SAINT.
O love the Lord, all ye his saints: for the Lord preserveth the faithful.—Psalm xxxi. 23.
O fear the Lord, ye his saints; for there is no want to them that fear him.—Psalm xxxiv. 9.
Giving thanks unto the Father, which hath made us meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light.—Colossians, i. 12.
If but one sun with his diffusive fires,
Can fill the stars and the whole world with light,
And joy and light into each heart inspires:
And every saint shall shine in heaven as bright;
As doth the sun in his transcendant might;
(As faith may well believe what truth once says)
What shall so many sun’s united rays
But dazzle all the eyes that now in heaven we praise?
Here let my Lord hang up his conquering lance,
And bloody armour with late slaughter warm;
And looking down on his weak militants,
Behold his saints amidst their hot alarm,
Hang all their golden hopes upon his arm;
And on this lower field when straying wide
Through Satan’s wiles, who would their sails misguide,
Anchor their fleshly ships fast in his wounded side.
Giles Fletcher.
What are these arrayed in white,
Brighter than the noonday sun?
Foremost of the sons of light,
Nearest the eternal throne?
These are they that bore the cross,
Nobly for their master stood;
Sufferers in his righteous cause,
Followers of the dying God.
Out of great distress they came,
Wash’d their robes by faith below
In the blood of yonder Lamb,
Blood that washes white as snow,
Therefore are they next the throne,
Serve their Maker day and night:
God resides among his own,
God doth in his saints delight.
De Courcy.
A Saint! Oh, would that I could claim
The privileged, the honour’d name,
And confidently take my stand,
Though lowest in the saintly band.
Would, though it were in scorn applied
That term the test of truth could bide!
Like kingly salutation given,
In mockery to the king of Heaven.
A saint? and what imports the name
Thus banded in derision’s game?
“Holy and separate from sin;
To good, nay even to God akin.”
How shall the name of saint be prized,
Though now neglected and despised,
And sinners to their doom be hurled,
When scorned saints shall “judge the world.”
Marriot.
From saint to saint the world around
Celestial odours are diffused;
Sweet thoughts are born on hallow’d ground,
Where holy men have mused.
And none can tell how many springs
Flow to sustain one soul serene;
But every hour some tribute brings
From sources quiet and unseen.
The loneliest pilgrim in the ways
Is never in his prayers alone;
But every one for thousands prays,
And thousands pray for every one.
We dwell with shadows round us here,
And nought is bright but heaven above:
When all our secret friends appear,
How many shall we know and love!
Yet, as we learn the mystery,
Around One holy fount we fall,
And, in the light eternal, see
That God is all in all.
J. Gostick.