So like an angel's is our bliss (Oh! thought to comfort and appall) FOURTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. And Jesus answering said, Were there not ten cleansed? but where are the nine? There are not found that returned to give glory to God, save this stranger. St. Luke xvii. 17, 18. TEN cleans'd, and only one remain ! Who would have thought our nature's strain Even He who reads the heart,- Yet 'twas not wonder, but His love That heaven-ward seem so free to move When earth can yield no more: Then from afar on God we cry; Faster than those false drops and few Pour'd idly over some dark page A woe for future years? Spirits, that wound the sick man's bed Our vows forgotten trace; How should we gaze in trance of fear! Than by Thy placid voice and brow, Before thee, heart and knee; "Oh! thou, who only would'st be blest, “On thee alone my blessing rest! "Rise, go thy way in peace, possess'd "For evermore of me." FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow. St. Matt. vi. 28. SWEET nurslings of the vernal skies, Bath'd in soft airs, and fed with dew,. What more than magic in you lies, To fill the heart's fond view? In childhood's sports, companions gay, Relics ye are of Eden's bowers, As pure, as fragrant, and as fair, As when ye crown'd the sunshine hours Fall'n all beside the world of life, How is it stain'd with fear and strife! In Reason's world what storms are rife, What passions range and glare! But cheerful and unchang'd the while The stars of Heaven a course are taught Ye dwell beside our paths and homes, And guilty man, where'er he roams, The birds of air before us fleet, They cannot brook our shame to meet— But we may taste your solace sweet And come again to-morrow. Ye fearless in your nests abide Nor may we scorn, too proudly wise, |