"WHOSESOEVER SINS YE REMIT, THEY ARE REMITTED UNTO THEM; AND WHOSESOEVER SINS YE RETAIN, THEY ARE RETAINED.' CLXV. BEHOLD your armoury !—sword, and lightning shaft, Sire Have stayed, for you, the mercy-dews of old Vouchsafed, when pastors' arms in deep desire Were spread on high to bless the kneeling fold! IF CENSURE SLEEP, WILL ABSOLUTION HOLD? Will the great KING affirm their acts of grace Who careless leave to cankering rust and mould The flaming sword that should the unworthy chase From his pure Eden ? O beware! lest vain Their sentence to remit, who never dare retain. y. PATIENCE. CLXVI. THE AFFLICTED CHURCH. πλῆθι, λέων, ἄτλητα παθών, τετληότι θυμῶ. BIDE thou thy time! Watch with meek eyes the race of pride and crime, O thou, to whom is pledged a victor's sway, Think on the sin That reaped the unripe seed, and toiled to win No blessing, but a ban; Whilst the wise Shepherd* hid his heaven-told fate, Nor recked a tyrant's hate. Such need is gain; Wait the bright advent that shall loose thy chain ! E'en now the shadows break, and gleams divine When thrones are trembling, and earth's fat ones quail, CLXVII, d. THE BACKWARD CHURCH. "Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? Yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee." WAKE, Mother dear, the foes are near, A spoiler claims thy child; This the sole refuge of my fear, Thy bosom undefiled. * David. What spells of power, in this strange hour, My Mother's heart enslave ? To suffer and to save? Thee then I sue, Sleepless and True, Dread Maker reconciled! Help ere they smite, Thy shrine in view, The Mother with the child. 8. CLXVIII. THE GATHERING OF THE CHURCH. "He which hath begun a good work in you, will perform it unto the day of Jesus Christ." WHEREFORE shrink, and say, "'Tis vain; In their hour hell-powers must reign ; Vainly, vainly would we force Fatal error's torrent course; Earth is mighty, we are frail, Faith is gone, and Hope must fail." * Yet along the Church's sky Stars are scattered, pure and high; Autumn violets, sweet and rare Relics of a spring-time clear, Earnests of a bright new year. Israel yet hath thousands sealed, What, if to the trumpet's sound Growth is slow when roots are deep; |