صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني

Thine, BAPTIST, was the cry,

In ages long gone by,
Heard in clear accents by the prophet's ear;

As if 't were thine to wait,

And with imperial state Herald some eastern monarch's proud career; Who thus might march his host in full array, And speed through trackless wilds his unresisted

way.

But other task hadst thou

Than lofty hills to bow,. Make straight the crooked, the rough places plain.

Thine was the harder part

To smooth the human heart, The wilderness where sin had fixed his reign ; To make deceit his mazy wiles forego, Bring down high-vaulting pride, and lay ambition

low.

Such, Baptist, was thy care,

That no obstruction there Might check the progress of the King of kings ;

But that a clear highway

Might welcome the array Of heavenly graces which his presence brings ; And where repentance had prepared the road, There faith might enter in, and love to man and God.

BP. Mart.

SAINT PETER'S DAY.

JUNE 29.

Collect. O Almighty God, who by thy Son Jesus Christ didst give to thy apostle Saint Peter many excellent gifts, and commandedst him earnestly to feed thy flock; make, we beseech thee, all pastors diligently to preach thy holy word, and the people obediently to follow the same, that they may receive the crown of everlasting glory, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

HYMN.

Lord! when thy PETER, weak in faith,

By terror too severely tried,
Failed in thine hour of threatened death,

And thee forsook, and thee denied ;-
When thrice his ear the challenge heard,

And thrice his tongue renounced thy name, And each sad time the recreant word

More loud and more impassioned came ; — One look from thee his fault reproved,

And made his slumbering conscience start ; One look from thee, so dearly loved,

Spoke daggers to his bleeding heart;

And sent him forth a prey to grief,

Unbeeded all his former fears, To seek in solitude relief

From bitter and repentant tears.

Lord! when by human frailty led,
We

e pass thy gracious warning by, Prone as we are awry to tread,

And thee forsake, and thee deny ;

Grant us to feel the keen rebuke,

By conscience, faithful guardian, sent, As if we saw thy pitying look,

When on thy frail Apostle bent.

That pitying look! O may it melt

Our hearts in penitential showers !
May Peter's grief by us be felt,
And O! be his forgiveness ours !

Bp. Mant.

ANOTHER.

When Herod would have brought him out, the same night Peter was sleeping. Acts xii. 6.

Thou thrice denied, yet thrice beloved,

Watch by thine own forgiven friend;
In sharpest perils faithful proved,

Let his soul love thee to the end.

The prayer is heard else why so deep

His slumber on the eve of death? And wherefore smiles be in his sleep

As one who drew celestial breath?

He loves and is beloved again –

Can his soul choose but be at rest? Sorrow hath fled away, and Pain

Dares not invade the guarded nest.

He dearly loves, and not alone:

For his winged thoughts are soaring high Where never yet frail heart was known

To breathe in vain affection's sigh.

He loves and weeps - but more than tears

Have sealed thy welcome and his loveOne look lives in him, and endears Crosses and wrongs where'er he rove:

That gracious chiding look, Thy call

To win him to himself and Thee, Sweetening the sorrow of his fall,

Which else were rued too bitterly.

Even through the veil of sleep it shines,

The memory of that kindly glance; The Angel watching by divines

And spares awhile his blissful trance.

Or haply to his native lake

His vision wafts him back, to talk With Jesus, ere his flight he take,

As in that solemn evening walk,

When to the bošom of his friend,

The Shepherd, He whose name is Good, Did His dear lambs and sheep commend,

Both bought and nourished with His blood:

Then laid on him the inverted tree,

Which firm embraced with heart and arm, Might cast o'er hope and memory,

O’er life and death, its awful charm.

With brightening heart-he bears it on,

His passport through the eternal gates, To his sweet home so nearly won,

He seems, as by the door he waits,

The unexpressive notes to hear

Of angel song and angel motion, Rising and falling on the ear

Like waves in Joy's unbounded ocean.

His dream is changed - the Tyrant's voice

Calls to that last of glorious deeds But as he rises to rejoice,

Not Herod but an Angel leads.

« السابقةمتابعة »