Go, to the world return, nor fear to cast bread upon the waters, sure at last Thy In joy to find it after many days. b The work be thine, the fruit thy children's part: Choose to believe, not see: sight tempts the heart From sober walking in true Gospel ways. TENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. And when he was come near, he beheld the city, and wept over it. St. Luke xix. 41. WHY doth my Saviour weep Mark well his holy pains : 'Tis not in pride or scorn, That Israel's King with sorrow stains His own triumphal morn. b Eccles. xi. 1. It is not that his soul Is wandering sadly on, In thought how soon at death's dark goal Their course will all be run, Who now are shouting round Hosanna to their chief; No thought like this in Him is found, Or doth he feel the Cross Already in his heart, The pain, the shame, the scorn, the loss? Feel even his God depart? No: though he knew full well The grief that then shall be The grief that angels cannot tell— It is not thus he mourns; Such might be Martyr's tears, When his last lingering look he turns c Compare Herod. vii. 46. But hero ne'er or saint The secret load might know, With which His spirit waxeth faint; His is a Saviour's woe. "If thou hadst known, even thou, "At least in this thy day, "The message of thy peace! but now ""Tis pass'd for aye away: "Now foes shall trench thee round, "And lay thee even with earth, "And dash thy children to the ground, And doth the Saviour weep Over his people's sin, Because we will not let him keep The souls He died to win? Ye hearts, that love the Lord, If at this sight ye burn, See that in thought, in deed, in word, Ye hate what made Him mourn. ELEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. Is it a time to receive money, and to receive garments, and olive yards, and vineyards, and sheep, and oxen, and men servants, and maid servants? 2 Kings v. 26. Is this a time to plant and build, Add house to house, and field to field, Is this a time for moonlight dreams While souls are wandering far and wide No-rather steel thy melting heart Yes-let them pass without a sigh, And winds have rent thy sheltering bowers, The fire of Heaven is soon to fall, Then many a soul, the price of blood, Then in his wrath shall GOD uproot The trees He set, for lack of fruit, The towers His hand had deign'd to raise ; |