They give their best-O tenfold shame On us their fallen progeny, Who sacrifice the blind and lame1 Who will not wake or fast with Thee! FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. They shall spring up as among the grass, as willows by the waterIsaiah xliv. 4. courses. LESSONS sweet of spring returning, Welcome to the thoughtful heart ! May I call ye sense or learning, Soft as Memnon's harp at morning, Touch'd by light, with heavenly warning t Malachi i. 8. Every leaf in every nook, Every wave in every brook, Chanting with a solemn voice, Minds us of our better choice. Needs no show of mountain hoary, Winding shore or deepening glen, Where the landscape in its glory Teaches truth to wandering men : Give true hearts but earth and sky, And some flowers to bloom and die,— Homely scenes and simple views Lowly thoughts may best infuse. See the soft green willow springing Though the rudest hand assail her, E But when showers and breezes hail her, Wears again her willing smile. If, the quiet brooklet leaving, Haply half in fancy grieving For the shades I leave behind, By the dusty wayside drear, Where the thickest boughs are twining Of the greenest darkest tree, There they plunge, the light declining— So they live in modest ways, SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. Every man at the beginning doth set forth good wine, and when men have well drunk then that which is worse but thou hast kept the good wine until now. St. John ii. 10. THE heart of childhood is all mirth: We frolic to and fro As free and blithe, as if on earth Were no such thing as woe. But if indeed with reckless faith We trust the flattering voice, 66 Which whispers, " Take thy fill ere death, 66 Indulge thee and rejoice ;” Too surely, every setting day, Some lost delight we mourn, The flowers all die along our way, Till we, too, die forlorn. Such is the world's gay garish feast, And still, as loud the revel swells, Unlike the feast of heavenly love Spread at the Saviour's word For souls that hear his call, and prove Why should we fear, youth's draught of joy, Which God hath deign'd to bless ? For, is it Hope, that thrills so keen |