But when showers and breezes hail her, Wears again her willing smile. If, the quiet brooklet leaving, Haply half in fancy grieving For the shades I leave behind, By the dusty wayside drear, Where the thickest boughs are twining Of the greenest darkest tree, There they plunge, the light declining— So they live in modest ways, SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. Every man at the beginning doth set forth good wine, and when men have well drunk then that which is worse but thou hast kept the good wine until now. St. John ii. 10. THE heart of childhood is all mirth : We frolic to and fro As free and blithe, as if on earth Were no such thing as woe. But if indeed with reckless faith We trust the flattering voice, Which whispers, "Take thy fill ere death, Too surely, every setting day, Some lost delight we mourn, The flowers all die along our way, Till we, too, die forlorn. Such is the world's gay garish feast, And still, as loud the revel swells, Unlike the feast of heavenly love For souls that hear his call, and prove Why should we fear, youth's draught of joy, Which God hath deign'd to bless ? For, is it Hope, that thrills so keen Still whispering glorious things unseen?— Faith makes the vision plain. The world would kill her soon: but Faith Her daring dreams will cherish, Speeding her gaze o'er time and death To realms where nought can perish. Or is it Love, the dear delight Of hearts that know no`guile, That all around see all things bright With their own magic smile? The silent joy, that sinks so deep, Who, but a Christian, through all life Who, through the world's sad day of strife, Still chant his morning song? Fathers may hate us or forsake, God's foundlings then are we: Mother on child no pity take", But we shall still have Thee. We may look home, and seek in vain. A fond fraternal heart, But Christ hath given his promise plain Nor shall dull age, as worldlings say, The Saviour cannot pass away, Ever the richest tenderest glow Sets round th' autumnal sun— But there sight fails: no heart may know Such is thy banquet, dearest Lord; Our lot with thine, to trust thy word, And keep our best till last. u Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee. Isaiah xlix. 15. |