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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=421162" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Fifth Sunday After Epiphany</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Wake, arm Divine! awake,<br> Eye of the only Wise!<br> Now for Thy glory's sake,<br> Saviour and God, arise,<br>And may Thine ear, that sealed seems,<br>In pity mark our mournful themes!&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Thus in her lonely hour<br> Thy Church is fain to cry,<br> As if Thy love and power<br> Were vanished from her sky;<br>Yet God is there, and at His side<br>He triumphs, who for sinners died.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Ah! 'tis the world enthralls<br> The Heaven-betrothed breast:<br> The traitor Sense recalls<br> The soaring soul from rest.<br>That bitter sigh was all for earth,<br>For glories gone and vanished mirth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Age would to youth return,<br> Farther from Heaven would be,<br> To feel the wildfire burn,<br> On idolising knee<br>Again to fall, and rob Thy shrine<br>Of hearts, the right of Love Divine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Lord of this erring flock!<br> Thou whose soft showers distil<br> On ocean waste or rock,<br> Free as on Hermon hill,<br>Do Thou our craven spirits cheer,<br>And shame away the selfish tear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> 'Twas silent all and dead<br> Beside the barren sea,<br> Where Philip's steps were led,<br> Led by a voice from Thee -<br>He rose and went, nor asked Thee why,<br>Nor stayed to heave one faithless sigh:</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Upon his lonely way<br> The high-born traveller came,<br> Reading a mournful lay<br> Of &quot;One who bore our shame,<br>Silent Himself, His name untold,<br>And yet His glories were of old.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> To muse what Heaven might mean<br> His wondering brow he raised,<br> And met an eye serene<br> That on him watchful gazed.<br>No Hermit e'er so welcome crossed<br>A child's lone path in woodland lost.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Now wonder turns to love;<br> The scrolls of sacred lore<br> No darksome mazes prove;<br> The desert tires no more<br>They bathe where holy waters flow,<br>Then on their way rejoicing go.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> They part to meet in Heaven;<br> But of the joy they share,<br> Absolving and forgiven,<br> The sweet remembrance bear.<br>Yes--mark him well, ye cold and proud.<br>Bewildered in a heartless crowd,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Starting and turning pale<br> At Rumour's angry din -<br> No storm can now assail<br> The charm he wears within,<br>Rejoicing still, and doing good,<br>And with the thought of God imbued.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> No glare of high estate,<br> No gloom of woe or want,<br> The radiance can abate<br> Where Heaven delights to haunt:<br>Sin only bides the genial ray,<br>And, round the Cross, makes night of day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Then weep it from thy heart;<br> So mayst thou duly learn<br> The intercessor's part;<br> Thy prayers and tears may earn<br>For fallen souls some healing breath,<br>Era they have died the Apostate's death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Keble">John Keble</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=421162" data-title="Fifth Sunday After Epiphany de John Keble" data-description="&quot;Wake, arm Divine! awake,
 Eye of the only Wise!
 Now for Thy glory's sake,
 Saviour and God, arise,
And may Thine ear, that sealed seems,
In pity mark our mournful themes!&quot;

 Thus in her lonely hour
 Thy Church is fain to cry,
 As if Th..."></div>
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