How should we gaze in trance of fear! 
Yet shines the light as thrilling clear
From Heaven upon that scroll severe,
   “Ten cleansed and one remain!”
Nor surer would the blessing prove
Of humbled hearts, that own Thy love,
Should choral welcome from above
   Visit our senses plain: 

Than by Thy placid voice and brow,
With healing first, with comfort now,
Turned upon him, who hastes to bow
   Before Thee, heart and knee;
“Oh! thou, who only wouldst be blest,
On thee alone My blessing rest! 
Rise, go thy way in peace, possessed
   For evermore of Me.”

FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY

Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow.  St. Matthew, vi. 28.

Sweet nurslings of the vernal skies,
   Bathed in soft airs, and fed with dew,
What more than magic in you lies,
   To fill the heart’s fond view? 
In childhood’s sports, companions gay,
In sorrow, on Life’s downward way,
How soothing! in our last decay
   Memorials prompt and true.

Relics ye are of Eden’s bowers,
   As pure, as fragrant, and as fair,
As when ye crowned the sunshine hours
   Of happy wanderers there. 
Fall’n all beside—­the world of life,
How is it stained with fear and strife! 
In Reason’s world what storms are rife,
   What passions range and glare!

But cheerful and unchanged the while
   Your first and perfect form ye show,
The same that won Eve’s matron smile
   In the world’s opening glow. 
The stars of heaven a course are taught
Too high above our human thought: 
Ye may be found if ye are sought,
   And as we gaze, we know.

Ye dwell beside our paths and homes,
   Our paths of sin, our homes of sorrow,
And guilty man where’er he roams,
   Your innocent mirth may borrow. 
The birds of air before us fleet,
They cannot brook our shame to meet —
But we may taste your solace sweet
   And come again to-morrow.

Ye fearless in your nests abide —
   Nor may we scorn, too proudly wise,
Your silent lessons, undescried
   By all but lowly eyes: 
For ye could draw th’ admiring gaze
Of Him who worlds and hearts surveys: 
Your order wild, your fragrant maze,
   He taught us how to prize.

Ye felt your Maker’s smile that hour,
   As when He paused and owned you good;
His blessing on earth’s primal bower,
   Ye felt it all renewed. 
What care ye now, if winter’s storm
Sweep ruthless o’er each silken form? 
Christ’s blessing at your heart is warm,
   Ye fear no vexing mood.

Alas! of thousand bosoms kind,
   That daily court you and caress,
How few the happy secret find
   Of your calm loveliness! 
“Live for to-day! to-morrow’s light
To-morrow’s cares shall bring to sight,
Go sleep like closing flowers at night,
   And Heaven thy morn will bless.”