I sit me down beside the hazel grove, And sigh, and half could wish my weariness were death, Like a bright veering cloud Gray blossoms twinkle there, Warbles around a busy crowd Of larks in purest air. Shame on the heart that dreams of blessings gone, The travail pangs must have their way, To us long since the glorious Child is born, For joy that we have wak'd and found it but a dream. A mother's prime of bliss, O never shall it set, the sacred light Which dawns that moment on her tender gaze, In the eternal distance blending bright Her darling's hope and hers, for love and joy and praise. No need for her to weep Like Thracian wives of yore, Her thankful heart runs o'er. They mourn'd to trust their treasure on the main, Welcome to her the peril and the pain, For well she knows the home where they may safely She joys that one is born Into a world forgiven, Her Father's household to adorn, And dwell with her in heaven. So have I seen, in spring's bewitching hour, When the glad earth is offering all her best, Some gentle maid bend o'er a cherish'd flower, And wish it worthier on a Parent's heart to rest. FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. THE DOVE ON THE CROSS. Nevertheless, I tell you the truth: it is expedient for you that I go away: for if I go not away, the Comforter will not come unto you: but if I depart, I will send him unto you. St. John xvi. 7. [Gospel for the Day.] [O Almighty God, who alone canst order the unruly wills and affections of sinful men; grant unto thy people, that they may love the thing which thou commandest and desire that which thou dost promise; that so, among the sundry and manifold changes of the world, our hearts may surely there be fixed, where true joys are to be found, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.] MY Saviour, can it ever be That I should gain by losing Thee? Though sleep have clos'd her infant's eye, And Thou art more than mother dear; "'Tis good for you, that I should go, When Heaven's bright boundless avenue And homeward to thy Father's throne, 'They track'd Thee up th' abyss of light. Thou bid'st rejoice; they dare not mourn, The splendours of his crowning day, In doubt they wait, but not unblest; What course the genial stream may choose, And to their height of wonder strain, Should make their Saviour's going gain. The days of hope and prayer are past, The everlasting gates again Roll back, and lo! a royal train— *["He who spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?" Romans viii. 32.] From the far depth of light once more To weary swains in parched bower. Swiftly and straight each tongue of flame* On some meek brow, of Jesus blest. In every heart that gives them room, Zeal to inflame, and vice consume. Soft as the plumes of Jesus' Dove Then, fainting soul, arise and sing; Thy God hath said, "Tis good for thee ["There appeared unto them cloven tongues, like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them." Acts i. 3.] To walk by faith and not by sight: Take it on trust a little while; Soon shalt thou read the mystery right The Dove must settle on the Cross, Else we should all sin on or sleep With Christ in sight, turning our gain to loss. FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. ROGATION SUNDAY.* And the Lord was very angry with Aaron to have destroyed him: and I prayed for Aaron also the same time. Deut. ix. 20. [O Lord, from whom all good things do come; grant to us, thy humble servants, that by thy holy inspiration we may think those things that are good, and by thy merciful guiding may perform the same, through our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.] # NOW is there solemn pause in earth and heaven; His bonds hath riven, [Rogation Sunday is that which next precedes Ascension Day. The three intervening days, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, are called Rogation days, from a Latin word signifying to beseech, because for those days extraordinary prayers were provided, especially for a blessing on the fruits of the earth, and for exemption from war and pestilence. They retain their place in the calendar of the Church of England.] |