Nor may our household vine or figtree hide Where is the sweet repose of hearts repenting, Is ready for the suppliant's brow, By the Almighty Three for ever plann'd, And from behind the cloud held out by Jesus' hand. "Now, Christians, hold your own-the land before ye "Is open-win your way, and take your rest." So sounds our war-note; but our path of glory By many a cloud is darken'd and unblest : And daily as we downward glide, Life's ebbing stream on either side Shews at each turn some mouldering hope or joy, Open our eyes, thou Sun of life and gladness, Touch our chill'd hearts with vernal smile, Our wintry course do Thou beguile, Nor by the wayside ruins let us mourn, Who have th' eternal towers for our appointed bourne. SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. Marvel not, my brethren, if the world hate you. We know that we have passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren. 1 St. John iii. 13. THE clouds that wrap the setting sun When Autumn's softest gleams are ending, In sweet confusion blending : Why, as we watch their floating wreath, When up some woodland dale we catch a Eschyl. Prom. 89. Or with pleas'd ear bewilder'd watch His chime of restless motion; Still as the surging waves retire They seem to gasp with strong desire, Wouldst thou the life of souls discern ? The spring of the regenerate heart, But he, whose heart will bound to mark By leaf or flow'ret worn: Cheap forms, and common hues, 'tis true, Through the bright shower-drop meet his view; The colouring may be of this earth; The lustre comes of heavenly birth. Even so, who loves the Lord aright, No soul of man can worthless find; All will be precious in his sight, Since Christ on all hath shin'd· But chiefly Christian souls; for they, Though worn and soil'd with sinful clay, Are yet, to eyes that see them true, All glistening with baptismal dew. Then marvel not, if such as bask If they who hate the trespass most, Yet, when all other love is lost, Love the poor sinner, marvel not; Christ's mark outwears the rankest blot. No distance breaks the tie of blood; Brothers are brothers evermore ; Nor wrong, nor wrath of deadliest mood, That magic may o'erpower; Oft, ere the common source be known, The kindred drops will claim their own, And throbbing pulses silently Move heart towards heart by sympathy. So is it with true Christian hearts; Of holiest brotherhood: Oh! might we all our lineage prove, There is much need: for not as yet The holy house is still beset With leaguer of stern foes; Wild thoughts within, bad men without, Are banded in unblest device, Then draw we nearer day by day, Each to his brethren, all to God; Let the world take us as she may, We must not change our road ; |