Till once again at Angel's warning Heaven-gates shall part as clouds of morning, His glory where young hearts adore : There is Heaven's Light; there, if true Pastors be, Are eyes, the Light to see. 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. Ever as earth's wild war-cries heighten, Till on the very scorner's gaze Break forth the Heaven-reflecting rays, Strange awful charms the unwilling eye compel On the Saints' Light to dwell. Yes strive, thou world, in thy rash tyrant mood, To slake that burning Cross in blood :— It will but brighter burn, As martyr's eyes near and more near discern Where on the Father's right hand burning, Deigns to be seen in that last strife, And angels hail, approaching to the shore, 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? O hope, for prayer too bold and thrilling, To mar or damp the angelic flame ! To draw His soldiers backward from the Cross! Woe and eternal loss! 14. 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 the fire, so shall it be in the end of this world."-St. Matt. iii. 12.-xiii. 40. THE Lord, th' All-gracious, hides not all His Ire : 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 distant word Thine the undying worm, th' unquenched flame. Therefore Thy duteous Spouse, our Mother dear, 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 shew The smoke aye glaring o'er th' abode of ill; Though guileless hearts, even in their vernal glow, Hear now and then her thunders, and are still. Might the calm smile, that on the infant's brow Fear's chastening Angel here with me to dwell? |