TUESDAY BEFORE EASTER.

They gave Him to drink wine mingled with myrrh: but He received it not.

St. Mark xv. 23.

"FILL high the bowl, and spice it well, and pour "The dews oblivious: for the Cross is sharp, "The Cross is sharp, and He

"Is tenderer than a lamb.

"He wept by Lazarus' grave-how will He bear "This bed of anguish ? and His pale weak form "Is worn with many a watch

"Of sorrow and unrest.

"His sweat last night was as great drops of blood, "And the sad burthen press'd Him so to earth, "The very torturers paus'd

"To help Him on His way.

"Fill high the bowl, benumb His aching sense "With medicin'd sleep."-O awful in Thy woe! The parching thirst of death

Is on Thee, and Thou triest

The slumb'rous potion bland, and wilt not drink :
Not sullen, nor in scorn, like haughty man
With suicidal hand

Putting his solace by :

But as at first Thine all-pervading look
Saw from Thy Father's bosom to th' abyss,
Measuring in calm presage

The infinite descent;

So to the end, though now of mortal pangs
Made heir, and emptied of Thy glory' awhile,
With unaverted eye

Thou meetest all the storm.

Thou wilt feel all, that Thou mayst pity all;
And rather wouldst Thou wrestle with strong pain,
Than overcloud Thy soul,

So clear in agony,

Or lose one glimpse of Heaven before the time.

O most entire and perfect sacrifice,

Renew'd in every pulse

That on the tedious Cross

TUESDAY BEFORE EASTER.

Told the long hours of death, as, one by one,
The life-strings of that tender heart gave way;
E'en sinners, taught by Thee,

Look Sorrow in the face,

And bid her freely welcome, unbeguil'd

By false kind solaces, and spells of earth:-
And yet not all unsooth'd;

For when was Joy so dear,

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As the deep calm that breath'd, "Father, forgive," Or, "Be with Me in Paradise to-day?"

And, though the strife be sore,

Yet in His parting breath

Love masters Agony; the soul that seem'd
Forsaken, feels her present God again,
And in her Father's arms

Contented dies away.

P

WEDNESDAY BEFORE EASTER.

Saying, Father, if Thou be willing, remove this cup from Me: nevertheless not My will, but Thine, be done.

St. Luke xxii. 42.

O LORD my God, do Thou Thy holy will-
I will lie still—

I will not stir, lest I forsake Thine arm,
And break the charm,

Which lulls me, clinging to my Father's breast,
In perfect rest.

Wild Fancy, peace! thou must not me beguile With thy false smile:

I know thy flatteries and thy cheating ways; Be silent, Praise,

Blind guide with siren voice, and blinding all That hear thy call.

Come, Self-devotion, high and pure,
Thoughts that in thankfulness endure,

WEDNESDAY BEFORE EASTER.

Though dearest hopes are faithless found,
And dearest hearts are bursting round.
Come, Resignation, spirit meek,

And let me kiss thy placid cheek,

And read in thy pale eye serene

Their blessing, who by faith can wean
Their hearts from sense, and learn to love
God only, and the joys above.

They say, who know the life divine,
And upward gaze with eagle eyne,
That by each golden crown on high,
Rich with celestial jewelry,

Which for our Lord's redeem'd is set,
There hangs a radiant coronet,

All gemm'd with pure and living light,
Too dazzling for a sinner's sight,
Prepar'd for virgin souls, and them
Who seek the martyr's diadem.

Nor deem, who to that bliss aspire,
Must win their way through blood and fire.
The writhings of a wounded heart

Are fiercer than a foeman's dart.

.....

"that little coronet or special reward which God hath prepared (extraordinary and besides the great Crown of all faithful souls) for those who have not defiled themselves with women, but follow the (virgin) Lamb for ever.'" Bp. Taylor, Holy Living, ch. xi. sect. 3.

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