Though meek and patient as a sheathed sword; Though pride's least lurking thought appear a wrong To human kind; though peace be on his tongue, Gentleness in his heart-can earth afford Such genuine state, pre-eminence so free, As when, arrayed in Christ's authority, He from the pulpit lifts his awful hand; Conjures, implores, and labours all he can For re-subjecting to divine command The stubborn spirit of rebellious man?
YES, if the intensities of hope and fear Attract us still, and passionate exercise Of lofty thoughts, the way before us lies Distinct with signs, through which in set career, As through a zodiac, moves the ritual year Of England's Church; stupendous mysteries! Which whoso travels in her bosom eyes, As he approaches them, with solemn cheer. Upon that circle traced from sacred story We only dare to cast a transient glance, Trusting in hope that Others may advance With mind intent upon the King of Glory, From his mild advent till his countenance Shall dissipate the seas and mountains hoary.
DEAR be the Church, that, watching o'er the needs Of Infancy, provides a timely shower
Whose virtue changes to a christian Flower
A Growth from sinful Nature's bed of weeds!- Fitliest beneath the sacred roof proceeds The ministration; while parental Love Looks on, and Grace descendeth from above As the high service pledges now, now pleads. There, should vain thoughts outspread their wings and fly To meet the coming hours of festal mirth, The tombs-which hear and answer that brief cry, The Infant's notice of his second birth—
Recal the wandering Soul to sympathy
With what man hopes from Heaven, yet fears from Earth.
FATHER!-to God himself we cannot give A holier name! then lightly do not bear Both names conjoined, but of thy spiritual care Be duly mindful: still more sensitive
Do Thou, in truth a second Mother, strive Against disheartening custom, that by Thee Watched, and with love and pious industry Tended at need, the adopted Plant may thrive For everlasting bloom. Benign and pure This Ordinance, whether, loss it would supply, Prevent omission, help deficiency,
Or seek to make assurance doubly sure. Shame if the consecrated Vow be found An idle form, the Word an empty sound!
FROM Little down to Least, in due degree, Around the Pastor, each in new-wrought vest, Each with a vernal posy at his breast, We stood, a trembling, earnest Company! With low soft murmur, like a distant bee, Some spake, by thought-perplexing fears betrayed; And some a bold unerring answer made: How fluttered then thy anxious heart for me, Beloved Mother! Thou whose happy hand Had bound the flowers I wore, with faithful tie: Sweet flowers! at whose inaudible command Her countenance, phantom-like, doth re-appear. O lost too early for the frequent tear, And ill requited by this heartfelt sigh!
THE Young-ones gathered in from hill and dale, With holiday delight on every brow:
'Tis passed away; far other thoughts prevail; For they are taking the baptismal Vow Upon their conscious selves; their own lips speak The solemn promise. Strongest sinews fail, And many a blooming, many a lovely, cheek Under the holy fear of God turns pale; While on each head his lawn-robed Servant lays An apostolic hand, and with prayer seals The Covenant. The Omnipotent will raise Their feeble Souls; and bear with his regrets, Who, looking round the fair assemblage, feels That ere the Sun goes down their childhood sets.
I SAW a Mother's eye intensely bent Upon a Maiden trembling as she knelt; In and for whom the pious Mother felt Things that we judge of by a light too faint:
Tell, if ye may, some star-crowned Muse, or Saint! Tell what rushed in, from what she was relieved— Then, when her Child the hallowing touch received, And such vibration through the Mother went That tears burst forth amain. Did gleams appear? Opened a vision of that blissful place
Where dwells a Sister-child? And was power given Part of her lost One's glory back to trace
Even to this Rite? For thus She knelt, and, ere The summer-leaf had faded, passed to Heaven.
By chain yet stronger must the Soul be tied: One duty more, last stage of this ascent, Brings to thy food, mysterious Sacrament! The Offspring, haply, at the Parent's side; But not till They, with all that do abide In Heaven, have lifted up their hearts to laud And magnify the glorious name of God, Fountain of grace, whose Son for sinners died. Ye, who have duly weighed the summons, pause No longer; ye, whom to the saving rite
The Altar calls, come early under laws
That can secure for you a path of light
Through gloomiest shade; put on (nor dread its weight)
Armour divine, and conquer in your cause!
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