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And since we see, and not afar,
Why linger, till Elijah’s car
Ye heralds seal'd
In camp or field
Where is the love the Baptist taught,
The much-enduring wisdom, sought
Who counts it gain d
His light should wane,
Thou Spirit who the Church didst lend Her eagle wings, to shelter in the wilde,
We pray thee, ere the Judge descend, With flames like these, all bright and undefild,
Her watchfires light,
To guide aright
d St. John iii. 30. He must increase, but I must decrease. e Revelations xii, 14.
So glorious let thy Pastors shine,
First filial duty, then divine,
And ready prove
In fires of love,
f Malachi iv. 6. He shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers.
St. Luke i. 17. To turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just; to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.
ST. PETER'S DAY.
When Herod would have brought him out, the same night Peter was sleeping. Acts xii. 6.
THOU thrice denied, yet thrice belov'de,
Watch by thine own forgiven friend;
Let his soul love thee to the end.
The prayer is heard-else why so deep
His slumber on the eve of death?
As one who drew celestial breath ?
He loves and is belov'd again,
Can his soul choose but be at rest ?
Dares not invade the guarded nest.
6 St. John xxi. 15, 16, 17.
He dearly loves, and not alone :
For his wing'd 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 seal'd 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 ru'd 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,
h St. Luke xxii, ol.
When to the bosom of his friend,
The Shepherd, He whose name is Good, Did His dear lambs and sheep commend,
Both bought and nourish'd with His blood :
Then laid on him th' inverted tree,
Which firm embrac'd 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 thro' th' 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 chang'd- the Tyrant's voice
Calls to that last of glorious deedsBut as he rises to rejoice,
Not Herod but an Angel leads.