If with thy heart the strains accord, That on His altar-throne

Highest exalt thy glorious Lord,

Yet leave Him most thine own;

O come to our Communion Feast:
There present in the heart,
Not in the hands, th' eternal Priest
Will his true self impart.-

Thus, should thy soul misgiving turn Back to th' enchanted air,

Solace and warning thou may'st learn

From all that tempts thee there.

And O! by all the pangs

and fears

Fraternal spirits know,

When for an elder's shame the tears Of wakeful anguish flow,

Speak gently of our sister's fall:

Who knows but gentle love

May win her at our patient call
The surer way to prove?
B b

KING CHARLES THE MARTYR.

1 St. Peter ii. 19. This is thankworthy, if a man for conscience towards God endure grief, suffering wrongfully.

PRAISE to our pardoning God! though silent now
The thunders of the deep prophetic sky,
Though in our sight no powers of darkness bow
Before th' Apostles' glorious company;

The Martyrs' noble army still is ours,

Far in the North our fallen days have seen How in her woe the tenderest spirit towers, For Jesus' sake in agony serene.

Praise to our God! not cottage hearths alone,

And shades impervious to the proud world's glare,

Such witness yield: a monarch from his throne
Springs to his Cross and finds his glory there.

Yes: wheresoe'er one trace of thee is found,

As in the Sacred Land, the shadows fall:
With beating hearts we roam the haunted ground,
Lone battle field, or crumbling prison hall.

And there are aching solitary breasts,

Whose widow'd walk with thought of thee is cheer'd, Our own, our royal Saint: thy memory rests On many a prayer, the more for thee endear'd.

True son of our dear Mother, early taught
With her to worship and for her to die,
Nurs'd in her aisles to more than kingly thought,
Oft in her solemn hours we dream thee nigh.

For thou didst love to trace her daily lore,
And where we look for comfort or for calm,
Over the self-same lines to bend, and pour
Thy heart with hers in some victorious psalm.

And well did she thy loyal love repay;

When all forsook, her Angels still were nigh,

Chain'd and bereft, and on thy funeral way,

Straight to the Cross she turn'd thy dying eye".

And yearly now, before the Martyrs' King,
For thee she offers her maternal tears,
Calls us, like thee, to His dear feet to cling,
And bury in His wounds our earthly fears.

The Angels hear, and there is mirth in Heaven,
Fit prelude of the joy, when spirits won
Like thee to patient Faith, shall rise forgiven,

And at their Saviour's knees thy bright example own.

d His Majesty then bade him (Mr. Herbert) withdraw; for he was about an hour in private with the Bishop (Juxon): and being called in, the Bishop went to prayer; and reading also the 27th chapter of the Gospel of St. Matthew, which relateth the passion of our Blessed Saviour. The King, after the service was done, asked the Bishop, if he had made choice of that chapter, being so applicable to his present condition? The Bishop replied, "May it please your Gracious Majesty, it is the proper lesson for the day, as appears by the Kalendar;" which the King was much affected with, so aptly serving as a seasonable preparation for his death that day. Herbert's Memoirs, p. 131.

THE RESTORATION OF THE

ROYAL FAMILY.

2 Sam. xix. 34. And Barzillai said unto the King, How long have I to live, that I should go up with the King unto Jerusalem ?

AS when the Paschal week is o'er,
Sleeps in the silent aisles no more
The breath of sacred song,
But by the rising Saviour's light
Awaken'd soars in airy flight,

Or deepening rolls along;

The while round altar, niche, and shrine,
The funeral evergreens entwine,

And a dark brilliance cast,

The brighter for their hues of gloom,

e The organ is silent in many Churches during Passion week and in some it is the custom to put up evergreen boughs at Easter as well as at Christmas time.