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So shall the healing Name be known
By thee on many a heathen shore,

And Naaman on his chariot throne
Wait humbly by Elisha's door.

By thee desponding lepers know
The sacred water's sevenfold might,

Then wherefore sink in listless woe?

Christ's poor and needy claim your right.

Your heavenly right to do and bear
All for His sake; nor yield one sigh

To pining doubt; nor ask "What care
In the wide world for such as I?"

y. Keble



The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold,
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the

sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen, Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath

blown, That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown. For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed on the face of the foe as he pass'd, And the eyes of the sleeper waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still.

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpets unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord.

Lord Byron



O, happy is the man who hears
Instruction's warning voice,

And who celestial wisdom makes
His early, only choice.

For she has treasures, greater far
Than east or west unfold,

And her reward is more secure
Than is the gain of gold.

In her right hand, she holds to view

A length of happy years;
And in her left, the prize of fame,

And honour bright appears.

She guides the young with innocence,

In pleasure's path to tread;
A crown of glory she bestows

Upon the hoary head.

According as her labours rise,

So her rewards increase;
Her ways are ways of pleasantness,

And all her paths are peace.

J. Logan


Chap. III. 17, 18.

Yet though the fig-tree should no burden bear,
Though vines delude the promise of the year;
Yet though the olive should not yield her oil,
Nor the parch'd glebe reward the peasant's toil;
Though the tired ox beneath his labours fall,
And herds in millions perish from the stall!

Yet shall my grateful strings

For ever praise Thy name,

For ever Thee proclaim The everlasting God, the mighty King of Kings.




Thou canst accomplish all things, Lord of might:
And every thought is naked to Thy sight.
But O, Thy ways are wonderful, and lie
Beyond the deepest reach of mortal eye.
Oft have I heard of Thine Almighty power,
But never saw Thee till this dreadful hour.
O'erwhelm'd with shame, the Lord of life I see,
Abhor myself, and give my soul to Thee.
Nor shall my weakness tempt Thine anger more;
Man is not made to question, but adore.

E. Young

LXIX THE WATERS OF BABYLON But on before me swept the moonlit stream That had entranced me with his memories, A thousand battles, and one burst of Psalms— Rolling his waters to the Indian sea Beyond Balsara, and Elana far, Nigh to two thousand miles from Ararat. And his full music took a finer tone, And sang me something of a gentler stream That rolls for ever to another shore, Whereof our God Himself is the sole sea, And Christ's dear love the pulsing of the tide, And His sweet Spirit is the breathing wind. Something it chanted, too, of exiled men, On the sad bank of that strange river, Life, Hanging the harp of their deep heart-desires

To rest upon the willow of the Cross,

And longing for the everlasting hills,

Mount Sion, and Jerusalem of God.

And then I thought I knelt, and kneeling heard

Nothing—save only the long wash of waves,

And one sweet Psalm that sobb'd for evermore.

IV. Alexander



It came upon the midnight clear,

That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth

To touch their harps of gold:
"Peace to the earth, goodwill to men

From Heaven's all-gracious King :"
The world in solemn stillness lay

To hear the angels sing.

Still through the cloven sky they come

With peaceful wings unfurl'd;
And still their heavenly music floats

O'er all the weary world:
Above its sad and lowly plains

They bend on heavenly wing,
And ever o'er its Babel sounds

The blessed angels sing.

Yet with the woes of sin and strife
The world has suffer'd long;

Beneath the angel strain have rolled
Two thousand years of wrong;

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