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(For the Sunday before Advent.)
“ Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost.'
O ENDLESS round of Nature's wheel,
The universal spring
But smooth as sea-bird's wing,
And now in Ocean,
Were graceful motion.
*“ Continuo, non vero per saltum."
Such are your changes, Space and Time,
With gentlest intervals
The hues where evening falls.
And bright stars waning
On night is gaining.
Thus or for increase or decay
Nor but by word of man
Summer or Winter's span. And ever onward as we go,
The wide earth rounding, The horizon moves in gentle flow,
Not in harsh bounding.
For why ? the unseen Preserver's law
The creatures in their race,
Is free to wait on Grace :
To their dread ending,
For holy spending.
Thus high may soar the instructed soul, Watching young fingers idly roll
The mimic earth, or trace
Each other circling chase.
What Heaven hath spoken,
So harsh and broken.
His spheres, recede they or advance,
Keep tune and time ; nor e'er
And vernal breezes bear.
Bears, half in sadness,
In that high gladness.
Yes : so it was ere JESUS came.
and died away ; And Silence took her turn with Song, And Solitude with the fair throng
That owned the festal day. For in earth's daily circuit then
One only border Reflected to the Seraph's ken
Heaven's light and order.
But now to the revolving sphere
No waste so dark and lone,
In light beneath the Throne.
From eve to morning,
Praise and adorning.
While on our couch we listless dream,
Yet somewhere in that hour
The unspeakable, pure shower
Even now is winging Its awful way, The Infinite
To meek hearts bringing.