Yet turn thee, son of man—for worse than these Thou must behold: thy loathing were but lost On dead men’s crimes, and Jews’ idolatries— Come, learn to tell aright thine own sins’ cost,— And sure their sin as far from equals thine, As earthly hopes abused are less than hopes divine. What if within His world, His Church, our LORD Have entered thee, as in some temple gate, Where, looking round, each glance might thee afford Some glorious earnest of thine high estate, And thou, false heart and frail, hast turned from all To worship pleasure’s shadow on the wall? If, when the LORD of Glory was in sight, Thou turn thy back upon that fountain clear, To bow before the “little drop of light,” Which dim-eyed men call praise and glory here; What dost thou, but adore the sun, and scorn Him at whose only word both sun and stars were born? If, while around thee gales from Eden breathe, Thou hide thine eyes, to make thy peevish moan Over some broken reed of earth beneath, Some darling of blind fancy dead and gone, As wisely might’st thou in JEHOVAH’S fane Offer thy love and tears to Thammuz slain. Turn thee from these, or dare not to inquire Of Him whose name is Jealous, lest in wrath He hear and answer thine unblest desire: Far better we should cross His lightning’s path Than be according to our idols beard, And God should take us at our own vain word. Thou who hast deigned the Christian’s heart to call Thy Church and Shrine; whene’er our rebel will Would in that chosen home of Thine instal Belial or Mammon, grant us not the ill We blindly ask; in very love refuse Whate’er Thou knowest our weakness would abuse. Or rather help us, LORD, to choose the good, To pray for nought, to seek to none, but Thee, Nor by “our daily bread” mean common food, Nor say, “From this world’s evil set us free;” Teach us to love, with CHRIST, our sole true bliss, Else, though in CHRIST’S own words, we surely pray amiss. Eighteenth Sunday after Trinity. I will bring you into the wilderness of the people, and there will I plead with you face to face. Like as pleaded with your fathers in the wilderness of the land of Egypt, so will I plead with you, saith the Lord God. _Ezekiel_ xx. 35, 36. IT is so—ope thine eyes, and see— What viewest thou all around? A desert, where iniquity And knowledge both abound. In the waste howling wilderness The Church is wandering still, Because we would not onward press When close to Sion’s hill. Back to the world we faithless turned, And far along the wild, With labour lost and sorrow earned, Our steps have been beguiled. Yet full before us, all the while, The shadowing pillar stays, The living waters brightly smile, The eternal turrets blaze,