Capitulum. Isaiah, li. The Lord shall comfort Zion; he will comfort all her waste places; and he will make her wilderness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of the Lord; joy and gladness shall be found therein, thanksgiving, and the voice of melody. If the person commemorated be an Abbot, Monk, or Cœnobite. The Hymn. Fair camp, in arms of peaceful Fortitude, One faith, one hope, one leader; sternly train'd Far from earth's noise to learn th' eternal song, By prayer, and holy plaints which heav'n gate throng, The flesh is weaken'd, but the soul is strong. Each for himself, and each for other prays, To storm the citadel, high mercy's throne; The Father of all goodness would be won! Then, 'tween dark clouds, the covenanted bow Where angels to their aid pass to and fro. When fervid day with busy tumult glows, Their voice is heard not; but when tranquil even And the world sleeps, their voice is heard in heaven. Of her own heart; releas'd from vanity; For an Anchorite and Solitary. Why dost thou flee the peopled seat? Thus soars the soul on freer wing, In quietness of sacred love What joys thou dost to them impart, * v. I cried unto thee, O Lord, I said, thou art my refuge,land of the living.-Ps. cxlii. &c. &c. —r. and my portion in the The Versicles always follow the hymn at the Lands and Vespers; and the Antiphone of the last Psalm at the Nocturns; and the short Responsory, at the first and other Hours. Instances of the first may be here seen, as would have been in the other two had space allowed for those parts to have been given. In these offices called Commune, there are Lectios given for the Sunday which occurs before the Octave, and likewise for the Octave, besides those for the day as here given. In the present service they must be omitted with regret, being taken from Augustine, Jerome, Basil, and Chrysostom. In the Roman Breviary there is no Commune Monarchorum, in other respects the subjects are mostly similar. SACRED POETRY. THE COUNTRY PASTOR. THE PASTOR REPROVING. LAZARUS is at the gate, thou know'st it not, And thou mayst find Him in affliction's smile THE PASTOR'S DIFFICULTY. LOVE cannot reach him, arrows of Despair, And Hope, and Fear, fall from him, hedged in scale But, Pastor, hast thou left no weapon there, In thy Heav'n-furnish'd quiver? It is Prayer; The Spirit came descending, on rude thorn, The question has been well asked, Does it appear from the Scripture account that the rich man was aware of Lazarus's being at his gate? is it not rather implied that he was living a life in which he was not likely to know of such a circumstance? Hast thou the chained eagle seen Who, had his bonds been broke, I ween, And him, so swiftly had he flown! Mine is the fetter'd eagle's fate, For power to arise and to flee away. And the Sabbath bell doth gently break A flight to the land where my Father doth reign. This world prevaileth to hold me down For six long tedious days, But the Sabbath bell doth speak of the crown Which the blessed ascribe to the Ancient of Days. Speaketh in accents sweet, Like the voice of an angel calling to prayer, That he sits, as of old, on His mercy-seat. It speaketh of Him who hath promised to be Who despiseth not a small company, Offer up, in His name, their humble prayers. It telleth me that the church of God Is keeping holiday; That she, whose feet six days have trod To banquet with the King to-day. It speaketh of saints of other days Who, in times of yore, were wont to raise, A sacrifice Which God Almighty did not despise ! It bids me follow that distant throng, Bound for the regions of endless day. And so it joins me with that band, Who at the Son of God's right hand, Children of immortality! Then ever at that welcome sound And my poor heart shall lightly bound, I shall an endless Sabbath keep! JUVENIS. Lyra Apostolica. Γνοῖεν δ', ὡς δὴ δηρὸν ἐγὼ πολέμοιο πέπαυμαι. NO. XXIX. DEAR, sainted friends, I call not you Ye, on that loftier mountain old, Or, when ye think of those who stay, Ye rather, elder spirits strong! Ye hear, and ye can sympathize; Pierce through God's works, and duly prize; Ah Saviour LORD! with Thee my heart Angel nor Saint shall share; To Thee 'tis known, for man Thou art, They hear it sweep In distance down the dark and savage vale; They hear, and meekly muse, as fain to know And soothing sounds Blend with the neighbouring waters as they glide; Echoing as words of watch o'er lawn and grove 3. WEEP not for me; Be blithe as wont, nor tinge with gloom Joy in the gifts Heaven's bounty lends; I still am near ; Watching the smiles I prized on earth, Of whispered sounds the tale complete, A sea before The Throne is spread; its pure, still glass Share, in the bosom of our rest, GOD's knowledge, and are blest! 4. WHILE Moses on the Mountain lay, The pageant of a kingdom vast, Pavement, and them that tread thereon, |