Then grudge not thou the anguish keen Which makes thee like thy LORD, And learn to quit with eye serene Thy youth’s ideal hoard. Thy treasured hopes and raptures high— Unmurmuring let them go, Nor grieve the bliss should quickly fly Which CHRIST disdained to know. Thou shalt have joy in sadness soon; The pure, calm hope be thine, Which brightens, like the eastern moon, As day’s wild lights decline. Thus souls, by nature pitched too high, By sufferings plunged too low, Meet in the Church’s middle sky, Half way ’twixt joy and woe, To practise there the soothing lay That sorrow best relieves; Thankful for all God takes away, Humbled by all He glass. St. Barnabas. The sea of consolation, a Levite. _Acts_ iv. 36. THE world’s a room of sickness, where each heart Knows its own anguish and unrest; The truest wisdom there, and noblest art, Is his, who skills of comfort best; Whom by the softest step and gentlest tone Enfeebled spirits own, And love to raise the languid eye, When, like an angel’s wing, they feel him fleeting by:— _Feel_ only—for in silence gently gliding Fain would he shun both ear and sight, ’Twixt Prayer and watchful Love his heart dividing, A nursing-father day and night. Such were the tender arms, where cradled lay, In her sweet natal day, The Church of JESUS; such the love He to His chosen taught for His dear widowed Dove. Warmed underneath the Comforter’s safe wing They spread th’ endearing warmth around: Mourners, speed here your broken hearts to bring, Here healing dews and balms abound: Here are soft hands that cannot bless in vain, By trial taught your pain: Here loving hearts, that daily know The heavenly consolations they on you bestow. Sweet thoughts are theirs, that breathe serenest calms, Of holy offerings timely paid, Of fire from heaven to bless their votive alms And passions on GOD’S altar laid. The world to them is closed, and now they shine With rays of love divine, Through darkest nooks of this dull earth Pouring, in showery times, their glow of “quiet mirth.” New hearts before their Saviour’s feet to lay, This is their first, their dearest joy: Their next from heart to heart to clear the way For mutual love without alloy: Never so blest as when in JESUS’ roll They write some hero-soul, More pleased upon his brightening road To wait, than if their own with all his radiance glowed.