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Where Philip's steps were led,
Led by a voice from TheeHe rose and went, nor ask'd Thee why, Nor stayed to heave one faithless sigh ;
Upon his lonely way
The high-born traveller came, Reading a mournful lay
Of “ One who bore our shame', “Silent himself, his name untold,
And yet his glories were of old.”
To muse what Heaven might mean
His wandering brow he rais'd,
That on him watchful gaz'd.
Now wonder turns to love ;
The scrolls of sacred lore
No darksome mazes prove;
The desert tires no more :
c Isaiah liji. 6-8.
They bathe where holy waters flow,
They part to meet in heaven ;
But of the joy they share,
The sweet remembrance bear.
Starting and turning pale
The charm he wears within,
No glare of high estate,
No gloom of woe or want,
Where Heaven delights to haunt.
Then weep it from thy heart;
So may'st thou duly learn
Thy prayers and tears may earn
SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER
Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be : but we know, that, when He shall appear, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is. 1 St. John iïi. 2, 3.
are, who darkling and alone,
Only disperse the cloud,” they cry, “And if our fate be death, give light and let us dies."
d'E» δε φάει και ολίσσον.
Unwise I deem them, LORD, unmeet
And this our frail and foundering bark
'Tis so in war—the champion true
Let not my bark in calm abide,
'Tis so in love the faithful heart
Dearer than every past noon-day That twilight gleam to her, though faint and far away.
So have I seen some tender flower
When hardier grown we love it less,
And wherefore is the sweet spring tide
Our tenderest care—and most of all
So be it, LORD; I know it best,