They bathe where holy waters flow, They part to meet in Heaven; The sweet remembrance bear. Yes-mark him well, ye cold and proud, Bewilder'd in a heartless crowd. Starting and turning pale No storm can now assail The charm he wears within, Rejoicing still, and doing good, No glare of high estate, No gloom of woe or want, The radiance can abate Where Heaven delights to haunt, Sin only hides the genial ray, And round the Cross, makes night of day. Then weep it from thy heart; So may'st thou duly learn The intercessor's part, Thy prayers and tears may earn For fallen souls some healing breath, Ere they have died th' Apostate's death. F SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 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 IIim as He is. 1 St. John iii. 2. THERE are, who darkling and alone, 66 Only disperse the cloud," they cry, "And if our fate be death, give light and let us died." Unwise I deem them, LORD, unmeet 4 Ἐν δὲ φάει καὶ ὀλέσσον. For thou would'st have us linger still And this our frail and foundering bark "Tis so in war-the champion true Loves victory more, when dim in view He sees her glories gild afar The dusky edge of stubborn war, Than if th' untrodden bloodless field The harvest of her laurels yield; Let not my bark in calm abide, But win her fearless way against the chafing tide. "Tis so in love-the faithful heart From her dim vision would not part, Though pledg'd her own and sure t' abide : 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 trust it from our sight, not needing our caress. And wherefore is the sweet spring tide Our frail immortal souls, His work and Satan's thrall. So be it, LORD; I know it best, Though not as yet this wayward breast |