The
Son of consolation, a Levite. Acts iv. 36.
THE
worldÕs a room of sickness, where each heart
Knows its own anguish and unrest;
The truest wisdom there, and noblest art,
Is his, who skills of comfort best;
Whom by the softest step and gentlest tone
Enfeebled spirits own,
And love to raise the languid eye,
When, like an angelÕs wing, they feel him fleeting by:Ń
Feel
onlyŃfor in silence gently gliding
Fain would he shun both ear and sight,
ŌTwixt Prayer and watchful love his heart dividing,
A nursing father day and night.
Such were the tender arms, where cradled lay
In her sweet natal day
The Church of JESUS; such the love
He to his chosen taught for His dear widowÕd Dove.
WarmÕd
underneath the ComforterÕs safe wing
They spread thÕendearing warmth around:
Mourners, speed here your broken hearts to bring,
Here healing dews and balms abound:
Here are soft hands that cannot bless in vain,
By trial taught your pain:
Here loving hearts, that daily know
The heavenly consolations they on you bestow.
Sweet
thoughts are theirs, that breathe serenest calms,
Of holy offerings timely paid,
Of fire from Heaven to bless their votive alms
And passions on GODÕS altar laid.
The world to them is closÕd and now they shine
With rays of love divine,
Through darkest nooks of this dull earth
Pouring, in showery times, their glow of Ņquiet mirth.Ó
New
hearts before their SaviourÕs feet to lay,
This is their first their dearest joy:
Their next, from heart to heart to clear the way
For mutual love without alloy:
Never so blest, as when in JESUSÕ roll
They write some hero-soul,
More pleasÕd upon his brightening road
To wait, than if their own with all his radiance glowÕd.
O
happy spirits, markÕd by God and man
Their messages of love to bear,
What though long since in Heaven your brows began
The genial amarant wreath to wear,
And in thÕ eternal leisure of calm love
Ye banquet there above,
Yet in your sympathetic heart
We and our earthly griefs may ask and hope a part.
ComfortÕs
true sons! amid the thoughts of down
That strew your pillow of repose,
Sure Ōtis one joy to muse, how ye unknown
By sweet remembrance soothe our woes,
And how the spark ye lit, of heavenly cheer,
Lives in our embers here,
WhereÕer the Cross is borne with smiles,
Or lightenÕd secretly by LoveÕs endearing wiles:
WhereÕer one Levite in the temple keeps
The watch-fire of his midnight prayer,
Or issuing thence, the eyes of mourners steeps
In heavenly balm, fresh gatherÕd there;
Thus saints, that seem to die in earthÕs rude strife,
Only win double life:
They have but left our weary ways
To live in memory here, in heaven by love and praise.