Nor may our household vine or figtree hide
The broken arches of old Canaan's pride.

Where is the sweet repose of hearts repenting,
The deep calm sky, the sunshine of the soul,
Now heaven and earth are to our bliss consenting,
And all the Godhead joins to make us whole?
The triple crown of mercy now

Is ready for the suppliant's brow,

By the Almighty Three for ever plann'd,

And from behind the cloud held out by Jesus' hand.

"Now, Christians, hold your own-the land before ye "Is open-win your way, and take your rest." So sounds our war-note; but our path of glory By many a cloud is darken'd and unblest : And daily as we downward glide,

Life's ebbing stream on either side

Shews at each turn some mouldering hope or joy,
The Man seems following still the funeral of the Boy.

Open our eyes, thou Sun of life and gladness,
That we may see that glorious world of thine!
It shines for us in vain, while drooping sadness
Enfolds us here like mist: come Power benign,

Touch our chill'd hearts with vernal smile,

Our wintry course do Thou beguile,

Nor by the wayside ruins let us mourn,

Who have th' eternal towers for our appointed bourne.

SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

Marvel not, my brethren, if the world hate you. We know that we have passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren. 1 St. John iii. 13.

THE clouds that wrap the setting sun

When Autumn's softest gleams are ending,
Where all bright hues together run

In sweet confusion blending :

Why, as we watch their floating wreath,
Seem they the breath of life to breathe?
To Fancy's eye their motions prove
They mantle round the Sun for love.

When up some woodland dale we catch
The many twinkling smile of ocean,

a

Eschyl. Prom. 89.

Or with pleas'd ear bewilder'd watch

His chime of restless motion;

Still as the surging waves retire

They seem to gasp with strong desire,
Such signs of love old Ocean gives,
We cannot choose but think he lives.

Wouldst thou the life of souls discern ?
Nor human wisdom nor divine
Helps thee by aught beside to learn ;
Love is life's only sign.

The spring of the regenerate heart,
The pulse, the glow of every part,
Is the true love of Christ our Lord,
As man embrac'd, as God ador'd.

But he, whose heart will bound to mark
The full bright burst of summer morn,
Loves too each little dewy spark

By leaf or flow'ret worn:

Cheap forms, and common hues, 'tis true, Through the bright shower-drop meet his view;

The colouring may be of this earth;

The lustre comes of heavenly birth.

Even so, who loves the Lord aright,

No soul of man can worthless find; All will be precious in his sight,

Since Christ on all hath shin'd· But chiefly Christian souls; for they, Though worn and soil'd with sinful clay, Are yet, to eyes that see them true, All glistening with baptismal dew.

Then marvel not, if such as bask
In purest light of innocence,
Hope against hope, in love's dear task,
Spite of all dark offence.

If they who hate the trespass most,

Yet, when all other love is lost,

Love the poor sinner, marvel not;

Christ's mark outwears the rankest blot.

No distance breaks the tie of blood;

Brothers are brothers evermore ; Nor wrong, nor wrath of deadliest mood, That magic may o'erpower;

Oft, ere the common source be known,

The kindred drops will claim their own,

And throbbing pulses silently

Move heart towards heart by sympathy.

So is it with true Christian hearts;
Their mutual share in Jesus' blood
An everlasting bond imparts

Of holiest brotherhood:

Oh! might we all our lineage prove,
Give and forgive, do good and love,
By soft endearments in kind strife
Lightening the load of daily life!

There is much need: for not as yet
Are we in shelter or repose,

The holy house is still beset

With leaguer of stern foes;

Wild thoughts within, bad men without,
All evil spirits round about,

Are banded in unblest device,
To spoil Love's earthly paradise.

Then draw we nearer day by day,

Each to his brethren, all to God; Let the world take us as she may,

We must not change our road ;