DIVINE ORDER.

'Tisfirst the true and then the beautiful,—Not first the beautiful and then the true;First the wild moor, with rock and reed and pool,Then the gay garden, rich in scent and hue.'Tis first the good and then the beautiful,—Not first the beautiful and then the good;First the rough seed, sown in the rougher soil,Then the flower-blossom, or the branching wood.Not first the glad and then the sorrowful,—But first the sorrowful, and then the glad;Tears for a day,—for earth of tears is full,Then we forget that we were ever sad.Not first the bright, and after that the dark,—But first the dark, and after that the bright;First the thick cloud, and then the rainbow's arc,First the dark grave, then resurrection-light.'Tis first the night,—stern night of storm and war,—Long nights of heavy clouds and veiled skies;Then the far sparkle of the Morning-star,That bids the saints awake and dawn arise.—Horatius Bonar.

'Tisfirst the true and then the beautiful,—Not first the beautiful and then the true;First the wild moor, with rock and reed and pool,Then the gay garden, rich in scent and hue.

'Tisfirst the true and then the beautiful,—

Not first the beautiful and then the true;

First the wild moor, with rock and reed and pool,

Then the gay garden, rich in scent and hue.

'Tis first the good and then the beautiful,—Not first the beautiful and then the good;First the rough seed, sown in the rougher soil,Then the flower-blossom, or the branching wood.

'Tis first the good and then the beautiful,—

Not first the beautiful and then the good;

First the rough seed, sown in the rougher soil,

Then the flower-blossom, or the branching wood.

Not first the glad and then the sorrowful,—But first the sorrowful, and then the glad;Tears for a day,—for earth of tears is full,Then we forget that we were ever sad.

Not first the glad and then the sorrowful,—

But first the sorrowful, and then the glad;

Tears for a day,—for earth of tears is full,

Then we forget that we were ever sad.

Not first the bright, and after that the dark,—But first the dark, and after that the bright;First the thick cloud, and then the rainbow's arc,First the dark grave, then resurrection-light.

Not first the bright, and after that the dark,—

But first the dark, and after that the bright;

First the thick cloud, and then the rainbow's arc,

First the dark grave, then resurrection-light.

'Tis first the night,—stern night of storm and war,—Long nights of heavy clouds and veiled skies;Then the far sparkle of the Morning-star,That bids the saints awake and dawn arise.

'Tis first the night,—stern night of storm and war,—

Long nights of heavy clouds and veiled skies;

Then the far sparkle of the Morning-star,

That bids the saints awake and dawn arise.

—Horatius Bonar.

Oh,where shall rest be found—Rest for the weary soul?'Twere vain the ocean depths to sound,Or pierce to either pole.The world can never giveThe bliss for which we sigh:'Tis not the whole of life to live,Nor all of death to die.Beyond this vale of tearsThere is a life above,Unmeasured by the flight of years;And all that life is love.There is a death whose pangOutlasts the fleeting breath:Oh, what eternal horrors hangAround the second death!Lord God of truth and grace,Teach us that death to shun,Lest we be banished from Thy face,And evermore undone.Here would we end our quest;Alone are found in Thee,The life of perfect love,—the restOf immortality.—James Montgomery.

Oh,where shall rest be found—

Rest for the weary soul?

'Twere vain the ocean depths to sound,

Or pierce to either pole.

The world can never give

The bliss for which we sigh:

'Tis not the whole of life to live,

Nor all of death to die.

Beyond this vale of tearsThere is a life above,Unmeasured by the flight of years;And all that life is love.There is a death whose pangOutlasts the fleeting breath:Oh, what eternal horrors hangAround the second death!

Beyond this vale of tears

There is a life above,

Unmeasured by the flight of years;

And all that life is love.

There is a death whose pang

Outlasts the fleeting breath:

Oh, what eternal horrors hang

Around the second death!

Lord God of truth and grace,Teach us that death to shun,Lest we be banished from Thy face,And evermore undone.Here would we end our quest;Alone are found in Thee,The life of perfect love,—the restOf immortality.

Lord God of truth and grace,

Teach us that death to shun,

Lest we be banished from Thy face,

And evermore undone.

Here would we end our quest;

Alone are found in Thee,

The life of perfect love,—the rest

Of immortality.

—James Montgomery.

GraciousSpirit, Love divine!Let Thy light within me shine;All my guilty fears remove,Fill me full of heaven and love.Speak Thy pardoning grace to me,Set the burdened sinner free;Lead me to the Lamb of God,Wash me in His precious blood.Life and peace to me impart,Seal salvation on my heart;Breathe Thyself into my breast,—Earnest of immortal rest.Let me never from Thee stray,Keep me in the narrow way;Fill my soul with love divine,Keep me, Lord, forever Thine.—Stocker.

GraciousSpirit, Love divine!Let Thy light within me shine;All my guilty fears remove,Fill me full of heaven and love.

GraciousSpirit, Love divine!

Let Thy light within me shine;

All my guilty fears remove,

Fill me full of heaven and love.

Speak Thy pardoning grace to me,Set the burdened sinner free;Lead me to the Lamb of God,Wash me in His precious blood.

Speak Thy pardoning grace to me,

Set the burdened sinner free;

Lead me to the Lamb of God,

Wash me in His precious blood.

Life and peace to me impart,Seal salvation on my heart;Breathe Thyself into my breast,—Earnest of immortal rest.

Life and peace to me impart,

Seal salvation on my heart;

Breathe Thyself into my breast,—

Earnest of immortal rest.

Let me never from Thee stray,Keep me in the narrow way;Fill my soul with love divine,Keep me, Lord, forever Thine.

Let me never from Thee stray,

Keep me in the narrow way;

Fill my soul with love divine,

Keep me, Lord, forever Thine.

—Stocker.

Deepon the convent roof the snowsAre sparkling to the moon:My breath to heaven like vapor goes:May my soul follow soon!The shadows of the convent-towersSlant down the snowy sward,Still creeping with the creeping hoursThat lead me to my Lord:Make Thou my spirit pure and clearAs are the frosty skies,Or this first snowdrop of the yearThat in my bosom lies.As these white robes are soil'd and dark,To yonder shining ground;As this pale taper's earthly spark,To yonder argent round;So shows my soul before the Lamb,My spirit before Thee;So in mine earthly house I am,To that I hope to be.Break up the heavens, O Lord! and far,Thro' all yon starlight keen,Draw me, Thy bride, a glittering star,In raiment white and clean.He lifts me to the golden doors;The flashes come and go;All heaven bursts her starry floors,And strews her lights below,And deepens on and up! the gatesRoll back, and far withinFor me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits,To make me pure of sin.The sabbaths of Eternity,One sabbath deep and wide—A light upon the shining sea—The Bridegroom with His bride!—Alfred Tennyson.

Deepon the convent roof the snows

Are sparkling to the moon:

My breath to heaven like vapor goes:

May my soul follow soon!

The shadows of the convent-towers

Slant down the snowy sward,

Still creeping with the creeping hours

That lead me to my Lord:

Make Thou my spirit pure and clear

As are the frosty skies,

Or this first snowdrop of the year

That in my bosom lies.

As these white robes are soil'd and dark,To yonder shining ground;As this pale taper's earthly spark,To yonder argent round;So shows my soul before the Lamb,My spirit before Thee;So in mine earthly house I am,To that I hope to be.Break up the heavens, O Lord! and far,Thro' all yon starlight keen,Draw me, Thy bride, a glittering star,In raiment white and clean.

As these white robes are soil'd and dark,

To yonder shining ground;

As this pale taper's earthly spark,

To yonder argent round;

So shows my soul before the Lamb,

My spirit before Thee;

So in mine earthly house I am,

To that I hope to be.

Break up the heavens, O Lord! and far,

Thro' all yon starlight keen,

Draw me, Thy bride, a glittering star,

In raiment white and clean.

He lifts me to the golden doors;The flashes come and go;All heaven bursts her starry floors,And strews her lights below,And deepens on and up! the gatesRoll back, and far withinFor me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits,To make me pure of sin.The sabbaths of Eternity,One sabbath deep and wide—A light upon the shining sea—The Bridegroom with His bride!

He lifts me to the golden doors;

The flashes come and go;

All heaven bursts her starry floors,

And strews her lights below,

And deepens on and up! the gates

Roll back, and far within

For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits,

To make me pure of sin.

The sabbaths of Eternity,

One sabbath deep and wide—

A light upon the shining sea—

The Bridegroom with His bride!

—Alfred Tennyson.

"Whatis Life, father?""A Battle, my child,Where the strongest lance may fail,Where the wariest eyes may be beguiled,And the stoutest heart may quail.Where the foes are gathered on every hand,And rest not day or night,And the feeble little ones must standIn the thickest of the fight.""What is Death, father?""The rest, my child,When the strife and toil are o'er;The angel of God, who, calm and mild,Says we need fight no more;Who, driving away the demon band,Bids the din of the battle cease;Takes banner and spear from our failing hand,And proclaims an eternal peace.""Let me die, father! I tremble, and fearTo yield in that terrible strife!""The crown must be won for Heaven, dear,In the battle-field of life;My child, though thy foes are strong and tried,He loveth the weak and small;The angels of heaven are on thy side,And God is over all!"—Adelaide Procter.

"Whatis Life, father?"

"A Battle, my child,

Where the strongest lance may fail,

Where the wariest eyes may be beguiled,

And the stoutest heart may quail.

Where the foes are gathered on every hand,

And rest not day or night,

And the feeble little ones must stand

In the thickest of the fight."

"What is Death, father?""The rest, my child,When the strife and toil are o'er;The angel of God, who, calm and mild,Says we need fight no more;Who, driving away the demon band,Bids the din of the battle cease;Takes banner and spear from our failing hand,And proclaims an eternal peace."

"What is Death, father?"

"The rest, my child,

When the strife and toil are o'er;

The angel of God, who, calm and mild,

Says we need fight no more;

Who, driving away the demon band,

Bids the din of the battle cease;

Takes banner and spear from our failing hand,

And proclaims an eternal peace."

"Let me die, father! I tremble, and fearTo yield in that terrible strife!""The crown must be won for Heaven, dear,In the battle-field of life;My child, though thy foes are strong and tried,He loveth the weak and small;The angels of heaven are on thy side,And God is over all!"

"Let me die, father! I tremble, and fear

To yield in that terrible strife!"

"The crown must be won for Heaven, dear,

In the battle-field of life;

My child, though thy foes are strong and tried,

He loveth the weak and small;

The angels of heaven are on thy side,

And God is over all!"

—Adelaide Procter.

Cometo the land of peace!Come where the tempest hath no longer sway,The shadow passes from the soul away,The sounds of weeping cease.Fear hath no dwelling there!Come to the mingling of repose and love,Breathed by the silent spirit of the doveThrough the celestial air!Come to the bright and blestAnd crown'd for ever!—'midst that shining band,Gather'd to heaven's own wreath from every land,Thy spirit shall find rest!Thou hast been long alone:Come to thy mother!—on the sabbath shore,The heart that rock'd thy childhood, back once moreShall take its wearied one.In silence wert thou left!Come to thy sisters!—joyously againAll the home voices, blest in one sweet strain,Shall greet their long-bereft.Over thine orphan headThe storm hath swept as o'er a willow's bough:Come to thy father!—it is finish'd now;Thy tears have all been shed.In thy divine abodeChange finds no pathway, mem'ry no dark trace,And, oh! bright victory—death by love no place!Come, Spirit! to thy God!—Mrs. Hemans.

Cometo the land of peace!Come where the tempest hath no longer sway,The shadow passes from the soul away,The sounds of weeping cease.

Cometo the land of peace!

Come where the tempest hath no longer sway,

The shadow passes from the soul away,

The sounds of weeping cease.

Fear hath no dwelling there!Come to the mingling of repose and love,Breathed by the silent spirit of the doveThrough the celestial air!

Fear hath no dwelling there!

Come to the mingling of repose and love,

Breathed by the silent spirit of the dove

Through the celestial air!

Come to the bright and blestAnd crown'd for ever!—'midst that shining band,Gather'd to heaven's own wreath from every land,Thy spirit shall find rest!

Come to the bright and blest

And crown'd for ever!—'midst that shining band,

Gather'd to heaven's own wreath from every land,

Thy spirit shall find rest!

Thou hast been long alone:Come to thy mother!—on the sabbath shore,The heart that rock'd thy childhood, back once moreShall take its wearied one.

Thou hast been long alone:

Come to thy mother!—on the sabbath shore,

The heart that rock'd thy childhood, back once more

Shall take its wearied one.

In silence wert thou left!Come to thy sisters!—joyously againAll the home voices, blest in one sweet strain,Shall greet their long-bereft.

In silence wert thou left!

Come to thy sisters!—joyously again

All the home voices, blest in one sweet strain,

Shall greet their long-bereft.

Over thine orphan headThe storm hath swept as o'er a willow's bough:Come to thy father!—it is finish'd now;Thy tears have all been shed.

Over thine orphan head

The storm hath swept as o'er a willow's bough:

Come to thy father!—it is finish'd now;

Thy tears have all been shed.

In thy divine abodeChange finds no pathway, mem'ry no dark trace,And, oh! bright victory—death by love no place!Come, Spirit! to thy God!

In thy divine abode

Change finds no pathway, mem'ry no dark trace,

And, oh! bright victory—death by love no place!

Come, Spirit! to thy God!

—Mrs. Hemans.

I wouldnot live alway: I ask not to stay,Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way;The few lurid mornings that dawn on us hereAre enough for life's woes, full enough for its cheer.I would not live alway, thus fettered by sin,Temptation without and corruption within:E'en the rapture of pardon is mingled with fears,And the cup of thanksgiving with penitent tears.I would not live alway; no, welcome the tomb;Since Jesus hath lain there, I dread not its gloom;There sweet be my rest, till He bid me ariseTo hail Him in triumph descending the skies.Who, who would live alway, away from his God!Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode,Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright plains,And the noontide of glory eternally reigns.Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet,Their Saviour and brethren transported to greet,While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll,And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul.—Muhlenberg.

I wouldnot live alway: I ask not to stay,Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way;The few lurid mornings that dawn on us hereAre enough for life's woes, full enough for its cheer.

I wouldnot live alway: I ask not to stay,

Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way;

The few lurid mornings that dawn on us here

Are enough for life's woes, full enough for its cheer.

I would not live alway, thus fettered by sin,Temptation without and corruption within:E'en the rapture of pardon is mingled with fears,And the cup of thanksgiving with penitent tears.

I would not live alway, thus fettered by sin,

Temptation without and corruption within:

E'en the rapture of pardon is mingled with fears,

And the cup of thanksgiving with penitent tears.

I would not live alway; no, welcome the tomb;Since Jesus hath lain there, I dread not its gloom;There sweet be my rest, till He bid me ariseTo hail Him in triumph descending the skies.

I would not live alway; no, welcome the tomb;

Since Jesus hath lain there, I dread not its gloom;

There sweet be my rest, till He bid me arise

To hail Him in triumph descending the skies.

Who, who would live alway, away from his God!Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode,Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright plains,And the noontide of glory eternally reigns.

Who, who would live alway, away from his God!

Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode,

Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright plains,

And the noontide of glory eternally reigns.

Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet,Their Saviour and brethren transported to greet,While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll,And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul.

Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet,

Their Saviour and brethren transported to greet,

While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll,

And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul.

—Muhlenberg.

Jerusalemthe golden,With milk and honey blest,Beneath thy contemplationSink heart and voice oppressed.I know not, oh, I know notWhat joys await us there,What radiancy of glory,What bliss beyond compare.They stand, those halls of Sion,All jubilant with song,And bright with many an Angel,And all the Martyr throng;The Prince is ever in them,The daylight is serene;The pastures of the blessedAre decked in glorious sheen.There is the throne of David;And there, from care released,The shout of them that triumph,The song of them that feast;And they, who with their LeaderHave conquered in the fight,For ever and for everAre clad in robes of white.O sweet and blessed country,The home ofGod'select;O sweet and blessed countryThat eager hearts expect;Jesu, in mercy bring usTo that dear land of rest;Who art, withGodtheFatherAndSpirit, ever Blest.—Bernard.

Jerusalemthe golden,

With milk and honey blest,

Beneath thy contemplation

Sink heart and voice oppressed.

I know not, oh, I know not

What joys await us there,

What radiancy of glory,

What bliss beyond compare.

They stand, those halls of Sion,All jubilant with song,And bright with many an Angel,And all the Martyr throng;The Prince is ever in them,The daylight is serene;The pastures of the blessedAre decked in glorious sheen.

They stand, those halls of Sion,

All jubilant with song,

And bright with many an Angel,

And all the Martyr throng;

The Prince is ever in them,

The daylight is serene;

The pastures of the blessed

Are decked in glorious sheen.

There is the throne of David;And there, from care released,The shout of them that triumph,The song of them that feast;And they, who with their LeaderHave conquered in the fight,For ever and for everAre clad in robes of white.

There is the throne of David;

And there, from care released,

The shout of them that triumph,

The song of them that feast;

And they, who with their Leader

Have conquered in the fight,

For ever and for ever

Are clad in robes of white.

O sweet and blessed country,The home ofGod'select;O sweet and blessed countryThat eager hearts expect;Jesu, in mercy bring usTo that dear land of rest;Who art, withGodtheFatherAndSpirit, ever Blest.

O sweet and blessed country,

The home ofGod'select;

O sweet and blessed country

That eager hearts expect;

Jesu, in mercy bring us

To that dear land of rest;

Who art, withGodtheFather

AndSpirit, ever Blest.

—Bernard.

Whenour heads are bowed with woe,When our bitter tears o'erflow,When we mourn the lost, the dear,Gracious Son of Mary, hear!Thou our throbbing flesh hast worn,Thou our mortal griefs hast borne,Thou hast shed the human tear:Gracious Son of Mary, hear!When the solemn death-bell tollsFor our own departing souls,When our final doom is near,Gracious Son of Mary, hear!Thou hast bowed the dying head,Thou the blood of life hast shed,Thou hast filled a mortal bier:Gracious Son of Mary, hear!When the heart is sad withinWith the thought of all its sin,When the spirit shrinks with fear,Gracious Son of Mary, hear!Thou, the same, the grief hast known;Though the sins were not Thine own,Thou hast deigned their load to bear:Gracious Son of Mary, hear!—Heber.

Whenour heads are bowed with woe,

When our bitter tears o'erflow,

When we mourn the lost, the dear,

Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

Thou our throbbing flesh hast worn,

Thou our mortal griefs hast borne,

Thou hast shed the human tear:

Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

When the solemn death-bell tollsFor our own departing souls,When our final doom is near,Gracious Son of Mary, hear!Thou hast bowed the dying head,Thou the blood of life hast shed,Thou hast filled a mortal bier:Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

When the solemn death-bell tolls

For our own departing souls,

When our final doom is near,

Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

Thou hast bowed the dying head,

Thou the blood of life hast shed,

Thou hast filled a mortal bier:

Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

When the heart is sad withinWith the thought of all its sin,When the spirit shrinks with fear,Gracious Son of Mary, hear!Thou, the same, the grief hast known;Though the sins were not Thine own,Thou hast deigned their load to bear:Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

When the heart is sad within

With the thought of all its sin,

When the spirit shrinks with fear,

Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

Thou, the same, the grief hast known;

Though the sins were not Thine own,

Thou hast deigned their load to bear:

Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

—Heber.

O soul,soul, thou art passing,Just now, the border lands:Soul, soul, thy God is callingThee, from the border lands.Soul, soul, what wilt thou answer,When thou shalt stand alone,Before thy God and Saviour,'Midst th' glories of the throne?How hast thou passed the border?What course pursued below?Of all I gave thee, warder,Hast conquered every foe?Soul, soul, hear Jesus calling!He waits for thee above,Oh! answer now, respondingIn faith, and hope, and love.—Henry C. Graves.

O soul,soul, thou art passing,

Just now, the border lands:

Soul, soul, thy God is calling

Thee, from the border lands.

Soul, soul, what wilt thou answer,

When thou shalt stand alone,

Before thy God and Saviour,

'Midst th' glories of the throne?

How hast thou passed the border?What course pursued below?Of all I gave thee, warder,Hast conquered every foe?Soul, soul, hear Jesus calling!He waits for thee above,Oh! answer now, respondingIn faith, and hope, and love.

How hast thou passed the border?

What course pursued below?

Of all I gave thee, warder,

Hast conquered every foe?

Soul, soul, hear Jesus calling!

He waits for thee above,

Oh! answer now, responding

In faith, and hope, and love.

—Henry C. Graves.

TheSaviour looked on Peter. Aye, no word—No gesture of reproach! The heavens sereneThough heavy with armed justice, did not leanTheir thunders that way. The forsaken LordLookedonly, on the traitor. None recordWhat that look was; none guess: for those who have seenWronged lovers loving through a death-pang keen,Or pale-cheeked martyrs smiling to a sword,Have missed Jehovah at the judgment call,And Peter, from the height of blasphemy—'I never knew this man' did quail and fall,As knowing straightthat God,—and turned freeAnd went out speechless from the face of all,And filled the silence, weeping bitterly.—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

TheSaviour looked on Peter. Aye, no word—

No gesture of reproach! The heavens serene

Though heavy with armed justice, did not lean

Their thunders that way. The forsaken Lord

Lookedonly, on the traitor. None record

What that look was; none guess: for those who have seen

Wronged lovers loving through a death-pang keen,

Or pale-cheeked martyrs smiling to a sword,

Have missed Jehovah at the judgment call,

And Peter, from the height of blasphemy—

'I never knew this man' did quail and fall,

As knowing straightthat God,—and turned free

And went out speechless from the face of all,

And filled the silence, weeping bitterly.

—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

I thinkthat look of Christ might seem to say—'Thou Peter! art thou then a common stoneWhich I at last must break my heart upon,For all God's charge to His high angels mayGuard my foot better? Did I yesterdayWashthyfeet, my beloved, that they should runQuick to deny me 'neath the morning sun,And do thy kisses, like the rest, betray?The cock crows coldly.—Go and manifestA late contrition, but no bootless fear!For when thy final need is dreariest,Thou shalt not be denied, as I am here,My voice, to God and angels shall attest,'Because IKNOWthis man, let him be clear.'—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

I thinkthat look of Christ might seem to say—

'Thou Peter! art thou then a common stone

Which I at last must break my heart upon,

For all God's charge to His high angels may

Guard my foot better? Did I yesterday

Washthyfeet, my beloved, that they should run

Quick to deny me 'neath the morning sun,

And do thy kisses, like the rest, betray?

The cock crows coldly.—Go and manifest

A late contrition, but no bootless fear!

For when thy final need is dreariest,

Thou shalt not be denied, as I am here,

My voice, to God and angels shall attest,

'Because IKNOWthis man, let him be clear.'

—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

Speaklow to me, my Saviour, low and sweetFrom out the hallelujahs, sweet and low.Lest I should fear and fall, and miss Thee soWho art not missed by any that entreat.Speak to me as to Mary at Thy feet—And if no precious gums my hands bestow,Let my tears drop like amber, while I goIn reach of Thy divinest voice completeIn humanest affection—thus in sooth,To lose the sense of losing! As a childWhose song-bird seeks the wood for evermore,Is sung to in its stead by mother's mouth;Till, sinking on her breast, love reconciled,He sleeps the faster that he wept before.—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

Speaklow to me, my Saviour, low and sweet

From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low.

Lest I should fear and fall, and miss Thee so

Who art not missed by any that entreat.

Speak to me as to Mary at Thy feet—

And if no precious gums my hands bestow,

Let my tears drop like amber, while I go

In reach of Thy divinest voice complete

In humanest affection—thus in sooth,

To lose the sense of losing! As a child

Whose song-bird seeks the wood for evermore,

Is sung to in its stead by mother's mouth;

Till, sinking on her breast, love reconciled,

He sleeps the faster that he wept before.

—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

Whensome beloved voice that was to youBoth sound and sweetness, faileth suddenly,And silence against which you dare not cry,Aches round you like a strong disease and new—What hope? what help? what music will undoThat silence to your sense? Not friendship's sigh—Nor reason's subtle count! Not melodyOf viols, nor of pipes that Faunus blew—Not songs of poets, nor of nightingales,Whose hearts leap upward through the cypress treesTo the clear moon: nor yet the spheric lawsSelf-chanted,—nor the angels' sweet All hails,Met in the smile of God. Nay, none of these.SpeakTHOU, availing Christ! and fill this pause.—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

Whensome beloved voice that was to you

Both sound and sweetness, faileth suddenly,

And silence against which you dare not cry,

Aches round you like a strong disease and new—

What hope? what help? what music will undo

That silence to your sense? Not friendship's sigh—

Nor reason's subtle count! Not melody

Of viols, nor of pipes that Faunus blew—

Not songs of poets, nor of nightingales,

Whose hearts leap upward through the cypress trees

To the clear moon: nor yet the spheric laws

Self-chanted,—nor the angels' sweet All hails,

Met in the smile of God. Nay, none of these.

SpeakTHOU, availing Christ! and fill this pause.

—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

ThankGod, bless God, all ye who suffer notMore grief than ye can weep for. That is well—That is light grieving! lighter, none befell,Since Adam forfeited the primal lot.Tears! what are tears? The babe weeps in its cot,The mother singing; at her marriage-bellThe bride weeps; and before the oracleOf high-famed hills, the poet has forgotSuch moisture on his cheeks. Thank God for grace,Ye who weep only! If, as some have done,Ye grope tear-blinded in a desert place,And touch but tombs,—look up! Those tears will runSoon in long rivers down the lifted face,And leave the vision clear for stars and sun.—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

ThankGod, bless God, all ye who suffer not

More grief than ye can weep for. That is well—

That is light grieving! lighter, none befell,

Since Adam forfeited the primal lot.

Tears! what are tears? The babe weeps in its cot,

The mother singing; at her marriage-bell

The bride weeps; and before the oracle

Of high-famed hills, the poet has forgot

Such moisture on his cheeks. Thank God for grace,

Ye who weep only! If, as some have done,

Ye grope tear-blinded in a desert place,

And touch but tombs,—look up! Those tears will run

Soon in long rivers down the lifted face,

And leave the vision clear for stars and sun.

—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

I thinkwe are too ready with complaintIn this fair world of God's. Had we no hopeIndeed beyond the zenith and the slopeOf yon gray bank of sky, we might be faintTo muse upon eternity's constraintRound our aspirant souls. But since the scopeMust widen early, is it well to droopFor a few days consumed in loss and taint?O pusillanimous Heart, be comforted,—And, like a cheerful traveler, take the road,Singing beside the hedge. What if the breadBe bitter in thy inn, and thou unshodTo meet the flints?—At least it may be said,Because the way isshort, I thank Thee, God!—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

I thinkwe are too ready with complaint

In this fair world of God's. Had we no hope

Indeed beyond the zenith and the slope

Of yon gray bank of sky, we might be faint

To muse upon eternity's constraint

Round our aspirant souls. But since the scope

Must widen early, is it well to droop

For a few days consumed in loss and taint?

O pusillanimous Heart, be comforted,—

And, like a cheerful traveler, take the road,

Singing beside the hedge. What if the bread

Be bitter in thy inn, and thou unshod

To meet the flints?—At least it may be said,

Because the way isshort, I thank Thee, God!

—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

Methinkswe do as fretful children do,Leaning their faces on the window paneTo sigh the glass dim with their own breath's stain,And shut the sky and landscape from their view,And thus, alas! since God the maker drewA mystic separation 'twixt those twain,The life beyond us, and our souls in pain,We miss the prospect which we're called unto.By grief we're fools to use. Be still and strong,O man, my brother! hold thy sobbing breath,And keep thy soul's large window pure from wrong,—That so, as life's appointment issueth,Thy vision may be clear to watch alongThe sunset consummation-lights of death.—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

Methinkswe do as fretful children do,

Leaning their faces on the window pane

To sigh the glass dim with their own breath's stain,

And shut the sky and landscape from their view,

And thus, alas! since God the maker drew

A mystic separation 'twixt those twain,

The life beyond us, and our souls in pain,

We miss the prospect which we're called unto.

By grief we're fools to use. Be still and strong,

O man, my brother! hold thy sobbing breath,

And keep thy soul's large window pure from wrong,—

That so, as life's appointment issueth,

Thy vision may be clear to watch along

The sunset consummation-lights of death.

—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

Allare not taken! there are left behindLiving Beloveds, tender looks to bring,And make the daylight still a happy thing,And tender voices to make soft the wind.But if it were not so—if I could findNo love in all the world for comforting,Nor any path but hollowly did ring,Where 'dust to dust' the love from life disjoined—And if before these sepulchres unmovingI stood alone, (as some forsaken lambGoes bleating up the moors in weary dearth)Crying 'Where are ye, O my loved and loving?'I know a voice would sound, 'Daughter, IAM.Can I suffice forHeaven, and not for earth?'—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

Allare not taken! there are left behind

Living Beloveds, tender looks to bring,

And make the daylight still a happy thing,

And tender voices to make soft the wind.

But if it were not so—if I could find

No love in all the world for comforting,

Nor any path but hollowly did ring,

Where 'dust to dust' the love from life disjoined—

And if before these sepulchres unmoving

I stood alone, (as some forsaken lamb

Goes bleating up the moors in weary dearth)

Crying 'Where are ye, O my loved and loving?'

I know a voice would sound, 'Daughter, IAM.

Can I suffice forHeaven, and not for earth?'

—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

I saddenwhen thou smilest to my smile,Child of my love! I tremble to believeThat o'er the mirror of that eye of blueThe shadow of my heart will always pass;—A heart that, from its struggle with the world,Comes nightly to thy guarded cradle home,And, careless of the staining dust it brings,Asks for its idol! Strange, that flowers of earthAre visited by every air that stirs,And drink its sweetness only, while the childThat shuts within its breast a bloom for heaven,May take a blemish from the breath of love,And bear the blight forever.I have weptWith gladness at the gift of this fair child!My life is bound up in her. But, oh God!Thou know'st how heavily my heart at timesBears its sweet burthen; and if Thou hast givenTo nurture such as mine this spotless flower,To bring it unpolluted unto Thee,Take Thou its love, I pray thee! Give it light—Though, following the sun, it turn from me!—But, by the chord thus wrung, and by the lightShining about her, draw me to my child!And link us close, oh God, when near to heaven!—N. P. Willis.

I saddenwhen thou smilest to my smile,

Child of my love! I tremble to believe

That o'er the mirror of that eye of blue

The shadow of my heart will always pass;—

A heart that, from its struggle with the world,

Comes nightly to thy guarded cradle home,

And, careless of the staining dust it brings,

Asks for its idol! Strange, that flowers of earth

Are visited by every air that stirs,

And drink its sweetness only, while the child

That shuts within its breast a bloom for heaven,

May take a blemish from the breath of love,

And bear the blight forever.

I have weptWith gladness at the gift of this fair child!My life is bound up in her. But, oh God!Thou know'st how heavily my heart at timesBears its sweet burthen; and if Thou hast givenTo nurture such as mine this spotless flower,To bring it unpolluted unto Thee,Take Thou its love, I pray thee! Give it light—Though, following the sun, it turn from me!—But, by the chord thus wrung, and by the lightShining about her, draw me to my child!And link us close, oh God, when near to heaven!

I have wept

With gladness at the gift of this fair child!

My life is bound up in her. But, oh God!

Thou know'st how heavily my heart at times

Bears its sweet burthen; and if Thou hast given

To nurture such as mine this spotless flower,

To bring it unpolluted unto Thee,

Take Thou its love, I pray thee! Give it light—

Though, following the sun, it turn from me!—

But, by the chord thus wrung, and by the light

Shining about her, draw me to my child!

And link us close, oh God, when near to heaven!

—N. P. Willis.

"I know that whatsoever God doeth it shall be forever." —Eccles. iii. 14.

O whateverlasting blessings God outpoureth on His own!Ours by promise true and faithful, spoken from eternal throne;Ours by His eternal purpose ere the universe had place;Ours by everlasting covenant, ours by free and royal grace.With salvation everlasting He shall save us, He shall blessWith the largess of Messiah, everlasting righteousness;Ours the everlasting mercy all His wondrous dealings prove;Ours His everlasting kindness, fruit of everlasting love.In the Lord Jehovah trusting, everlasting strength have we;He Himself, our Sun, our Glory, everlasting Light shall be;Everlasting life is ours, purchased by The Life laid down;And our heads, oft bowed and weary, everlasting joy shall crown.We shall dwell with Christ forever, when the shadows flee away,In the everlasting glory of the everlasting day.Unto Thee, belovèd Saviour, everlasting thanks belong,Everlasting adoration, everlasting land and song.—Frances Ridley Havergal.

O whateverlasting blessings God outpoureth on His own!

Ours by promise true and faithful, spoken from eternal throne;

Ours by His eternal purpose ere the universe had place;

Ours by everlasting covenant, ours by free and royal grace.

With salvation everlasting He shall save us, He shall blessWith the largess of Messiah, everlasting righteousness;Ours the everlasting mercy all His wondrous dealings prove;Ours His everlasting kindness, fruit of everlasting love.

With salvation everlasting He shall save us, He shall bless

With the largess of Messiah, everlasting righteousness;

Ours the everlasting mercy all His wondrous dealings prove;

Ours His everlasting kindness, fruit of everlasting love.

In the Lord Jehovah trusting, everlasting strength have we;He Himself, our Sun, our Glory, everlasting Light shall be;Everlasting life is ours, purchased by The Life laid down;And our heads, oft bowed and weary, everlasting joy shall crown.

In the Lord Jehovah trusting, everlasting strength have we;

He Himself, our Sun, our Glory, everlasting Light shall be;

Everlasting life is ours, purchased by The Life laid down;

And our heads, oft bowed and weary, everlasting joy shall crown.

We shall dwell with Christ forever, when the shadows flee away,In the everlasting glory of the everlasting day.Unto Thee, belovèd Saviour, everlasting thanks belong,Everlasting adoration, everlasting land and song.

We shall dwell with Christ forever, when the shadows flee away,

In the everlasting glory of the everlasting day.

Unto Thee, belovèd Saviour, everlasting thanks belong,

Everlasting adoration, everlasting land and song.

—Frances Ridley Havergal.

Theytell me thou art come from a far world,Babe of my bosom! that these little arms,Whose restlessness is like the spread of wings,Move with the memory of flights scarce o'er—That through these fringed lids we see the soulSteep'd in the blue of its remember'd home;And while thou sleep'st come messengers, they say,Whispering to thee—and 'tis then I seeUpon thy baby lips that smile of heaven!And what is thy far errand, my fair child?Why away, wandering from a home of bliss,To find thy way through darkness home again?Wert thou an untried dweller in the sky?Is there, betwixt the cherub that thou wert,The cherub and the angel thou may'st be,A life's probation in this sadder world?Art thou with memory of two things only,Music and light, left upon earth astray,And, by the watchers at the gate of heaven,Look'd for with fear and trembling?God! who gavestInto my guiding hand this wanderer,To lead her through a world whose darkling pathsI tread with steps so faltering—leave not meTo bring her to the gates of heaven, alone!I feel my feebleness. Letthesestay on—The angels who now visit her in dreams!Bid them be near her pillow till in deathThe closed eyes look upon Thy face once more!And let the light and music, which the worldBorrows of heaven, and which her infant senseHails with sweet recognition, be to herA voice to call her upward, and a lampTo lead her steps unto Thee!—N. P. Willis.

Theytell me thou art come from a far world,

Babe of my bosom! that these little arms,

Whose restlessness is like the spread of wings,

Move with the memory of flights scarce o'er—

That through these fringed lids we see the soul

Steep'd in the blue of its remember'd home;

And while thou sleep'st come messengers, they say,

Whispering to thee—and 'tis then I see

Upon thy baby lips that smile of heaven!

And what is thy far errand, my fair child?

Why away, wandering from a home of bliss,

To find thy way through darkness home again?

Wert thou an untried dweller in the sky?

Is there, betwixt the cherub that thou wert,

The cherub and the angel thou may'st be,

A life's probation in this sadder world?

Art thou with memory of two things only,

Music and light, left upon earth astray,

And, by the watchers at the gate of heaven,

Look'd for with fear and trembling?

God! who gavest

Into my guiding hand this wanderer,

To lead her through a world whose darkling paths

I tread with steps so faltering—leave not me

To bring her to the gates of heaven, alone!

I feel my feebleness. Letthesestay on—

The angels who now visit her in dreams!

Bid them be near her pillow till in death

The closed eyes look upon Thy face once more!

And let the light and music, which the world

Borrows of heaven, and which her infant sense

Hails with sweet recognition, be to her

A voice to call her upward, and a lamp

To lead her steps unto Thee!

—N. P. Willis.

Withechoing steps the worshipersDeparted one by one;The organ's pealing voice was stilled,The vesper hymn was done;The shadows fell from roof and arch,Dim was the incensed air,One lamp alone, with trembling ray,Told of the Presence there!In the dark church she knelt alone;Her tears were falling fast;"Help, Lord," she cried, "the shades of deathUpon my soul are cast!Have I not shunned the path of sin,And chosen the better part?"—What voice came through the sacred air?—"My child, give me thy Heart!""Have I not laid before Thy shrineMy wealth, O Lord?" she cried;"Have I kept aught of gems or gold,To minister to pride?Have I not bade youth's joys retire,And vain delights depart?"—But sad and tender was the voice,—"My child, give me thy Heart!""Have I not, Lord, gone day by dayWhere Thy poor children dwell;And carried help, and gold, and food?O Lord, Thou knowest it well?From many a house, from many a soul,My hand bids care depart:"—More sad, more tender was the voice,—"My child, give me thy Heart!""Have I not worn my strength awayWith fast and penance sore?Have I not watched and wept?" she cried;"Did Thy dear saints do more?Have I not gained Thy grace, O Lord,And won in heaven my part?"—It echoed louder in her soul,—"My child, give me thy Heart!""For I have loved thee with a loveNo mortal heart can show;A love so deep, my saints in heavenIts depths can never know;When pierced and wounded on the cross,Man's sin and doom were mine,I loved Thee with undying love,Immortal and divine!"I loved Thee ere the skies were spread;My soul bears all thy pains;To gain thy love my sacred heartIn earthly shrines remains:Vain are thy offerings, vain thy sighs,Without one gift divine;Give it my child, thy heart to me,And it shall rest in mine!"In awe she listened, and the shadePassed from her soul away;In low and trembling voice she cried,—"Lord, help me to obey!Break Thou the chains of earth, O Lord,That bind and hold my heart;Let it be Thine, and Thine alone,Let none with Thee have part."Send down, O Lord, Thy sacred fire!Consume and cleanse the sinThat lingers still within its depths;Let heavenly love begin.That sacred flame Thy saints have known,Kindle, O Lord, in me,Thou above all the rest forever,And all the rest in Thee."The blessing fell upon her soul;Her angel by her sideKnew that the hour of peace was come;Her soul was purified:The shadows fell from roof and arch,Dim was the incensed air,—But Peace went with her as she leftThe sacred Presence there!—Adelaide Procter.

Withechoing steps the worshipers

Departed one by one;

The organ's pealing voice was stilled,

The vesper hymn was done;

The shadows fell from roof and arch,

Dim was the incensed air,

One lamp alone, with trembling ray,

Told of the Presence there!

In the dark church she knelt alone;Her tears were falling fast;"Help, Lord," she cried, "the shades of deathUpon my soul are cast!Have I not shunned the path of sin,And chosen the better part?"—What voice came through the sacred air?—"My child, give me thy Heart!"

In the dark church she knelt alone;

Her tears were falling fast;

"Help, Lord," she cried, "the shades of death

Upon my soul are cast!

Have I not shunned the path of sin,

And chosen the better part?"—

What voice came through the sacred air?—

"My child, give me thy Heart!"

"Have I not laid before Thy shrineMy wealth, O Lord?" she cried;"Have I kept aught of gems or gold,To minister to pride?Have I not bade youth's joys retire,And vain delights depart?"—But sad and tender was the voice,—"My child, give me thy Heart!"

"Have I not laid before Thy shrine

My wealth, O Lord?" she cried;

"Have I kept aught of gems or gold,

To minister to pride?

Have I not bade youth's joys retire,

And vain delights depart?"—

But sad and tender was the voice,—

"My child, give me thy Heart!"

"Have I not, Lord, gone day by dayWhere Thy poor children dwell;And carried help, and gold, and food?O Lord, Thou knowest it well?From many a house, from many a soul,My hand bids care depart:"—More sad, more tender was the voice,—"My child, give me thy Heart!"

"Have I not, Lord, gone day by day

Where Thy poor children dwell;

And carried help, and gold, and food?

O Lord, Thou knowest it well?

From many a house, from many a soul,

My hand bids care depart:"—

More sad, more tender was the voice,—

"My child, give me thy Heart!"

"Have I not worn my strength awayWith fast and penance sore?Have I not watched and wept?" she cried;"Did Thy dear saints do more?Have I not gained Thy grace, O Lord,And won in heaven my part?"—It echoed louder in her soul,—"My child, give me thy Heart!"

"Have I not worn my strength away

With fast and penance sore?

Have I not watched and wept?" she cried;

"Did Thy dear saints do more?

Have I not gained Thy grace, O Lord,

And won in heaven my part?"—

It echoed louder in her soul,—

"My child, give me thy Heart!"

"For I have loved thee with a loveNo mortal heart can show;A love so deep, my saints in heavenIts depths can never know;When pierced and wounded on the cross,Man's sin and doom were mine,I loved Thee with undying love,Immortal and divine!

"For I have loved thee with a love

No mortal heart can show;

A love so deep, my saints in heaven

Its depths can never know;

When pierced and wounded on the cross,

Man's sin and doom were mine,

I loved Thee with undying love,

Immortal and divine!

"I loved Thee ere the skies were spread;My soul bears all thy pains;To gain thy love my sacred heartIn earthly shrines remains:Vain are thy offerings, vain thy sighs,Without one gift divine;Give it my child, thy heart to me,And it shall rest in mine!"

"I loved Thee ere the skies were spread;

My soul bears all thy pains;

To gain thy love my sacred heart

In earthly shrines remains:

Vain are thy offerings, vain thy sighs,

Without one gift divine;

Give it my child, thy heart to me,

And it shall rest in mine!"

In awe she listened, and the shadePassed from her soul away;In low and trembling voice she cried,—"Lord, help me to obey!Break Thou the chains of earth, O Lord,That bind and hold my heart;Let it be Thine, and Thine alone,Let none with Thee have part.

In awe she listened, and the shade

Passed from her soul away;

In low and trembling voice she cried,—

"Lord, help me to obey!

Break Thou the chains of earth, O Lord,

That bind and hold my heart;

Let it be Thine, and Thine alone,

Let none with Thee have part.

"Send down, O Lord, Thy sacred fire!Consume and cleanse the sinThat lingers still within its depths;Let heavenly love begin.That sacred flame Thy saints have known,Kindle, O Lord, in me,Thou above all the rest forever,And all the rest in Thee."

"Send down, O Lord, Thy sacred fire!

Consume and cleanse the sin

That lingers still within its depths;

Let heavenly love begin.

That sacred flame Thy saints have known,

Kindle, O Lord, in me,

Thou above all the rest forever,

And all the rest in Thee."

The blessing fell upon her soul;Her angel by her sideKnew that the hour of peace was come;Her soul was purified:The shadows fell from roof and arch,Dim was the incensed air,—But Peace went with her as she leftThe sacred Presence there!

The blessing fell upon her soul;

Her angel by her side

Knew that the hour of peace was come;

Her soul was purified:

The shadows fell from roof and arch,

Dim was the incensed air,—

But Peace went with her as she left

The sacred Presence there!

—Adelaide Procter.

Onesweetly solemn thoughtComes to me o'er and o'er:I'm nearer home to-dayThan I have been before;Nearer my Father's house,Where many mansions be,Nearer the great white throne,Nearer the crystal sea.Nearer the bound of life,Where burdens are laid down,Nearer to leave the cross,And nearer to the crown;But lying dark between,And winding through the night,The deep and unknown streamCrossed ere we reach the light.Jesus, confirm my trust;Strengthen the hand of faithTo feel Thee, when I standUpon the shore of death.Be near me when my feetAre slipping o'er the brink;For I am nearer home,Perhaps, than now I think.—Phœbe Cary.

Onesweetly solemn thoughtComes to me o'er and o'er:I'm nearer home to-dayThan I have been before;Nearer my Father's house,Where many mansions be,Nearer the great white throne,Nearer the crystal sea.

Onesweetly solemn thought

Comes to me o'er and o'er:

I'm nearer home to-day

Than I have been before;

Nearer my Father's house,

Where many mansions be,

Nearer the great white throne,

Nearer the crystal sea.

Nearer the bound of life,Where burdens are laid down,Nearer to leave the cross,And nearer to the crown;But lying dark between,And winding through the night,The deep and unknown streamCrossed ere we reach the light.

Nearer the bound of life,

Where burdens are laid down,

Nearer to leave the cross,

And nearer to the crown;

But lying dark between,

And winding through the night,

The deep and unknown stream

Crossed ere we reach the light.

Jesus, confirm my trust;Strengthen the hand of faithTo feel Thee, when I standUpon the shore of death.Be near me when my feetAre slipping o'er the brink;For I am nearer home,Perhaps, than now I think.

Jesus, confirm my trust;

Strengthen the hand of faith

To feel Thee, when I stand

Upon the shore of death.

Be near me when my feet

Are slipping o'er the brink;

For I am nearer home,

Perhaps, than now I think.

—Phœbe Cary.

Lookat this starbeam! From its place of birth,It has come down to greet us here below;Now it alights unwearied on this earth,Nor storm nor night have quenched its heavenly glow.Unbent before the winter's rugged blast,Unsoiled by this sad planet's tainted air,It sparkles out from yon unmeasured vast,Bright 'mid the brightest, 'mid the fairest fair.Undimmed it reaches me; but yet alone:The thousand gay companions that took wingAlong with it have perished one by one,Scattered o'er space like blossoms of the spring.Some to yon nearer orbs have sped their course,Yon city's smoke has quenched a thousand more;Myriads in yon dark cloud have spent their force;A few stray gleams are all that reach our shore.And with us! How many, who beganLife's race with us, are dropping by the way;Losing themselves in darkness one by one,From the glad goal departing wide astray;When we shall reach the kingdom of the blest,How few who started with us shall we findArriving or arrived, for glorious rest!How many shall we mourn as left behind!—Horatius Bonar.

Lookat this starbeam! From its place of birth,It has come down to greet us here below;Now it alights unwearied on this earth,Nor storm nor night have quenched its heavenly glow.

Lookat this starbeam! From its place of birth,

It has come down to greet us here below;

Now it alights unwearied on this earth,

Nor storm nor night have quenched its heavenly glow.

Unbent before the winter's rugged blast,Unsoiled by this sad planet's tainted air,It sparkles out from yon unmeasured vast,Bright 'mid the brightest, 'mid the fairest fair.

Unbent before the winter's rugged blast,

Unsoiled by this sad planet's tainted air,

It sparkles out from yon unmeasured vast,

Bright 'mid the brightest, 'mid the fairest fair.

Undimmed it reaches me; but yet alone:The thousand gay companions that took wingAlong with it have perished one by one,Scattered o'er space like blossoms of the spring.

Undimmed it reaches me; but yet alone:

The thousand gay companions that took wing

Along with it have perished one by one,

Scattered o'er space like blossoms of the spring.

Some to yon nearer orbs have sped their course,Yon city's smoke has quenched a thousand more;Myriads in yon dark cloud have spent their force;A few stray gleams are all that reach our shore.

Some to yon nearer orbs have sped their course,

Yon city's smoke has quenched a thousand more;

Myriads in yon dark cloud have spent their force;

A few stray gleams are all that reach our shore.

And with us! How many, who beganLife's race with us, are dropping by the way;Losing themselves in darkness one by one,From the glad goal departing wide astray;

And with us! How many, who began

Life's race with us, are dropping by the way;

Losing themselves in darkness one by one,

From the glad goal departing wide astray;

When we shall reach the kingdom of the blest,How few who started with us shall we findArriving or arrived, for glorious rest!How many shall we mourn as left behind!

When we shall reach the kingdom of the blest,

How few who started with us shall we find

Arriving or arrived, for glorious rest!

How many shall we mourn as left behind!

—Horatius Bonar.

Lord,what a change within us one short hourSpent in Thy presence will prevail to make—What heavy burdens from our bosoms take,What parched grounds refresh, as with a shower!We kneel, and all around us seems to lower;We rise, and all, the distant and the near,Stands forth in sunny outline, brave and clear;We kneel how weak, we rise how full of power!Why, therefore, should we do ourselves this wrong,Or others—that we are not always strong;That we are ever overborne with care;That we should ever weak or heartless be,Anxious or troubled, when with us is prayer,And joy, and strength, and courage, are with Thee?—Richard Chenevix Trench.

Lord,what a change within us one short hour

Spent in Thy presence will prevail to make—

What heavy burdens from our bosoms take,

What parched grounds refresh, as with a shower!

We kneel, and all around us seems to lower;

We rise, and all, the distant and the near,

Stands forth in sunny outline, brave and clear;

We kneel how weak, we rise how full of power!

Why, therefore, should we do ourselves this wrong,

Or others—that we are not always strong;

That we are ever overborne with care;

That we should ever weak or heartless be,

Anxious or troubled, when with us is prayer,

And joy, and strength, and courage, are with Thee?

—Richard Chenevix Trench.

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