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And Lazarus waken'd from his four days' sleep,
And fast beside the olive-border'd way
The peaceful home, to Zeal sincere
And heavenly Contemplation dear,
Still through decaying ages as they glide,
Sprinkled along the waste of years
Full many a soft green isle appears :
When withering blasts of error swept the sky',
How sweet, how lone the ray benign
On shelter'd nooks of Palestine ! Then to his early home did Love repaire, And cheer'd his sickening heart with his own native air.
c Arianism in the fourth century. d See St. Jerome's Works, i. 123. edit. Erasm.
Years roll away : again the tide of crime
Where shall the holy Cross find rest ?
On a crown'd monarch's mailed breast : Like some bright angel o'er the darkling scene, Through court and camp he holds his heavenward course
A fouler vision yet; an age of light,
O who can tell how calm and sweet,
Meek Walton! shews thy green retreat, When wearied with the tale thy times disclose, The eye first finds thee out in thy secure repose ?
Thus bad and good their several warnings give
Faith's ear, with awful still delight,
Counts them like minute bells at night,
But what are heaven's alarms to hearts that cower In wilful slumber, deepening every hour,
e St. Louis in the tenth century.
That draw their curtains closer round,
The nearer swells the trumpet's sound? Lord, ere our trembling lamps sink down and die, Touch us with chastening hand, and make us feel Thee
SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT.
And when these things begin to come to pass, then look up and lift up your heads, for your redemption draweth nigh. St. Luke xxi. 28.
NOT till the freezing blast is still,
Why then, in sad and wintry time,
Is she less wise than leaves of spring,
She has a charm, a word of fire,
Not surer does each tender
gem, Set in the figtree's polish'd stem, Foreshew the summer season bland, Than these dread signs thy mighty hand: But oh ! frail hearts, and spirits dark ! The season's flight unwarn’d we mark,
f 2 Esdras xiv. 10. The world hath lost his youth, and the times begin to wax old.
fore But miss the Judge behind the doors, For all the light of sacred lore :
Yet is He there : beneath our eaves
But chiefly ye should lift your gaze
of mercy to prepare: : Angels He calls ye: be your strife To lead on earth an Angel's life.
Think not of rest ; though dreams be sweet, Start up, and ply your heaven-ward feet.
g See St. James v. 9.