“If thou had’st known, e’en thou, At least in this thy day, The message of thy peace! but now ’Tis passed for aye away: Now foes shall trench thee round, And lay thee even with earth, And dash thy children to the ground, Thy glory and thy mirth.” And doth the Saviour weep Over His people’s sin, Because we will not let Him keep The souls He died to win? Ye hearts, that love the Lord, If at this, sight ye burn, See that in thought, in deed, in word, Ye hate what made Him mourn. Eleventh Sunday after Trinity. Is it a time to receive money, and to receive garments, and oliveyards, and vineyards, and sheep, and oxen, and menservants, and maidservants? 2 _Kings_ v. 26. IS this a time to plant and build, Add house to house, and field to field, When round our walls the battle lowers, When mines are hid beneath our towers, And watchful foes are stealing round To search and spoil the holy ground? Is this a time for moonlight dreams Of love and home by mazy streams, For Fancy with her shadowy toys, Aërial hopes and pensive joys, While souls are wandering far and wide, And curses swarm on every side? No—rather steel thy melting heart To act the martyr’s sternest part, To watch, with firm unshrinking eye, Thy darling visions as thy die, Till all bright hopes, and hues of day, Have faded into twilight gray. Yes—let them pass without a sigh, And if the world seem dull and dry, If long and sad thy lonely hours, And winds have rent thy sheltering bowers, Bethink thee what thou art and where, A sinner in a life of care. The fire of God is soon to fall (Thou know’st it) on this earthly ball; Full many a soul, the price of blood, Marked by th’ Almighty’s hand for good, To utter death that hour shall sweep— And will the saints in Heaven dare weep? Then in His wrath shall GOD uproot The trees He set, for lack of fruit, And drown in rude tempestuous blaze The towers His hand had deigned to raise; In silence, ere that storm begin, Count o’er His mercies and thy sin. Pray only that thine aching heart, From visions vain content to part, Strong for Love’s sake its woe to hide May cheerful wait the Cross beside, Too happy if, that dreadful day, Thy life be given thee for a prey. Snatched sudden from th’ avenging rod, Safe in the bosom of thy GOD, How wilt thou then look back, and smile On thoughts that bitterest seemed erewhile, And bless the pangs that made thee see This was no world of rest for thee! Twelfth Sunday after Trinity. And looking up to heaven, He sighed, and saith unto him, Ephphatha, that is, Be opened. _St. Mark_ vii. 34.