Christian Classics
‹ The Christian Year

John Keble · 25 of 110

Ash Wednesday

When thou fastest, anoint thine head, and wash thy face; that thou appear not unto men to fast, but unto thy Father which is in secret. St. Matthew vi. 17, 18.

“Yes — deep within and deeper yet The rankling shaft of conscience hide, Quick let the swelling eye forget The tears that in the heart . Calm be the voice, the aspect bold, No shuddering pass o’er lip or brow, For why should Innocence be told The pangs that guilty spirits bow?

“The loving eye that watches thine Close as the air that wraps thee round — Why in thy sorrow should it pine, Since never of thy sin it found? And should the see What chains of darkness thee enslave, And mocking say, ‘Lo, this is he Who own’d a God that could not save’?”

Thus oft the mourner’s wayward heart Tempts him to hide his grief and die, Too feeble for Confession’s smart, Too proud to bear a pitying eye; How sweet, in that dark hour, to fall On bosoms waiting to receive Our sighs, and gently whisper all! They love us — will not God forgive?

Else let us keep our fast within, Till Heaven and we are quite alone, Then let the grief, the shame, the sin, Before the be thrown. Between the porch and altar weep, Unworthy of the holiest place, Yet hoping near the shrine to keep One lowly cell in sight of .

Nor fear lest sympathy should fail — Hast thou not seen, in night hours drear, When racking thoughts the heart assail, The glimmering stars by turns appear, And from the eternal house above With silent news of mercy steal? So Angels pause on tasks of love, To look where sorrowing sinners kneel.

Or if no Angel pass that way, He who in secret sees, perchance May bid His own heart-warming ray Toward thee stream with kindlier glance, As when upon His drooping head His Father’s light was pour’d from Heaven, What time, unshelter’d and unfed, Far in the wild His steps were driven.

High thoughts were with Him in that hour, Untold, unspeakable on earth — And who can stay the soaring power Of spirits wean’d from mirth, While far beyond the sound of praise With upward eye they float serene, And learn to bear their Saviour’s blaze When Judgment shall undraw the screen?