Till once again at Angels' warning Heaven-gates shall part as clouds of morning, His glory where young hearts adore : And what if there some favoured one should kneel, Whom in His time the Lord will seal, High in the Mount to draw Light uncorrupt from His pure fontal Law, The lustre keen within him glowing, As Moses veil'd the Sinai rays ?— Blest, who so shines and blest the thoughtful few, Who see that brightness true. Wouldst thou the tide of grace should higher flow, The angelic ray more glorious show? Wait for His trial hour, His willing Saints in His dread day of Power. The Saints' Infancy. Ever as earth's wild war-cries heighten, Break forth the Heaven-reflecting rays, Yes-strive, thou world, in thy rash tyrant-mood, To slake that burning Cross in blood : It will but brighter burn, · As martyrs' eyes near and more near discern The Saviour, felt, not seen, in life, Deigns to be seen in that last strife, And Angels hail, approaching to the shore, Rays like their own, and more. Who knows but maiden mild or smiling boy, Our own entrusted care and joy, By His electing grace May with His martyrs find their glorious place? 71 O hope, for prayer too bold and thrilling, O woe and wrong, O tenfold shame, To mar or damp the angelic flame ! To draw His soldiers backward from the Cross! Woe and eternal loss ! Cradle Songs. 73 15. THE CRADLE GUARDED. "Whose fan is in his hand, and he will thoroughly purge his floor, and gather his wheat into the garner; but he will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire." "As therefore the tares are gathered, and burned in fire, so shall it be in the end of this world." THE Lord, th' All-gracious, hides not all His Ire : Startling rude eyes, and shaming lawless mirth. Even in the joy of Harvest, see, His Brand His Angels and His Saints cry out, How long? These are Thy tokens, all-redeeming Lord! Where, but of Thee, learn'd we aright to name The last dire prison? Thine the dismal word, Thine the undying worm, th' unquenched flame. Therefore Thy duteous Spouse, our Mother dear, Tuning her love-notes to the Father's voice, The strain Love taught her, she in love repeats.— When with unwonted joy her King she greets, With His own threatenings she would fence His bower. Call it not stern, though to her Babes she show Might the calm smile, that on the infant's brow Fear's chastening Angel here with me to dwell? |