As star that shines dependent upon star Is to the sky while we look up and love; As to the deep fair ships which though they move Seem fixed, to eyes that watch them from afar; As to the sandy desert fountains are,
With palm-groves shaded at wide intervals, Whose fruit around the sun-burnt Native falls
Of roving tired or desultory war—
Such to this British Isle her christian Fanes, Each linked to each for kindred services;
Her Spires, her Steeple-towers with glittering vanes Far-kenned, her Chapels lurking among trees,
Where a few villagers on bended knees Find solace which a busy world disdains.
A GENIAL hearth, a hospitable board, And a refined rusticity, belong
To the neat mansion, where, his flock among,
The learned Pastor dwells, their watchful Lord.
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:
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