11.

PUNISHMENT.

"They shall accept of the punishment of their iniquity."

THE Scourge in hand of God or Man
Full deeply tries the secret soul.

Yon dark-eyed maid, her bearing scan;
The tear that from beneath her quivering eyelids stole,

The shade, that hangs e'en now

Upon her wistful brow,

It comes not all of shame or pain,

But she with pitying heart full fain

Would twice the penance burthen bear,

Might she the chastening arm, so lov'd and loving,

spare.

So have I mark'd some faithful hound,
Recall'd by look and voice severe,

Come conscious of his broken bound,

And lowly cast him down as in remorseful fear,
One of the teachers true

Commission'd to imbue

Our dull hard hearts with heavenly skill,
With heavenly love our proud cold will.

How seems he penance to implore,

Patient in woe decreed, and humbly seeking more !

He who of old at Caiaphas' door
Denied th' eternal Holy One,-

In words denied, but own'd in store
Of penitential tears-why made he restless moan,
When the forgiving Eye

Had beam'd on him so nigh,

And thrice, for his denials three,

The Lord had said, My Shepherd be?

Yet were his waking thoughts self-blame,
And ever with cock-crowing tearful memory came.

For should the soul that loves indeed

Stoop o'er the edge of deadly sin,

And e'er so lightly taste its meed,—

Though wonder-working grace might heal the wound

within,

Yet may the scar and stain

To the last fire remain,

And Love will mourn them : loyal Love

Will for the Holy Friend above

Lament in reverent sympathy,

Feeling upon her heart the griev'd and gracious Eye.

Alas for sullen souls, that turn

Keen wholesome airs to poison blight! Touch'd with Heaven's rod, in ire they burn, Or in dim anguish writhe: beside them in its might

The saving Cross we rear,

They neither love nor fear;

Each from his own unblessed tree

The five dread wounds unmov'd they see

O hard of heart!-and scornful say,

"Saviour, if such thou be, come chase our pangs

away."

Th' impenitent would still abate

His pain, the mourner still enhance.—

O Lord, I know my sin is great,

I would not hide away from thee in heartless trance; When penal lightnings glare,

O give me grace, to bear

My sinful bosom to the blast

Nor, when the judgment hour is past,

Bask on in warmth of worldly ease,

But hold to the wrong'd Cross on worn and aching knees.

M

12.

PENANCE.

"If we would judge ourselves, we should not be judged."

THOU, who with eye too sad and wan

Dost on the memory gaze
Of evil days,

Open thy casement, moody man,
Look out into the midnight air,
And taste the gushing fragrance there,
Drink of the balm the soft winds bear

From dewy nook and flowery maze :

They rise and fall, they come and go,
With touch ethereal whispering low

Of grace to penitential woe,

And of the soothing hand that Love on Conscience lays.

How welcome, in the sweet still hour,

Falls on the weary heart,

Listening apart,

Each rustling note from breeze and bower;