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She too, in earlier purer days,

Had watch'd Thee gleaming faint and far—
But wandering in self-chosen ways
She lost Thee quite, thou lovely star.
Yet had her Father's finger turn'd
To Thee her first inquiring glance:
The deeper shame within her burn'd,
When waken'd from her wilful trance.
Behold, her wisest throng thy gate,

Their richest, sweetest, purest store,
(Yet own'd too worthless and too late)
They lavish on Thy cottage-floor.
They give their best-O tenfold shame
On us their fallen progeny,

Who sacrifice the blind and lamet―
Who will not wake‡ or fast with Thee!

No weepings of the incense tree
Are with the gifts we bring,

No odorous myrrh of Araby

Blends with our offering.

But still our love would bring its best,
A spirit keenly tried

By fierce affliction's fiery test,

And seven times purified:

The fragrant graces of the mind,
The virtues that delight

To give their perfume out, will find
Acceptance in thy sight.

* The Patriarchal Church.

Rev. William Croswell.]

↑ Malachi, i. 8.

["What, could ye not watch with me one hour?" St. Matthew,

xxvi. 40.

FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY."

THE NIGHTINGALE.

They shall spring up as among the grass, as willows by the water-courses. Isaiah, xliv. 4. [First Morning Lesson.]

[O Lord, we beseech thee mercifully to receive the prayers of thy people who call upon thee; and grant that they may both perceive and know what things they ought to do, and also may have grace and power faithfully to fulfil the same, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.]

*

LESSONS sweet of spring returning,*
Welcome to the thoughtful heart!
May I call ye sense or learning,
Instinct pure, or heav'n-taught art?
Be your title what it may,
Sweet and lengthening April day,
While with you the soul is free,
Ranging wild o'er hill and lea.
Soft as Memnon's harp at morning,
To the inward ear devout,

["When we write of the dawn of the year, of the new races of birds and of blossoms that are all around us springing into life, our utmost efforts can give but one enjoyment to the reader. But he who goes out to observe, has pleasure in every way that it can come, and health along with it. The beauty of the flowers and their fragrance, the elegant forms and varied tints of the birds, their bustling activity and sprightly conduct, and the music of their songs; the sportive gambols of the young animals, and the tender solicitude that is shown for them by the old, and all that is, and all that occurs in the earth, the waters and the air, is a constant creation,-a daily, nay, an hourly springing up of new worlds: and he who lives one spring in the open air, may watch the whole progress of a hundred generations. Nature is then ' voice all over,' and whether she speaks to one of the senses, or to them all, she always speaks instruction."

Mudie's British Naturalist.]

Touch'd by light, with heavenly warning
Your transporting chords ring out.
Every leaf in every nook,

Every wave in every brook,
Chanting with a solemn voice,
Minds us of our better choice.

Needs no show of mountain hoary,
Winding shore or deepening glen,
Where the landscape in its glory

Teaches truth to wandering men:
Give true hearts but earth and sky,
And some flowers to bloom and die,-*
Homely scenes and simple views
Lowly thoughts may best infuse.

See the soft green willow springing
Where the waters gently pass,
Every way her free arms flinging
O'er the moss and reedy grass.
Long ere winter blasts are fled,
See her tipp'd with vernal red,
And her kindly flower display'd
Ere her leaf can cast a shade.

*["Come quietly away with me, and we will walk up and down the narrow path, by the sweet-brier hedge; and we will listen to the low song of the blackbird, and the fresh air will cool our aching brows, and we shall find comfort. To these things, fresh air, and the bird's song, and the fragrance of the lowly flowers, God has given a blessing; like sleep, they are his medicines, balm of sweet minds!' We will walk to and fro under the shade of these elms, and we will be calm; bitter recollections shall be made sweet by the thought of his mercies; and in the midst of the sorrows we have in our hearts, his comforts shall refresh our souls; and our minds shall be stored with many thoughts, sweet, like the perfume of these flowers."-Scenes in our Parish..

Though the rudest hand assail her,
Patiently she droops awhile,

But when showers and breezes hail her,
Wears again her willing smile.
Thus I learn Contentment's power
From the slighted willow bower,
Ready to give thanks and live
On the least that Heaven may give.

If, the quiet brooklet leaving,
Up the stony vale I wind,
Haply half in fancy grieving
For the shades I leave behind,
By the dusty wayside drear,
Nightingales with joyous cheer
Sing, my sadness to reprove,
Gladlier than in cultur'd grove.

Where the thickest boughs are twining
Of the greenest, darkest tree,
There they plunge, the light declining-
All may hear, but none may see.
Fearless of the passing hoof,,
Hardly will they fleet aloof;
So they live in modest ways,
Trust entire, and ceaseless praise.

SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.

THE SECRET OF PERPETUAL YOUTH.

Every man at the beginning doth set forth good wine, and when men have well drunk, then that which is worse: but thou hast kept the good wine until now. St. John ii. 10. [Gospel for the Day.]

[Almighty and everlasting God, who dost govern all things in heaven and earth; mercifully hear the supplications of thy people, and grant us thy peace all the days of our life, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.]

THE heart of childhood is all mirth:

We frolic to and fro

As free and blithe, as if on earth
Were no such thing as wo.

But if indeed with reckless faith
We trust the flattering voice,
Which whispers, "Take thy fill ere death;
Indulge thee and rejoice"

Too surely, every setting day,

Some lost delight we mourn,

The flowers all die along our way,
Till we, too, die forlorn.

Such is the world's gay garish feast,
In her first charming bowl
Infusing all that fires the breast,

And cheats th' unstable soul.

And still, as loud the revel swells,
The fever'd pulse beats higher,
Till the sear'd taste from foulest wells
Is fain to slake its fire.

Unlike the feast of heavenly love
Spread at the Saviour's word

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