Lo, a sinner, timid stranger, Stranger to the Lord our God, Seeks, in consciousness of danger, Where to leave sin's awful load. He to the Temple now is come, Bow'd in dread beside the door; His pallid lips, behold, are dumb; He smites his bosom, dares no more. Ah, distress'd one, smite thee there In _that_ temple, God is near. G. XI. _[In] obolum viduae._ Marc. xii. 44. Gutta brevis nummi, vitae patrona senilis, E digitis stillat non dubitantis anus; Istis multa vagi spumant de gurgite census: Isti abjecerunt scilicet; illa dedit. Κερματίοιο βραχεῖα ῥανὶς, βιότοιο τ' ἀφαυρῆς Ἕρκος, ἀποστάζει χειρὸς ἀπὸ τρομερᾶς. Τοῖς δὲ ἀνασκιρτᾷ πολὺς ἀφρὸς ἀναιδέος ὄλβου. οἱ μὲν ἀπέῤῥιπτον· κεῖνα δέδωκε μόνον. _The widow's mites._ Two mites, two drops--yet all her house and land-- Falle from a steady heart though trembling hand: The others' wanton wealth foams high and brave. The other cast away; she only gave. CR. XII. _Maria vero assidens ad pedes ejus audiebat eum._ Luc. x. 39. Aspice, namque novum est, ut ab hospite pendeat hospes! Hinc ori parat, hoc sumit ab ore cibos. Tune epulis adeo es, soror, officiosa juvandis, Et sinis has, inquit, Martha, perire dapes? _Mary, which also sat at Jesus' feet, and heard His word._ Behold, a new thing here--host hanging on her Guest! Preparing for His mouth, His mouth's words are her feast! O Martha sister, spare thy labour and thy cost: Tending the food that perisheth, diviner food is lost. G. XIII. _In Spiritus Sancti descensum._ Act. ii. Ferte sinus, ô, ferte: cadit vindemia cœli, Sanctaque ab aethereis volvitur uva jugis. Felices nimium, queis tam bona musta bibuntur; In quorum gremium lucida pergit hiems! En caput, en ut nectareo micat et micat astro; Gaudet et in roseis viva corona comis. Illis, ô Superi, quis sic neget ebrius esse? Illis, ne titubent, dant sua vina faces. _The descent of the Holy Spirit._ Bear, O bosoms, bear ye what Heaven's vintage showers, Sacred clusters pouring from ethereal bowers. Too happy, surely, ye who drink of wine so good; It comes into your bosoms a sparkling, cooling flood. Behold, with nectar'd star each head is shining, shining; Around your purpl'd locks a crown of life entwining. O Spirit of all flesh, to drink who'd be denied, Since Thou, lest they should falter, mak'st wine a torch to guide? G. XIV. _Congestis omnibus peregre profectus est._ Luc. xv. 13. Dic mihi, quo tantos properas, puer auree, nummos? Quorsum festinae conglomerantur opes? Cur tibi tota vagos ructans patrimonia census? Non poterunt siliquae nempe minoris emi? ON THE PRODIGALL. _The younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far country._