O then the glory and the bliss,
When all that pained or seemed amiss
Shall melt with earth and sin away!
When saints beneath their Saviour’s eye,
Filled with each other’s company,
Shall spend in love th’ eternal day!
St. Philip and St. James.
Let the brother of low degree rejoice in that he is exalted: but the rich in that he is made low. St. James i. 9. 10.
Dear is the morning gale of spring,
And dear th’ autumnal eve;
But few delights can summer bring
A Poet’s crown to weave.
Her bowers are mute, her fountains dry,
And ever Fancy’s wing
Speed’s from beneath her cloudless sky
To autumn or to spring.
Sweet is the infant’s waking smile,
And sweet the old man’s rest—
But middle age by no fond wile,
No soothing calm is blest.
Still in the world’s hot restless gleam
She plies her weary task,
While vainly for some pleasant dream
Her wandering glances ask.—
O shame upon thee, listless heart,
So sad a sigh to heave,
As if thy Saviour had no part
In thoughts, that make thee grieve.
As if along His lonesome way
He had not borne for thee
Sad languors through the summer day,
Storms on the wintry sea.
Youth’s lightning flash of joy secure
Passed seldom o’er His spright,—
A well of serious thought and pure.
Too deep for earthly light.