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For God's new Israel, sunk as low,
Yet flourishing to sight as fair,
With kings her nursing-fathers, throned high,
'Tis true, nor winter stays thy growth,
Nor torrid summer's sickly smile;
Break not upon so lone an isle,
Yielding a surer witness every day,
Oh grief to think, that grapes of gall
Should cluster round thine healthiest shoot!
Who, if he dar'd, would fain be mute !
Yet dares not open farewell of Thee take,
What do we then ? if far and wide
Men kneel to Christ, the pure and meek, Yet rage with passion, swell with pride,
Have we not still our faith to seek ? Nay—but in stedfast humbleness Kneel on to Him, who loves to bless
The prayer that waits for Him; and trembling strive To keep the lingering flame in thine own breast alive.
Dark frown'd the future even on him,
The loving and beloved Seer,
The boundary of th' eternal year;
Else had it bruis'd too sore his tender heart
Then look no more: or closer watch
Thy course in Earth's bewildering ways, For every glimpse thine eye can catch
Of what shall be in those dread days :
8 Dan. xii. 13. See Bp. Kenn's Sermon on the character of Daniel.
So when th’ Archangel's word is spoken,
In mercy thou may'st feel the heavenly hand, And in thy lot unharm'd before thy Saviour stand".
He is despised and rejected of men.
Isaiah liii. 3.
Is it not strange, the darkest hour
That ever dawn'd on sinful earth Should touch the heart with softer power
For comfort, than an angel's mirth ? That to the Cross the mourner's
should turn Sooner than where the stars of Christmas burn?
Sooner than where the Easter sun
Shines glorious on yon open grave, And to and fro the tidings run,
66 Who died to heal, is ris'n to save.” Sooner than where upon the Saviour's friends The very Comforter in light and love descends.
h Dap. xii. 13. Thou shalt rest, and stand in thy lot at the end of the days.
Yet so it is : for duly there
The bitter herbs of earth are set, Till temper'd by the Saviour's prayer;
And with the Saviour's life-blood wet, They turn to sweetness, and drop holy balm, Soft as imprison'd martyr's deathbed calm.
All turn to sweet-but most of all
That bitterest to the lip of pride,
Or Friendship scorns us, duly tried,
Then like a long-forgotten strain
Comes sweeping o'er the heart forlorn What sunshine hours had taught in vain
Of Jesus suffering shame and scorn, As in all lowly hearts he suffers still, While we triumphant ride and have the world at will.
His pierced hands in vain would hide
His face from rude reproachful gaze, His ears are open to abide
The wildest storm the tongue can raise,
He who with one rough word', some early day,
But we by Fancy may assuage
The festering sore by Fancy made,
Like wounded pilgrims safely laid.
O shame beyond the bitterest thought
That evil spirit ever fram’d,
Yet feel their haughty hearts untam’d-
Lord of my heart, by Thy last cry,
Let not thy blood on earth be spentLo, at thy feet I fainting lie,
Mine eyes upon thy wounds are bent, Upon thy streaming wounds my weary eyes Wait like the parched earth on April skies.
i Wisdom of Solomon xii. 9.