Or if perchance a sadden'd heart That once was gay and felt the spring, Cons slowly o'er its alter'd part, In sorrow and remorse to sing, Thy gracious care will send that way And nurse it with all pitying thought; Cheerful as soaring lark, and mild As evening blackbird's full-ton'd lay, When the relenting sun has smil❜d These are the tones to brace and cheer How timely then a comrade's song Comes floating on the mountain air, And bids thee yet be bold and strongFancy may die, but Faith is there. XCIV. ALL SAINTS' DAY. Hurt not the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees, till we have sealed the servants of our God in their foreheads. Revelations vii. 3. WHY blow'st thou not, thou wintry wind, Now every leaf is brown and sere, And idly droops, to thee resign'd, The fading chaplet of the year? Yet wears the pure aerial sky Her summer veil, half drawn on high, How quiet shews the woodland scene! Like weary men when age is won, Such calm old age as conscience pure And self-commanding hearts ensure, Waiting their summons to the sky, Content to live, but not afraid to die. Sure if our eyes were purg'd to trace God's unseen armies hovering round, We should behold by angels' grace The four strong winds of Heaven fast bound, Their downward sweep a moment staid On ocean cove and forest glade, Till the last flower of autumn shed Her funeral odours on her dying bed. So in thine awful armoury, Lord, The lightnings of the judgment day Pause yet awhile, in mercy stor❜d, Till willing hearts wear quite away Their earthly stains; and spotless shine On every brow in light divine The cross by angel hands impress'd, The seal of glory won and pledge of promis'd rest. Little they dream, those haughty souls Whom empires own with bended knee, What lowly fate their own controuls, Together link'd by Heaven's decree ;As bloodhounds hush their baying wild To wanton with some fearless child, So Famine waits, and War with greedy eyes, Till some repenting heart be ready for the skies. Think ye the spires that glow so bright No-where th' upholding grace is won, We dare not ask, nor Heaven would tell, But sure from many a hidden dell, From many a rural nook unthought of there, Rises for that proud world the saints' prevailing prayer. On, champions blest, in Jesus' name, Gather'd long since at Jesus' feet, No world of passions to destroy, Your prayers and struggles o'er, your task all praise and joy. XCV. HOLY COMMUNION. O GOD of Mercy, God of Might, For now thy people are allow'd With wonders Sinai never knew. Fresh from th' atoning sacrifice The world's Creator bleeding lies, That man, his foe, by whom He bled, May take him for his daily bread. |