Its self-devotion, its delight to seek
Another's good, its ministry to sooth
The hour of pain, come o'er the hermit heart
To claim its bitterest tear.
But that meek Faith,
Which all distrustful of its holiest deeds
So strongly clasp'd a Saviour's feet, when Death
Rang the crush'd heart-strings like a broken harp,
That Hope which shed its seraph-benison
On all who wept around, that smile which left
Heaven's stainless semblance on the breathless clay,
These are the tokens to the soul bereav'd,
To gird itself invincibly, and seek
A deathless union with the parted bride.
CHRISTIAN HOPE.
"If ye then be risen with Christ, seek those things that are from above, where Christ sitteth at the right hand of God. Set your affections on things above; for ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God."—St. Paul.
If with the Lord your hope doth rest,
With Christ who reigns above,
Loose from its bonds your captive breast,
And heavenward point its love.
Yes, heavenward. Ye're of holy birth,
Bid your affections soar
Above the vain delights of Earth
Which fading, bloom no more.
