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But into keen enduring flame
It may not burst, till heavenly Love Have o'er it spread, in Christ's dear Name,
The pinions of His brooding Dove.
Now steal once more across the lawn,
Stoop gently through the cypress bough, And mark which way life's feeble dawn
Works in their little hearts, and how.
Still close and closer, as you pry,
They nestle 'neath their mother's plume, Or with a faint forlorn half-cry,
Shivering bewail her empty room.
Or haply, as the branches wave,
The little round of tender bills Is raised, the due repast to crave Of her who all their
Hast thou no wisdom here to learn,
Thou nestling of the Holy Dove,
Live by the pulse of filial love ?
When sorrow comes to thy calm nest,
Early or late, as come it will, Think of yon brood, yon downy breast,
And hide thee deep in Jesus' will.
By morning and by evening moan,
As doves beneath the cedar spray, Make thou thy fearful longings known To Him who is not far
Him Cherub-borne in royal state,
The food of His Elect to be, With eager lip do thou await,
And veiled brow, and trembling knee.
So underneath the warm bright wing,
The hidden grace of thy new birth Shall gather might to soar and sing,
Where'er He bids, in heaven or earth.
THE MOTHER BIRD WITH HER YOUNG.
“ How often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not !”
The Lord who lends His creatures all
A tongue to preach His will—
From the green Eastern hill.
The little children waiting by
Wondered to see Him weep.
Rode down the shady steep.
Thy little heart, so wild and weak,
Perhaps is musing now,
Sure I should keep my vow.”
The Mother Bird with her Young.
Nay, in that hour He thought on thee,
And left a token sure,
And keep thee kind and pure.
Look how the Hen invites her brood
Beneath her wing to lie,
eager, dauntless mood, The wheeling hawk on high.
So would thy Lord His pinions spread
Around thee, night and day,
The spoiler scare away.
But be thou gathered :-one and all
Those simple nestlings see,
In faith entire they flee.
“ They looked steadfastly toward Heaven, as He went up."
The shepherd boy lies on the hill
At noon with upward eye ; Deep on his gaze and deeper still
Ascends the clear blue sky.
You pass him by, and deem perchance
He lies but half awake,
His soul may sport or ache.
Full wakeful he, both eye and heart,
For he a cloud hath seen Into that waste of air depart,
As bark in ocean green.