rivalling those of Chrysostom and Basil in eloquence and power, yet adapted to the deeper and more accurate theology of the present advanced age, sharpened by the subtleties of the Schoolmen, and hardened and disciplined by the controversies with Rome." " This discourse is first opened by Mr. Montgomery in a very masterly manner, and then the Theological and Practical principles which have been thus ascertained are brought to bear upon the Church, and made to test the maxims of State, and applied to the various maxims in the world, the chief relationship of society, and domestic or social duty, as subsisting around us, and subjects of daily notice." " In tracing out the various features of the Church movement, how it is aggravated by spiritual workings within, by physical pressure without, till it becomes uncontrollable, Mr. Montgomery shows great observation of what is going on around us, and clear discernment of the inevitable consequences of such things, if suffered to go on much longer unchecked." THE GOSPEL IN ADVANCE OF THE AGE. " We must refer our readers to the book for the various aspects this ecclesiastical movement [, being only able to notice one feature as de Sloped in that portion of the Church which Mr. Montgomery denominates the Romanistic party, and this we notice, because the question is put in a very original and striking way." " The space we have devoted to this volume, and copious extracts we have made, show the sense we entertain of its importance and value. Though unknown to Mr. Montgomery, we bid him God-speed in his onward course, and hope to meet him soon again." From " The Theologian," — May, 1847. " c The Gospel beeore the Age.' — We do not wish to give an unquali- fied approval to all which that remarkable and powerful work contains ; but there is much therein which is most valuable and full of thought and originality, — what we here quote, and some important passages on the bap- tismal doctrine, would do honour to any person." " WTe would direct the attention of our readers to two authors ; one a vindicator of the glories of the gospel ; the other a rationalistic assailant of them. In ' The Gospel beeore the Age,' and ' Christ our All in All,' of the former, and the 'Essay' of the latter (Emerson), will be found a clear and sufficient view of the Christian and Infidel." " Mont- gomery is, generally speaking, a logical and philosophical author ; in his Expositions of Christ, and Defence of Christianity, he displays very close and convincing reasoning. Cautiously he proceeds from point to point, leaving little behind him untreated of. And yet he writes with great vivacity; his illustrations are also imaginative ; his thoughts attain even the sublime in his illustration of sacred truth." " He is too eager a con- troversialist; but, on the other hand, how clear his perception of all affir- mative truths ! How exalted his range of thought in the appreciation of the most elevated mysteries of the Gospel ! — He is a Catholic Churchman." EDINBURGH : T. & T. CLARK. LONDON : HAMILTON, ADAMS & CO. 0* 1\