FAITH

Let us believeThat there is hope for all the hearts that grieve;That somewhere nightDrifts to a morning beautiful with light,And that the wrongThough now it triumphs, wields no scepter long.But right will reignThroned where the waves of error beat in vain.—Frank L. Stanton.

Let us believe

That there is hope for all the hearts that grieve;

That somewhere night

Drifts to a morning beautiful with light,

And that the wrong

Though now it triumphs, wields no scepter long.

But right will reign

Throned where the waves of error beat in vain.

—Frank L. Stanton.

———

To change and change is life; to move and never rest;Not what we are, but what we hope, is best.—James Russell Lowell.

To change and change is life; to move and never rest;Not what we are, but what we hope, is best.

To change and change is life; to move and never rest;

Not what we are, but what we hope, is best.

—James Russell Lowell.

———

Have Hope! it is the brightest starThat lights life's pathway down:A richer, purer gem than decksAn Eastern monarch's crown.The Midas that may turn to joyThe grief-fount of the soul;That paints the prize and bids thee pressWith fervor to the goal.Have Hope! as the tossed marinerUpon the wild sea drivenWith rapture hails the polar star—His guiding light to haven—So Hope shall gladden thee, and guideAlong life's stormy road,And as a sacred beacon standTo point thee to thy God.—B. A. G. Fuller.

Have Hope! it is the brightest star

That lights life's pathway down:

A richer, purer gem than decks

An Eastern monarch's crown.

The Midas that may turn to joy

The grief-fount of the soul;

That paints the prize and bids thee press

With fervor to the goal.

Have Hope! as the tossed marinerUpon the wild sea drivenWith rapture hails the polar star—His guiding light to haven—So Hope shall gladden thee, and guideAlong life's stormy road,And as a sacred beacon standTo point thee to thy God.

Have Hope! as the tossed mariner

Upon the wild sea driven

With rapture hails the polar star—

His guiding light to haven—

So Hope shall gladden thee, and guide

Along life's stormy road,

And as a sacred beacon stand

To point thee to thy God.

—B. A. G. Fuller.

———

Serene, I fold my hands and wait,Nor care for wind or tide or sea;I rave no more 'gainst time or fate,For, lo! my own shall come to me.I stay my haste, I make delays,For what avails this eager pace?I stand amid the eternal ways,And what is mine shall know my face.Asleep, awake, by night or day,The friends I seek are seeking me;No wind can drive my bark astray,Nor change the tide of destiny.What matter if I stand alone?I wait with joy the coming years;My heart shall reap where it has sownAnd garner up its fruit of tears.The waters know their own, and drawThe brook that springs in yonder height;So flows the good, with equal law,Unto the soul of pure delight.The stars come nightly to the sky;The tidal wave unto the sea;Nor time nor space, nor deep nor high,Can keep my own away from me.—John Burroughs.

Serene, I fold my hands and wait,Nor care for wind or tide or sea;I rave no more 'gainst time or fate,For, lo! my own shall come to me.

Serene, I fold my hands and wait,

Nor care for wind or tide or sea;

I rave no more 'gainst time or fate,

For, lo! my own shall come to me.

I stay my haste, I make delays,For what avails this eager pace?I stand amid the eternal ways,And what is mine shall know my face.

I stay my haste, I make delays,

For what avails this eager pace?

I stand amid the eternal ways,

And what is mine shall know my face.

Asleep, awake, by night or day,The friends I seek are seeking me;No wind can drive my bark astray,Nor change the tide of destiny.

Asleep, awake, by night or day,

The friends I seek are seeking me;

No wind can drive my bark astray,

Nor change the tide of destiny.

What matter if I stand alone?I wait with joy the coming years;My heart shall reap where it has sownAnd garner up its fruit of tears.

What matter if I stand alone?

I wait with joy the coming years;

My heart shall reap where it has sown

And garner up its fruit of tears.

The waters know their own, and drawThe brook that springs in yonder height;So flows the good, with equal law,Unto the soul of pure delight.

The waters know their own, and draw

The brook that springs in yonder height;

So flows the good, with equal law,

Unto the soul of pure delight.

The stars come nightly to the sky;The tidal wave unto the sea;Nor time nor space, nor deep nor high,Can keep my own away from me.

The stars come nightly to the sky;

The tidal wave unto the sea;

Nor time nor space, nor deep nor high,

Can keep my own away from me.

—John Burroughs.

———

O, yet we trust that somehow goodWill be the final goal of ill,To pangs of nature, sins of will,Defects of doubt and taints of blood;That nothing walks with aimless feet;That not one life shall be destroyed,Or cast as rubbish to the voidWhen God hath made the pile complete;That not a worm is cloven in vain;That not a moth with vain desireIs shriveled in a fruitless fire,Or but subserves another's gain.Behold, we know not anything;I can but trust that good shall fallAt last—far off—at last, to all,And every winter change to spring.So runs my dream; but what am I?An infant crying in the night;An infant crying for the light,And with no language but a cry.. . . . . . .I falter where I firmly trod,And falling with my weight of caresUpon the great world's altar-stairsThat slope through darkness up to God.I stretch lame hands of faith and grope,And gather dust and chaff, and callTo what I feel is Lord of all,And faintly trust the larger hope.—Alfred Tennyson.

O, yet we trust that somehow goodWill be the final goal of ill,To pangs of nature, sins of will,Defects of doubt and taints of blood;

O, yet we trust that somehow good

Will be the final goal of ill,

To pangs of nature, sins of will,

Defects of doubt and taints of blood;

That nothing walks with aimless feet;That not one life shall be destroyed,Or cast as rubbish to the voidWhen God hath made the pile complete;

That nothing walks with aimless feet;

That not one life shall be destroyed,

Or cast as rubbish to the void

When God hath made the pile complete;

That not a worm is cloven in vain;That not a moth with vain desireIs shriveled in a fruitless fire,Or but subserves another's gain.

That not a worm is cloven in vain;

That not a moth with vain desire

Is shriveled in a fruitless fire,

Or but subserves another's gain.

Behold, we know not anything;I can but trust that good shall fallAt last—far off—at last, to all,And every winter change to spring.

Behold, we know not anything;

I can but trust that good shall fall

At last—far off—at last, to all,

And every winter change to spring.

So runs my dream; but what am I?An infant crying in the night;An infant crying for the light,And with no language but a cry.

So runs my dream; but what am I?

An infant crying in the night;

An infant crying for the light,

And with no language but a cry.

. . . . . . .

I falter where I firmly trod,And falling with my weight of caresUpon the great world's altar-stairsThat slope through darkness up to God.

I falter where I firmly trod,

And falling with my weight of cares

Upon the great world's altar-stairs

That slope through darkness up to God.

I stretch lame hands of faith and grope,And gather dust and chaff, and callTo what I feel is Lord of all,And faintly trust the larger hope.

I stretch lame hands of faith and grope,

And gather dust and chaff, and call

To what I feel is Lord of all,

And faintly trust the larger hope.

—Alfred Tennyson.

———

Say not, the struggle naught availeth;The labor and the wounds are vain;The enemy faints not, nor faileth;And as things have been they remain.If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;It may be—in yon smoke concealed—Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers,And, but for you, possess the field.For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,Seem here no painful inch to gain,Far back, through creeks and inlets making,Comes, silent, flooding in, the main.And not by eastern windows only,When daylight comes, comes in the light;In front the sun climbs slow—how slowly!But westward, look, the land is bright!—Arthur Hugh Clough.

Say not, the struggle naught availeth;The labor and the wounds are vain;The enemy faints not, nor faileth;And as things have been they remain.

Say not, the struggle naught availeth;

The labor and the wounds are vain;

The enemy faints not, nor faileth;

And as things have been they remain.

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;It may be—in yon smoke concealed—Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers,And, but for you, possess the field.

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;

It may be—in yon smoke concealed—

Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers,

And, but for you, possess the field.

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,Seem here no painful inch to gain,Far back, through creeks and inlets making,Comes, silent, flooding in, the main.

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,

Seem here no painful inch to gain,

Far back, through creeks and inlets making,

Comes, silent, flooding in, the main.

And not by eastern windows only,When daylight comes, comes in the light;In front the sun climbs slow—how slowly!But westward, look, the land is bright!

And not by eastern windows only,

When daylight comes, comes in the light;

In front the sun climbs slow—how slowly!

But westward, look, the land is bright!

—Arthur Hugh Clough.

———

Commit thy way to God,The weight which makes thee faint;Worlds are to him no load,To him breathe thy complaint.He who for winds and cloudsMaketh a pathway free,Through wastes or hostile crowds,Can make a way for thee.Thou must in him be blestEre bliss can be secure;On his works must thou restIf thy work shall endure.To anxious, prying thought,And weary, fretting care,The highest yieldeth naught:He giveth all to prayer.Father, thy faithful love,Thy mercy, wise and mild,Sees what will blessing prove,Or what will hurt thy child;And what thy wise foreseeingDoth for thy children chooseThou bringest into being,Nor sufferest them to lose.Hope, then, though woes be doubled;Hope and be undismayed;Let not thy heart be troubled,Nor let it be afraid.This prison where thou art—Thy God will break it soon,And flood with light thy heartIn his own blessed noon.Up! up! the day is breaking;Say to thy cares, Good night!Thy troubles from thee shakingLike dreams in day's fresh light.Thou wearest not the crown,Nor the best course can tell;God sitteth on the throneAnd guideth all things well.—Paul Gerhardt, tr. by Elizabeth Rundle Charles.

Commit thy way to God,

The weight which makes thee faint;

Worlds are to him no load,

To him breathe thy complaint.

He who for winds and clouds

Maketh a pathway free,

Through wastes or hostile crowds,

Can make a way for thee.

Thou must in him be blestEre bliss can be secure;On his works must thou restIf thy work shall endure.To anxious, prying thought,And weary, fretting care,The highest yieldeth naught:He giveth all to prayer.

Thou must in him be blest

Ere bliss can be secure;

On his works must thou rest

If thy work shall endure.

To anxious, prying thought,

And weary, fretting care,

The highest yieldeth naught:

He giveth all to prayer.

Father, thy faithful love,Thy mercy, wise and mild,Sees what will blessing prove,Or what will hurt thy child;And what thy wise foreseeingDoth for thy children chooseThou bringest into being,Nor sufferest them to lose.

Father, thy faithful love,

Thy mercy, wise and mild,

Sees what will blessing prove,

Or what will hurt thy child;

And what thy wise foreseeing

Doth for thy children choose

Thou bringest into being,

Nor sufferest them to lose.

Hope, then, though woes be doubled;Hope and be undismayed;Let not thy heart be troubled,Nor let it be afraid.This prison where thou art—Thy God will break it soon,And flood with light thy heartIn his own blessed noon.

Hope, then, though woes be doubled;

Hope and be undismayed;

Let not thy heart be troubled,

Nor let it be afraid.

This prison where thou art—

Thy God will break it soon,

And flood with light thy heart

In his own blessed noon.

Up! up! the day is breaking;Say to thy cares, Good night!Thy troubles from thee shakingLike dreams in day's fresh light.Thou wearest not the crown,Nor the best course can tell;God sitteth on the throneAnd guideth all things well.

Up! up! the day is breaking;

Say to thy cares, Good night!

Thy troubles from thee shaking

Like dreams in day's fresh light.

Thou wearest not the crown,

Nor the best course can tell;

God sitteth on the throne

And guideth all things well.

—Paul Gerhardt, tr. by Elizabeth Rundle Charles.

———

There's never a day so sunnyBut a little cloud appears,There's never a life so happyBut has its time of tears;Yet the sun shines out the brighterWhenever the tempest clears.There's never a garden growingWith roses in every plot;There's never a heart so hardenedBut has one tender spot;We have only to prune the borderTo find the forget-me-not.There's never a sun that risesBut we know 'twill set at night;The tints that gleam in the morningAt evening are just as bright;And the hour that is the sweetestIs between the dark and light.There is never a cup so pleasantBut has bitter with the sweet;There is never a path so rugged,Bearing not the print of feet,But we have a helper furnishedFor the trials we may meet.There is never a way so narrowBut the entrance is made straight,There is always a guide to point usTo the "little wicket gate."And the angels will be nearestTo a soul that's desolate.There is never a heart so haughtyBut will some day bow and kneel;There is never a heart so woundedThat the Saviour cannot heal;There is many a lowly foreheadBearing now the hidden seal.There's never a dream so happyBut the waking makes us sad;There's never a dream of sorrowBut the waking makes us glad;We shall look some day with wonderAt the troubles we have had.

There's never a day so sunnyBut a little cloud appears,There's never a life so happyBut has its time of tears;Yet the sun shines out the brighterWhenever the tempest clears.

There's never a day so sunny

But a little cloud appears,

There's never a life so happy

But has its time of tears;

Yet the sun shines out the brighter

Whenever the tempest clears.

There's never a garden growingWith roses in every plot;There's never a heart so hardenedBut has one tender spot;We have only to prune the borderTo find the forget-me-not.

There's never a garden growing

With roses in every plot;

There's never a heart so hardened

But has one tender spot;

We have only to prune the border

To find the forget-me-not.

There's never a sun that risesBut we know 'twill set at night;The tints that gleam in the morningAt evening are just as bright;And the hour that is the sweetestIs between the dark and light.

There's never a sun that rises

But we know 'twill set at night;

The tints that gleam in the morning

At evening are just as bright;

And the hour that is the sweetest

Is between the dark and light.

There is never a cup so pleasantBut has bitter with the sweet;There is never a path so rugged,Bearing not the print of feet,But we have a helper furnishedFor the trials we may meet.

There is never a cup so pleasant

But has bitter with the sweet;

There is never a path so rugged,

Bearing not the print of feet,

But we have a helper furnished

For the trials we may meet.

There is never a way so narrowBut the entrance is made straight,There is always a guide to point usTo the "little wicket gate."And the angels will be nearestTo a soul that's desolate.

There is never a way so narrow

But the entrance is made straight,

There is always a guide to point us

To the "little wicket gate."

And the angels will be nearest

To a soul that's desolate.

There is never a heart so haughtyBut will some day bow and kneel;There is never a heart so woundedThat the Saviour cannot heal;There is many a lowly foreheadBearing now the hidden seal.

There is never a heart so haughty

But will some day bow and kneel;

There is never a heart so wounded

That the Saviour cannot heal;

There is many a lowly forehead

Bearing now the hidden seal.

There's never a dream so happyBut the waking makes us sad;There's never a dream of sorrowBut the waking makes us glad;We shall look some day with wonderAt the troubles we have had.

There's never a dream so happy

But the waking makes us sad;

There's never a dream of sorrow

But the waking makes us glad;

We shall look some day with wonder

At the troubles we have had.

———

Yet sometimes glimmers on my sight,Through present wrong, the eternal right;And, step by step, since time began,I see the steady gain of man.—John Greenleaf Whittier.

Yet sometimes glimmers on my sight,Through present wrong, the eternal right;And, step by step, since time began,I see the steady gain of man.

Yet sometimes glimmers on my sight,

Through present wrong, the eternal right;

And, step by step, since time began,

I see the steady gain of man.

—John Greenleaf Whittier.

———

I hear it singing, singing sweetly,Softly in an undertone,Singing as if God had taught it,"It is better farther on!"Night and day it sings the song,Sings it while I sit alone,Sings so that the heart may hear it,"It is better farther on!"Sits upon the grave and sings it,Sings it when the heart would groan,Sings it when the shadows darken,"It is better farther on!"Farther on? How much farther?Count the milestones one by one?No! no counting—only trusting,"It is better farther on!"

I hear it singing, singing sweetly,Softly in an undertone,Singing as if God had taught it,"It is better farther on!"

I hear it singing, singing sweetly,

Softly in an undertone,

Singing as if God had taught it,

"It is better farther on!"

Night and day it sings the song,Sings it while I sit alone,Sings so that the heart may hear it,"It is better farther on!"

Night and day it sings the song,

Sings it while I sit alone,

Sings so that the heart may hear it,

"It is better farther on!"

Sits upon the grave and sings it,Sings it when the heart would groan,Sings it when the shadows darken,"It is better farther on!"

Sits upon the grave and sings it,

Sings it when the heart would groan,

Sings it when the shadows darken,

"It is better farther on!"

Farther on? How much farther?Count the milestones one by one?No! no counting—only trusting,"It is better farther on!"

Farther on? How much farther?

Count the milestones one by one?

No! no counting—only trusting,

"It is better farther on!"

———

Every day is a fresh beginning,Every morn is the world made new;You who are weary of sorrow and sinning,Here is a beautiful hope for you—A hope for me and a hope for you.All the past things are past and over,The tasks are done and the tears are shed;Yesterday's errors let yesterday cover;Yesterday's wounds, which smarted and bled,Are healed with the healing which night has shed.Yesterday is a part of forever,Bound up in a sheaf which God holds tight;With glad days, and sad days, and bad days, which neverShall visit us more with their bloom and their blight,Their fullness of sunshine or sorrowful night.Let them go, since we cannot relieve them;Cannot undo, and cannot atone;God in his mercy, receive, forgive them!Only the new days are our own.To-day is ours, and to-day alone.Here are the skies all burnished brightly,Here is the spent earth all reborn;Here are the tired limbs springing lightlyTo face the sun, and to share with the mornIn the chrism of dew and the cool of dawn.Every day is a fresh beginning;Listen, my soul, to the glad refrain,And, spite of all sorrow and old sinning,And puzzle forecasted, and possible pain,Take heart with the day, and begin again.—Susan Coolidge.

Every day is a fresh beginning,Every morn is the world made new;You who are weary of sorrow and sinning,Here is a beautiful hope for you—A hope for me and a hope for you.

Every day is a fresh beginning,

Every morn is the world made new;

You who are weary of sorrow and sinning,

Here is a beautiful hope for you—

A hope for me and a hope for you.

All the past things are past and over,The tasks are done and the tears are shed;Yesterday's errors let yesterday cover;Yesterday's wounds, which smarted and bled,Are healed with the healing which night has shed.

All the past things are past and over,

The tasks are done and the tears are shed;

Yesterday's errors let yesterday cover;

Yesterday's wounds, which smarted and bled,

Are healed with the healing which night has shed.

Yesterday is a part of forever,Bound up in a sheaf which God holds tight;With glad days, and sad days, and bad days, which neverShall visit us more with their bloom and their blight,Their fullness of sunshine or sorrowful night.

Yesterday is a part of forever,

Bound up in a sheaf which God holds tight;

With glad days, and sad days, and bad days, which never

Shall visit us more with their bloom and their blight,

Their fullness of sunshine or sorrowful night.

Let them go, since we cannot relieve them;Cannot undo, and cannot atone;God in his mercy, receive, forgive them!Only the new days are our own.To-day is ours, and to-day alone.

Let them go, since we cannot relieve them;

Cannot undo, and cannot atone;

God in his mercy, receive, forgive them!

Only the new days are our own.

To-day is ours, and to-day alone.

Here are the skies all burnished brightly,Here is the spent earth all reborn;Here are the tired limbs springing lightlyTo face the sun, and to share with the mornIn the chrism of dew and the cool of dawn.

Here are the skies all burnished brightly,

Here is the spent earth all reborn;

Here are the tired limbs springing lightly

To face the sun, and to share with the morn

In the chrism of dew and the cool of dawn.

Every day is a fresh beginning;Listen, my soul, to the glad refrain,And, spite of all sorrow and old sinning,And puzzle forecasted, and possible pain,Take heart with the day, and begin again.

Every day is a fresh beginning;

Listen, my soul, to the glad refrain,

And, spite of all sorrow and old sinning,

And puzzle forecasted, and possible pain,

Take heart with the day, and begin again.

—Susan Coolidge.

———

Never go gloomily, man with a mind;Hope is a better companion than fear;Providence, ever benignant and kind,Gives with a smile what you take with a tear.All will be right; look to the light;Morning is ever the daughter of night;All that was black will be all that is bright;Cheerily, cheerily, then, cheer up.Many a foe is a friend in disguise,Many a sorrow a blessing most true,Helping the heart to be happy and wise,Bringing true love and joys ever new.Stand in the van; strive like a man;This is the bravest and cleverest plan—Trusting in God while you do what you can,Cheerily, cheerily, then, cheer up.

Never go gloomily, man with a mind;

Hope is a better companion than fear;

Providence, ever benignant and kind,

Gives with a smile what you take with a tear.

All will be right; look to the light;

Morning is ever the daughter of night;

All that was black will be all that is bright;

Cheerily, cheerily, then, cheer up.

Many a foe is a friend in disguise,Many a sorrow a blessing most true,Helping the heart to be happy and wise,Bringing true love and joys ever new.Stand in the van; strive like a man;This is the bravest and cleverest plan—Trusting in God while you do what you can,Cheerily, cheerily, then, cheer up.

Many a foe is a friend in disguise,

Many a sorrow a blessing most true,

Helping the heart to be happy and wise,

Bringing true love and joys ever new.

Stand in the van; strive like a man;

This is the bravest and cleverest plan—

Trusting in God while you do what you can,

Cheerily, cheerily, then, cheer up.

———

Idly as thou, in that old dayThou mournest, did thy sire repine;So, in his time, thy child grown grayShall sigh for thine.But life shall on and upward go;Th' eternal step of Progress beatsTo that great anthem, calm and slow,Which God repeats.Take heart! The Waster builds again;A charmèd life old Goodness hath;The tares may perish, but the grainIs not for death.—John Greenleaf Whittier.

Idly as thou, in that old dayThou mournest, did thy sire repine;So, in his time, thy child grown grayShall sigh for thine.

Idly as thou, in that old day

Thou mournest, did thy sire repine;

So, in his time, thy child grown gray

Shall sigh for thine.

But life shall on and upward go;Th' eternal step of Progress beatsTo that great anthem, calm and slow,Which God repeats.

But life shall on and upward go;

Th' eternal step of Progress beats

To that great anthem, calm and slow,

Which God repeats.

Take heart! The Waster builds again;A charmèd life old Goodness hath;The tares may perish, but the grainIs not for death.

Take heart! The Waster builds again;

A charmèd life old Goodness hath;

The tares may perish, but the grain

Is not for death.

—John Greenleaf Whittier.

———

Veiled the future comes, refusing,To be seen, like Isaac's brideWhom the lonely man met musingIn the fields at eventide.Round him o'er the darkening wasteDeeper shades of evening fall,And behind him in the pastMother Sarah's funeral.Mother Sarah being dead,There comes his veilèd destiny;The veiled Rebecca he must wedWhatsoe'er her features be.On he walks in silent prayer,Bids the veiled Rebecca hail,Doubting not she will prove fairWhen at length she drops the veil.When the veil is dropped aside,Dropped in Mother Sarah's tent,Oh! she is right fair, this brideWhom his loving God has sent.To those walking 'twixt the two—'Twixt the past with pleasures deadAnd the future veiled from view—The veiled future thou must wed;Walk like Isaac, praying God;Walk by faith and not by sight;And though darker grows the roadDoubt not all will yet come right.Things behind forgetting, hailEvery future from above.Doubt not when it drops the veil'Twill be such as thou wouldst love.Till at death-eve, when the pastRings dear Mother Earth's own knells,Bridal heaven unveils at lastWith a peal of marriage bells.—William Robertson.

Veiled the future comes, refusing,To be seen, like Isaac's brideWhom the lonely man met musingIn the fields at eventide.

Veiled the future comes, refusing,

To be seen, like Isaac's bride

Whom the lonely man met musing

In the fields at eventide.

Round him o'er the darkening wasteDeeper shades of evening fall,And behind him in the pastMother Sarah's funeral.

Round him o'er the darkening waste

Deeper shades of evening fall,

And behind him in the past

Mother Sarah's funeral.

Mother Sarah being dead,There comes his veilèd destiny;The veiled Rebecca he must wedWhatsoe'er her features be.

Mother Sarah being dead,

There comes his veilèd destiny;

The veiled Rebecca he must wed

Whatsoe'er her features be.

On he walks in silent prayer,Bids the veiled Rebecca hail,Doubting not she will prove fairWhen at length she drops the veil.

On he walks in silent prayer,

Bids the veiled Rebecca hail,

Doubting not she will prove fair

When at length she drops the veil.

When the veil is dropped aside,Dropped in Mother Sarah's tent,Oh! she is right fair, this brideWhom his loving God has sent.

When the veil is dropped aside,

Dropped in Mother Sarah's tent,

Oh! she is right fair, this bride

Whom his loving God has sent.

To those walking 'twixt the two—'Twixt the past with pleasures deadAnd the future veiled from view—The veiled future thou must wed;

To those walking 'twixt the two—

'Twixt the past with pleasures dead

And the future veiled from view—

The veiled future thou must wed;

Walk like Isaac, praying God;Walk by faith and not by sight;And though darker grows the roadDoubt not all will yet come right.

Walk like Isaac, praying God;

Walk by faith and not by sight;

And though darker grows the road

Doubt not all will yet come right.

Things behind forgetting, hailEvery future from above.Doubt not when it drops the veil'Twill be such as thou wouldst love.

Things behind forgetting, hail

Every future from above.

Doubt not when it drops the veil

'Twill be such as thou wouldst love.

Till at death-eve, when the pastRings dear Mother Earth's own knells,Bridal heaven unveils at lastWith a peal of marriage bells.

Till at death-eve, when the past

Rings dear Mother Earth's own knells,

Bridal heaven unveils at last

With a peal of marriage bells.

—William Robertson.

———

The night is mother of the day,The winter of the spring;And ever upon old decayThe greenest mosses cling.Behind the cloud the starlight lurks,Through showers the sunbeams fall;For God, who loveth all his works,Has left his hope with all.—John Greenleaf Whittier.

The night is mother of the day,

The winter of the spring;

And ever upon old decay

The greenest mosses cling.

Behind the cloud the starlight lurks,

Through showers the sunbeams fall;

For God, who loveth all his works,

Has left his hope with all.

—John Greenleaf Whittier.

———

Let to-morrow take care of to-morrow;Leave things of the future to fate;What's the use to anticipate sorrow?Life's troubles come never too late!If to hope overmuch be an error,'Tis one that the wise have preferred;And how often have hearts been in terrorOf evils that never occurred.Have faith, and thy faith shall sustain thee;Permit not suspicion and careWith invisible bonds to acclaim thee,But bear what God gives thee to bear.By his spirit supported and gladdened,Be ne'er by forebodings deterred;But think how oft hearts have been saddenedBy fear of what never occurred.Let to-morrow take care of to-morrow;Short and dark as our life may appearWe may make it still darker by sorrow,Still shorter by folly and fear!Half our troubles are half our invention,And often from blessings conferredHave we shrunk, in the wild apprehensionOf evils that never occurred.—Charles Swain.

Let to-morrow take care of to-morrow;

Leave things of the future to fate;

What's the use to anticipate sorrow?

Life's troubles come never too late!

If to hope overmuch be an error,

'Tis one that the wise have preferred;

And how often have hearts been in terror

Of evils that never occurred.

Have faith, and thy faith shall sustain thee;Permit not suspicion and careWith invisible bonds to acclaim thee,But bear what God gives thee to bear.By his spirit supported and gladdened,Be ne'er by forebodings deterred;But think how oft hearts have been saddenedBy fear of what never occurred.

Have faith, and thy faith shall sustain thee;

Permit not suspicion and care

With invisible bonds to acclaim thee,

But bear what God gives thee to bear.

By his spirit supported and gladdened,

Be ne'er by forebodings deterred;

But think how oft hearts have been saddened

By fear of what never occurred.

Let to-morrow take care of to-morrow;Short and dark as our life may appearWe may make it still darker by sorrow,Still shorter by folly and fear!Half our troubles are half our invention,And often from blessings conferredHave we shrunk, in the wild apprehensionOf evils that never occurred.

Let to-morrow take care of to-morrow;

Short and dark as our life may appear

We may make it still darker by sorrow,

Still shorter by folly and fear!

Half our troubles are half our invention,

And often from blessings conferred

Have we shrunk, in the wild apprehension

Of evils that never occurred.

—Charles Swain.

———

There is a morning star, my soul!There is a morning star;'Twill soon be near and bright, my soul,Though now it seem so dim and far.And when time's stars have come and gone,And every mist of earth has flown,That better star shall riseOn this world's clouded skiesTo shine forever!The night is well-nigh spent, my soul!The night is well-nigh spent;And soon above our heads shall riseA glorious firmament.A sky all clear and glad and bright,The Lamb once slain its perfect light,A star without a cloud,Whose light no mists enshroud,Descending never!

There is a morning star, my soul!

There is a morning star;

'Twill soon be near and bright, my soul,

Though now it seem so dim and far.

And when time's stars have come and gone,

And every mist of earth has flown,

That better star shall rise

On this world's clouded skies

To shine forever!

The night is well-nigh spent, my soul!The night is well-nigh spent;And soon above our heads shall riseA glorious firmament.A sky all clear and glad and bright,The Lamb once slain its perfect light,A star without a cloud,Whose light no mists enshroud,Descending never!

The night is well-nigh spent, my soul!

The night is well-nigh spent;

And soon above our heads shall rise

A glorious firmament.

A sky all clear and glad and bright,

The Lamb once slain its perfect light,

A star without a cloud,

Whose light no mists enshroud,

Descending never!

———

There are three lessons I would write—Three words as with a burning pen,In tracings of eternal light,Upon the hearts of men.Have Hope. Though clouds environ now,And gladness hides her face in scorn,Put thou the shadow from thy brow—No night but hath its morn.Have Faith. Where'er thy bark is driven—The calm's disport, the tempest's mirth—Know this: God rules the host of heaven,The inhabitants of earth.Have Love. Not love alone for one,But man as man thy brother call;And scatter like the circling sunThy charities on all.Thus grave these lessons on thy soul—Faith, Hope, and Love—and thou shalt findStrength when life's surges rudest roll,Light when thou else wert blind.—Johann Christopher Friedrich von Schiller.

There are three lessons I would write—Three words as with a burning pen,In tracings of eternal light,Upon the hearts of men.

There are three lessons I would write—

Three words as with a burning pen,

In tracings of eternal light,

Upon the hearts of men.

Have Hope. Though clouds environ now,And gladness hides her face in scorn,Put thou the shadow from thy brow—No night but hath its morn.

Have Hope. Though clouds environ now,

And gladness hides her face in scorn,

Put thou the shadow from thy brow—

No night but hath its morn.

Have Faith. Where'er thy bark is driven—The calm's disport, the tempest's mirth—Know this: God rules the host of heaven,The inhabitants of earth.

Have Faith. Where'er thy bark is driven—

The calm's disport, the tempest's mirth—

Know this: God rules the host of heaven,

The inhabitants of earth.

Have Love. Not love alone for one,But man as man thy brother call;And scatter like the circling sunThy charities on all.

Have Love. Not love alone for one,

But man as man thy brother call;

And scatter like the circling sun

Thy charities on all.

Thus grave these lessons on thy soul—Faith, Hope, and Love—and thou shalt findStrength when life's surges rudest roll,Light when thou else wert blind.

Thus grave these lessons on thy soul—

Faith, Hope, and Love—and thou shalt find

Strength when life's surges rudest roll,

Light when thou else wert blind.

—Johann Christopher Friedrich von Schiller.

———

Knowing this, that never yetShare of truth was vainly setIn the world's wide fallow;After hands shall sow the seed,After hands from hill and meadReap the harvests yellow.—John Greenleaf Whittier.

Knowing this, that never yetShare of truth was vainly setIn the world's wide fallow;After hands shall sow the seed,After hands from hill and meadReap the harvests yellow.

Knowing this, that never yet

Share of truth was vainly set

In the world's wide fallow;

After hands shall sow the seed,

After hands from hill and mead

Reap the harvests yellow.

—John Greenleaf Whittier.

———

Yet I argue notAgainst Thy hand or will, nor bate a jotOf heart or hope, but still bear up and steerRight onward.—John Milton.

Yet I argue notAgainst Thy hand or will, nor bate a jotOf heart or hope, but still bear up and steerRight onward.

Yet I argue not

Against Thy hand or will, nor bate a jot

Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer

Right onward.

—John Milton.

———

The world is growing better,No matter what they say;The light is shining brighterIn one refulgent ray;And though deceivers murmur,And turn another way,Yet still the world grows betterAnd better every day.

The world is growing better,

No matter what they say;

The light is shining brighter

In one refulgent ray;

And though deceivers murmur,

And turn another way,

Yet still the world grows better

And better every day.

———

Never give up! it is wiser and betterAlways to hope than once to despair;Fling off the load of Doubt's cankering fetter,And break the dark spell of tyrannical care;Never give up, or the burden may sink you—Providence kindly has mingled the cup;And in all trials and troubles bethink youThe watchword of life must be—Never give up.

Never give up! it is wiser and better

Always to hope than once to despair;

Fling off the load of Doubt's cankering fetter,

And break the dark spell of tyrannical care;

Never give up, or the burden may sink you—

Providence kindly has mingled the cup;

And in all trials and troubles bethink you

The watchword of life must be—Never give up.

———

It's wiser being good than bad;It's safer being meek than fierce;It's fitter being sane than mad.My own hope is a sun will pierceThe thickest cloud earth ever stretched;That, after Last, returns the First,Though a wide compass round be fetched;That what began best, can't end worst,Nor what God blest once, prove accurst.—Robert Browning.

It's wiser being good than bad;

It's safer being meek than fierce;

It's fitter being sane than mad.

My own hope is a sun will pierce

The thickest cloud earth ever stretched;

That, after Last, returns the First,

Though a wide compass round be fetched;

That what began best, can't end worst,

Nor what God blest once, prove accurst.

—Robert Browning.

———

Hope, Christian soul! in every stageOf this thine earthly pilgrimage,Let heavenly joy thy thoughts engage;Abound in hope.Hope through the watches of the night;Hope till the morrow brings the light;Hope till thy faith be lost in sight;Abound in hope.

Hope, Christian soul! in every stage

Of this thine earthly pilgrimage,

Let heavenly joy thy thoughts engage;

Abound in hope.

Hope through the watches of the night;

Hope till the morrow brings the light;

Hope till thy faith be lost in sight;

Abound in hope.

———

God works in all things; all obeyHis first propulsion from the night;Wake thou and watch! the world is grayWith morning light.—John Greenleaf Whittier.

God works in all things; all obeyHis first propulsion from the night;Wake thou and watch! the world is grayWith morning light.

God works in all things; all obey

His first propulsion from the night;

Wake thou and watch! the world is gray

With morning light.

—John Greenleaf Whittier.

———

When the sun of joy is hidden,And the sky is overcast,Just remember—light is coming,And the storm won't always last.

When the sun of joy is hidden,

And the sky is overcast,

Just remember—light is coming,

And the storm won't always last.

———

The mist denies the mountains;The wind forbids the sea;But, mist or wind, I go to findThe day that calls to me.For there are mornings yonderAnd noons that call and call;And there's a day with arms outheld,That waits beyond them all.—Josephine Preston Peabody.

The mist denies the mountains;The wind forbids the sea;But, mist or wind, I go to findThe day that calls to me.

The mist denies the mountains;

The wind forbids the sea;

But, mist or wind, I go to find

The day that calls to me.

For there are mornings yonderAnd noons that call and call;And there's a day with arms outheld,That waits beyond them all.

For there are mornings yonder

And noons that call and call;

And there's a day with arms outheld,

That waits beyond them all.

—Josephine Preston Peabody.

———

Open the door of your hearts, my lads,To the angel of Love and TruthWhen the world is full of unnumbered joys,In the beautiful dawn of youth.Casting aside all things that mar,Saying to wrong, Depart!To the voices of hope that are calling youOpen the door of your heart.—Edward Everett Hale.

Open the door of your hearts, my lads,

To the angel of Love and Truth

When the world is full of unnumbered joys,

In the beautiful dawn of youth.

Casting aside all things that mar,

Saying to wrong, Depart!

To the voices of hope that are calling you

Open the door of your heart.

—Edward Everett Hale.

———

A little bit of hopeMakes a rainy day look gay;A little bit of charityMakes glad a weary way!

A little bit of hope

Makes a rainy day look gay;

A little bit of charity

Makes glad a weary way!

———

Hope, child, to-morrow, and to-morrow still,And every morrow hope; trust while you live.Hope! each time the dawn doth heaven fill,Be there to ask as God is there to give.—Victor Hugo.

Hope, child, to-morrow, and to-morrow still,And every morrow hope; trust while you live.Hope! each time the dawn doth heaven fill,Be there to ask as God is there to give.

Hope, child, to-morrow, and to-morrow still,

And every morrow hope; trust while you live.

Hope! each time the dawn doth heaven fill,

Be there to ask as God is there to give.

—Victor Hugo.

I bow my forehead to the dust,I veil mine eyes for shame,And urge, in trembling self-distrust,A prayer without a claim.No offering of mine own I have,Nor works my faith to prove;I can but give the gifts he gave,And plead his love for love.I dimly guess, from blessings known,Of greater out of sight;And, with the chastened psalmist, ownHis judgments too are right.And if my heart and flesh are weakTo bear an untried pain,The bruisèd reed he will not break,But strengthen and sustain.I know not what the future hathOf marvel or surprise,Assured alone that life and deathHis mercy underlies.And so beside the silent seaI wait the muffled oar;No harm from him can come to meOn ocean or on shore.I know not where his islands liftTheir fronded palms in air;I only know I cannot driftBeyond his love and care.And thou, O Lord, by whom are seenThy creatures as they be,Forgive me if too close I leanMy human heart on thee.—John Greenleaf Whittier.

I bow my forehead to the dust,

I veil mine eyes for shame,

And urge, in trembling self-distrust,

A prayer without a claim.

No offering of mine own I have,

Nor works my faith to prove;

I can but give the gifts he gave,

And plead his love for love.

I dimly guess, from blessings known,Of greater out of sight;And, with the chastened psalmist, ownHis judgments too are right.And if my heart and flesh are weakTo bear an untried pain,The bruisèd reed he will not break,But strengthen and sustain.

I dimly guess, from blessings known,

Of greater out of sight;

And, with the chastened psalmist, own

His judgments too are right.

And if my heart and flesh are weak

To bear an untried pain,

The bruisèd reed he will not break,

But strengthen and sustain.

I know not what the future hathOf marvel or surprise,Assured alone that life and deathHis mercy underlies.And so beside the silent seaI wait the muffled oar;No harm from him can come to meOn ocean or on shore.

I know not what the future hath

Of marvel or surprise,

Assured alone that life and death

His mercy underlies.

And so beside the silent sea

I wait the muffled oar;

No harm from him can come to me

On ocean or on shore.

I know not where his islands liftTheir fronded palms in air;I only know I cannot driftBeyond his love and care.And thou, O Lord, by whom are seenThy creatures as they be,Forgive me if too close I leanMy human heart on thee.

I know not where his islands lift

Their fronded palms in air;

I only know I cannot drift

Beyond his love and care.

And thou, O Lord, by whom are seen

Thy creatures as they be,

Forgive me if too close I lean

My human heart on thee.

—John Greenleaf Whittier.

———

Forgive us, Lord, our little faith;And help us all, from morn till e'en,Still to believe that lot the bestWhich is, not that which might have been.And grant we may so pass the daysThe cradle and the grave between,That death's dark hour not darker beFor thoughts of what life might have been.

Forgive us, Lord, our little faith;And help us all, from morn till e'en,Still to believe that lot the bestWhich is, not that which might have been.

Forgive us, Lord, our little faith;

And help us all, from morn till e'en,

Still to believe that lot the best

Which is, not that which might have been.

And grant we may so pass the daysThe cradle and the grave between,That death's dark hour not darker beFor thoughts of what life might have been.

And grant we may so pass the days

The cradle and the grave between,

That death's dark hour not darker be

For thoughts of what life might have been.

———

My prayer to the promise shall cling—I will not give heed to a doubt;For I ask for the one needful thingWhich I cannot be happy without:A spirit of lowly reposeIn the love of the Lamb that was slain;A heart to be touched with his woes,And a care not to grieve him again;The peace that my Saviour has bought,The cheerfulness nothing can dim,The love that can bring every thoughtInto perfect obedience to him;The wisdom his mercy to ownIn the way he directs me to take—To glory in Jesus alone,And to love and do good for his sake.All this thou hast offered to meIn the promise whereon I will rest;For faith, O my Saviour! in thee,Is the substance of all my request.Thy word has commanded my prayer,Thy Spirit has taught me to pray;And all my unholy despairIs ready to vanish away.Thou wilt not be weary of me;Thy promise my faith shall sustain;And soon, very soon, shall I seeI have not been asking in vain.—Anna Letitia Waring.

My prayer to the promise shall cling—I will not give heed to a doubt;For I ask for the one needful thingWhich I cannot be happy without:

My prayer to the promise shall cling—

I will not give heed to a doubt;

For I ask for the one needful thing

Which I cannot be happy without:

A spirit of lowly reposeIn the love of the Lamb that was slain;A heart to be touched with his woes,And a care not to grieve him again;

A spirit of lowly repose

In the love of the Lamb that was slain;

A heart to be touched with his woes,

And a care not to grieve him again;

The peace that my Saviour has bought,The cheerfulness nothing can dim,The love that can bring every thoughtInto perfect obedience to him;

The peace that my Saviour has bought,

The cheerfulness nothing can dim,

The love that can bring every thought

Into perfect obedience to him;

The wisdom his mercy to ownIn the way he directs me to take—To glory in Jesus alone,And to love and do good for his sake.

The wisdom his mercy to own

In the way he directs me to take—

To glory in Jesus alone,

And to love and do good for his sake.

All this thou hast offered to meIn the promise whereon I will rest;For faith, O my Saviour! in thee,Is the substance of all my request.

All this thou hast offered to me

In the promise whereon I will rest;

For faith, O my Saviour! in thee,

Is the substance of all my request.

Thy word has commanded my prayer,Thy Spirit has taught me to pray;And all my unholy despairIs ready to vanish away.

Thy word has commanded my prayer,

Thy Spirit has taught me to pray;

And all my unholy despair

Is ready to vanish away.

Thou wilt not be weary of me;Thy promise my faith shall sustain;And soon, very soon, shall I seeI have not been asking in vain.

Thou wilt not be weary of me;

Thy promise my faith shall sustain;

And soon, very soon, shall I see

I have not been asking in vain.

—Anna Letitia Waring.

———

Ah, God! I have not had thee day and nightIn thought, nor magnified thy name aright,Nor lauded thee, nor glorified, nor laidUpon thine altars one poor kusa-blade!Yet now, when I seek refuge, Lord! with thee,I ask, and thou wilt give, all good to me.—Edwin Arnold, from the Sanskrit.

Ah, God! I have not had thee day and night

In thought, nor magnified thy name aright,

Nor lauded thee, nor glorified, nor laid

Upon thine altars one poor kusa-blade!

Yet now, when I seek refuge, Lord! with thee,

I ask, and thou wilt give, all good to me.

—Edwin Arnold, from the Sanskrit.

———

Faith fails;Then in the dustLie failing rest and light and trust.So doth the troubled soul itself distress,And choke the fountain in the wilderness.I care not what your peace assails!The deep root is, faith fails.Faith failsWhen in the breastThe Lord's sweet presence doth not rest;For who believes, clouds cannot make afraid;He knows the sun doth shine behind the shade;He rides at anchor through the gales.Do you not so? Faith fails.Faith fails;Its foes alarm,And persecution's threats disarm;False friends can scarcely wish it a good day,Before it taketh fright and shrinks away.When God doth guard, what foe prevails?Why then the fear? Faith fails.Faith fails;Else cares would die,And we should on God's care rely.Man for the coming day doth grieve and fret,And all past days doth sinfully forget.For every beast God's care avails;Why not for us? Faith fails.Faith fails;Then cometh fear,If sickness comes, if death is near.O man, why is it, when the times are badAnd the days evil, that thy face is sad?How is it that thy courage quails?It must be this: Faith fails.My God!Let my faith beLiving, and working activelyWith hope and joy, that death may not surprise.So let them sweetly close my eyes;The Christian's life to death may yield—Hope stands; faith has the field.—S. C. Schoener.

Faith fails;

Then in the dust

Lie failing rest and light and trust.

So doth the troubled soul itself distress,

And choke the fountain in the wilderness.

I care not what your peace assails!

The deep root is, faith fails.

Faith failsWhen in the breastThe Lord's sweet presence doth not rest;For who believes, clouds cannot make afraid;He knows the sun doth shine behind the shade;He rides at anchor through the gales.Do you not so? Faith fails.

Faith fails

When in the breast

The Lord's sweet presence doth not rest;

For who believes, clouds cannot make afraid;

He knows the sun doth shine behind the shade;

He rides at anchor through the gales.

Do you not so? Faith fails.

Faith fails;Its foes alarm,And persecution's threats disarm;False friends can scarcely wish it a good day,Before it taketh fright and shrinks away.When God doth guard, what foe prevails?Why then the fear? Faith fails.

Faith fails;

Its foes alarm,

And persecution's threats disarm;

False friends can scarcely wish it a good day,

Before it taketh fright and shrinks away.

When God doth guard, what foe prevails?

Why then the fear? Faith fails.

Faith fails;Else cares would die,And we should on God's care rely.Man for the coming day doth grieve and fret,And all past days doth sinfully forget.For every beast God's care avails;Why not for us? Faith fails.

Faith fails;

Else cares would die,

And we should on God's care rely.

Man for the coming day doth grieve and fret,

And all past days doth sinfully forget.

For every beast God's care avails;

Why not for us? Faith fails.

Faith fails;Then cometh fear,If sickness comes, if death is near.O man, why is it, when the times are badAnd the days evil, that thy face is sad?How is it that thy courage quails?It must be this: Faith fails.

Faith fails;

Then cometh fear,

If sickness comes, if death is near.

O man, why is it, when the times are bad

And the days evil, that thy face is sad?

How is it that thy courage quails?

It must be this: Faith fails.

My God!Let my faith beLiving, and working activelyWith hope and joy, that death may not surprise.So let them sweetly close my eyes;The Christian's life to death may yield—Hope stands; faith has the field.

My God!

Let my faith be

Living, and working actively

With hope and joy, that death may not surprise.

So let them sweetly close my eyes;

The Christian's life to death may yield—

Hope stands; faith has the field.

—S. C. Schoener.

———

I look to Thee in every need,And never look in vain;I feel thy strong and tender love,And all is well again:The thought of thee is mightier farThan sin and pain and sorrow are.Discouraged in the work of life,Disheartened by its load,Shamed by its failures or its fears,I sink beside the road;But let me only think of Thee,And then new heart springs up in me.Thy calmness bends serene aboveMy restlessness to still;Around me flows thy quickening life,To nerve my faltering will;Thy presence fills my solitude;Thy providence turns all to good.Embosomed deep in Thy dear love,Held in thy law, I stand;Thy hand in all things I behold,And all things in thy hand;Thou leadest me by unsought ways,And turn'st my mourning into praise.—Samuel Longfellow.

I look to Thee in every need,And never look in vain;I feel thy strong and tender love,And all is well again:The thought of thee is mightier farThan sin and pain and sorrow are.

I look to Thee in every need,

And never look in vain;

I feel thy strong and tender love,

And all is well again:

The thought of thee is mightier far

Than sin and pain and sorrow are.

Discouraged in the work of life,Disheartened by its load,Shamed by its failures or its fears,I sink beside the road;But let me only think of Thee,And then new heart springs up in me.

Discouraged in the work of life,

Disheartened by its load,

Shamed by its failures or its fears,

I sink beside the road;

But let me only think of Thee,

And then new heart springs up in me.

Thy calmness bends serene aboveMy restlessness to still;Around me flows thy quickening life,To nerve my faltering will;Thy presence fills my solitude;Thy providence turns all to good.

Thy calmness bends serene above

My restlessness to still;

Around me flows thy quickening life,

To nerve my faltering will;

Thy presence fills my solitude;

Thy providence turns all to good.

Embosomed deep in Thy dear love,Held in thy law, I stand;Thy hand in all things I behold,And all things in thy hand;Thou leadest me by unsought ways,And turn'st my mourning into praise.

Embosomed deep in Thy dear love,

Held in thy law, I stand;

Thy hand in all things I behold,

And all things in thy hand;

Thou leadest me by unsought ways,

And turn'st my mourning into praise.

—Samuel Longfellow.

———

If I could feel my hand, dear Lord, in thine,And surely knowThat I was walking in the light divineThrough weal or woe;If I could hear thy voice in accents sweetBut plainly say,To guide my groping, wandering feet,"This is the way;"I would so gladly walk therein; but nowI cannot see.Oh, give me, Lord, the faith to humbly bowAnd trust in thee!There is nofaithin seeing. Were we ledLike children here,And lifted over rock and river-bed,No care, no fear,We should be useless in the busy throng;Life's work undone;Lord, make us brave and earnest, true and strong,Till heaven is won.—Sarah Knowles Bolton.

If I could feel my hand, dear Lord, in thine,And surely knowThat I was walking in the light divineThrough weal or woe;

If I could feel my hand, dear Lord, in thine,

And surely know

That I was walking in the light divine

Through weal or woe;

If I could hear thy voice in accents sweetBut plainly say,To guide my groping, wandering feet,"This is the way;"

If I could hear thy voice in accents sweet

But plainly say,

To guide my groping, wandering feet,

"This is the way;"

I would so gladly walk therein; but nowI cannot see.Oh, give me, Lord, the faith to humbly bowAnd trust in thee!

I would so gladly walk therein; but now

I cannot see.

Oh, give me, Lord, the faith to humbly bow

And trust in thee!

There is nofaithin seeing. Were we ledLike children here,And lifted over rock and river-bed,No care, no fear,

There is nofaithin seeing. Were we led

Like children here,

And lifted over rock and river-bed,

No care, no fear,

We should be useless in the busy throng;Life's work undone;Lord, make us brave and earnest, true and strong,Till heaven is won.

We should be useless in the busy throng;

Life's work undone;

Lord, make us brave and earnest, true and strong,

Till heaven is won.

—Sarah Knowles Bolton.

———

Not to thy saints of old alone dost ThouIn heavenly trance make known thy perfect will,But to each hungry soul thy love would fill—Descending out of heaven, we wist not how—Comes by thy grace the holy vision now;While we whose hearts should with the message thrillCry "Common and unholy!" to thee still,And, uninspired, in grief before thee bow.O Thou, whose Own the way we fare hath trod,Give to thy children quick, discerning eyesTo see in life upspringing from the sodAll the divineness that within it lies,Till humble service lift us to the skiesWho, "doubting nothing," seek thy will, O God!—Louise Manning Hodgkins.

Not to thy saints of old alone dost Thou

In heavenly trance make known thy perfect will,

But to each hungry soul thy love would fill—

Descending out of heaven, we wist not how—

Comes by thy grace the holy vision now;

While we whose hearts should with the message thrill

Cry "Common and unholy!" to thee still,

And, uninspired, in grief before thee bow.

O Thou, whose Own the way we fare hath trod,Give to thy children quick, discerning eyesTo see in life upspringing from the sodAll the divineness that within it lies,Till humble service lift us to the skiesWho, "doubting nothing," seek thy will, O God!

O Thou, whose Own the way we fare hath trod,

Give to thy children quick, discerning eyes

To see in life upspringing from the sod

All the divineness that within it lies,

Till humble service lift us to the skies

Who, "doubting nothing," seek thy will, O God!

—Louise Manning Hodgkins.

———

I do not ask for earthly storeBeyond a day's supply;I only covet more and moreThe clear and single eye.To see my duty face to faceAnd trust the Lord for daily grace.I care not for the empty showThat thoughtless worldlings see;I crave to do the best I know,And leave the rest with thee;Well satisfied that sweet rewardIs sure to those who trust the Lord.Whate'er the crosses mine shall be,I will not dare to shun;I only ask to live for thee,And that thy will be done;Thy will, O Lord, be mine each day,While passing on my homeward way.And when at last, my labor o'er,I cross the narrow sea,Grant, Lord, that on the other shoreMy soul may dwell with thee,And learn what here I cannot know:Why thou hast ever loved me so.—J. J. Maxfield.

I do not ask for earthly storeBeyond a day's supply;I only covet more and moreThe clear and single eye.To see my duty face to faceAnd trust the Lord for daily grace.

I do not ask for earthly store

Beyond a day's supply;

I only covet more and more

The clear and single eye.

To see my duty face to face

And trust the Lord for daily grace.

I care not for the empty showThat thoughtless worldlings see;I crave to do the best I know,And leave the rest with thee;Well satisfied that sweet rewardIs sure to those who trust the Lord.

I care not for the empty show

That thoughtless worldlings see;

I crave to do the best I know,

And leave the rest with thee;

Well satisfied that sweet reward

Is sure to those who trust the Lord.

Whate'er the crosses mine shall be,I will not dare to shun;I only ask to live for thee,And that thy will be done;Thy will, O Lord, be mine each day,While passing on my homeward way.

Whate'er the crosses mine shall be,

I will not dare to shun;

I only ask to live for thee,

And that thy will be done;

Thy will, O Lord, be mine each day,

While passing on my homeward way.

And when at last, my labor o'er,I cross the narrow sea,Grant, Lord, that on the other shoreMy soul may dwell with thee,And learn what here I cannot know:Why thou hast ever loved me so.

And when at last, my labor o'er,

I cross the narrow sea,

Grant, Lord, that on the other shore

My soul may dwell with thee,

And learn what here I cannot know:

Why thou hast ever loved me so.

—J. J. Maxfield.

———

Have faith in God! for he who reigns on highHath borne thy grief and hears the suppliant's sigh,Still to his arms, thine only refuge, fly.Have faith in God!Fear not to call on him, O soul distressed!Thy sorrow's whisper wooes thee to his breast;He who is oftenest there is oftenest blest.Have faith in God!Lean not on Egypt's reeds; slake not thy thirstAt earthly cisterns. Seek the kingdom first.Though man and Satan fight thee with their worst,Have faith in God!Go tell him all! The sigh thy bosom heavesIs heard in heaven. Strength and grace he givesWho gave himself for thee. Our Jesus lives;Have faith in God!

Have faith in God! for he who reigns on highHath borne thy grief and hears the suppliant's sigh,Still to his arms, thine only refuge, fly.Have faith in God!

Have faith in God! for he who reigns on high

Hath borne thy grief and hears the suppliant's sigh,

Still to his arms, thine only refuge, fly.

Have faith in God!

Fear not to call on him, O soul distressed!Thy sorrow's whisper wooes thee to his breast;He who is oftenest there is oftenest blest.Have faith in God!

Fear not to call on him, O soul distressed!

Thy sorrow's whisper wooes thee to his breast;

He who is oftenest there is oftenest blest.

Have faith in God!

Lean not on Egypt's reeds; slake not thy thirstAt earthly cisterns. Seek the kingdom first.Though man and Satan fight thee with their worst,Have faith in God!

Lean not on Egypt's reeds; slake not thy thirst

At earthly cisterns. Seek the kingdom first.

Though man and Satan fight thee with their worst,

Have faith in God!

Go tell him all! The sigh thy bosom heavesIs heard in heaven. Strength and grace he givesWho gave himself for thee. Our Jesus lives;Have faith in God!

Go tell him all! The sigh thy bosom heaves

Is heard in heaven. Strength and grace he gives

Who gave himself for thee. Our Jesus lives;

Have faith in God!

———

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