Then, poor and orphan'd though I prove, Yet would I praise Thee, Lord, and love, And learn of Mary's spotless Dove, With moanings meek, And soft wing gliding high above, Holy Seasons and Days. 335 6. LENT. "Sanctify a fast..gather the children, and those that suck the breasts." 'TIS said, the immortal Powers on high Might envy Saints on earth, for they can die; They for their Lord may suffer loss ; Those but adore, these taste, the healing Cross. One gift we have, one token more than thou, With choice of heart beneath the Saviour's yoke to bow. No deep of joy to thee is lost From Christmas, Easter, or bright Pentecost: No memory-cloud in air, to dim The unfolding heavens, or mar the Seraphs' hymn. The gladsome days are thine: to us are sent The kindly waters from the heavens above, Our portion in Christ's awful year, Not thine, is Lent: and yet He calls thee near. Come with thy pure white robe, and kneel to-day How keen the fires must burn Of the dread Spirit, purging contrite hearts Oft have we mark'd thy wistful eye Fix'd upon ours when evil news came nigh, As who should say, "My dreams are bright, "Why should the cloud of woe on thee alight ?" Then sweeter grew thy smile, thy soft caress Would closer seem to press, And for the woe, to thee yet unreveal'd, Pure balm of kindly hope thou didst unknowing yield. |