« 上一頁繼續 »
THIRD SUNDAY AFTER
When Jesus heard it, he marvelled, and said to them that followed, Verily I say unto you, I have not found so great faith, no not in Israel. St. Matthew viii. 10.
I MARK'D a rainbow in the north,
It was a gleam to Memory dear,
And as I walk and muse apart,
I would revive it in my heart,
And watch how light can find its way
To regions farthest from the fount of day.
Light flashes in the gloomiest sky,
And Music in the dullest plain,
Over her flat and leafless reign,
And chanting in so blithe a tone,
Brighter than rainbow in the north,
Which on some holy house we mark ;
Dear to the pastor's aching heart
To think, where'er he looks, such gleam may have a part;
May dwell, unseen by all but Heaven,
▾ Lord, I am not worthy that thou shouldest come under my roof. "From the first time that the impressions of religion settled deeply in his mind, he used great caution to conceal it; not only in obedience to the rule given by our Saviour, of fasting, praying, and giving alms in secret, but from a particular distrust he had of himself; for he said he was afraid he
Lest the deep stain it owns within
Break out, and Faith be sham'd by the believer's sin.
In silence and afar they wait,
To find a prayer their Lord
Voice of the poor and desolate,
You best may bring it to his ear.
Your grateful intercessions rise
With more than royal pomp, and pierce the skies.
Happy the soul, whose precious cause
"This is the lover of thy laws,
"The friend of thine in fear and need”
For to the poor thy mercy lends
That solemn style, " thy nation and thy friends."
He too is blest, whose outward eye
The graceful lines of art may trace,
should at some time or other do some enormous thing, which if he were looked on as a very religious man, might cast a reproach on the profession of it, and give great advantages to impious men to blaspheme the name of God." Burnet's Life of Hale, in Wordsworth's Eccl. Biog. vi. 73.
* He loveth our nation.
While his free spirit, soaring high,
Discerns the glorious from the base;
Till out of dust his magic raise
A home for prayer and love, and full harmonious praise,
Where far away and high above,
In maze on maze the tranced sight Strays, mindful of that heavenly love
Which knows no end in depth or height,
While the strong breath of Music seems
What though in poor and humble guise
Yet from thy glory in the skies
Our earthly gold Thou dost not scorn.
For Love delights to bring her best,
And where Love is, that offering evermore is blest.
Love on the Saviour's dying head
Her spikenard drops unblam'd may pour,
y He hath built us a synagogue.
May mount his cross, and wrap him dead
In spices from the golden shore2;
Risen, may embalm his sacred name
With all a Painter's art, and all a Minstrel's flame.
Worthless and lost our offering seem,
Drops in the ocean of his praise ;
But Mercy with her genial beam,
Is ripening them to pearly blaze,
To sparkle in His crown above,
Who welcomes here a child's as there an angel's love.
FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER
When they saw him, they besought him to depart out of their coasts. St. Matthew viii. 34.
THEY know th' Almighty's power,
Who, waken'd by the rushing midnight shower,
To howl and chafe amid the bending trees,
z St. John xii. 7. xix. 30.