So with Thee till life shall end
I would solemn vigil spend ;
Let me hew Thee, Lord, a shrine
In this rocky heart of mine,
Where in pure embalmèd cell
None but Thou may'st ever dwell.

Myrrh and spices I will bring,
My poor affection's offering,

Close the door from sight and sound

Of the busy world around,

And in patient watch remain

Till my Lord appear again.

Then, the new creation done,
Shall be Thy endless rest begun;
Jesu, keep me safe from sin,
That I with them may enter in,

And danger past, and toil at end,
To Thy resting-place ascend.

LVIII

SLEEPING ON THE WATERS

HILE snows, even from the mild south-west,

WHILE

Come blinding o'er all day,

What kindlier home, what safer nest
For flower or fragrant spray,
Than underneath some cottage roof,
Where fires are bright within,
And fretting cares scowl far aloof,
And doors are closed on sin?

The scarlet tufts so cheerily
Look out upon the snow,
But gayer smiles the maiden eye

Whose garden care they know.
The buds that in that nook are born,
Through the dark howling day

Old Winter's spite they laugh to scorn :-
Who is so safe as they?

Nay, look again, beside the hearth

The lowly cradle mark,

Where, weary with his ten hours' mirth,
Sleeps in his own warm ark

A bright-haired babe, with arm upraised
As though the slumberous dew

Stole o'er him, while in faith he gazed
Upon his guardian true.

Storms may rush in, and crimes and woes
Deform the quiet bower;

They may not mar the deep repose
Of that immortal flower.

Though only broken hearts be found
To watch his cradle by,

No blight is on his slumbers sound,
No touch of harmful eye.

So gently slumbered on the wave
The new-born seer of old,
Ordained the chosen tribes to save;
Nor deemed how darkly rolled
The waters by his rushy bark,
Perchance e'en now defiled
With infant's blood for Israel's sake,
Blood of some priestly child.

What recks he of his mother's tears,
His sister's boding sigh?

The whispering reeds are all he hears,
And Nile, soft weltering nigh,
Sings him to sleep, but he will wake,
And o'er the haughty flood

Wave his stern rod; and lo! a lake,

A restless sea of blood!

Soon shall a mightier flood thy call
And outstretched rod obey;
To right and left the watery wall
From Israel shrinks away.
Such honor wins the faith that gave
Thee, and thy sweetest boon
Of infant charms to the rude wave,

In the third joyous moon.

Hail, chosen type and image true
Of Jesus on the sea!

In slumber and in glory too
Shadowed of old by Thee,

Save that in calmness thou didst sleep

The summer stream beside; He on a wider, wilder deep,

Where boding night-winds sighed.

Sighed when at eve He laid Him down, But with a sound like flame

At midnight from the mountain's crown
Upon His slumbers came.

Lo, how they watch, till He awake,
Around His rude low bed;

How wistful count the waves that break
So near His sacred head.

O, faithless! know ye not of old

How in the western bay, When dark and vast the billows rolled, A prophet slumbering lay? The surges smote the keel as fast

As thunderbolts from heaven, Himself into the wave he cast,

And hope and life were given.

Behold a mightier far is here;
Nor will He spare to leap,
For the soul's sake He loves so dear,

Into a wilder deep.

E'en now He dreams of Calvary;

Soon will He wake, and say

The words of peace and might: Do ye

His hour in calmness stay.

7. Keble

66

H

LIX

THE DESTROYING ANGEL

E stopped at last,

And a mild look of sacred pity cast Down on the sinful land where he was sent

T' inflict the tardy punishment.

66

"Ah! yet," said he, yet, stubborn king, repent,

Whilst thus unarmed I stand,

Ere the keen sword of God fill my commanded hand; Suffer but yet thyself and thine to live :

Who would, alas! believe

That it for man," said he,

'So hard to be forgiven should be,

And yet for God so easy to forgive!"

Through Egypt's wicked land his march he took,
And as he marched the sacred firstborn strook
Of every womb: none did he spare,

None, from the meanest beast to Pharaoh's purple heir.

Whilst health and strength and gladness doth possess
The festal Hebrew cottages;

The blest destroyer comes not there
To interrupt the sacred cheer:

Upon their doors he read, and understood

God's protection writ in blood;

Well was he skilled i' the character divine;
And though he passed by it in haste,
He bowed and worshipped, as he passed,
The mighty mystery through its humble sign.

A. Cowley