When Thou createdst man the remedy
For a disease which did thy pity move,
for none are good but Thou! Oh, 'twas the crowning act of Thy dear love, Supreme assurance, sent us from above,
That Thou would'st save, and with all joy endow Thy children, trembling in their human sense With dim mysterious warnings of offence.
"The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us." St. John, i. 14.
AND SO Thou wert made man! A visible sign
That Thou for ever didst by man mean well.
Made man Thou wert; else how, Lord, could'st
Thou tell
How feels the human moulded from divine?
What wars of being call for aid benign,
And dear indulgence? What sad fears to quell,
Which make Thee- Thee! Creator of a hell
Forged by our sinful selves when fears condign
Have blotted out Thy light. All this to know
By sad experience, Thou to man wert made;
And in this word of man - the whole is said,
All pain, all want, all fear, all forms of woe.
In thought eternal these now rest with Thee,
Thou took'st them on Thyself— but man is free!
"We are chastened that we be not condemned." 1 Corinthians, ii. 32
YES, chastisement must be!-- only, instead
Of bitter vengeance, read corrective love.
Methinks this thought would more impress and
And realizing influence o'er us shed,
Than all fantastic terrors, bigot-bred.
Souls by the just and true alone improve;
And true it is, that ill acts from above
Draw down a retribution on the head;
But stripes of vengeful wrath no bettering bring.
Only, when smitten by a Father's hand,
We kiss the rod of heavenly chastening,
That blossoms into joy like Aaron's wand.
Oh, then 'twere wise weak mortals to protect
From threats too horrible to take effect.
"Behold, therefore, the goodness and severity of God." Romans, ii. 22.
SEVERITY indeed true kindness is,
Inspired by love and wisdom. Never we,
Like the wronged child of a false charity,
Shall, in the next world, blame the Judge of
Biting the hand which we pretend to kiss.
No; for we feel that we are beings free,
Not fettered by weak love, nor tyranny;
Nor can we say that God hath dealt amiss,
When sufferings reach us from the depths of sin.
Mortals we may suspect, who frown on us
For their own pleasure, or who mine within
Our sterner soul by flatteries dangerous.
But God, we know, hath not a selfish end.
Smiling, or frowning, still He must befriend.
"He shall send them a saviour." Isaiah, xix. 20.
SAVIOUR! There is a beauty in the name!
Who wants not saving from some ill of life?
Who has not felt the torture and the strife
Of guilt or sorrow bounding through the frame?
Who has not seen some cloud of fear or shame
Hang in his atmosphere, with threatenings rife ?
Or of keen Death the ready-whetted knife
Towards his heart trembling? - Then, in woes the
Men should be one in faith. O brotherhood
Of sorrow, wherefore darken by a ban
Of bigot cruelty, or cry for blood,
The word which should be sorrow's talisman ?
Let me at least feel this, deep, deep within,
If from naught else, Thou, Saviour, sav'st from sin!
"And his soul was grieved for the misery of Israel." Judges, x. 16.
ART Thou a cold Abstraction, O Thou Source
Of sweet affections, human tenderness;
When we are yearning with a deep distress,
Feel'st Thou not? Can no sorrow, no re-
Touch Thee with somewhat of a kindred force?
Oh, dost Thou never grieve that we are less-
Less perfect than Thyself, by the mere stress
Of a rude nature, which, with devious course,
Must run from Thee, that it may duly keep
An individual will, and learn to choose
The good way of itself? Canst Thou refuse
Thy sympathy for needs so sad and deep?
Thou canst not, dost not! Sure our hearts may be
That, when we harm ourselves, we sorrow Thee.
"Upholding all things by the word of his power." Hebrews, i, 3.
SINCE all things are, O God, upheld by Thee,
And Thou canst never quite withdraw Thyself
From any work of Thine, else o'er the shelf
Of being it would fall, and nothing be,-
Canst Thou uphold an endless misery?
Canst Thou for ever feed the ravening wolf,
Remorse; gaze ever on Hell's boiling gulf?
That were indeed a dread eternity!
But, no! Even we, who over judgment-halls
Riot, and hold unfeeling festivals,
Would crush an insect writhing at our feet
To put it out of pain. Oh, then, 'tis sure
If Thou, to make some mighty scheme complete,
Permittest Ill to live - Thou know'st the cure.
"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." Isaiah, xlix. 15.
THE thought that any should have endless woe
Would cast a shadow on the throne of God,
And darken Heaven.
To Seraphs, all Him as a Father know;
He, all as children. Even with us below
The one rebellious son more thought and love
Than all the rest will in a parent move,
God stirring in us. Then how strong the glow
Of God's great heart our sorrows to relieve!
Could He be blest, beholding sufferings,
And not their end? His tenderness would grieve
If even the least of His created things
Should miss of joy. In its serenity
God's present happiness proves ours to be.
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