SUNDAY AFTER ASCENSION.
As every man hath received the gift, even so minister
the same one to another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God. St.
Peter iv. 10.
THE Earth that in her genial breast
Makes for the down a kindly nest,
Where wafted by the warm south-west
It floats at pleasure,
Yields, thankful, of her very best,
To nurse her treasure:
True to her trust, tree, herb, or reed,
She renders for each scatterÕd seed,
And to her Lord with duteous heed
Gives large increase:
Thus year by year she works unfeed,
And will not cease.
Woe worth these barren hearts of ours,
Where Thou hast set celestial flowers,
And waterÕd with more balmy showers,
Than eÕer distillÕd
In Eden, on thÕ ambrosial bowersÑ
Yet nought we yield.
Largely Thou givest, gracious Lord,
Largely thy gifts should be restorÕd;
Freely Thou givest, and thy word
Is, Òfreely give.Ó
He only, who forgets to hoard,
Has learnÕd to live.
Wisely Thou givestÑall around
Thine equal rays are resting found,
Yet varying so on various ground
They pierce and strike,
That not two roseate cups are crownÕd
With dew alike:
Even so, in silence, likest Thee,
Steals on soft-handed Charity,
Tempering her gifts, that seem so free,
By time and place,
Till not a woe the bleak world see,
But finds her grace:
Eyes to the blind, and to the lame
Feet, and to sinners wholesome blame,
To starving bodies food and flame
By turns she brings,
To humbled souls, that sink for shame,
Lends heaven-ward wings:
Leads them the way our Saviour went,
And shews LoveÕs treasure yet unspent;
As when theÕ unclouded heavens were rent
Opening his road,
Nor yet his Holy Spirit sent
To our abode.
Ten days thÕ eternal doors displayÕd
Were wondering (so thÕ Almighty bade)
Whom Love enthronÕd would send, in aid
Of souls that mourn,
Left orphans in EarthÕs dreary shade
As soon as born.
Open they stand, that prayers in throngs
May rise on high, and holy songs,
Such incense as of right belongs
To the true shrine,
Where stands the Healer of all wrongs
In light divine;
The golden censer in his hand,
He offers hearts from every land,
Tied to his own by gentlest band
Of silent Love:
About Him winged blessings stand
In act to move.
A little while, and they shall fleet
From Heaven to Earth, attendants meet
On the life-giving Paraclete
Speeding his flight,
With all that sacred is and sweet,
On saints to light.
Apostles, Prophets, Pastors, all
Shall feel the shower of Mercy fall,
And starting at thÕ AlmightyÕs call,
Give what He gave,
Till their high deeds the world appall,
And sinners save.