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"So kneel, dear child, and raise thy voice To her, to take thee to her keeping; That you with Her may yet rejoice,

Pure when awake, and pure when sleeping. "Breathe then her name; her prayerful aid Will guide thee, should thy footsteps falter, And, should the enemy invade,

Oh! hasten to her flower-deck'd altar.

"Pour forth thy soul to God; her prayer Shall ward thy heart, and keep it holy;

So only, as you hasten there,

And come with aspect meek and lowly.

"GOD'S ALTAR.

"FATHER OF ALL! To Thee I raise My heart and voice in one accord; Accept my offering of praise,

And teach me to fulfil thy word.

"Oh! when I see the incense rise

Thy altar round with perfume sweet, How longs my heart with echoing sighs To spring to thee with ardour meet.

"Oft as I hear thy heavenly voice

Pour forth its homage full and free,
How, inward does my heart rejoice,

And long to rise, like it, to Thee. "How often when I see the flowers

Bloom on thine altar, fresh and fair,
My heart with full responsive powers
Within me burns to blossom there!
"Oh! when I see around the shrine

The tapers burn in tranquil light,
I long to glow with warmth divine,
And give thee all of fair and bright.
"Be incense, light, and flower, and tone,
But emblems of my heart, to prove

I give it all to Thee alone,

In token of submissive love!

"TRIALS.

"Should all thy best endeavours fail, Thy single heart and wish to please, Turn not away to pout and rail,

Because ye reap no fruit from these. “Ah! if to spite, rebuke, or wrong,

Ye humbly bow with aspect mild,
Angels shall bless thy soul ere long,
Approving thee for God's own child!
"All that ye suffer here on earth

Shall gain a blest reward above;
So meekness in thy heart shine forth,
And nought in wrath-but all for love.

"Ah! little do you think how light

Christ's burden is, his yoke how sweet,—

How, for a little gall and spite,

The triumph may be won complete.

"Ah! for a drop of mild restraint,
Set on thy will or wish or thought,

Ye may become on earth a saint,
And gain a crown that fadeth not.
"The trials and strifes of every-day,
Whate'er the state, to each one given,
Are all enough to lead the way,
Triumphant and secure to Heaven.
"Oh, then, thy rising heart restrain,
Thy swelling pride, and meekly bend
To all that curbs thy will, and gain
New strength to come, and holier end."

"THANKSGIVING AND LOVE.

"Soon as God sends His gifts of love,
Lift up thy soul in grateful sighs,
Return Him heartfelt thanks, and prove
That, more than these, His love ye prize.

"Humbly call out, with accents meek,

Thy gifts are more than my desert! Teach me, dear Lord, not these to seek But thee alone, with all my heart.

"In all that comes from Thee, I know
Thou hast a holier, higher end
Than that my soul with grovelling low
To earth should all ignobly bend.

"Earth's goods shall drag the soul to Hell!

Yet, used aright, may raise to Heaven;Oh! grant me then to use them well,

All Thou wilt give, or yet hast given.

"Let not the stain of Mammon foul

Defile or lure my heart from Thee;
But more and more confirm my soul,
In all Thy gifts Thy love to see.
"Thus let me cleave to Thee more close,
In all look up to Thee alone;

In health or sickness, joys or woes,
To say, dear Lord, Thy will be done.

"So only that, in each, or both,
Chequered as life is wont to be,
I aim to cherish virtue's growth,
And give my heart to none but Thee!”

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"Then let me welcome every rein

That curbs my steps in virtue's way,
Secure that thou shalt give again

Bright sunshine for one troublous day.

"Oh! let whate'er thou deemest best,
And not my will, to me be given,
That I may look for holy rest,

Not here on earth-but there in Heaven."

VOL. VI.

"EARTH AND HEAVEN.

"Fair are the flowers that bloom on earth,
Happy the gleams of childish mirth;
Bright is the glorious orb of day,
And vast is ocean's pathless way;
Sweet is the early breath of spring,
And sweet birds' jocund carolling.

"But flowers the fairest fade and die,
And childhood weeps with tearful eye;
Clouds gloom the brightness of the sun,
The sea is crossed, and harbour won:
And early frost nips joyous spring,
And stays the cold bird's carolling.

"Dear child, there is a flower most fair,-
A life of childhood, free from care;
A glorious light no cloud can rend,
An ocean vast that knows no end;
A spring serene, one joyous day,
And voices sweet, no chill can stay.

"Wouldst thou that these to thee were given ?—

Then know, that all are found in Heaven.
Fair flowers, and youth, and endless spring,
Angel's with sweetest offering,

An ocean of love infinite,

And God Himself to give thee LIGHT."

20

A PROTESTANT'S OPINION OF THE BREVIARY.

MR. FREDERICK FABER, in his recent work, thus speaks of the Breviary.

"I do not wonder you should envy the Latin service-book; for anything more elevating and magnificent than the Western ritual is not to be conceived. There is not such another glory upon the earth. It gives to men the tongues of angels, it images on its bosom the attitudes of Heaven, and it catches glorious shreds of echo from the eternal worship of the Lamb. It has a language of its own, a language of symbols, more luminous, more mystical, more widely spread than any other language on the earth. I do not wonder you should envy the Latin ritual.”

The profane editor of the Record, in alluding to the above extract, observes, that "it is natural that those who admire the ritual which our Reformers sacrificed their lives to abolish, should reproduce and circulate the object of their admiration. Accordingly, a little volume called 'Devotions on the Passion,' has recently issued from the press of Mr. Burns, from which we copy the following rubric from the service for Maundy Thursday at Lauds" (here followed, almost verbatim, the rubric and prayers from our office of Tenebræ.)

Alluding to the noise at the conclusion of the prayer Respice, the evangelical scribe thus proceeds:

"These are the 'devotional gestures,' the 'attitudes of heaven,' the 'language of symbols,' of which Mr. F. W. Faber is so greatly enamoured! But these semi-dramatic representations are not the sole or chief characteristic of this new infusion of Popery. We turn over a few more leaves, and [dreadful to be read by all pure evangelicals !] come to the following hymn:

"O faithful Cross, thou peerless Tree, no forest yields the like of thee, leaf, flower and bud. Sweet is the wood, and sweet its weight, and sweet the nails which penetrate thee, thou sweet wood.

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Hymn.-Sing a tongue, devoutly sing, the laurels of our glorious King; loud proclaim the triumph high of the Cross's victory; how upon the altar laid, our price the world's Redeemer paid.

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Repeat.-O, faithful Cross, thou peerless Tree, no forest yield the like of thee, leaf, flower, and bud.

'V. When our first forefather ate the fruit which wrought his woeful fate, our high Creator piteous mourned His holy law by creatures scorned; and, fain to make the damage good, through Wood revoked the curse of Wood. 'Repeat.-Sweet is the wood, and sweet its weight, and sweet the nails which penetrate thee, thou sweet Wood.

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