EPIPHANY. BRIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morning! Cold on his cradle the dew drops are shining, Low lies his head with the beasts of the stall, Angels adore him in slumber reclining, Maker and Monarch and Saviour of all! Say, shall we yield him, in costly devotion, Gems of the mountain and pearls of the ocean, Vainly we offer each ampler oblation; Vainly with gifts would his favour secure : Richer by far is the heart's adoration; Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor. Brightest and best of the sons of the morning! Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid! Star of the East, the horizon adorning, Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid! FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. LUKE II. ABASH'D be all the boast of age! Oh, Wisdom, whose unfading power To frame, in nature's earliest hour, Yet didst not Thou disdain awhile To bless thy mother with a smile, But, in thy Father's own abode, With Israel's elders round, Conversing high with Israel's God, Thy chiefest joy was found. So may our youth adore thy name! And, Saviour, deign to bless With fostering grace the timid flame Of early holiness! FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. By cool Siloam's shady rill How sweet the lily grows! How sweet the breath beneath the hill Of Sharon's dewy rose ! Lo! such the child whose early feet By cool Siloam's shady rill The lily must decay; The rose that blooms beneath the hill Must shortly fade away. And soon, too soon, the wint'ry hour Of man's maturer age Will shake the soul with sorrow's power, And stormy passion's rage! |