Unconscious they in waste oblivion lie,

In all the world of busy life around

No thought of them; in all the bounteous sky,
No drop, for them, of kindly influence found.
Man's portion is to die and rise again—

Yet he complains, while these unmurmuring part
With their sweet lives, as pure from sin and stain,
As his when Eden held his virgin heart.
And haply half unblamed his murmuring voice
Might sound in Heaven, were all his second life
Only the first renewed-the heathen's choice,
A round of listless joy and weary strife.
For dreary were this earth, if earth were all,
Tho' brightened oft by dear Affection's kiss ;-
Who for the spangles wears the funeral pall?

But catch a gleam beyond it, and 'tis bliss. Heavy and dull this frame of limbs and heart,

Whether slow creeping on cold earth, or borne On lofty steed, or loftier prow, we dart

O'er wave or field: yet breezes laugh to scorn Our puny speed, and birds, and clouds in heaven, And fish, like living shafts that pierce the main, And stars that shoot through freezing air at evenWho but would follow, might he break his chain? And thou shalt break it soon; the grovelling worm Shall find his wings, and soar as fast and free As his transfigured Lord with lightning form

And snowy vest-such grace He won for thee. When from the grave He sprang at dawn of morn, And led through boundless air thy conquering road, Leaving a glorious track, where saints, new-born, Might fearless follow to their blest abode.

But first, by many a stern and fiery blast

The world's rude furnace must thy blood refine,
And many a gale of keenest woe be passed,
Till every pulse beat true to airs divine.

Till every limb obey the mounting soul,
The mounting soul, the call by Jesus given.
He who the stormy heart can so control,

The laggard body soon will waft to Heaven.

VIII.-THE CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL.

"And he fell to the earth, and heard a voice saying unto him, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou Me? And he said, Who art Thou, Lord? And the Lord said, I am Jesus whom thou persecutest.”—Acrs ix. 4, 5.

THE mid-day sun, with fiercest glare,

Broods o'er the hazy twinkling air :
Along the level sand

The palm-tree's shade unwavering lies,
Just as thy towers, Damascus, rise
To greet yon wearied band.

The leader of that martial crew
Seems bent some mighty deed to do,
So steadily he speeds,

With lips firm closed and fixèd eye,
Like warrior when the fight is nigh,
Nor talk nor landscape heeds.

What sudden blaze is round him poured,
As though all Heaven's refulgent hoard
In one rich glory shone?

One moment—and to earth he falls:
What voice his inmost heart appalls?—
Voice heard by him alone.

For to the rest both words and form
Seem lost in lightning and in storm,
While Saul, in wakeful trance,
Sees deep within that dazzling field
His persecuted Lord revealed,

With keen yet pitying glance :

And hears the meek upbraiding call
As gently on his spirit fall,

As if th' Almighty Son

Were prisoner yet in this dark earth,
Nor had proclaimed His royal birth,
Nor His great power begun.

"Ah! wherefore persecut'st thou Me?"
He heard and saw, and sought to free
His strained eyes from the sight:
But Heaven's high magic bound it there,
Still gazing, though untaught to bear
Th' insufferable light.

"Who art Thou, Lord ?" he falters forth :So shall Sin ask of heaven and earth At the last awful day.

"When did we see Thee suffering nigh, And passed Thee with unheeding eye? Great God of judgment, say!"

Ah! little dream our listless eyes
What glorious presence they despise,
While, in our noon of life,

To power or fame we rudely press.-
Christ is at hand, to scorn or bless,
Christ suffers in our strife.

And though heaven's gates long since have closed, And our dear Lord in bliss reposed,

High above mortal ken,

To every ear in every land

(Though meek ears only understand) He speaks as He did then.

"Ah! wherefore persecute ye Me?
'Tis hard, ye so in love should be
With your own endless woe.

Know, though at God's right hand I live,
I feel each wound ye reckless give
To the least saint below.

"I in your care My brethren left,
Not willing ye should be bereft
Of waiting on your Lord.

The meanest offering ye can make-
A drop of water-for love's sake,
In Heaven, be sure, is stored."

O by those gentle tones and dear,
When Thou hast stayed our wild career
Thou only hope of souls,

Ne'er let us cast one look behind,
But in the thought of Jesus find
What every thought controls.

As to Thy last Apostle's heart
Thy lightning glance did then impart
Zeal's never-dying fire,

So teach us on Thy shrine to lay
Our hearts, and let them day by day
Intenser blaze and higher.

And as each mild and winning note
(Like pulses that round harp-strings float
When the full strain is o'er)

Left lingering on his inward ear

Music, that taught, as death drew near,
Love's lesson more and more:

So, as we walk our earthly round,
Still may the echo of that sound
Be in our memory stored :
"Christians! behold your happy state:
Christ is in these, who round you wait,
Make much of your dear Lord!"

IX.-BLESS'D ARE THE PURE IN HEART. (THE PURIFICATION.)

"Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God."-ST. MATTHEW V. 8.

LESS'D are the pure in heart,

The secret of the Lord is theirs,
Their soul is Christ's abode.

Might mortal thought presume
To guess an angel's lay,

Such are the notes that echo through
The courts of Heaven to-day.

Such the triumphal hymns
On Sion's Prince that wait,
In high procession passing on
Towards His temple-gate.