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II.

ERE yet I left home's youthful shrine,
My heart and hope were stored
Where first I caught the rays divine,
And drank the Eternal Word.

I went afar; the world unrolled
Her many-pictured page;

I stored the marvels which she told,
And trusted to her gage.

Her pleasures quaff'd, I sought awhile
The scenes I prized before;

But parent's praise and sister's smile
Stirred my cold heart no more.

So ever sear, so ever cloy

Earth's favours as they fade;

Since Adam lost for one fierce joy

His Eden's sacred shade.

d.

III.

My home is now a thousand mile away;
Yet in my thoughts its every image fair
Rises as keen, as I still lingered there,
And, turning me, could all I loved survey.
And so upon Death's unaverted day,

As I speed upward, I shall on me bear,

And in no breathless whirl, the things that were, And duties given, and ends I did obey.

And, when at length I reach the Throne of Power,

Ah! still unscared, I shall in fulness see

The vision of my past innumerous deeds,
My deep heart-courses, and their motive-seeds,
So to gaze on till the red dooming hour.
Lord! in that strait, the Judge! remember me!

δ.

IV.

How can I keep my Christmas feast
In its due festive show,

Reft of the sight of the High Priest
From whom its glories flow?

I hear the tuneful bells around,
The blessed towers I see;
A stranger on a foreign ground,
They peal a fast for me.

O Britons! now so brave and high,

How will ye weep the day

When CHRIST in judgment passes by,

And calls the Bride away!

Your Christmas then will lose its mirth,
Your Easter lose its bloom :-

Abroad, a scene of strife and dearth;

Within, a cheerless home!

δ.

V.

BANISHED the House of sacred rest,
Amid a thoughtless throng,

At length I heard its Creed confessed,
And knelt the Saints among.

Artless his strain and unadorned,

Who spoke CHRIST's message there; But what at home I might have scorned, Now charmed my famished ear.

LORD, grant me this abiding grace,
Thy Word and Sons to know;
To pierce the veil on Moses' face,

Although his speech be slow!

8.

REMORSE.

VI.

SHAME.

I BEAR upon my brow the sign
Of sorrow and of pain:

Alas! no hopeful cross is mine,

It is the mark of Cain.

The course of passion, and the fret

Of godless hope and fear,

Toil, care, and guilt,-their hues have set,
And fixed that sternness there.

Saviour! wash out the imprinted shame ;

That I no more may pine,

Sin's martyr, though not meet to claim

Thy cross, a saint of Thine.

d.

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