Bent on us with transforming power, Sprinkled with His atoning blood Bless'd eyes, which see the things we see! Beheld, and not belov'd. So like an angel's is our bliss, (Oh! thought to comfort and appal,) It needs must bring, if us'd amiss, FOURTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. And Jesus answering said, Were there not ten cleansed? but where are the nine? There are not found that returned to give glory to God, save this stranger. St. Luke xvii. 17, 18. TEN cleans'd, and only one remain! Who would have thought our nature's stain Even He who reads the heart, Knows what He gave and what we lost, Yet 'twas not wonder, but His love Then from afar on God we cry; Faster than those false drops and few Pour'd idly over some dark page A woe for future years? Spirits, that round the sick man's bed Watch'd, noting down each prayer he made, Were your unerring roll display'd, His pride of health to' abase; Or, when soft showers in season fall Answering a famish'd nation's call, Should unseen fingers on the wall Our vows forgotten trace; How should we gaze in trance of fear! From heaven upon that scroll severe, "Ten cleans'd and one remain!" Than by Thy placid voice and brow, With healing first, with comfort now, Turn'd upon him, who hastes to bow Before Thee, heart and knee; "Oh! thou, who only would'st be blest, "On thee alone my blessing rest! "Rise, go thy way in peace, possess'd "For evermore of me." FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow. St. Mutt. vi. 28. SWEET nurslings of the vernal skies, In childhood's sports, companions gay, Relics ye are of Eden's bowers, As when ye crown'd the sunshine hours |