FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 63 Rejoicing still, and doing good, And with the thought of God imbu'd. 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 mayst 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. 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 Him as He is. 1 St. John iii. 2. THERE are, who darkling and alone, "And if our fate be death, give light and let us died." Unwise I deem them, LORD, unmeet ὰ Ἐν δὲ φάει καὶ ὀλέσσον. SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. That on Thy guiding hand unseen And this our frail and foundering bark "Tis so in war-the champion true The dusky edge of stubborn war, Than if th' untrodden bloodless field Let not my bark in calm abide, But win her fearless way against the chafing tide. 'Tis so in love-the faithful heart That purest spot in Fancy's heaven, Though pledg'd her own and sure t' abide : That twilight gleam to her, though faint and far So have I seen some tender flower K 65 away. 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 tenderest care-and most of all 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 Than close with aught beside, to last eternally. What is the heaven we idly dream? Such as in sleep would hardly soothe A soul that once had tasted of immortal Truth. SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. What is the Heaven our God bestows? Was never yet created eye Not seraph's wing for ever soaring That nearer still and nearer grow 67 To th' unapproached LORD, once made for them so low. Unseen, unfelt their earthly growth, But they shall flourish from the tomb, The breath of GOD shall wake them into od'rous bloom. Then on th' incarnate SAVIOUR's breast, More deeply with His precious blood. Daily to lose themselves in hope to find their God. |