תמונות בעמוד
PDF
ePub

NINETEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

SHADRACH, MESHACH, AND ABEDNEGO.

Then Nebuchadnezzar the King was astonished, and rose up in haste, and spake, and said unto his counsellors, Did not we cast three men bound into the midst of the fire? They answered and said unto the King, True, O King. He answered and said, Lo, I see four men loose, walking in the midst of the fire, and they have no hurt; and the form of the fourth is like the Son of God. Daniel iii. 24, 25. [First Morning Lesson, Church of England.]

[O God, forasmuch as without thee we are not able to please thee; mercifully grant that thy Holy Spirit may in all things direct and rule our hearts, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.]

WHEN Persecution's torrent blaze

Wraps the unshrinking Martyr's head;
When fade all earthly flowers and bays,
When summer friends are gone and fled,
Is he alone in that dark hour

Who owns the Lord of love and power?

Or waves there not around his brow

A wand no human arm may wield,
Fraught with a spell no angels know,

His steps to guide, his soul to shield?
Thou, Saviour, art his charmed bower,
His magic ring, his rock, his tower.

And when the wicked ones behold

Thy favourites walking in thy light,

Just as, in fancied triumph bold,

*

They deem'd them lost in deadly night,
Amaz'd they cry, "What spell is this,
Which turns their sufferings all to bliss?

How are they free whom we had bound,
Upright, whom in the gulf we cast?
What wondrous helper have they found

To screen them from the scorching blast?
Three were they-Who hath made them four?
And sure a form divine he wore,

Even like the Son of God."

So cried

The Tyrant, when in one fierce flame
The martyrs lived, the murderers died:
Yet knew he not what angel came
To make the rushing fire-flood seem
Like summer breeze by woodland stream.*

He knew not, but there are who know:
The Matron, who alone hath stood,
When not a prop seem'd left below,
The first lorn hour of widowhood,
Yet cheer'd and cheering all, the while,
With sad but unaffected smile;-

The Father, who his vigil keeps

By the sad couch whence hope hath flown,
Watching the eye where reason sleeps,

Yet in his heart can mercy own,

Still sweetly yielding to the rod,
Still loving man, still thanking GoD;-

Song of the Three Children, ver. 27.

"And made the midst

of the furnace as it had been a moist whistling wind, [so that the fire touched them not at all, neither hurt nor troubled them."]

The Christian Pastor, bow'd to earth
With thankless toil, and vile esteem'd,
Still travailing in second birth

Of souls that will not be redeem'd,
Yet steadfast set to do his part,
And fearing most his own vain heart;-

These know: on these look long and well,
Cleansing thy sight by prayer and faith,
And thou shalt know what secret spell
Preserves them in their living death:
Through sevenfold flames thine eye shall see
The Saviour walking with his faithful Three.

TWENTIETH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

MOUNTAIN SCENERY.

Hear ye, O mountains, the Lord's controversy, and ye strong foundations of the earth. Micah vi. 2. [First Evening Lesson, Church of England.]

[O Almighty and most merciful God, of thy bountiful goodness keep us, we beseech thee, from all things that may hurt us; that we, being ready both in body and soul, may cheerfully accomplish those things which thou commandest, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.]

WHERE is thy favour'd haunt, eternal Voice,
The region of thy choice,

Where, undisturb'd by sin and earth, the soul
Owns thine entire control?-

"Tis on the mountain's summit dark and high,
When storms are hurrying by:

"Tis 'mid the strong foundations of the earth, Where torrents have their birth,

No sounds of worldly toil ascending there,
Mar the full burst of prayer;

Lone Nature feels that she may freely breathe,
And round us and beneath

Are heard her sacred tones: the fitful sweep
Of winds across the steep,

Through wither'd bents-romantic note and clear,
Meet for a hermit's ear,-

The wheeling kite's wild solitary cry,
And, scarcely heard so high,

The dashing waters when the air is still,
From many a torrent rill

That winds unseen beneath the shaggy fell,
Track'd by the blue mist well:

Such sounds as make deep silence in the heart,
For Thought to do her part.

'Tis then we hear the voice of God within, Pleading with care and sin:

"Child of my love! how have I wearied thee? Why wilt thou err from me?

Have I not brought thee from the house of slaves,
Parted the drowning waves,

And set my saints before thee in the way,
Lest thou should'st faint or stray?

What! was the promise made to thec alone?
Art thou th' excepted one?

An heir of glory without grief or pain?
O vision false and vain!

There lies thy cross; beneath it meekly bow;
It fits thy staturè now:

Who scornful pass it with averted eye,
"Twill crush them by and by.

Raise thy repining eyes, and take true measure
Of thine eternal treasure;

The Father of thy Lord can grudge thee nought,
The world for thee was bought,

And as this landscape broad-earth, sea, and sky,—
All centres in thine eye,

So all God does, if rightly understood,
Shall work thy final good."

TWENTY-FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

THE RED-BREAST IN SEPTEMBER.

The vision is yet for an appointed time; but at the end it shall speak and not lie: though it tarry, wait for it, because it will surely come, it will not tarry. Habakkuk ii. 3. [First Morning Lesson, Church of England.]

[Grant, we beseech thee, merciful Lord, to thy faithful people, pardon and peace; that they may be cleansed from all their sins, and serve thee with a quiet mind, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.]

THE morning mist is clear'd away,
Yet still the face of heaven is gray,

Nor yet th' autumnal breeze has stirr'd the grove,
Faded yet full, a paler green

Skirts soberly the tranquil scene,

The red-breast warbles round this leafy cove.

Sweet messenger of "calm decay,"
Saluting sorrow as you may,

As one still bent to find or make the best,
In thee, and in this quiet mead

The lesson of sweet peace I read,

Rather in all to be resign'd than blest.

« הקודםהמשך »