THE NEW BIRTH.

COLERIDGE.

BORN unto God in Christ-in Christ, my all!

What that earth boasts were not lost cheaply, rather Than forfeit that blest name by which we call

The holy One, the Almighty God, our Father?
Father in Christ we live; and Christ in Thee!
Eternal Thou, and everlasting we!

The heir of Heaven, henceforth I dread not death:
In Christ I live; in Christ I draw the breath
Of the true life. Let sea, and earth, and sky
Wage war against me: on my front I show
Their mighty Master's seal! In vain they try
To end my life, who can but end its wo.
Is that a deathbed where the Christian lies?
Yes! but not his: 'tis Death itself there dies.

THE ANNUNCIATION OF THE VIRGIN MARY.

KEBLE.

O THOU who deign'st to sympathise
With all our frail and fleshly ties,
Maker, yet brother dear!

Forgive the too presumptuous thought,
If, calming wayward grief, I sought
To gaze on Thee too near.

Yet sure 'twas not presumption, Lord!
'Twas thine own comfortable word

That made the lesson known:
Of all the dearest bonds we prove,
Thou countest sons' and mothers' love
Most sacred, most thine own.

When wandering here a little span,
Thou took'st on Thee to rescue man,
Thou had'st no earthly sire:

That wedded love we prize so dear,
As if our heaven and home were here,

It lit in Thee no fire.

On no sweet sister's faithful breast

Would'st Thou thine aching forehead rest,

On no kind brother lean :

But who, O perfect filial heart!

E'er did like Thee a true son's part,

Endearing, firm, serene?

Thou wept'st-meek maiden, mother mild!
Thou wept'st upon thy sinless child-
Thy very heart was riven:

And yet, what mourning matron here

Would deem thy sorrows bought too dear By all on this side Heaven?

A son that never did amiss,

That never shamed his mother's kiss,

Nor cross'd her fondest prayer: E'en from the tree he deign'd to bow

For her his agonisèd brow

Her, his sole earthly care.

Bless'd is the womb that bare Him-bless'd

The bosom where his lips were press'd!

But rather bless'd are they

Who hear his word and keep it well

The living homes where Christ shall dwell,

And never pass away.

THE MARTYR'S CHILD.

REV. T. DALE.

ONCE more I clasp thee to my breast,
Child of my first and fondest love!

Ere yet I enter into rest,

And join the ransom'd hosts above:

And earthward though my thoughts must rove,

From saints and seraphs bending there,

Who shall a parting sigh reprove

O'er one as pure and scarce less fair?

My bud of beauty! thou must bloom
'Midst the chill rains and wintry blast,
Where skies are wrapt in starless gloom,
And summer suns have beam'd their last.
Yet though dark clouds the heaven o'ercast,
He at whose word the winds are still,
Can screen thee till the storm be past:
I know He can-I trust He will.

Yet who shall form thine infant sighs
To syllable the first brief prayer?
And who shall point thee to the skies,
And say,
"Thou hast a Father there?"

And who shall watch with ceaseless care Lest thy young steps unheeding strayWhere Pleasure plants the secret snare, And Hope's seductive smiles betray?

Oh! could I bear thee hence, while yet The strife of passion is unknown—

Ere guilt her fatal seal has set,

Or earth has mark'd thee for its own;
While nature's debt of death alone
Is all mortality must pay

To gaze upon the eternal throne,
And swell the glad unceasing lay!

But now I leave thee!-not alone--
More welcome far were solitude;
For He who ne'er forsakes His own,
E'en in the desert, vast and rude,
Might bid the ravens bring thee food,
Or streams gush forth amidst the wild;
Or guide the wanderings of the good
To seek and save his handmaid's child.

I leave thee to thy mother's foes—
I leave thee to the foes of Heaven;
Yet do I leave thee but to those?
Lord, be the guilty thought forgiven !
Oh! if she strive as I have striven
With stormy winds on life's rough sea,
May she by warring waves be driven
To find a haven, Lord, with Thee!