Page:The Christian Year 1887.djvu/57

 Have tried Thy Spirit's winning arts, And yet we are not won?

The Son of God in radiance beamed Too bright for us to scan, But we may face the rays that streamed From the mild Son of Man.

There, parted into rainbow hues, In sweet harmonious strife We see celestial love diffuse Its light o'er Jesus' life.

God, by His bow, vouchsafes to write This truth in Heaven above: As every lovely hue is Light, So every grace is Love.


 * When thou fastest, anoint thine head, and wash thy face; that thou appear not unto men to fast, but unto thy Father which is in secret. St. Matthew vi. 17, 18.

"Yes—deep within and deeper yet  The rankling shaft of conscience hide, Quick let the swelling eye forget   The tears that in the heart abide. Calm be the voice, the aspect bold,   No shuddering pass o'er lip or brow, For why should Innocence be told   The pangs that guilty spirits bow?

"The loving eye that watches thine  Close as the air that wraps thee round - Why in thy sorrow should it pine,   Since never of thy sin it found? And wherefore should the heathen see   What chains of darkness thee enslave, And mocking say, 'Lo, this is he   Who owned a God that could not save'?"

Thus oft the mourner's wayward heart Tempts him to hide his grief and die, Too feeble for Confession's smart, Too proud to bear a pitying eye;