THE THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT.

Lessons Gen. xxxvii., xxxix., xl.

Epistle: Eph. v. 1- 15. Gospel : St. Luke xi. 14—29.

THE COLLECT.

WE beseech Thee, Almighty God, look upon the hearty desires of Thy humble servants, and stretch forth the right hand of Thy Majesty, to be our defence against all our enemies; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

"Christ hath given Himself for us an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet-smelling savour."- Ephes. v. 2. "I delight to do Thy will, O my God."-Psalm xl. 8.

Was ever infant's joy, embraced, caress'd,
So pure, so holy, so in blessing bless'd,
As Mine, when hanging on My Mother's breast?
Was ever joy like Mine?1

Ah, childhood has its dreams of sweet delight,
Smiles all its own, and fountains crystal bright;
But in My Father's pleasure day and night
Was ever joy like Mine?

"2

The men of grace wring comfort from the curse
Of labour, knowing ❝idleness were worse;
But none save Me its sentence could reverse:

Was ever joy like Mine?

1 The thought of tracing in our Lord's ministry the obverse of George Herbert's poem entitled, Was ever grief like mine?" was first suggested to me by the lines of another writer.

2. With labour I must earn

My bread. What harm?

Idleness had been worse.'
"Paradise Lost," x. 1055.

By Jordan's ford I knelt, and lo above
A pathway cloven to the throne of love :
O voice of rapture! O most Holy Dove!
Was ever joy like Mine?

Prayer fills the empty craving heart with praise;
Prayer opens heaven's gate to the martyr's gaze;
But Me the Father hears and hears always :
Was ever joy like Mine?

Blest souls who make the word their meditation :
But who can fathom all My consolation

When drinking from the well-springs of salvation?
Was ever joy like Mine?

How beautiful upon the mountains are
Their feet who tidings of God's peace declare !
I bought with blood the amnesty I bear:
Was ever joy like Mine?

The wayward lamb is torn by many a wound,
Who tracks it o'er the rocky thorny ground?
Mankind were lost, I sought them and I found :
Was ever joy like Mine?

The tempest sank before Me into calm;
The broken heart was heal'd with Gilead's balm;
The mourner's wailing pass'd into a psalm:
Was ever joy like Mine?

The weary and the heavy-laden throng'd
Around Me, and the wretched and the wrong'd;
Earth claim'd the gay; to Me the sad belong'd:
Was ever joy like Mine?

Eyes was I to the blind, feet to the lame :
Hope blossom'd from despair where'er I came ;
Love wept, and weeping conquer'd sin and shame:
Was ever joy like Mine?

The dying robber lifts to Me his eyes,
And "Lord, remember me in anguish cries,
And I, that day, I promised Paradise:
Was ever joy like Mine?

Is sacrifice love's measure? I alone
Forsook My Father's glory and My own,
Sharp thorns My diadem, the cross My throne :
Was ever joy like Mine?

O ransom'd saints within your home of light,
O angels stooping from your glory's height,
Bear witness, for ye read the mystery right,
Never was joy like Mine.

THE FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT.

Lessons: Gen. xlii., xliii., xlv.

Epistle: Gal. iv. 21. Gospel: St. John vi. 1–15.

THE COLLECT.

GRANT, we beseech Thee, Almighty God, that we, who for our evil deeds do worthily deserve to be punished, by the comfort of Thy grace may mercifully be relieved; through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.

"Jesus went over the sea of Galilee, which is the sea of Tiberias, and a great multitude followed Him."-St. John

vi. 1, 2.

Compare with this the following verses in St. Mark :"He ordained twelve, that they should be with Him, and that He might send them forth to preach.

"When they were alone, He expounded all things to His disciples.

"And the apostles gathered themselves together unto Jesus, and told Him all things, both what they had done, and what they had taught. And He said unto them, Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest awhile: for there were many coming and going, and they had no leisure so much as to eat."-St. Mark iii. 14, iv. 34, vi. 30, 31.

Come ye yourselves apart and rest awhile,

Weary, I know it, of the press and throng, Wipe from your brow the sweat and dust of toil, And in My quiet strength again be strong.

Come ye aside from all the world holds dear

For converse which the world has never known, Alone with Me and with My Father here,

With Me and with My Father not alone.

Come, tell Me all that ye have said and done,?
Your victories and failures, hopes and fears.
I know how hardly souls are wooed and won :
My choicest wreaths are always wet with tears.

Come ye and rest: the journey is too great,
And ye will faint beside the way, and sink :
The bread of life is here for you to eat,

And here for you the wine of love to drink.

Then, fresh from converse with your Lord, return
And work till daylight softens into even:
The brief hours are not lost in which ye learn
More of your Master and His rest in heaven.