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Because none ever saw so clear

The shore beyond of endless bliss:
The giddy waves so restless hurl'❜d,
The vex'd pulse of this feverish world,
He views and counts with steady sight,
Used to behold the Infinite.

But that in such communion high
He hath a fount of strength within,
Sure His meek heart would break and die,
O'erburthen'd by his brethren's sin ;
Weak eyes on darkness dare not gaze,
It dazzles like the noon-day blaze;
But He who sees God's face may brook
On the true face of Sin to look.

What then shall wretched sinners do,
When in their last, their hopeless day,

Sin, as it is, shall meet their view,

God turn his face for aye away?

Lord, by thy sad and earnest eye,

When Thou didst look to heaven and sigh;
Thy voice, that with a word could chase
The dumb, deaf spirit from his place;

As thou hast touch'd our ears, and taught
Our tongues to speak thy praises plain,
Quell thou each thankless godless thought

That would make fast our bonds again.
From worldly strife, from mirth unblest,
Drowning thy music in the breast,

From foul reproach, from thrilling fears,
Preserve, good Lord, thy servants' ears.

From idle words, that restless throng,

And haunt our hearts when we would pray, From pride's false chime, and jarring wrong, Seal thou my lips, and guard the way: For Thou hast sworn, that every ear, Willing or loth, thy trump shall hear, And every tongue unchained be

To own no hope, no God, but Thee.

THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER

TRINITY.

And he turned him unto his disciples, and said privately, Blessed are the eyes which see the things that ye see: for I tell you, that many prophets and kings have desired to see those things which ye see, and have not seen them and to hear those things which ye hear, and have not heard them. St. Luke x. 23, 24.

ON Sinai's top, in prayer and trance,
Full forty nights and forty days
The Prophet watch'd for one dear glance
Of Thee and of thy ways:

Fasting he watch'd and all alone,

Wrapt in a still, dark, solid cloud,

The curtain of the Holy One

Drawn round him like a shroud:

So, separate from the world, his breast
Might duly take and strongly keep
The print of Heaven, to be express'd
Ere long on Sion's steep.

There one by one his spirit saw,

Of things divine the shadows bright,
The pageant of God's perfect law;
Yet felt not full delight.

Through gold and gems, a dazzling maze,
From veil to veil the vision led,
And ended, where unearthly rays
From o'er the Ark were shed.

Yet not that gorgeous place, nor aught
Of human or angelic frame,

Could half appease his craving thought;
The void was still the same.

"Shew me thy glory, gracious Lord!

""Tis Thee," he cries, "not thine, I. seek!."—

* See that thou make all things according to the pattern shewed to thee

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Nay, start not at so bold a word
From man, frail worm and weak :

The spark of his first deathless fire
Yet buoys him up, and high above
The holiest creature, dares aspire
To the Creator's love.

The eye in smiles may wander round,

Caught by earth's shadows as they fleet;

But for the soul no help is found,

Save Him, who made it, meet.

Spite of yourselves, ye witness this",
Who blindly self or sense adore;
Else wherefore leaving your own bliss
Still restless ask ye more?

This witness bore the saints of old

When highest rapt and favour'd most,

Still seeking precious things untold,
Not in fruition lost.

in Pensees de Pascal, part 1. art. viii.

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