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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 licks up that again;

This flame thus quench'd hath brighter beams :
This flood thus stainéd 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.

"VERILY I SAY UNTO YOU, YE SHALL WEEP AND LAMENT."-John xvi., 20.

Welcome, my grief, my joy; how dear's
To me my legacy of tears!

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.
UPON OUR LORD'S LAST COMFORTABLE
DISCOURSE WITH HIS DISCIPLES.
-John xv.

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.

"I AM THE DOOR."

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

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

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

"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.

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.

"COME, SEE THE PLACE WHERE THE LORD LAY.”—Matt. xxviii., 6.

Show me Himself, Himself (bright Sir), O show Which way my poor tears to Himself may go ; Were it enough to show the place, and say, Look, Mary, here, see where thy Lord once lay, Then could I shew these arms of mine, and say, Look, Mary, here, see where thy Lord once lay. THE SICK IMPLORE ST. PETER'S SHADOW.

-Acts v.

Under thy shadow may I lurk awhile,
Death's busy search I'll easily beguile :

Thy shadow, Peter, must show me the Sun,
My light's thy shadow's shadow, or 'tis done.

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.

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 will love.

"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.

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

SAMSON TO HIS DELILAH.

Could not once blinding me, cruel, suffice?
When first I look'd on thee I lost mine eyes.

UPON THE POWDER DAY.

How fit our well-rank'd feasts do follow,
All mischief comes after All-Hallow.

AQUAE IN VINUM VERSAE.
St. John ii., 1-10.

Unde rubor vestris, et non sua purpura lymphis?
Quae rosa mirantes tam nova mutat aquas ?
Numen, convivae, praesens agnoscite Numen:
Nympha pudica Deum vidit, et erubuit.

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