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So too may soothing Hope thy leave enjoy
Sweet visions of long sever'd hearts to frame : Though absence may impair, or cares annoy, Some constant mind
draw us still the same.
We in dark dreams are tossing to and fro,
Pine with regret, or sicken with despair,
And with our memory wings her own fond prayer.
O bliss of child-like innocence, and love
Tried to old age ! creative power to win,
Forgetting quite this grosser world of sin.
Bright are their dreams, because their thoughts are
clear, Their memory cheering : but th’ earth-stained
spright, Whose wakeful musings are of guilt and fear,
Must hover nearer earth, and less in light.
Farewell, for her, th' ideal scenes so fair
Yet not farewell her hope, since Thou hast deign'd,
Creator of all hearts! to own and share
The woe of what Thou mad'st, and we have stain'd.
Thou know'st our bitterness—our joys are thineb
No stranger Thou to all our wanderings wild : Nor could we bear to think, how every line
Of us, thy darken'd likeness and defild,
Stands in full sunshine of thy piercing eye,
But that thou call'st us Brethren : sweet repose Is in that word—the LORD who dwells on high
Knows all, yet loves us better than He knows.
b Psalm xxxi. 8. Thou hast known my soul in adversities.
TWENTY-FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER
The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the way of righteous
Proverbs xvi. 31.
THE bright hair'd morn is glowing
O'er emerald meadows gay,
The early shepherd's way.
Stealing away with night
Tread more than airy light.
And see what joyous greeting
The sun through heaven has shed,
His beams have faster sped.
For lo! above the western haze
High towers the rainbow arch In solid span of purest rays:
How stately is its march !
Pride of the dewy morning!
The swain's experienc'd eye From thee takes timely warning,
Nor trusts the gorgeous sky. For well he knows, such dawnings gay
Bring noons of storm and shower, And travellers linger on the way
Beside the sheltering bower.
Even so, in hope and trembling
Should watchful shepherds view His little lambs assembling,
With glance both kind and true; 'Tis not the eye of keenest blaze,
Nor the quick-swelling breast, That soonest thrills at touch of praise
These do not please him best.
But voices low and gentle,
And timid glances shy,
That seem for aid parental
To sue all wistfully,
Yet fearing to be wrong-
A lamb-like, Christ-like throng.
These in Life's distant even
Shall shine serenely bright,
Mild rainbow tints at night,
And ere they sink to rest,
For some sweet woodland nest.
The promise of the morrow
Is glorious on that eve,
When good men cease to live.
Mounts up their altar flame,
To Heaven whence first it came.