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LXXXVI. THE FUNERAL. I envy not the feelings which can send

The breathless corpse to its sepulchral home,

Heedless of Him who made it! Mid the gloom Of sorrows, which the widow'd bosom rend, 'Tis kind, 'tis comforting, 'tis wise to blend [come

Earth, as it were, with heaven, whence thoughts may

Rous'd by God's word and pray'r; and from the tomb The heart to bliss unseen, unheard, ascend ! God takes the spirit; to the ground we give

The body, “ earth to earth, and dust to dust!” But not, as they who have no hope, we grieve:

Sure is the Christian's faith, and firm his trust, That they, who sleep in Christ, in Christ shall live,

And waking join the assembly of the just.


This world abounds in misery and sin !

Each has his share: and who, that on the days
Yet future meditates with careful

gaze, Can tell how much of ill, without, within, Waite him; or what of freedom he


win By death's kind stroke ?- Then count it not dispraise,

That when the Church her children's bodies lays In the still grave, meet theme of thanks therein She sees to God who claims them! Well she knows,

That sins beset, that ambush'd sorrow tries, The flesh-encumber'd spirit: whither goes

Each spirit hence, she dares not say; but wise And good is He, who mid impending woes

Still notes his creatures with benignant eyes.


To doom thy brother, from the flesh releas’d,

Christian, befits thee not. 'Twill best behove

The grace which "hopeth all things,” Christian love, To hope that each may in the Saviour rest. Degrees of hope are various : for the best

Well may it rise to faith, but not above :

For those, the worst in semblance,- who can prove God's mercy may not rank them with the blest ? Yield then, in hope that he in Christ may sleep,

To earth thy lifeless brother !—Whom most pure Thou deem'st, in mind his good example keep;

Whom soild with sin, bis sins avoid, abjure : So may'st thou sow in love, in transport reap,

Thyself; and make thine own election sure !

LXXXIX. CHRISTIAN UNITY. One God there is, who reigns above in light:

One Lord on earth, for man incarnate made;

One body form'd He by one Spirit's aid; Call’d to one hope by one baptismal rite, One holy bread to eat of, and to plight

One common faith. Who name his name, He bade

In concord live; and of his Father pray'd,
Perfection's bond, all might in one unite.?
God wills our union. Man, by passion driven,

Turns to a sword the rod for healing sent.
Lo, limb from limb the spouse of Christ is riven,

His seamless coat by reckless hands is rent:
As if the goodliest, loveliest gift of heaven,

When most disfigur'd, were most excellent.

* Eph. iv. 4-6; 1 Cor. x. 17.

? John xvii. 20-23; Col. iii. 14.

XC. BEAUTY OF THE CHURCH. What fairer form, my country's Church, than thine ?

“ Glorious within, thy clothing of wrought gold !”?

What tho', (for who his course on earth may hold, Nor aught betray of earthliness a sign ?) A speck perchance of earthly origin

May here and there by curious eyes be told,

Dimming the brightness of thy raiments fold; 'Tis of wrought gold from God's celestial mine, Of “glory and beauty"_Yes, thou’rt passing fair,

My Country's Church !—To grace their royal Sire Full many a daughter stands : but few compare

With thee for virtuous deeds and meet attire; Few to their King so pure an offering bear,

Tried in the flame, and purified by fire.

XCI. SAFETY IN THE CHURCH. Why should I e'er forsake thy dwelling, blest

Of God; or whither from thy shelter move?

Whate'er vouchsafement waits us from above
To cheer, sustain, enlighten, is possest
By thee, and thou to thine distributest :

And sure I think, if tempted once to rove

From thee, my foot would find, like Noah's dove, O’er the wide waters refuge pone, nor rest. Grace is within thy precincts, holy Ark;

Grace and salvation! And tho' gathering gloom Now and again with signs of presage dark

O'erhang thee, mercy's beams the skreen illume; And faith on blackest clouds may brightest mark

God's bow, the pledge of blessings yet to come.

• Psa. xlv. 14.

· Exod. xxvii. 40.

XCII.** THE CHURCH'S WORTHIES. Might aught beside thine own inherent praise,

Thy stores adopted from heaven's treasury,

Mark'd with God's name and genuine imagery, Win the charm'd soul to pass her earthly days With thee, loved Mother! 'tis that she surveys

In the long record of the times gone by,

What sweet memorials of a grace from high, Shed on The Faithful Sons, her scroll displays. Hail, holy men! by whom of yore was fought,

True to your CAPTAIN, to his Consort true, The Christian fight! The goal your footsteps sought,

Fain would I, following in your track, pursue; And fain my soul, her work of trial wrought,

Would find the haven of her rest with you!



If life preserved for wife and children's sake,

If bliss which none but husbands, fathers feel,

If worldly woe escaped, and worldly weal Enjoy'd, lands, houses, goods, with all to take Captive the waverer, had had power to shake

Thy firm resolve, and quench thy fervent zeal

Rogers, the Church had lost her earliest seal Stamp'd in thy heart's blood on the burning stake. But nobler thought was thine, and loftier scope,

The Tempter's vile allurements to withstand
Victorious : thine the Christian's deathless hope,

The Christian's faith: and thus thy native land
Salutes in thee her harvest's firstling crop,
In thee the STEPHEN of her martyr'd band.

XCIV.** THE MARTYRED BISHOPS, 1555. Take heart, my brother! for from yonder pile,

Our deathbed and our sepulchre to day,

A lamp shall spring, to light with quenchless ray The length and breadth of England's darkling isle!” So spake the MITRED Martyr, as with smile

Sedate, not reckless, he the hard affray

Encounter'd, for the gain, thenceforth to pay His own life's loss, gladden'd bis soul the while. Hold we such names in reverence, nor mis-deem

That they for nought the oppressor's rage withstood ! Still o'er the land, so God ordain'd it, stream

The rays that issued from that blazing wood; And England hail'd, waked from her papal dream,

Her Church's seed-time in her martyrs' blood.

XCV.** THE PRIMATE AT THE STAKE, 1556. Who that behulds his hand reluctant trace

Words which the MEEK Confessor's 2 thoughts dis

Drops not a tear of sorrow on the name, (clainn, Consign’d by one sad act to dire disgrace ? Who that beholds his willing hand embrace,

Ah! not unworthy now! the scorching flame,

Joys not to see that well-repented shame
Cleansed from the patient sufferer's soiled face?
Of those, my Country, who the pitying tear

Drop for thy renovated Church's Sire,
How many a heart, like his, had fail'd for fcar!

How few perchance had dared, like his, respire,
To claim the meed of penitence sincere,

And faith that mark'd unmoved the circling fire !

I Latimer.


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