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Her bowers are mute, her fountains dry,
And ever Fancy's wing Speeds from beneath her cloudless sky
To autumn or to spring.
Sweet is the infant's waking smile,
And sweet the old man's rest But middle age by no fond wile,
No soothing calm is blest.
Still in the world's hot restless gleam
She plies her weary task,
Her wandering glances ask.
O shame upon thee, listless heart,
So sad a sigh to heave,
In thoughts, that make thee grieve.
As if along His lonesome way
He had not borne for thee Sad languors through the summer day,
Storms on the wintry sea.
Youth's lightning flash of joy secure
Pass'd seldom o'er His spright,A well of serious thought and pure,
Too deep for earthly light.
No spring was His—no fairy gleam
For He by trial knew How cold and bare what mortals dream,
To worlds where all is true.
Then grudge not thou the anguish keen
Which makes thee like thy LORD, And learn to quit with eye serene
Thy youth's ideal hoard.
Thy treasur'd hopes and raptures high
Unmurmuring let them go, Nor grieve the bliss should quickly fly
Which CHRIST disdain'd to know.
Thou shalt have joy in sadness soon ;
The pure, calm hope be thine, Which brightens, like the eastern moon,
As days wild lights decline.
Thus souls, by nature pitch'd too high,
By sufferings plung'd too low,
Half way 'twixt joy and woe,
To practise there the soothing lay
That sorrow best relieves :
Humbled by all He gives.
The Son of consolation, a Levite. Acts iv. 36.
THE world's a room of sickness, where each heart
Knows its own anguish and unrest ;
Is his, who skills of comfort best;
Enfeebled spirits own,
And love to raise the languid eye, When, like an angel's wing, they feel him fleeting by:Feel only-for in silence gently gliding
Fain would he shun both ear and sight, ”Twixt Prayer and watchful Love his heart dividing,
A nursing father day and night.
In her sweet natal day,
The Church of JESUS; such the love He to his chosen taught for His dear widow'd Dove.
Warm'd underneath the Comforter's safe wing
They spread th' endearing warmth around : Mourners, speed here your broken hearts to bring,
Here healing dews and balms abound: Here are soft hands that cannot bless in vain,
By trial taught your pain :
Here loving hearts, that daily know
Sweet thoughts are theirs, that breathe serenest calms,
Of holy offerings timely paid",
And passions on God's altar laid.
a Acts iv. 37. Having land, he sold it, and brought the money, and laid it at the Apostles' feet.
The world to them is clos'd and now they shine
rays of love divine, Through darkest nooks of this dull earth Pouring, in showery times, their glow of “ quiet
New hearts before their Saviour's feet to lay,
This is their first their dearest joy:
For mutual love without alloy :
They write some hero-soul,
More pleas'd upon his brightening road To wait, than if their own with all his radiance glow'd.
O happy spirits, mark'd by God and man
Their messages of love to bear, What though long since in Heaven your brows began
The genial amarant wreath to wear, And in th' eternal leisure of calm love
Ye banquet there above,
a Acts ix. 27. Barnabas took him, and brought him (Saul) to the Apostles.
b Acts xi. 22. xiii. 2.