The Power that thro' the straits of Infancy Did pass dependent on maternal care,
His own humanity with Thee will share,
Pleased with the thanks that in his People's eye
Thou offerest up for safe Delivery
From Childbirth's perilous throes. And should the Heir Of thy fond hopes hereafter walk inclined
To courses fit to make a mother rue That ever he was born, a glance of mind Cast upon this observance may renew A better will; and, in the imagined view Of thee thus kneeling, safety he may find.
THE Sabbath bells renew the inviting peal; Glad music yet there be that, worn with pain And sickness, listen where they long have lain, In sadness listen. With maternal zeal Inspired, the Church sends ministers to kneel Beside the afflicted; to sustain with prayer, And soothe the heart confession hath laid bare- That pardon, from God's throne, may set its seal On a true Penitent. When breath departs From one disburthened so, so comforted, His Spirit Angels greet; and ours be hope That, if the Sufferer rise from his sick-bed, Hence he will gain a firmer mind, to cope With a bad world, and foil the Tempter's arts.
SHUN not this Rite, neglected, yea abhorred
By some of unreflecting mind, as calling
Man to curse man,—thought monstrous and appalling. Go thou and hear the threatenings of the LORD; Listening within his Temple see his sword Unsheathed in wrath to strike the offender's head,
Thy own, if sorrow for thy sin be dead, Guilt unrepented, pardon unimplored.
Two aspects bears Truth needful for salvation; Who knows not that?-yet would this delicate age Look only on the Gospel's brighter page: Let light and dark duly our thoughts employ; So shall the fearful words of Commination Yield timely fruit of peace and love and joy.
To kneeling worshippers no earthly floor Gives holier invitation than the deck Of a storm-shattered vessel saved from wreck (When all that man could do availed no more) By Him who raised the tempest and restrains. Happy the crew who this have felt, and pour Forth for His mercy, as the Church ordains, Solemn thanksgiving. Nor will they implore In vain who, for a rightful cause, give breath To words the Church prescribes aiding the lip For the heart's sake, ere ship with hostile ship
Encounters, armed for work of pain and death. Suppliants! the God to whom your cause ye trust Will listen, and ye know that He is just.
FROM the Baptismal hour, thro' weal and woe, The Church extends her care to thought and deed; Nor quits the Body when the Soul is freed,
The mortal weight cast off to be laid low.. Blest Rite for him who hears in faith, "I know That my Redeemer liveth,"-hears each word That follows-striking on some kindred chord Deep in the thankful heart;—yet tears will flow. Man is as grass that springeth up at morn, Grows green, and is cut down and withereth. Ere nightfall-truth that well may claim a sigh, Its natural echo; but hope comes reborn
At JESU's bidding. We rejoice: "O Death,
Where is thy Sting?-O Grave, where is thy Victory?"
CLOSING the sacred Book which long has fed
Our meditations,1 give we to a day
With smiles each happy face was overspread, That trial ended.
* This is still continued in many churches in Westmoreland. place in the month of July, when the floor of the stalls is strewn with fresh rushes; and hence it is called the "Rush-bearing."—W. W., 1822.
This day, when, forth by rustic music led, The village Children, while the sky is red With evening lights, advance in long array
Through the still church-yard, each with garland gay, That, carried sceptre-like, o'ertops the head
Charged with these offerings which their fathers bore For decoration in the Papal time,
The innocent Procession softly moves :-
The spirit of Laud is pleased in heaven's pure clime, And Hooker's voice the spectacle approves !
WOULD that our scrupulous Sires had dared to leave Less scanty measure of those graceful rites And usages, whose due return invites
A stir of mind too natural to deceive;
Giving to 3 Memory help when she would weave A crown for Hope!—I dread the boasted lights That all too often are but fiery blights,
Killing the bud o'er which in vain we grieve. Go, seek, when Christmas snows discomfort bring, The counter Spirit found in some gay church
Content with calmer scenes around us spread And humbler objects,
Green with fresh holly, every pew a perch In which the linnet or the thrush might sing, Merry and loud and safe from prying search, Strains offered only to the genial Spring.
FROM low to high doth dissolution climb, And sink1 from high to low, along a scale Of awful notes, whose concord shall not fail; A musical but melancholy chime,
Which they can hear who meddle not with crime, Nor avarice, nor over-anxious care.
Truth fails not; but her outward forms that bear The longest date do melt like frosty rime, That in the morning whitened hill and plain And is no more; drop like the tower sublime Of yesterday, which royally did wear
His1 crown of weeds, but could not even sustain Some casual shout that broke the silent air, Or the unimaginable touch of Time.
MONASTIC Domes! following my downward way, Untouched by due regret I marked your fall! Now, ruin, beauty, ancient stillness, all
Dispose to judgments temperate as we lay
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