"What wouldst Thou have me do, O Lord ?" Rise, little child, and onward go, song, "What wouldst Thou have me do, O Lord ?" So whispering, Saul with prostrate brow The persecuted One adored, So breathed his earliest Christian vow. Stern the reply:-to fast alone, And in the darkness make his moan. Ere with the Christians he might pray. "What wouldst Thou have me do, O Lord ?" Think, little child-thy conscience try, Rebellious deed and idle word, And selfish thought and envious eye : Hast thou no mark of these? and yet With patience take thy little share. 5. CONFESSION. "And they heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day: and Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God amongst the trees of the garden." DIDST thou not hear how soft the day-wind sighed, Then died away, then rose and moaned anew? Sure if aright our morning prayers were said, We in those tones the Almighty's unseen walk Shall hear, nor vainly shun the Presence dread, Which comes in mercy with our souls to talk. "Where art thou, child of earth?" He seems to say, 66 Why hide so deep from Love's all-seeing eye?"— "I heard and feared, for I have sinned to-day." "What? know'st thou not the Almighty One was by? "Think'st thou to lurk in yonder wavering boughs, Where even these earthly sunbeams glide and steal. Nay, speed thee forth while yet high grace allows, Lay bare thy wounds to Him who waits to heal. "They only rankle in th' unwholesome shade ; But sun and air have soothing power, and He Yearns to forgive, when hearts are lowly laid. Even now behold His robe prepared for thee. "These fluttering leaves the more unveil thy shame. Fall humbly down, and hide thine eyes in dust: He will upraise thee, for His own great Name, His penance garb will make and show thee just." 6. TELL THY MOTHER. "Ye are not straitened in us, but ye are straitened in your own bowels." WEARY Soul and burthened sore, Fear not all thy grief to pour Think not all is hidden quite : Mothers' ears are keen to hear, I with boding anguish read Half your tale ere ye begin : Bitter drops in heart I bleed, Penance for your shame and sin. |