The Christian Year Part 30

"The child-like faith, that asks not sight, Waits not for wonder or for sign, Believes, because it loves, aright- Shall see things greater, things divine.

"Heaven to that gaze shall open wide, And brightest angels to and fro On messages of love shall glide 'Twixt G.o.d above and Christ below."

So still the guileless man is blest, To him all crooked paths are straight, Him on his way to endless rest Fresh, ever-growing strengths await.

G.o.d's witnesses, a glorious host, Compa.s.s him daily like a cloud; Martyrs and seers, the saved and lost, Mercies and judgments cry aloud.

Yet shall to him the still small voice, That first into his bosom found A way, and fixed his wavering choice, Nearest and dearest ever sound.

St. Matthew.

And after these things He went forth, and saw a publican, named Levi, sitting at the receipt of custom: and He said unto him, Follow Me.

And he left all, rose up, and followed Him. _St. Luke_ v. 27, 28.

YE hermits blest, ye holy maids, The nearest Heaven on earth, Who talk with G.o.d in shadowy glades, Free from rude care and mirth; To whom some viewless teacher brings The secret lore of rural things, The moral of each fleeting cloud and gale, The whispers from above, that haunt the twilight vale:

Say, when in pity ye have gazed On the wreathed smoke afar, That o'er some town, like mist upraised, Hung hiding sun and star, Then as ye turned your weary eye To the green earth and open sky, Were ye not fain to doubt how Faith could dwell Amid that dreary glare, in this world's citadel?

But Love's a flower that will not die For lack of leafy screen, And Christian Hope can cheer the eye That ne'er saw vernal green; Then be ye sure that Love can bless E'en in this crowded loneliness, Where ever-moving myriads seem to say, Go-thou art naught to us, nor we to thee-away!

There are in this loud stunning tide Of human care and crime, With whom the melodies abide Of th' everlasting chime; Who carry music in their heart Through dusky lane and wrangling mart, Plying their daily task with busier feet, Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat.

How sweet to them, in such brief rest As thronging cares afford, In thought to wander, fancy-blest, To where their gracious Lord, In vain, to win proud Pharisees, Spake, and was heard by fell disease- But not in vain, beside yon breezy lake, Bade the meek Publican his gainful seat forsake:

At once he rose, and left his gold; His treasure and his heart Transferred, where he shall safe behold Earth and her idols part; While he beside his endless store Shall sit, and floods unceasing pour Of Christ's true riches o'er all time and s.p.a.ce, First angel of His Church, first steward of His Grace.

Nor can ye not delight to think Where He vouchsafed to eat, How the Most Holy did not shrink From touch of sinner's meat; What worldly hearts and hearts impure Went with Him through the rich man's door, That we might learn of Him lost souls to love, And view His least and worst with hope to meet above.

These gracious lines shed Gospel light On Mammon's gloomiest cells, As on some city's cheerless night The tide of sunrise swells, Till tower, and dome, and bridge-way proud Are mantled with a golden cloud, And to wise hearts this certain hope us given; "No mist that man may raise, shall hide the eye of Heaven."

And oh! if e'en on Babel shine Such gleams of Paradise, Should not their peace be peace divine, Who day by day arise To look on clearer heavens, and scan The work of G.o.d untouch'd by man?

Shame on us, who about us Babel bear, And live in Paradise, as if G.o.d was not there!

St. Michael and All Angels.

Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation? _Hebrews_ i. 14.

YE stars that round the Sun of righteousness In glorious order roll, With harps for ever strung, ready to bless G.o.d for each rescued soul, Ye eagle spirits, that build in light divine, Oh! think of us to-day, Faint warblers of this earth, that would combine Our trembling notes with your accepted lay.

Your amarant wreaths were earned; and homeward all, Flush'd with victorious might, Ye might have sped to keep high festival, And revel in the light; But meeting us, weak worldlings, on our way, Tired ere the fight begun, Ye turned to help us in th' unequal fray, Remembering Whose we were, how dearly won:

Remembering Bethlehem, and that glorious night When ye, who used to soar Diverse along all s.p.a.ce in fiery flight, Came thronging to adore Your G.o.d new-born, and made a sinner's child; As if the stars should leave Their stations in the far ethereal wild, And round the sun a radiant circle weave.

Nor less your lay of triumph greeted fair Our Champion and your King, In that first strife, whence Satan in despair Sunk down on scathed wing: Abuse He fasted, and alone He fought; But when His toils were o'er, Ye to the sacred Hermit duteous brought Banquet and hymn, your Eden's festal store.

Ye too, when lowest in th' abyss of woe He plunged to save His sheep, Were leaning from your golden thrones to know The secrets of that deep: But clouds were on His sorrow: one alone His agonising call Summoned from Heaven, to still that bitterest groan, And comfort Him, the Comforter of all.

Oh! highest favoured of all Spirits create (If right of thee we deem), How didst thou glide on brightening wing elate To meet th' unclouded beam Of Jesus from the couch of darkness rising!

How swelled thine anthem's sound, With fear and mightier joy weak hearts surprising, "Your G.o.d is risen, and may not here be found!"

Pa.s.s a few days, and this dull darkling globe Must yield Him from her sight;- Brighter and brighter streams His glory-robe, And He is lost in light.

Then, when through yonder everlasting arch, Ye in innumerous choir Poured, heralding Messiah's conquering march, Lingered around His skirts two forms of fire:

With us they stayed, high warning to impart; "The Christ shall come again E'en as He goes; with the same human heart, With the same G.o.dlike train."- Oh! jealous G.o.d! how could a sinner dare Think on that dreadful day, But that with all Thy wounds Thou wilt be there, And all our angel friends to bring Thee on Thy way?

Since to Thy little ones is given such grace, That they who nearest stand Alway to G.o.d in Heaven, and see His face, Go forth at His command, To wait around our path in weal or woe, As erst upon our King, Set Thy baptismal seal upon our brow, And waft us heavenward with enfolding wing:

Grant. Lord, that when around th' expiring world Our seraph guardians wait, While on her death-bed, ere to ruin hurled, She owns Thee, all too late, They to their charge may turn, and thankful see Thy mark upon us still; Then all together rise, and reign with Thee, And all their holy joy o'er contrite hearts fulfil!

St. Luke.

Luke, the beloved physician, and Demas, greet you. _Colossians_ iv.

14.

Demas hath forsaken me, having loved this present world . . . Only Luke is with me. 2 _Timothy_ iv. 10, 11.

TWO clouds before the summer gale In equal race fleet o'er the sky: Two flowers, when wintry blasts a.s.sail, Together pins, together die.

But two capricious human hearts- No sage's rod may track their ways.

No eye pursue their lawless starts Along their wild self-chosen maze.

He only, by whose sovereign hand E'en sinners for the evil day Were made-who rules the world He planned, Turning our worst His own good way;

He only can the cause reveal, Why, at the same fond bosom fed, Taught in the self-same lap to kneel Till the same prayer were duly said,

Brothers in blood and nurture too, Aliens in heart so oft should prove; One lose, the other keep, Heaven's clue; One dwell in wrath, and one in love.

He only knows-for He can read The mystery of the wicked heart- Why vainly oft our arrows speed When aimed with most unerring art;

While from some rude and powerless arm A random shaft in season sent Shall light upon some lurking harm, And work some wonder little meant.

Doubt we, how souls so wanton change, Leaving their own experienced rest?

Need not around the world to range; One narrow cell may teach us best.

Look in, and see Christ's chosen saint In triumph wear his Christ-like chain; No fear lest he should swerve or faint; "His life is Christ, his death is gain."

Two converts, watching by his side, Alike his love and greetings share; Luke the beloved, the sick soul's guide, And Demas, named in faltering prayer.

Pa.s.s a few years-look in once more- The saint is in his bonds again; Save that his hopes more boldly soar, He and his lot unchanged remain.