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So to the end, though now of mortal pangs
Made heir, and emptied of thy glory' awhile,
With unaverted eye

Thou meetest all the storm.

Thou wilt feel all, that Thou may'st pity all;
And rather would'st Thou wrestle with strong pain,
Than overcloud thy soul,

So clear in agony,

Or lose one glimpse of Heaven before the time.
O most entire and perfect sacrifice,

Renew'd in every pulse

That on the tedious Cross

Told the long hours of death, as, one by one,
The life-strings of that tender heart gave way;
Even sinners, taught by Thee,

Look Sorrow in the face,

And bid her freely welcome, unbeguil'd

By false kind solaces, and spells of earth :-
And yet not all unsooth'd;

For when was Joy so dear,

As the deep calm that breath'd, "Father, forgive,"

Or, "Be with me in Paradise to-day?"

And, though the strife be sore,

Yet in His parting breath

Love masters agony; the soul that seem'd
Forsaken, feels her present God again,
And in her Father's arms

Contented dies away.

WEDNESDAY BEFORE EASTER.

Saying, Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: never

theless, not my will, but thine be done. St. Luke xxii. 42.

O LORD my God, do Thou thy holy will-
I will lie still-

I will not stir, lest I forsake thine arm,

And break the charm,

Which lulls me, clinging to my Father's breast,

In perfect rest.

Wild Fancy, peace! thou must not me beguile
With thy false smile:

I know thy flatteries and thy cheating ways;
Be silent, Praise,

Blind guide with siren voice, and blinding all
That hear thy call.

с

Come, Self-devotion, high and pure,
Thoughts that in thankfulness endure,
Though dearest hopes are faithless found,
And dearest hearts are bursting round.
Come, Resignation, spirit meek,
And let me kiss thy placid cheek,

And read in thy pale eye serene

Their blessing, who by faith can wean

Their hearts from sense, and learn to love

God only, and the joys above.

They say, who know the life divine,

And upward gaze with eagle eyne,

That by each golden crown on high,
Rich with celestial jewelry,

....

that little coronet or special reward which God hath prepared (extraordinary and besides the great Crown of all faithful souls) for those

Which for our Lord's redeem'd is set,
There hangs a radiant coronet,

All gemm'd with pure and living light,
Too dazzling for a sinner's sight,
Prepar'd for virgin souls, and them
Who seek the martyr's diadem.

Nor deem, who to that bliss aspire,
Must win their way through blood and fire.
The writhings of a wounded heart

Are fiercer than a foeman's dart.

Oft in Life's stillest shade reclining,

In Desolation unrepining,

Without a hope on earth to find
A mirror in an answering mind,
Meek souls there are, who little dream
Their daily strife an Angel's theme,
Or that the rod they take so calm
Shall prove in Heaven a martyr's palm.

And there are souls that seem to dwell
Above this earth-so rich a spell

"who have not defiled themselves with women, but follow the (virgin) Lamb for ever." Bp. Taylor, Holy Living, c. xi. sect. 3.

Floats round their steps, where'er they move,
From hopes fulfill'd and mutual love.

Such, if on high their thoughts are set,
Nor in the stream the source forget,
If prompt to quit the bliss they know,
Following the Lamb where'er he go,
By purest pleasures unbeguil'd
To idolize or wife or child;

Such wedded souls our God shall own
For faultless virgins round his throne.

Thus every where we find our suffering God,
And where he trod

May set our steps: the Cross on Calvary
Uplifted high

Beams on the martyr host, a beacon light
In open fight.

To the still wrestlings of the lonely heart
He doth impart

The virtue of His midnight agony,

When none was nigh,

Save God and one good angel, to assuage
The tempest's rage.

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