"Give to Casar-and to God."-MARK Xii. 17.
ALL we have is God's, and yet
Cæsar challenges a debt;

Nor hath God a thinner 1 share,
Whatever Cæsar's payments are.
All is God's; and yet 'tis true
All we have is Cæsar's too.
All is Cæsar's: and what odds,
So long as Cæsar's self is God's?

On the Blessed Virgin's bashfulness.

THAT on her lap she casts her humble eye, 'Tis the sweet pride of her humility.

The fair star 2 is well fix'd, for where, O, where, Could she have fix'd it on a fairer sphere?

'Tis Heaven, 'tis Heaven she sees, Heaven's God there lies;

She can see Heaven, and ne'er lift up her eyes. This new guest to her eyes new laws hath given : 'Twas once look up, 'tis now look down to Heaven.

"I am ready not only to be bound but to die.".
ACTS xxi. 13.

COME death, come bonds, nor do you shrink, my ears,
At those hard words man's cowardice calls fears.
Save those of fear, no other bands fear I;
Nor other death than this-the fear to die.

"I am the Door."

AND now thou'rt set wide ope, the spear's sad art,3 Lo! hath unlock'd Thee at the very heart:

1 Smaller, lesser.

3 The spear that pierced Him.

2 Stella Maris.

He to himself (I fear the worst)
And his own hope

Hath shut these doors of Heaven, that durst
Thus set them ope.

To the infant Martyrs.

Go, smiling souls, your new-built cages break,
In Heaven you'll learn to sing ere here to speak:
Nor let the milky fonts, that bathe your thirst,

Be your delay;

The place that calls you hence is, at the worst,
Milk all the way.

Upon the infant Martyrs.

To see both blended in one flood,

The mother's milk, the children's blood,
Makes me doubt if Heaven will gather
Roses hence, or lilies rather.

Upon our Lord's last comfortable discourse with
His disciples.-JOHN xiv.

ALL Hybla's honey, all that sweetness can
Flows in Thy song (O fair, O dying Swan!)
Yet is the joy I take in't small or none;
It is too sweet to be a long-lived one.

Upon the dumb devil cast out, and the slanderous
Jews put to silence.-LUKE xi. 14.

Two devils at one blow Thou hast laid flat,
A speaking devil this, a dumb one that;
Was't Thy full victory's fairer increase,

That th' one spake, or that th' other held his peace?

The dumb healed, and the people enjoined silence.
-MARK vii. 31-37.

CHRIST bids the dumb tongue speak; it speaks, the sound

He charges to be quiet; it runs round.

If in the first He used His finger's touch,

His hand's whole strength here could not be too much.

"She began to wash His feet with tears, and wipe them with the hairs of her head."-LUKE vii. 38. HER eyes' flood licks His feet's fair stain, Her hair's flame 1 licks up that again; This flame thus quench'd hath brighter beams: This flood thus stainèd fairer streams.

"And a certain priest coming that way looked on him and passed by."-LUKE X. 31.

WHY dost thou wound my wounds, O thou that passest by,

Handling and turning them with an unwounded eye? The calm that cools thine eye does shipwreck mine, for O,

Unmoved to see one wretched, is to make him so.

WELCOME, my grief, my joy; how dear's

To me my legacy of tears!

1 The golden hair of the Magdalene, which is often represented too as of flame-colour.

I'll

weep, and weep, and will therefore Weep, 'cause I can weep no more:

Thou, Thou (dear Lord) even Thou alone,
Giv'st joy, even when Thou givest none.

"Ye build the sepulchres of the prophets."
MATT. xxiii. 29.

THOU trimm'st a Prophet's tomb, and dost bequeath
The life thou took'st from him unto his death.
Vain man, the stones that on his tomb do lie,
Keep but the score of them that made him die.

On the baptized Ethiopian.—ACTs viii. 27-38. LET it no longer be a forlorn-hope

To wash an Ethiop;

He's wash'd, his gloomy skin a peaceful shade For his white soul is made:

And now,

I doubt not, the Eternal Dove

A black-faced house 1 will love.

“But men loved darkness rather than light.”.
JOHN iii. 19.

THE World's Light shines; shine as it will,
The world will love its darkness still.
I doubt though, when the world's in hell,
It will not love its darkness half so well.

1 1 Cor. vi. 19.

On St. Peter cutting off Malchus' ear.

WELL, Peter, dost thou wield thy active sword;
Well for thyself (I mean), not for thy Lord.
To strike at ears, is to take heed there be
No witness, Peter, of thy perjury.

To Pontius washing his hands.

THY hands are washed, but O, the water's spilt,
That laboured to have washed thy guilt:
The flood, if any be that can suffice,
Must have its fountain in thine eyes.

To Pontius washing his blood-stained hands.
Is murder no sin? or a sin so cheap,

That thou need'st heap
A rape upon't? Till thy adult'rous touch
Taught her 1 these sullied cheeks, this blubber'd
face,

She was a nymph, the meadows knew none such,
Of honest parentage, of unstain'd race;
The daughter of a fair and well-famed fountain,
As ever silver-tipp'd the side of shady mountain.
See how she weeps, and weeps, that she appears
Nothing but tears;
Each drop's a tear that weeps for her own waste.
Hark how at every touch she does complain her
Hark how she bids her frighted drops make haste,
And with sad murmurs chides the hands that
stain her.

;

Leave, leave, for shame, or else, good judge, decree What water shall wash this, when this hath washèd

thee.

1 The water.