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come,

Oh Holiest! to this world of sin and gloom, Not in Thy dread omnipotent array ;

And not by thunders strew'd

Was Thy tempestuous road;
Nor indignation burnt before Thee on Thy way.

But Thee, a soft and naked child,
Thy mother undefiled,
In the rude manger laid to rest
From off her virgin breast.

The heavens were not commanded to prepare
A gorgeous canopy of golden air;

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REDEMPTION.

Nor stoop'd their lamps th' enthronèd fires on

high :
A single, silent star,

Came wandering from afar,
Gliding uncheck'd and calm along the liquid sky;

The Eastern Sages leading on
As at a kingly throne,
To lay their gold and odours sweet
Before Thy infant feet.

The earth and ocean were not hush'd to hear

Bright harmony from every starry sphere ;
Nor at Thy presence brake the voice of song

From all the cherub quires,

And seraphs? burning lyres
Pour'd thro’ the host of heaven the charmed clouds

along
One angel troop the strain began,
Of all the race of man,
By simple shepherds heard alone,
That soft hosanna's tone.

And when Thou didst depart, no car of flame
To bear Thee hence in lambent radiance came;

REDEMPTION.

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Nor visible angels mourn'd with drooping plumes.

Nor didst Thou mount on high

From fatal Calvary
With all Thine own redeem'd out-bursting from

their tombs.
For Thou didst bear away from earth
But one of human birth,
The dying felon by Thy side, to be
In paradise with Thee.

Nor o'er Thy cross the clouds of vengeance brake ;
A little while the conscious earth did shake
At that foul deed by her fierce children done;

A few dim hours of day

The world in darkness lay, Then bask'd in bright repose beneath the cloudless

sun :

While Thou didst sleep beneath the tomb,
Consenting to Thy doom;
Ere yet the white-robed angel shone
Upon the sealed stone.

And when Thou didst arise, Thou didst not stand With devastation in Thy red right hand,

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REDEMPTION.

Plaguing the guilty city's murtherous crew;

But Thou didst haste to meet

Thy mother's coming feet,
And bear the words of peace unto the faithful few.

Then calmly, slowly, didst thou rise
Into Thy native skies,
Thy human form dissolved on high
In its own radiancy.

MILMAN.

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“THE LOVE OF CHRIST WHICH PASSETH

KNOWLEDGE.”

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BORE with thee long weary days and nights,
Through many pangs of heart, through many

tears ; I bore with thee, thy hardness, coldness, slights,

For three and thirty years.

Who else had dared for thee what I have dared ?

I plunged the depth most deep from bliss above; I not My flesh, I not My spirit spared :

Give thou Me love for love.

For thee I thirsted in the daily drouth,

For thee I trembled in the nightly frost: Much sweeter thou than honey to My mouth:

Why wilt thou still be lost ?

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