LXIV. FOURTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. And Jesus answering said, Were there not ten cleansed? but where are the nine? There are not found that returned to give glory to God, save this stranger. St. Lue xvii. 17, 18. TEN cleans'd, and only one remain! Who would have thought our nature's stain Even He who reads the heart, Knows what He gave and what we lost, By a short pang of wonder cross'd Yet 'twas not wonder, but His love Then from afar on God we cry; But should the mist of woe roll by, Faster than those false drops and few A woe for future years? Spirits, that round the sick man's bed Watch'd, noting down each prayer he made, Were your unerring roll display'd, His pride of health to' abase; Or, when soft showers in season fall Answering a famish'd nation's call, Should unseen fingers on the wall Our vows forgotten trace; How should we gaze in trance of fear! From heaven upon that scroll severe, "Ten cleans'd and one remain !" Nor surer would the blessing prove Than by Thy placid voice and brow, With healing first, with comfort now, Turn'd upon him, who hastes to bow Before thee, heart and knee; "Oh! thou, who only would'st be blest, "On thee alone my blessing rest! Rise, go thy way, in peace, possess'd "For evermore of me." LXV. FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow. St. Matt. vi. 28. SWEET nurslings of the vernal skies, To fill the heart's fond view? Relics ye are of Eden's bowers, Fall'n all beside-the world of life, How is it stain'd with fear and strife! In Reason's world what storms are rife, What passions range and glare! But cheerful and unchang'd the while Ye dwell beside our paths and homes, Our paths of sin, our homes of sorrow, And guilty man, where'er he roams, Your innocent mirth may borrow. The birds of air before us fleet, They cannot brook our shame to meetBut we may taste your solace sweet And come again to-morrow. Ye fearless in your nests abide Nor may we scorn, too proudly wise, |