SECOND SUNDAY AFTER

EPIPHANY.

Every man at the beginning doth set forth good wine; and when men have well drunk, then that which is worse: but thou hast kept the good wine until now. St. John ii. 10.

THE heart of childhood is all mirth :

We frolic to and fro

As free and blithe, as if on earth
Were no such thing as woe.

But if indeed with reckless faith

We trust the flattering voice,

Which whispers, "Take thy fill ere death,

Too surely, every setting day,

Some lost delight we mourn,

The flowers all die along our way,
Till we, too, die forlorn.

Such is the world's gay garish feast,
In her first charming bowl
Infusing all that fires the breast,
And cheats th' unstable soul.

And still, as loud the revel swells,
The fever'd pulse beats higher,
Till the sear'd taste from foulest wells
Is fain to slake its fire.

Unlike the feast of heavenly love

Spread at the Saviour's word

For souls that hear his call,

and prove

Meet for his bridal board.

Why should we fear, youth's draught of joy,
If pure, would sparkle less?
Why should the cup the sooner cloy,

Which God hath deign'd to bless?

For, is it Hope, that thrills so keen
Along each bounding vein,

Still whispering glorious things unseen?-
Faith makes the vision plain.

The world would kill her soon: but Faith
Her daring dreams will cherish,
Speeding her gaze o'er time and death
To realms where nought can perish.

Or is it Love, the dear delight

Of hearts that know no guile, That all around see all things bright With their own magic smile?

The silent joy, that sinks so deep,
Of confidence and rest,
Lull'd in a Father's arms to sleep,
Clasp'd to a Mother's breast?

Who, but a Christian, through all life
That blessing may prolong?

Who, through the world's sad day of strife,
Still chant his morning song?

Fathers may hate us or forsake,

God's foundlings then are we :

Mother on child no pity take,

But we shall still have Thee.

a Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not

We may look home, and seek in vain

A fond fraternal heart,

But Christ hath given his promise plain
To do a brother's part.

Nor shall dull age, as worldlings say,
The heavenward flame annoy :

The Saviour cannot pass away,

And with Him lives our joy.

Ever the richest tenderest glow

Sets round th' autumnal sun

But there sight fails: no heart may know
The bliss when life is done.

Such is thy banquet, dearest Lord;

O give us grace, to cast

Our lot with thine, to trust thy word,

And keep our best till last.

have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee. Isaiah xlix. 15.

THIRD SUNDAY AFTER

EPIPHANY.

When Jesus heard it, he marvelled, and said to them that followed, Verily I say unto you, I have not found so great faith, no, not in Israel. St. Matthew viii, 10.

I MARK'D a rainbow in the north, What time the wild autumnal sun From his dark veil at noon look'd forth, As glorying in his course half done, Flinging soft radiance far and wide Over the dusky heaven and bleak hill-side.

It was a gleam to Memory dear,
And as I walk and muse apart,
When all seems faithless round and drear,
I would revive it in my heart,

And watch how light can find its way

To regions farthest from the fount of day.

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