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High above mortal ken, To every ear in every land (Though meek ears only understand)
He speaks as He did then.
“ Ah wherefore persecute ye me?
“ With your own endless woe. “ Know, though at God's right hand I live, " I feel each wound ye reckless give
66 To the least saint below.
“ I in your care my brethren left, “ Not willing ye should be bereft
“ Of waiting on your Lord. “ The meanest offering ye can make“ A drop of water-for love's sakes,
“ In Heaven, be sure, is stor’d.”
O by those gentle tones and dear,
Thou only hope of souls,
g St. Matthew x. 42.
Ne'er let us cast one look behind,
What every thought controuls.
As to thy last Apostle's heart
Zeal's never-dying fire,
Intenser blaze and higher.
And as each mild and winning note (Like pulses that round harp-strings float,
When the full strain is o'er) Left lingering on his inward ear Music, that taught, as death drew near,
Love's lesson more and more:
So, as we walk our earthly round,
Be in our memory stor'd: “ Christians! behold your happy state: “ Christ is in these, who round you wait ;
“ Make much of your dear Lord !"
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
St. Matthew v. 3.
BLESS'D are the pure in heart,
For they shall see our God, The secret of the Lord is theirs,
Their soul is Christ's abode.
Might mortal thought presume
To guess an angel's lay,
The courts of Heaven to-day.
Such the triumphal hymns
On Sion's Prince that wait, In high procession passing on
Towards His temple-gate.
Give ear, ye kings-bow down,
Ye rulers of the earth-
Your God and King by birth.
No pomp of earthly guards
Attends with sword and spear, And all-defying, dauntless look,
Their monarch's way to clear :
Yet are there more with him
Than all that are with youThe armies of the highest Heaven,
All righteous, good, and true.
Spotless their robes and pure,
Dipp'd in the sea of light,
From men's and angels' sight.
His throne, thy bosom blest,
O Mother undefild
Beseems the sinless child.
Lost in high thoughts, “ whose son
66 The wondrous Babe might prove,” Her guileless husband walks beside,
Bearing the hallow'd dove ;
Meet emblem of His vow,
Who, on this happy day,
Did on God's altar lay.
But who is he, by years
Bow'd, but erect in heart, Whose prayers are struggling with his tears ?
“ Lord, let me now depart.
“ Now hath thy servant seen
Thy saving health, O Lord : «« 'Tis time that I depart in peace,
“ According to thy word.”
Yet swells the pomp: one more
Comes forth to bless her God: Full fourscore years, meek widow, she
Her heaven-ward way hath trod.