Pole-star on life's tempestuous deep! Beacon! when doubts surround; Compass! by which our course we keep; Our deep-sea lead, to sound! Riches in poverty! our aid Our shield and buckler in the fight! Childhood's preceptor! manhood's trust! Old age's firm ally! Pure oracles of Truth Divine! Unlike each fabled dream Given forth from Delphos' mystic shrine, Or groves of Academe! Word of the Ever-living God! Will of his glorious Son! Without thee how could earth be trod? Or heaven itself be won? PLEDGES OF MERCY. Yet to unfold thy hidden worth, That SPIRIT which first gave thee forth And we, if we aright would learn The wisdom it imparts, Must to its heavenly teachings turn PLEDGES OF MERCY. JOHN KEBLE.- CHRISTIAN YEAR. 43 "I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth." — Gen. ix. 13. SWEET Dove! the softest, steadiest plume Brightening in ever-changeful bloom, As breezes change on high; Sweet Leaf! the pledge of peace and mirth, "Long sought and lately won," Blest increase of reviving earth, When first it felt the sun; Sweet Rainbow! pride of summer days, High set at Heaven's command, Though into drear and dusky haze Thou melt on either hand; Dear tokens of a pardoning God, As when our fathers walked abroad, How joyful from the imprisoning ark So home-bound sailors spring to shore, So happy souls, when life is o'er, What wins their first and fondest gaze In all the blissful field, And keeps it through a thousand days? Love, face to face revealed; Love, imaged in that cordial look On souls that sin and earth forsook PLEDGES OF MERCY. And what most welcome and serene What but the gentle rainbow's gleam, That cannot bear the solar beam, Lord, if our fathers turned to thee With such adoring gaze, Wondering frail man thy light should see Without thy scorching blaze, Where is our love, and where our hearts, The Son of God in radiance beamed Too bright for us to scan, But we may face the rays that streamed There, parted into rainbow hues, We see celestial love diffuse 45 God, by his bow, vouchsafes to write As every lovely hue is light, ANGELIC VISITANTS. CHARLES MACKAY. ON Mamre's plain, beside the Patriarch's door The ministering angels sat; - the world was young, And men beheld what they behold no more. Ah no! the harps of heaven are not unstrung! The angelic visitants may yet appear To those who seek them! Lo! at Virtue's side, Its friend, its prop, its solace, and its guide, Walks FAITH, with upturned eyes and voice of cheer, A visible angel. Lo, at Sorrow's call, HOPE hastens down, an angel fair and kind, And whispers comfort whatsoe'er befall; While CHARITY, the seraph of the mind, White-robed and pure, becomes each good man's guest, And makes this earth a heaven to all who love her best. |