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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=421196" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Second Sunday After Trinity</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The clouds that wrap the setting sun<br> When Autumn's softest gleams are ending,<br>Where all bright hues together run<br> In sweet confusion blending: -<br>Why, as we watch their floating wreath<br>Seem they the breath of life to breathe?<br>To Fancy's eye their motions prove<br>They mantle round the Sun for love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When up some woodland dale we catch<br> The many-twinkling smile of ocean,<br>Or with pleased ear bewildered watch<br> His chime of restless motion;<br>Still as the surging waves retire<br>They seem to gasp with strong desire,<br>Such signs of love old Ocean gives,<br>We cannot choose but think he lives.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wouldst thou the life of souls discern?<br> Nor human wisdom nor divine<br>Helps thee by aught beside to learn;<br> Love is life's only sign.<br>The spring of the regenerate heart,<br>The pulse, the glow of every part,<br>Is the true love of Christ our Lord,<br>As man embraced, as God adored.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But he, whose heart will bound to mark<br> The full bright burst of summer morn,<br>Loves too each little dewy spark,<br> By leaf or flow'ret worn:<br>Cheap forms, and common hues, 'tis true,<br>Through the bright shower-drop' meet his view;<br>The colouring may be of this earth;<br>The lustre comes of heavenly birth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">E'en so, who loves the Lord aright,<br> No soul of man can worthless find;<br>All will be precious in his sight,<br> Since Christ on all hath shined:<br>But chiefly Christian souls; for they,<br>Though worn and soiled with sinful clay,<br>Are yet, to eyes that see them true,<br>All glistening with baptismal dew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then marvel not, if such as bask<br> In purest light of innocence,<br>Hope against mope, in love's dear task,<br> Spite of all dark offence.<br>If they who hate the trespass most,<br>Yet, when all other love is lost,<br>Love the poor sinner, marvel not;<br>Christ's mark outwears the rankest blot.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No distance breaks this tie of blood;<br> Brothers are brothers evermore;<br>Nor wrong, nor wrath of deadliest mood,<br> That magic may o'erpower;<br>Oft, ere the common source be known,<br>The kindred drops will claim their own,<br>And throbbing pulses silently<br>Move heart towards heart by sympathy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So it is with true Christian hearts;<br> Their mutual share in Jesus' blood<br>An everlasting bond imparts<br> Of holiest brotherhood:<br>Oh! might we all our lineage prove,<br>Give and forgive, do good and love,<br>By soft endearments in kind strife<br>Lightening the load of daily life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is much need; for not as yet<br> Are we in shelter or repose,<br>The holy house is still beset<br> With leaguer of stern foes;<br>Wild thoughts within, bad men without,<br>All evil spirits round about,<br>Are banded in unblest device,<br>To spoil Love's earthly paradise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then draw we nearer day by day,<br> Each to his brethren, all to God;<br>Let the world take us as she may,<br> We must not change our road;<br>Not wondering, though in grief, to find<br>The martyr's foe still keep her mind;<br>But fixed to hold Love's banner fast,<br>And by submission win at last.</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=421196" data-title="Second Sunday After Trinity de John Keble" data-description="The clouds that wrap the setting sun
 When Autumn's softest gleams are ending,
Where all bright hues together run
 In sweet confusion blending: -
Why, as we watch their floating wreath
Seem they the breath of life to breathe?
To Fancy's eye their ..."></div>
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