"He wept by Lazarus' grave-how will He bear "This bed of anguish? and his pale weak form "Is worn with many a watch

"Of sorrow and unrest.

"His sweat last night was as great drops of blood, “And the sad burthen press'd him so to earth, "The very torturers paus'd

"To help Him on His way.

"Fill high the bowl, benumb His aching sense “With medicin❜d sleep."-O awful in thy woe! The parching thirst of death

Is on thee, and thou triest

The slumbrous potion bland, and wilt not drink :
Not sullen, nor in scorn, like haughty man
With suicidal hand

Putting his solace by :

But as at first thine all-pervading look

Saw from thy Father's bosom to th' abyss,
Measuring in calm presage

The infinite descent;

So to the end, though now of mortal pangs

Made heir, and emptied of thy glory' awhile,
With unaverted eye

Thou meetest all the storm.

Thou wilt feel all, that Thou may'st pity all;
And rather wouldst Thou wrestle with strong pain,
Than overcloud thy soul,

So clear in agony,

Or lose one glimpse of Heaven before the time.
O most entire and perfect sacrifice,

Renew'd in every pulse

That on the tedious Cross

Told the long hours of death, as, one by one,
The life-strings of that tender heart gave way;
Even sinners, taught by Thee,

Look Sorrow in the face,

And bid her freely welcome, unbeguil'd

By false kind solaces, and spells of earth :-
And yet not all unsooth'd;

For when was Joy so dear,

As the deep calm that breath'd, "Father, forgive," Or, “Be with me in Paradise to-day?”

And, though the strife be sore,

Yet in His parting breath

Love masters agony; the soul that seem'd
Forsaken, feels her present God again,
And in her Father's arms

Contented dies away.

WEDNESDAY BEFORE EASTER.

Saying, Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless, not my will, but thine be done. St. Luke xxii. 42.

O LORD my God, do Thou thy holy will—
I will lie still-

I will not stir, lest I forsake thine arm,

And break the charm,

Which lulls me, clinging to my Father's breast,
In perfect rest.

Wild Fancy, peace! thou must not me beguile
With thy false smile :

I know thy flatteries and thy cheating ways;
Be silent, Praise,

Blind guide with siren voice, and blinding all
That hear thy call.

с

Come, Self-devotion, high and

pure,

Thoughts that in thankfulness endure,
Though dearest hopes are faithless found,
And dearest hearts are bursting round.
Come, Resignation, spirit meek,

And let me kiss thy placid cheek,

And read in thy pale eye serene

Their blessing, who by faith can wean

Their hearts from sense, and learn to love

God only, and the joys above.

They say, who know the life divine,

And upward gaze with eagle eyne,

That by each golden crown on high ̊,

Rich with celestial jewelry,

that little coronet or special reward which God hath prepared (extraordinary and besides the great Crown of all faithful souls) for those

I

Which for our Lord's redeem'd is set,
There hangs a radiant coronet,

All gemm'd with pure and living light,
Too dazzling for a sinner's sight,
Prepar'd for virgin souls, and them
Who seek the martyr's diadem.

Nor deem, who to that bliss aspire,
Must win their way through blood and fire.
The writhings of a wounded heart

Are fiercer than a foeman's dart.

Oft in Life's stillest shade reclining,

In Desolation unrepining,

Without a hope on earth to find
A mirror in an answering mind,
Meek souls there are, who little dream
Their daily strife an Angel's theme,
Or that the rod they take so calm
Shall prove in Heaven a martyr's palm.

And there are souls that seem to dwell

Above this earth-so rich a spell

"who have not defiled themselves with women, but follow the (virgin) Lamb for ever." Rp. Taylor, Holy Living, c. xi. sect. 3.