Thus bad and good their several warnings give
Of His approach, whom none may see and live:
Faith's ear, with awful still delight,

Counts them like minute bells at night,
Keeping the heart awake till dawn of morn,
While to her funeral pile this aged world is borne.*

But what are heaven's alarms to hearts that cower
In wilful slumber, deepening every hour,

That draw their curtains closer round,

The nearer swells the trumpet's sound?

Lord, ere our trembling lamps sink down and die, Touch us with chastening hand, and make us feel Thee nigh.t

*

["The world is grown old, and her pleasures are past;
The world is grown old, and her form cannot last;
The world is grown old, and trembles for fear,
For sorrows abound, and judgment is near."

Bishop Heber.]

[Yet once again thy sign shall be upon the heavens displayed, And earth and its inhabitants be terribly afraid,

For not in weakness clad thou com'st, our woes, our sins to bear,
But girt with all thy Father's might, his vengeance to declare.
The terrors of that awful day, Oh! who can understand?
Or who abide when thou in wrath shalt lift thy holy hand?
The earth shall quake, the sea shall roar, the sun in heaven
grow pale;

But thou hast sworn, and wilt not change, thy faithful shall not fail.

Then grant us, Saviour, so to pass our time in trembling here,
That when upon the clouds of heaven thy glory shall appear,
Uplifting high our joyful heads, in triumph we may rise,
And enter, with thine angel train, thy palace in the skies!

G. W. D.]

SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT.

THE SIGNS OF THE TIMES.

And when these things begin to come to pass, then look up and lift up your heads, for your redemption draweth nigh. St. Luke, xxi. 28. [Gospel for the Day.]

[Blessed Lord, who hast caused all holy scriptures to be written for our learning; grant that we may in such wise hear them, read, mark, learn and inwardly digest them, that by patience, and comfort of thy holy word, we may embrace, and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which thou hast given us in our Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.]

NOT till the freezing blast is still,
Till freely leaps the sparkling rill,
And gales sweep soft from summer skies,
As o'er a sleeping infant's eyes

A mother's kiss-ere calls like these,
No sunny gleam awakes the trees,
Nor dare the tender flow'rets show
Their bosoms to th' uncertain glow.

Why then, in sad and wintry time,
Her heavens all dark with doubt and crime,
Why lifts the Church her drooping head,
As though her evil hour were fled?
Is she less wise than leaves of spring,
Or birds that cower with folded wing?
What sees she in this lowering sky
To tempt her meditative eye?

She has a charm, a word of fire,
A pledge of love that cannot tire;
By tempests, earthquakes, and by wars,
By rushing waves and falling stars,

By every sign her Lord foretold,
She sees the world is waxing old,*
And through that last and direst storm
Descries by faith her Saviour's form.
Not surer does each tender gem,
Set in the fig tree's polished stem,
Foreshow the summer season bland,
Than these dread signs thy mighty hand:
But oh! frail hearts, and spirits dark!
The season's flight unwarn'd we mark,
But miss the Judge behind the door,t
For all the light of sacred lore:‡

Yet is He there: beneath our eaves
Each sound his wakeful ear receives:
Hush, idle words, and thoughts of ill,
Your Lord is listening; peace, be still.§
Christ watches by a Christian's hearth,
Be silent, "vain deluding mirth,"
Till in thine alter'd voice be known
Somewhat of resignation's tone.
But chiefly ye should lift your gaze
Above the world's uncertain haze,
And look with calm unwavering eye
On the bright fields beyond the sky,
Ye, who your Lord's commission bear,
His way of mercy to prepare :
Angels He calls
To lead on earth an Angel's life.

you; be

your

strife

*The world hath lost his youth, and the times begin to wax old. 2 Esdras xiv. 10.

I See St. James v. 9.

[Notwithstanding all the light of Scripture.]

§ Ita fabulantur, ut qui sciant Dominum audire. Tertull. Apolog. p. 36, edit. Rigalt.

[Angels, from the Greek term, meaning messengers or apostles.

Think not of rest; though dreams be sweet,
Start up, and ply your heavenward feet.
Is not God's oath upon your head,
Ne'er to sink back on slothful bed,
Never again your loins untie,

Nor let your torches waste and die,
Till, when the shadows thickest fall,
Ye hear your Master's midnight call!

THIRD SUNDAY IN ADVENT.

THE TRAVELLERS.

What went ye out into the wilderness to see? a reed shaken with the wind? But what went ye out for to see? a prophet? Yea, I say unto you, and more than a prophet. St. Matt. xi. 7, 8. [Gospel for the Day.]

[O Lord Jesus Christ, who, at thy first coming, didst send thy messenger to prepare thy way before thee; grant that the ministers and stewards of thy mysteries may likewise so prepare and make ready thy way, by turning the hearts of the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, that, at thy second coming to judge the world, we may be found an acceptable people in thy sight, who livest and reignest with the Father and the Holy Spirit, ever one God, world without end. Amen.]

WHAT went you out to see
O'er the rude sandy lea,

Where stately Jordan flows by many a palm,
Or where Gennesaret's wave

Delights the flowers to lave,

That o'er her western slope breathe airs of balm ?

All through the summer night,

Those blossoms red and bright*

* Rhododendrons: with which the western bank of the lake is said to be clothed down to the water's edge.

Spread their soft breasts, unheeding, to the breeze,
Like hermits watching still

Around the sacred hill,

Where erst our Saviour watch'd upon his knees.

The Paschal moon above
Seems like a saint to rove,

Left shining in the world with Christ alone;
Below, the lake's still face
Sleeps sweetly in the embrace

Of mountains terrac'd high with mossy stone.

Here may we sit and dream
Over the heavenly theme,

Till to our soul the former days return;
Till on the grassy bed,*

Where thousands once he fed,
The world's incarnate Maker we discern.

O cross no more the main,
Wandering so wild and vain,

To count the reeds that tremble in the wind,
On listless dalliance bound,

Like children gazing round,

Who on God's works no seal of Godhead find;

Bask not in courtly bower,
Or sun-bright hall of power,

Pass Babel quick, and seek the holy land;

From robes of Tyrian dye

Turn with undazzled

eye

*["Now there was much grass in this place." St. John vi. 10.]