The sailor tossed on stormy seas, Though far his bark may roam; That wakens thoughts of home: The sculptor, painter, while they trace Our motto's spirit own; Each thus would like to leave behind But that the thought which fills his mind The poet, too, when borne along And round that name his thoughts enwreath Our motto is in truth; the voice For who from mortal life, by choice, Nor is the wish by grace abhorred, Even the language of our Lord Within the heart his spirit speaks And by its heavenly teaching seeks To make that heart his shrine. This is "the still small voice” which all In city or in grot, May hear and live; its gentle call HENRY HART MILMAN RECEIVED his education at Oxford, and became Professor of Poetry in that University. He is now rector of St. Margaret's, Westminster, and is the author of Belshazzar, The Siege of Jerusalem, and other poems, which are formed upon classical models, and abound in passages of great truth and beauty. A FUNERAL ANTHEM. BROTHER, thou art gone before us, From the burden of the flesh, And from care and fear released, The toilsome way thou'st travelled o'er, But Christ hath taught thy languid feet Thou'rt sleeping now, like Lazarus, Upon his Father's breast, Sin can never taint thee now, Nor doubt thy faith assail, Nor thy meek trust in Jesus Christ And the Holy Spirit fail: And there thou'rt sure to meet the good, "Earth to earth," and "dust to dust," Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest. THE NATIVITY. THOU wast born of woman, Thou didst come, And not by thunders strewed, 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! Nor stooped their lamps th' enthroned fires on high; A single silent star Came wandering from afar, Gliding unchecked 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 hushed to hear And seraphs' burning lyres, Poured through 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; Nor visible angels mourned with drooping plumes; From fatal Calvary, With all thine own redeemed 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 break; 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 basked in bright repose beneath the cloudless sun: 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, Plaguing the guilty sinners' murtherous crew; Thy mother's coming feet, And bear the words of peace unto the faithful few: Then calmly, slowly didst Thou rise Thy human form dissolved on high Into its own radiancy. THE CRUCIFIXION. BOUND upon the accursed tree, By the baffled burning thirst, Bound upon the accursed tree, By earth that trembled at His doom, To the felon at his side; Lord! our suppliant knees we bow! Bound upon the accursed tree, Sad and dying, who is He? By the last and bitter cry, |