And strove in filial love to reunite
What force had severed. Thence they fetched the seed
Of Christian unity, and won a meed
Of praise from Heaven. To Thee, O saintly WHITE,
Patriarch of a wide-spreading family,
Remotest lands and unborn times shall turn,
Whether they would restore or build,
- to thee, As one who rightly taught how zeal should burn, As one who drew from out Faith's holiest urn The purest stream of patient Energy.
BISHOPS and Priests, blessèd are ye, if deep, (As yours above all offices is high,)
Deep in your hearts the sense of duty lie; Charged as ye are by Christ to feed and keep From wolves your portion of his chosen sheep: Laboring as ever in your Master's sight, Making your hardest task your best delight, What perfect glory ye in Heaven shall reap! — But, in the solemn Office which ye sought And undertook premonished, if unsound Your practice prove, faithless though but in thought, Bishops and Priests, think what a gulf profound Awaits you then, if they were rightly taught Who framed the Ordinance by your lives disowned!
As star that shines dependent upon star Is to the sky while we look up in love; As to the deep fair ships, which though they move Seem fixed, to eyes that watch them from afar; As to the sandy desert fountains are, With palm-groves shaded at wide intervals, Whose fruit around the sun-burnt Native falls Of roving tired or desultory war,—
Such to this British Isle her Christian Fanes, Each linked to each for kindred services;
Her Spires, her Steeple-towers with glittering
Far-kenned, her Chapels lurking among trees, Where a few villagers on bended knees Find solace which a busy world disdains.
PASTORAL CHARACTER.
A GENIAL hearth, a hospitable board, And a refined rusticity, belong
To the neat mansion, where, his flock among, The learned Pastor dwells, their watchful Lord. Though meek and patient as a sheathed sword; Though pride's least lurking thought appear a wrong
To human kind; though peace be on his tongue Gentleness in his heart,
Such genuine state, preeminence so free, As when, arrayed in Christ's authority, He from the pulpit lifts his awful hand; Conjures, implores, and labors all he can For resubjecting to divine command The stubborn spirit of rebellious man?
YES, if the intensities of hope and fear Attract us still, and passionate exercise Of lofty thoughts, the way before us lies Distinct with signs, through which in set career, As through a zodiac, moves the ritual year Of England's Church; stupendous mysteries! Which whoso travels in her bosom eyes, As he approaches them, with solemn cheer. Upon that circle traced from sacred story We only dare to cast a transient glance, Trusting in hope that others may advance With mind intent upon the King of Glory, From his mild advent till his countenance Shall dissipate the seas and mountains hoary.
DEAR be the Church, that, watching o'er the needs Of Infancy, provides a timely shower, Whose virtue changes to a Christian Flower
A Growth from sinful Nature's bed of weeds! Fitliest beneath the sacred roof proceeds The ministration; while parental Love Looks on, and Grace descendeth from above As the high service pledges now, now pleads. There, should vain thoughts outspread their wings. and fly
To meet the coming hours of festal mirth,
The tombs - which hear and answer that brief cry,
The Infant's notice of his second birth
Recall the wandering Soul to sympathy
With what man hopes from Heaven, yet fears from Earth.
FATHER! to God himself we cannot give A holier name! then lightly do not bear Both names conjoined, but of thy spiritual care Be duly mindful: still more sensitive
Do thou, in truth a second Mother, strive
Against disheartening custom, that by thee Watched, and with love and pious industry Tended at need, the adopted Plant may thrive For everlasting bloom. Benign and pure This Ordinance, whether loss it would supply, Prevent omission, help deficiency,
Or seek to make assurance doubly sure. Shame if the consecrated Vow be found An idle form, the Word an empty sound!
FROM Little down to Least, in due degree, Around the Pastor, each in new-wrought vest, Each with a vernal posy at his breast, We stood, a trembling, earnest Company! With low, soft murmur, like a distant bee, Some spake, by thought-perplexing fears betrayed; And some a bold, unerring answer made: How fluttered then thy anxious heart for me. Beloved Mother! Thou whose happy hand IIad bound the flowers I wore, with faithful tie: Sweet flowers! at whose inaudible command Her countenance, phantom-like, doth reappear: O lost too early for the frequent tear, And ill requited by this heartfelt sigh!
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