SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

I desire that ye faint not at my tribulations for you, which is your glory. Ephesians iii. 13.

WISH not, dear friends, my pain away-
Wish me a wise and thankful heart,
With God, in all my griefs, to stay,
Nor from His lov'd correction start.

The dearest offering He can crave
His portion in our souls to prove,
What is it to the gift He gave,

The only Son of His dear love?

But we, like vex'd unquiet sprights,
Will still be hovering o'er the tomb,
Where buried lie our vain delights,

Nor sweetly take a sinner's doom.

In Life's long sickness evermore

Our thoughts are tossing to and fro: We change our posture o'er and o'er, But cannot rest, nor cheat our woe.

Were it not better to lie still,

Let Him strike home and bless the rod,

Never so safe as when our will

Yields undiscern'd by all but God?

Thy precious things, whate'er they be

That haunt and vex thee, heart and brain,

Look to the Cross, and thou shalt see

How thou may'st turn them all to gain.

Lovest thou praise? the Cross is shame :
Or ease? the Cross is bitter grief:
More pangs than tongue or heart can frame
Were suffer'd there without relief.

We of that altar would partake,

But cannot quit the cost-no throne Is ours, to leave for Thy dear sake— We cannot do as Thou hast done.

We cannot part with Heaven for Thee-
Yet guide us in thy track of love:
Let us gaze on where light should be,
Though not a beam the clouds remove.

So wanderers ever fond and true

Look homeward through the evening sky, Without a streak of heaven's soft blue To aid Affection's dreaming eye.

The wanderer seeks his native bower,

And we will look and long for Thee, And thank thee for each trying hour,

Wishing, not struggling, to be free.

SEVENTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER

TRINITY.

Every man of the house of Israel that setteth up his idols in his heart, and putteth the stumbling-block of his iniquity before his face, and cometh to the Prophet, I the Lord will answer him according to the multitude of his idols. Ezekiel xiv. 4.

STATELY thy walls, and holy are the prayers,
Which day and night before thine altars rise;
Not statelier, towering o'er her marble stairs,
Flash'd Sion's gilded dome to summer skies,
Not holier, while around him angels bow'd,
From Aaron's censer steam'd the spicy cloud,

Before the mercy-seat.

O Mother dear,

Wilt thou forgive thy son one boding sigh? Forgive, if round thy towers he walk in fear,

And tell thy jewels o'er with jealous eye?

Mindful of that sad vision, which in thought " From Chebar's plains the captive prophet brought

To see lost Sion's shame. 'Twas morning prime,
And like a Queen new seated on her throne,
GOD's crowned mountain, as in happier time,
Seem'd to rejoice in sunshine all her own;
So bright, while all in shade around her lay,
Her northern pinnacles had caught th' emerging ray.

The dazzling lines of her majestic roof

Cross'd with as free a span the vault of Heaven,

As when twelve tribes knelt silently aloof,

Ere GOD his answer to their king had given",

Ere yet upon the new-built altar fell

The glory of the LORD, the Lord of Israel.

All seems the same: but enter in and see

What idol shapes are on the wall pourtray'd°: And watch their shameless and unholy glee,

Who worship there in Aaron's robes array'd: Hear Judah's maids the dirge to Thammuz pour", And mark her chiefs yon orient sun adore.

m Ezekiel viii, 3.
P Ezekiel viii. 14.

n 1 Kings viii. 5. 9 Ezekiel viii. 16.

• Ezekiel viii. 10.