THE USEFUL LIFE.

Setapart for Jesus!Is not this enough,Though the desert prospect,Open wild and rough?Set apart for His delight,Chosen for His holy pleasure,Sealed to be His special treasure!Could we choose a nobler joy?â€”and would we ifwe might?Set apart to serve Him,Ministers of light,Standing in His presence,Ready day or night!Chosen for His service blestHe would have us always willingLike the angel-hosts fulfillingSwiftly and rejoicingly each recognized behest.Set apart to praise Him,Set apart for this!Have the blessed angelsAny truer bliss?Soft the prelude, though so clear;Isolated tones are trembling,But the chosen choir, assembling,Soon shall sing together, while the universe shallhear.Set apart to love Him,And His love to know!Not to waste affectionOn a passing show.Called to give Him life and heart,Called to pour the hidden treasure,That none other claims to measure,Into His beloved hand! thrice-blessÃ¨d 'setapart!'Set apart for everFor Himself alone!Now we see our callingGloriously shown!Owning, with no secret dread,This our holy separation,Now the crown of consecrationOf the Lord our God shall rest upon our willinghead!â€”Frances Ridley Havergal.

Setapart for Jesus!

Is not this enough,

Though the desert prospect,

Open wild and rough?

Set apart for His delight,

Chosen for His holy pleasure,

Sealed to be His special treasure!

Could we choose a nobler joy?â€”and would we ifwe might?

Set apart to serve Him,Ministers of light,Standing in His presence,Ready day or night!Chosen for His service blestHe would have us always willingLike the angel-hosts fulfillingSwiftly and rejoicingly each recognized behest.

Set apart to serve Him,

Ministers of light,

Standing in His presence,

Ready day or night!

Chosen for His service blest

He would have us always willing

Like the angel-hosts fulfilling

Swiftly and rejoicingly each recognized behest.

Set apart to praise Him,Set apart for this!Have the blessed angelsAny truer bliss?Soft the prelude, though so clear;Isolated tones are trembling,But the chosen choir, assembling,Soon shall sing together, while the universe shallhear.

Set apart to praise Him,

Set apart for this!

Have the blessed angels

Any truer bliss?

Soft the prelude, though so clear;

Isolated tones are trembling,

But the chosen choir, assembling,

Soon shall sing together, while the universe shallhear.

Set apart to love Him,And His love to know!Not to waste affectionOn a passing show.Called to give Him life and heart,Called to pour the hidden treasure,That none other claims to measure,Into His beloved hand! thrice-blessÃ¨d 'setapart!'

Set apart to love Him,

And His love to know!

Not to waste affection

On a passing show.

Called to give Him life and heart,

Called to pour the hidden treasure,

That none other claims to measure,

Into His beloved hand! thrice-blessÃ¨d 'setapart!'

Set apart for everFor Himself alone!Now we see our callingGloriously shown!Owning, with no secret dread,This our holy separation,Now the crown of consecrationOf the Lord our God shall rest upon our willinghead!

Set apart for ever

For Himself alone!

Now we see our calling

Gloriously shown!

Owning, with no secret dread,

This our holy separation,

Now the crown of consecration

Of the Lord our God shall rest upon our willinghead!

â€”Frances Ridley Havergal.

Î¨Ï…Ï‡Î® Î¼Î¿Ï…, ÏˆÏ…Ï‡Î® Î¼Î¿Ï…,á¼ˆÎ·Î±ÏƒÏ„Î±, Ï„á½¶ ÎºÎ±Î¸ÎµÏ…Î´ÎµÎ¹Ï‚.Old Greek Hymn.

Î¨Ï…Ï‡Î® Î¼Î¿Ï…, ÏˆÏ…Ï‡Î® Î¼Î¿Ï…,

á¼ˆÎ·Î±ÏƒÏ„Î±, Ï„á½¶ ÎºÎ±Î¸ÎµÏ…Î´ÎµÎ¹Ï‚.

Old Greek Hymn.

Golabor on; spend, and be spent,â€”Thy joy to do the Father's will;It is the way the Master went,Should not the servant tread it still?Go labor on; 'tis not for nought;Thy earthly loss is heavenly gain;Men heed thee, love thee, praise thee not;The Master praises, what are men?Go labor on; enough, while here,If He shall praise thee, if he deignThy willing heart to mark and cheer;No toil for Him shall be in vain.Go labor on; your hands are weak,Your knees are faint, your soul cast down;Yet falter not; the prize you seek,Is near,â€”a kingdom and a crown!Go labor on, while it is day,The world's dark night is hastening on;Speed, speed thy work, cast sloth away:It is not thus that souls are won.Men die in darkness at your side,Without a hope to cheer the tomb;Take up the torch and wave it wide,The torch that lights time's thickest gloom.Toil on, faint not, keep watch and pray;Be wise, the erring soul to win;Go forth into the world's highway,Compel the wanderer to come in.Toil on, and in thy toil rejoice;For toil comes rest, for exile home;Soon shalt thou hear the Bridegroom's voice,The midnight peal, behold I come!â€”Horatius Bonar.

Golabor on; spend, and be spent,â€”Thy joy to do the Father's will;It is the way the Master went,Should not the servant tread it still?

Golabor on; spend, and be spent,â€”

Thy joy to do the Father's will;

It is the way the Master went,

Should not the servant tread it still?

Go labor on; 'tis not for nought;Thy earthly loss is heavenly gain;Men heed thee, love thee, praise thee not;The Master praises, what are men?

Go labor on; 'tis not for nought;

Thy earthly loss is heavenly gain;

Men heed thee, love thee, praise thee not;

The Master praises, what are men?

Go labor on; enough, while here,If He shall praise thee, if he deignThy willing heart to mark and cheer;No toil for Him shall be in vain.

Go labor on; enough, while here,

If He shall praise thee, if he deign

Thy willing heart to mark and cheer;

No toil for Him shall be in vain.

Go labor on; your hands are weak,Your knees are faint, your soul cast down;Yet falter not; the prize you seek,Is near,â€”a kingdom and a crown!

Go labor on; your hands are weak,

Your knees are faint, your soul cast down;

Yet falter not; the prize you seek,

Is near,â€”a kingdom and a crown!

Go labor on, while it is day,The world's dark night is hastening on;Speed, speed thy work, cast sloth away:It is not thus that souls are won.

Go labor on, while it is day,

The world's dark night is hastening on;

Speed, speed thy work, cast sloth away:

It is not thus that souls are won.

Men die in darkness at your side,Without a hope to cheer the tomb;Take up the torch and wave it wide,The torch that lights time's thickest gloom.

Men die in darkness at your side,

Without a hope to cheer the tomb;

Take up the torch and wave it wide,

The torch that lights time's thickest gloom.

Toil on, faint not, keep watch and pray;Be wise, the erring soul to win;Go forth into the world's highway,Compel the wanderer to come in.

Toil on, faint not, keep watch and pray;

Be wise, the erring soul to win;

Go forth into the world's highway,

Compel the wanderer to come in.

Toil on, and in thy toil rejoice;For toil comes rest, for exile home;Soon shalt thou hear the Bridegroom's voice,The midnight peal, behold I come!

Toil on, and in thy toil rejoice;

For toil comes rest, for exile home;

Soon shalt thou hear the Bridegroom's voice,

The midnight peal, behold I come!

â€”Horatius Bonar.

O holySaviour, Friend unseen,The faint, the weak, on Thee may lean,Help me, throughout life's varying scene,By faith to cling to Thee!Blest with communion so Divine,Take what Thou wilt, shall I repine,When, as the branches to the vine,My soul may cling to Thee?Far from her home, fatigued, oppressed,Here she has found a place of rest,An exile still, yet not unblest,While she can cling to Thee!Without a murmur I dismissMy former dreams of earthly bliss,My joy, my recompense be this,Each hour to cling to Thee!What though the world deceitful prove,And earthly friends and joys remove,With patient, uncomplaining love,Still would I cling to Thee!Oft when I seem to tread aloneSome barren waste with thorns o'ergrown,A voice of love, in gentlest tone,Whispers, "Still cling to Me!"Though faith and hope awhile be tried,I ask not, need not, aught beside;How safe, how calm, how satisfied,The souls that cling to Thee!They fear not Life's rough storms to brave,Since Thou art near, and strong to save;Nor shudder e'en at Death's dark wave,Because they cling to Thee!Blest is my lot, whate'er befall;What can disturb me, who appal;While, as my strength, my rock, my all,Saviour, I cling to Thee!â€”Charlotte Elliot.

O holySaviour, Friend unseen,The faint, the weak, on Thee may lean,Help me, throughout life's varying scene,By faith to cling to Thee!

O holySaviour, Friend unseen,

The faint, the weak, on Thee may lean,

Help me, throughout life's varying scene,

By faith to cling to Thee!

Blest with communion so Divine,Take what Thou wilt, shall I repine,When, as the branches to the vine,My soul may cling to Thee?

Blest with communion so Divine,

Take what Thou wilt, shall I repine,

When, as the branches to the vine,

My soul may cling to Thee?

Far from her home, fatigued, oppressed,Here she has found a place of rest,An exile still, yet not unblest,While she can cling to Thee!

Far from her home, fatigued, oppressed,

Here she has found a place of rest,

An exile still, yet not unblest,

While she can cling to Thee!

Without a murmur I dismissMy former dreams of earthly bliss,My joy, my recompense be this,Each hour to cling to Thee!

Without a murmur I dismiss

My former dreams of earthly bliss,

My joy, my recompense be this,

Each hour to cling to Thee!

What though the world deceitful prove,And earthly friends and joys remove,With patient, uncomplaining love,Still would I cling to Thee!

What though the world deceitful prove,

And earthly friends and joys remove,

With patient, uncomplaining love,

Still would I cling to Thee!

Oft when I seem to tread aloneSome barren waste with thorns o'ergrown,A voice of love, in gentlest tone,Whispers, "Still cling to Me!"

Oft when I seem to tread alone

Some barren waste with thorns o'ergrown,

A voice of love, in gentlest tone,

Whispers, "Still cling to Me!"

Though faith and hope awhile be tried,I ask not, need not, aught beside;How safe, how calm, how satisfied,The souls that cling to Thee!

Though faith and hope awhile be tried,

I ask not, need not, aught beside;

How safe, how calm, how satisfied,

The souls that cling to Thee!

They fear not Life's rough storms to brave,Since Thou art near, and strong to save;Nor shudder e'en at Death's dark wave,Because they cling to Thee!

They fear not Life's rough storms to brave,

Since Thou art near, and strong to save;

Nor shudder e'en at Death's dark wave,

Because they cling to Thee!

Blest is my lot, whate'er befall;What can disturb me, who appal;While, as my strength, my rock, my all,Saviour, I cling to Thee!

Blest is my lot, whate'er befall;

What can disturb me, who appal;

While, as my strength, my rock, my all,

Saviour, I cling to Thee!

â€”Charlotte Elliot.

I.Behold,a Royal BridegroomHath called me for His bride!I joyfully make readyAnd hasten to His side.He is a Royal Bridegroom,But I am very poor!Of low estate He chose meTo show His love the more:For He hath purchased for meSuch goodly, rich array,â€”Oh, surely never BridegroomGave gifts like His away.II.When first upon the mountains,I, in the vale below,Beheld Him waiting for me,Heard His command to go,I, poorest in the valley,Oh, how could I prepareTo meet His royal presence?How could I make me fair?Ah! in His love He sent meA garment clean and white:And promised broidered raimentAll glorious in His sight.And then He gave me glimpsesOf the jewels for my hair,And the ornament most preciousFor His chosen bride to wear.III.First in my tears I washed me,â€”They could not make me clean:A fountain then He showed me,Strange until then unseen!So close I'd lived beside itFor many weary years,Yet passing by the fountainHad bathed me in my tears.Oh, love, oh, grace, that showed it!Revealed its cleansing power!How could I choose but hastenTo meet Him from that hour.IV.I said, delay no longer;He surely will provideAll for the toilsome journey,Up the steep mountain side.He sought me in the valleyâ€”He knows my utmost need;But He's a Royal Bridegroom,I shall be rich indeed.Rich in His pardoning mercies,â€”Bounties that never cease:Rich in His loving kindness,Rich in His joy and peace,So then I took the Raiment.And the jewels that He sent;And, gazing on His beauty,I up the hillside went.V.And still with feeble footsteps,And turning oft astray,I go to meet the Bridegroom,Though stumbling by the wayI soil my royal garmentsWith earth whene'er I fall;I break and mar my ornaments,But He will know them all.For it was He who gave them;Will He forget His own?Ah! for the love He bore me,He called! will He disown?VI.He sent His Guide to guide me:He knew how blind, how frailThe children of the valley:â€”He knew my love would fail.He knew the mists above meWould hide Him from my sight.And I, in darkness groping,Would wander from the right.I know that I must followSlow when I fain would soar:That step by step thus upward,My Guide must go before.VII.Cleave close, dear Guide, and lead me!I cannot go aright!Through all that doth beset me,Keep, keep me close in sight!'Tis but a little longer;Methinks the end I see:Oh! matchless love and mercy,The Bridegroom waits for me;Waits, to present me faultless,Before His Father's throne;His comeliness my beauty,His righteousness my own.â€”Unidentified.

Behold,a Royal BridegroomHath called me for His bride!I joyfully make readyAnd hasten to His side.He is a Royal Bridegroom,But I am very poor!Of low estate He chose meTo show His love the more:For He hath purchased for meSuch goodly, rich array,â€”Oh, surely never BridegroomGave gifts like His away.

Behold,a Royal Bridegroom

Hath called me for His bride!

I joyfully make ready

And hasten to His side.

He is a Royal Bridegroom,

But I am very poor!

Of low estate He chose me

To show His love the more:

For He hath purchased for me

Such goodly, rich array,â€”

Oh, surely never Bridegroom

Gave gifts like His away.

II.

When first upon the mountains,I, in the vale below,Beheld Him waiting for me,Heard His command to go,I, poorest in the valley,Oh, how could I prepareTo meet His royal presence?How could I make me fair?Ah! in His love He sent meA garment clean and white:And promised broidered raimentAll glorious in His sight.And then He gave me glimpsesOf the jewels for my hair,And the ornament most preciousFor His chosen bride to wear.

When first upon the mountains,

I, in the vale below,

Beheld Him waiting for me,

Heard His command to go,

I, poorest in the valley,

Oh, how could I prepare

To meet His royal presence?

How could I make me fair?

Ah! in His love He sent me

A garment clean and white:

And promised broidered raiment

All glorious in His sight.

And then He gave me glimpses

Of the jewels for my hair,

And the ornament most precious

For His chosen bride to wear.

III.

First in my tears I washed me,â€”They could not make me clean:A fountain then He showed me,Strange until then unseen!So close I'd lived beside itFor many weary years,Yet passing by the fountainHad bathed me in my tears.Oh, love, oh, grace, that showed it!Revealed its cleansing power!How could I choose but hastenTo meet Him from that hour.

First in my tears I washed me,â€”

They could not make me clean:

A fountain then He showed me,

Strange until then unseen!

So close I'd lived beside it

For many weary years,

Yet passing by the fountain

Had bathed me in my tears.

Oh, love, oh, grace, that showed it!

Revealed its cleansing power!

How could I choose but hasten

To meet Him from that hour.

IV.

I said, delay no longer;He surely will provideAll for the toilsome journey,Up the steep mountain side.He sought me in the valleyâ€”He knows my utmost need;But He's a Royal Bridegroom,I shall be rich indeed.Rich in His pardoning mercies,â€”Bounties that never cease:Rich in His loving kindness,Rich in His joy and peace,So then I took the Raiment.And the jewels that He sent;And, gazing on His beauty,I up the hillside went.

I said, delay no longer;

He surely will provide

All for the toilsome journey,

Up the steep mountain side.

He sought me in the valleyâ€”

He knows my utmost need;

But He's a Royal Bridegroom,

I shall be rich indeed.

Rich in His pardoning mercies,â€”

Bounties that never cease:

Rich in His loving kindness,

Rich in His joy and peace,

So then I took the Raiment.

And the jewels that He sent;

And, gazing on His beauty,

I up the hillside went.

And still with feeble footsteps,And turning oft astray,I go to meet the Bridegroom,Though stumbling by the wayI soil my royal garmentsWith earth whene'er I fall;I break and mar my ornaments,But He will know them all.For it was He who gave them;Will He forget His own?Ah! for the love He bore me,He called! will He disown?

And still with feeble footsteps,

And turning oft astray,

I go to meet the Bridegroom,

Though stumbling by the way

I soil my royal garments

With earth whene'er I fall;

I break and mar my ornaments,

But He will know them all.

For it was He who gave them;

Will He forget His own?

Ah! for the love He bore me,

He called! will He disown?

VI.

He sent His Guide to guide me:He knew how blind, how frailThe children of the valley:â€”He knew my love would fail.He knew the mists above meWould hide Him from my sight.And I, in darkness groping,Would wander from the right.I know that I must followSlow when I fain would soar:That step by step thus upward,My Guide must go before.

He sent His Guide to guide me:

He knew how blind, how frail

The children of the valley:â€”

He knew my love would fail.

He knew the mists above me

Would hide Him from my sight.

And I, in darkness groping,

Would wander from the right.

I know that I must follow

Slow when I fain would soar:

That step by step thus upward,

My Guide must go before.

VII.

Cleave close, dear Guide, and lead me!I cannot go aright!Through all that doth beset me,Keep, keep me close in sight!'Tis but a little longer;Methinks the end I see:Oh! matchless love and mercy,The Bridegroom waits for me;Waits, to present me faultless,Before His Father's throne;His comeliness my beauty,His righteousness my own.

Cleave close, dear Guide, and lead me!

I cannot go aright!

Through all that doth beset me,

Keep, keep me close in sight!

'Tis but a little longer;

Methinks the end I see:

Oh! matchless love and mercy,

The Bridegroom waits for me;

Waits, to present me faultless,

Before His Father's throne;

His comeliness my beauty,

His righteousness my own.

â€”Unidentified.

"Itmay be in the evening,When the work of the day is done,And you have time to sit in the twilightAnd watch the sinking sun,While the long bright day dies slowlyOver the sea,And the hour grows quiet and holyWith thoughts of Me,While you hear the village childrenPassing along the streetAmong those thronging footstepsMay come the sound of My Feet:Therefore I tell you, Watch!By the light of the evening star,When the room is growing duskyAs the clouds afar;Let the door be on the latchIn your home,For it may be through the gloamingI will come."It may be when the midnightIs heavy upon the land,And the black waves lying humblyAlong the sand;When the moonless night draws close,And the lights are out in the house;When the fires burn low and red,And the watch is ticking loudlyBeside the bed:Though you sleep, tired out on your couch,Still your heart must wake and watchIn the dark room,For it may be that at midnightI will come."It may be at the cock-crow,When the night is dying slowlyIn the sky,And the sea looks calm and holy,Waiting for the dawn of the golden sunWhich draweth nigh;When the mists are on the valleys, shadingThe rivers chill,And my morning star is fading, fadingOver the hill:Behold, I say unto you, Watch!Let the door be on the latch:In your home:In the chill before the dawning,Between the night and morningI may come."It may be in the morning,When the sun is bright and strong,And the dew is glittering sharplyOver the little lawn;When the waves are laughing loudlyAlong the shore,And the little birds are singing sweetlyAbout the door.With the long day's work before you,You rise up with the sun,And the neighbors come in to talk a little,Of all that must be done;But remember that I may be the nextTo come in at the door,To call you from all your busy workFor evermore:As you work your heart must watch,For the door is on the latchIn your room,And it may be in the morningI will come."So He passed down my cottage garden,By the path that leads to the sea,Till he came to the turn of the little road,Where the birch and laburnum treeLean over and arch the way.There I saw him a moment stay,And turn once more to me,As I wept at the cottage door,And lift up His hands in blessingâ€”Then I saw His face no more.And I stood still in the door-wayLeaning against the wall,Not heeding the fair white roses,Though I crushed them, and let them fall,Only looking down the pathway,And looking towards the sea,And wondering, and wonderingWhen He would come back for me,Till I was aware of an angelWho was going swiftly by,With the gladness of one who goethIn the light of God most highHe passed the end of the cottageTowards the garden gate,â€”(I suppose He was come downAt the setting of the sun,To comfort some one in the villageWhose dwelling was desolate,)And He passed before the doorBeside my place,And the likeness of a smileWas on His face:â€”"Weep not," He said, "for unto you is given,To watch for the coming of His feet,Who is the glory of our blessed Heaven:The work and watching will be very sweetEven in an earthly home,And in such an hour as ye think notHe will come."So I am watching quietlyEvery day;Whenever the sun shines brightlyI rise and say,â€”Surely it is the shining of His face!And look unto the gates of His high place,Beyond the sea,For I know He is coming shortlyTo summon me.And when a shadow falls across the windowOf my room,Where I am working my appointed task,I lift my head to watch the door, and askIf He is come;And the angel answers sweetlyIn my home,â€”"Only a few more shadows,And He will come."â€”Unidentified.

"Itmay be in the evening,

When the work of the day is done,

And you have time to sit in the twilight

And watch the sinking sun,

While the long bright day dies slowly

Over the sea,

And the hour grows quiet and holy

With thoughts of Me,

While you hear the village children

Passing along the street

Among those thronging footsteps

May come the sound of My Feet:

Therefore I tell you, Watch!

By the light of the evening star,

When the room is growing dusky

As the clouds afar;

Let the door be on the latch

In your home,

For it may be through the gloaming

I will come.

"It may be when the midnightIs heavy upon the land,And the black waves lying humblyAlong the sand;When the moonless night draws close,And the lights are out in the house;When the fires burn low and red,And the watch is ticking loudlyBeside the bed:Though you sleep, tired out on your couch,Still your heart must wake and watchIn the dark room,For it may be that at midnightI will come.

"It may be when the midnight

Is heavy upon the land,

And the black waves lying humbly

Along the sand;

When the moonless night draws close,

And the lights are out in the house;

When the fires burn low and red,

And the watch is ticking loudly

Beside the bed:

Though you sleep, tired out on your couch,

Still your heart must wake and watch

In the dark room,

For it may be that at midnight

I will come.

"It may be at the cock-crow,When the night is dying slowlyIn the sky,And the sea looks calm and holy,Waiting for the dawn of the golden sunWhich draweth nigh;When the mists are on the valleys, shadingThe rivers chill,And my morning star is fading, fadingOver the hill:Behold, I say unto you, Watch!Let the door be on the latch:In your home:In the chill before the dawning,Between the night and morningI may come.

"It may be at the cock-crow,

When the night is dying slowly

In the sky,

And the sea looks calm and holy,

Waiting for the dawn of the golden sun

Which draweth nigh;

When the mists are on the valleys, shading

The rivers chill,

And my morning star is fading, fading

Over the hill:

Behold, I say unto you, Watch!

Let the door be on the latch:

In your home:

In the chill before the dawning,

Between the night and morning

I may come.

"It may be in the morning,When the sun is bright and strong,And the dew is glittering sharplyOver the little lawn;When the waves are laughing loudlyAlong the shore,And the little birds are singing sweetlyAbout the door.With the long day's work before you,You rise up with the sun,And the neighbors come in to talk a little,Of all that must be done;But remember that I may be the nextTo come in at the door,To call you from all your busy workFor evermore:As you work your heart must watch,For the door is on the latchIn your room,And it may be in the morningI will come."

"It may be in the morning,

When the sun is bright and strong,

And the dew is glittering sharply

Over the little lawn;

When the waves are laughing loudly

Along the shore,

And the little birds are singing sweetly

About the door.

With the long day's work before you,

You rise up with the sun,

And the neighbors come in to talk a little,

Of all that must be done;

But remember that I may be the next

To come in at the door,

To call you from all your busy work

For evermore:

As you work your heart must watch,

For the door is on the latch

In your room,

And it may be in the morning

I will come."

So He passed down my cottage garden,By the path that leads to the sea,Till he came to the turn of the little road,Where the birch and laburnum treeLean over and arch the way.There I saw him a moment stay,And turn once more to me,As I wept at the cottage door,And lift up His hands in blessingâ€”Then I saw His face no more.And I stood still in the door-wayLeaning against the wall,Not heeding the fair white roses,Though I crushed them, and let them fall,Only looking down the pathway,And looking towards the sea,And wondering, and wonderingWhen He would come back for me,Till I was aware of an angelWho was going swiftly by,With the gladness of one who goethIn the light of God most highHe passed the end of the cottageTowards the garden gate,â€”(I suppose He was come downAt the setting of the sun,To comfort some one in the villageWhose dwelling was desolate,)And He passed before the doorBeside my place,And the likeness of a smileWas on His face:â€”"Weep not," He said, "for unto you is given,To watch for the coming of His feet,Who is the glory of our blessed Heaven:The work and watching will be very sweetEven in an earthly home,And in such an hour as ye think notHe will come."

So He passed down my cottage garden,

By the path that leads to the sea,

Till he came to the turn of the little road,

Where the birch and laburnum tree

Lean over and arch the way.

There I saw him a moment stay,

And turn once more to me,

As I wept at the cottage door,

And lift up His hands in blessingâ€”

Then I saw His face no more.

And I stood still in the door-way

Leaning against the wall,

Not heeding the fair white roses,

Though I crushed them, and let them fall,

Only looking down the pathway,

And looking towards the sea,

And wondering, and wondering

When He would come back for me,

Till I was aware of an angel

Who was going swiftly by,

With the gladness of one who goeth

In the light of God most high

He passed the end of the cottage

Towards the garden gate,â€”

(I suppose He was come down

At the setting of the sun,

To comfort some one in the village

Whose dwelling was desolate,)

And He passed before the door

Beside my place,

And the likeness of a smile

Was on His face:â€”

"Weep not," He said, "for unto you is given,

To watch for the coming of His feet,

Who is the glory of our blessed Heaven:

The work and watching will be very sweet

Even in an earthly home,

And in such an hour as ye think not

He will come."

So I am watching quietlyEvery day;Whenever the sun shines brightlyI rise and say,â€”Surely it is the shining of His face!And look unto the gates of His high place,Beyond the sea,For I know He is coming shortlyTo summon me.And when a shadow falls across the windowOf my room,Where I am working my appointed task,I lift my head to watch the door, and askIf He is come;And the angel answers sweetlyIn my home,â€”"Only a few more shadows,And He will come."

So I am watching quietly

Every day;

Whenever the sun shines brightly

I rise and say,â€”

Surely it is the shining of His face!

And look unto the gates of His high place,

Beyond the sea,

For I know He is coming shortly

To summon me.

And when a shadow falls across the window

Of my room,

Where I am working my appointed task,

I lift my head to watch the door, and ask

If He is come;

And the angel answers sweetly

In my home,â€”

"Only a few more shadows,

And He will come."

â€”Unidentified.

Itis too calm to be a dream,Too gravely sweet, too full of power,Prayer changed to praise this very hour!Yes, heard and answered! though it seemBeyond the hope of yesterday,Beyond the faith that dared to pray,Yet not beyond the love that heard,And not beyond the faithful wordOn which each trembling prayer may rest,And win the answer truly best.Yes, heard and answered! sought and found!I breathe a golden atmosphereOf solemn joy, and seem to hearWithin, above, and all around,The chime of deep cathedral bells,An early herald peal that tellsA glorious Easter tide begun;While yet are sparkling in the sunLarge rain drops of the night storm passed,And days of Lent are gone at last.â€”Frances Ridley Havergal.

Itis too calm to be a dream,

Too gravely sweet, too full of power,

Prayer changed to praise this very hour!

Yes, heard and answered! though it seem

Beyond the hope of yesterday,

Beyond the faith that dared to pray,

Yet not beyond the love that heard,

And not beyond the faithful word

On which each trembling prayer may rest,

And win the answer truly best.

Yes, heard and answered! sought and found!I breathe a golden atmosphereOf solemn joy, and seem to hearWithin, above, and all around,The chime of deep cathedral bells,An early herald peal that tellsA glorious Easter tide begun;While yet are sparkling in the sunLarge rain drops of the night storm passed,And days of Lent are gone at last.

Yes, heard and answered! sought and found!

I breathe a golden atmosphere

Of solemn joy, and seem to hear

Within, above, and all around,

The chime of deep cathedral bells,

An early herald peal that tells

A glorious Easter tide begun;

While yet are sparkling in the sun

Large rain drops of the night storm passed,

And days of Lent are gone at last.

â€”Frances Ridley Havergal.

Heanswered all my prayer abundantly,And crowned the work that toHisfeet I brought,With blessing more than I had asked or thoughtâ€”A blessing undisguised, and fair, and free.I stood amazed, and whispered, "Can it beThat He hath granted all the boon I sought?How wonderful that He for me hath wrought!How wonderful that He hath answered me!"O faithless heart! Hesaidthat He would hearAnd answer thy poor prayer, and HehathheardAnd proved His promise. Wherefore didst thou fear?Why marvel that thy Lord hath kept His word?More wonderful if He should fail to blessExpectant faith and prayer with good success!â€”Frances Ridley Havergal.

Heanswered all my prayer abundantly,And crowned the work that toHisfeet I brought,With blessing more than I had asked or thoughtâ€”A blessing undisguised, and fair, and free.

Heanswered all my prayer abundantly,

And crowned the work that toHisfeet I brought,

With blessing more than I had asked or thoughtâ€”

A blessing undisguised, and fair, and free.

I stood amazed, and whispered, "Can it beThat He hath granted all the boon I sought?How wonderful that He for me hath wrought!How wonderful that He hath answered me!"

I stood amazed, and whispered, "Can it be

That He hath granted all the boon I sought?

How wonderful that He for me hath wrought!

How wonderful that He hath answered me!"

O faithless heart! Hesaidthat He would hearAnd answer thy poor prayer, and HehathheardAnd proved His promise. Wherefore didst thou fear?Why marvel that thy Lord hath kept His word?More wonderful if He should fail to blessExpectant faith and prayer with good success!

O faithless heart! Hesaidthat He would hear

And answer thy poor prayer, and Hehathheard

And proved His promise. Wherefore didst thou fear?

Why marvel that thy Lord hath kept His word?

More wonderful if He should fail to bless

Expectant faith and prayer with good success!

â€”Frances Ridley Havergal.

Thyway, not mine, O Lord,However dark it be!Lead me by Thine own hand,Choose out the path for me.Smooth let it be or rough,It will be still the best,Winding or straight, it matters not,It leads me to Thy rest.I dare not choose my lot:I would not, if I might;Choose Thou for me, my God,So shall I walk aright.The kingdom that I seekIs Thine: so let the wayThat leads to it be Thine,Else I must surely stray.Take Thou my cup, and itWith joy or sorrow fill,As best to Thee may seem;Choose Thou my good and ill.Choose Thou for me my friends,My sickness or my health,Choose Thou my cares for me,My poverty or wealth.Not mine, not mine the choice,In things or great or small;Be Thou my guide, my strength,My wisdom, and my all.â€”Horatius Bonar.

Thyway, not mine, O Lord,However dark it be!Lead me by Thine own hand,Choose out the path for me.

Thyway, not mine, O Lord,

However dark it be!

Lead me by Thine own hand,

Choose out the path for me.

Smooth let it be or rough,It will be still the best,Winding or straight, it matters not,It leads me to Thy rest.

Smooth let it be or rough,

It will be still the best,

Winding or straight, it matters not,

It leads me to Thy rest.

I dare not choose my lot:I would not, if I might;Choose Thou for me, my God,So shall I walk aright.

I dare not choose my lot:

I would not, if I might;

Choose Thou for me, my God,

So shall I walk aright.

The kingdom that I seekIs Thine: so let the wayThat leads to it be Thine,Else I must surely stray.

The kingdom that I seek

Is Thine: so let the way

That leads to it be Thine,

Else I must surely stray.

Take Thou my cup, and itWith joy or sorrow fill,As best to Thee may seem;Choose Thou my good and ill.

Take Thou my cup, and it

With joy or sorrow fill,

As best to Thee may seem;

Choose Thou my good and ill.

Choose Thou for me my friends,My sickness or my health,Choose Thou my cares for me,My poverty or wealth.

Choose Thou for me my friends,

My sickness or my health,

Choose Thou my cares for me,

My poverty or wealth.

Not mine, not mine the choice,In things or great or small;Be Thou my guide, my strength,My wisdom, and my all.

Not mine, not mine the choice,

In things or great or small;

Be Thou my guide, my strength,

My wisdom, and my all.

â€”Horatius Bonar.

Shehad been told that God made all the stars,That twinkled up in heaven, and now shestoodWatching the coming of the twilight on,As if it were a new and perfect world,And this were its first eve. She stood aloneBy the low window, with the silken lashOf her soft eye upraised, and her sweet mouthHalf parted with the new and strange delightOf beauty that she could not comprehend,And had not seen before. The purple foldsOf the low sunset clouds, and the blue skyThat look'd so still and delicate above,Fill'd her young heart with gladness, and the eveStole on with its deep shadows, and she stillStood looking at the west with that half smile,As if a pleasant thought were at her heart.Presently, in the edge of the last tintOf sunset, where the blue was melted inTo the faint golden mellowness, a starStood suddenly. A laugh of wild delightBurst from her lips, and putting up her hands,Her simple thought broke forth expressivelyâ€”"Father! dear father! God has made a star!"â€”N. P. Willis.

Shehad been told that God made all the stars,

That twinkled up in heaven, and now shestood

Watching the coming of the twilight on,

As if it were a new and perfect world,

And this were its first eve. She stood alone

By the low window, with the silken lash

Of her soft eye upraised, and her sweet mouth

Half parted with the new and strange delight

Of beauty that she could not comprehend,

And had not seen before. The purple folds

Of the low sunset clouds, and the blue sky

That look'd so still and delicate above,

Fill'd her young heart with gladness, and the eve

Stole on with its deep shadows, and she still

Stood looking at the west with that half smile,

As if a pleasant thought were at her heart.

Presently, in the edge of the last tint

Of sunset, where the blue was melted in

To the faint golden mellowness, a star

Stood suddenly. A laugh of wild delight

Burst from her lips, and putting up her hands,

Her simple thought broke forth expressivelyâ€”

"Father! dear father! God has made a star!"

â€”N. P. Willis.

Artthou weary? Art thou languid?Art thou sore distrest?"Come to Me," saith One, "and coming,Be at rest!"Hath He marks to lead me to Him,If He be my Guide?"In His feet and hands are wound-prints,And His side."Is there diadem as monarchThat His brow adorns?"Yea, a crown in very surety,But of thorns!"If I find Him, if I follow,What his guerdon here?"Many a sorrow, many a labor,Many a tear."If I still hold closely to Him,What hath He at last?"Sorrow vanquished, labor ended,Jordan past!"If I ask Him to receive me,Will He say me nay?"Not till earth and not till HeavenPass away!"Finding, following, keeping, struggling,Is He sure to bless?"Angels, martyrs, prophets, pilgrims,Answerâ€”Yes!"â€”From St. Stephen the Sabaite.

Artthou weary? Art thou languid?Art thou sore distrest?"Come to Me," saith One, "and coming,Be at rest!"

Artthou weary? Art thou languid?

Art thou sore distrest?

"Come to Me," saith One, "and coming,

Be at rest!"

Hath He marks to lead me to Him,If He be my Guide?"In His feet and hands are wound-prints,And His side."

Hath He marks to lead me to Him,

If He be my Guide?

"In His feet and hands are wound-prints,

And His side."

Is there diadem as monarchThat His brow adorns?"Yea, a crown in very surety,But of thorns!"

Is there diadem as monarch

That His brow adorns?

"Yea, a crown in very surety,

But of thorns!"

If I find Him, if I follow,What his guerdon here?"Many a sorrow, many a labor,Many a tear."

If I find Him, if I follow,

What his guerdon here?

"Many a sorrow, many a labor,

Many a tear."

If I still hold closely to Him,What hath He at last?"Sorrow vanquished, labor ended,Jordan past!"

If I still hold closely to Him,

What hath He at last?

"Sorrow vanquished, labor ended,

Jordan past!"

If I ask Him to receive me,Will He say me nay?"Not till earth and not till HeavenPass away!"

If I ask Him to receive me,

Will He say me nay?

"Not till earth and not till Heaven

Pass away!"

Finding, following, keeping, struggling,Is He sure to bless?"Angels, martyrs, prophets, pilgrims,Answerâ€”Yes!"

Finding, following, keeping, struggling,

Is He sure to bless?

"Angels, martyrs, prophets, pilgrims,

Answerâ€”Yes!"

â€”From St. Stephen the Sabaite.

Thou,Lord, my path shalt choose,And my Guide be!What shall I fear to loseWhile I have Thee?This be my portion blest,On my Redeemer's breast,In peaceful trust to rest:He cares for me!Shall I then, choose my way?Never, oh, no!I, a creature of a day,What can I know?What dread perplexity,Then would encompass me;Now I can look to Thee,Thou orderest so!This lightens every cross,Cheers every ill;Suffer I grief or loss,It is Thy will!Who can make no mistake,Chooseth the way I take,He who can ne'er forsake,Holds my hand still!Sweet words of peace and loveChrist whispers me!Bearing my soul aboveLife's troubled sea!This be my portion blest,On my Redeemer's breast,In peaceful trust to rest:He cares for me!Christ died my love to win,Christ is my tower!He will be with me inEach trying hour!He makes the wounded whole,He will my heart console,He will uphold my soulBy His own power!To Thee, the only, Wise,Whatever be,I will lift up mine eyesJoyful in Thee!This be my portion blest,On my Redeemer's breastIn peaceful trust to rest:He cares for me!â€”From the German.

Thou,Lord, my path shalt choose,And my Guide be!What shall I fear to loseWhile I have Thee?This be my portion blest,On my Redeemer's breast,In peaceful trust to rest:He cares for me!

Thou,Lord, my path shalt choose,

And my Guide be!

What shall I fear to lose

While I have Thee?

This be my portion blest,

On my Redeemer's breast,

In peaceful trust to rest:

He cares for me!

Shall I then, choose my way?Never, oh, no!I, a creature of a day,What can I know?What dread perplexity,Then would encompass me;Now I can look to Thee,Thou orderest so!

Shall I then, choose my way?

Never, oh, no!

I, a creature of a day,

What can I know?

What dread perplexity,

Then would encompass me;

Now I can look to Thee,

Thou orderest so!

This lightens every cross,Cheers every ill;Suffer I grief or loss,It is Thy will!Who can make no mistake,Chooseth the way I take,He who can ne'er forsake,Holds my hand still!

This lightens every cross,

Cheers every ill;

Suffer I grief or loss,

It is Thy will!

Who can make no mistake,

Chooseth the way I take,

He who can ne'er forsake,

Holds my hand still!

Sweet words of peace and loveChrist whispers me!Bearing my soul aboveLife's troubled sea!This be my portion blest,On my Redeemer's breast,In peaceful trust to rest:He cares for me!

Sweet words of peace and love

Christ whispers me!

Bearing my soul above

Life's troubled sea!

This be my portion blest,

On my Redeemer's breast,

In peaceful trust to rest:

He cares for me!

Christ died my love to win,Christ is my tower!He will be with me inEach trying hour!He makes the wounded whole,He will my heart console,He will uphold my soulBy His own power!

Christ died my love to win,

Christ is my tower!

He will be with me in

Each trying hour!

He makes the wounded whole,

He will my heart console,

He will uphold my soul

By His own power!

To Thee, the only, Wise,Whatever be,I will lift up mine eyesJoyful in Thee!This be my portion blest,On my Redeemer's breastIn peaceful trust to rest:He cares for me!

To Thee, the only, Wise,

Whatever be,

I will lift up mine eyes

Joyful in Thee!

This be my portion blest,

On my Redeemer's breast

In peaceful trust to rest:

He cares for me!

â€”From the German.

Theshadows of the evening hoursFall from the darkening sky;Upon the fragrance of the flowersThe dews of evening lie;Before Thy throne, O Lord of Heaven,We kneel at close of day;Look on Thy children from on high,And hear us while we pray.The sorrows of Thy servants, Lord,O do not Thou despise;But let the incense of our prayersBefore Thy mercy rise;The brightness of the coming nightUpon the darkness rolls:With hopes of future glory chaseThe shadows on our souls.Slowly the rays of daylight fade;So fade within our heartThe hopes in earthly love and joy,That one by one depart:Slowly the bright stars, one by one,Within the heavens shine;â€”Give us, O Lord, fresh hopes in Heaven,And trust in things divine.Let peace, O Lord, Thy peace, O God,Upon our souls descendFrom midnight fears and perils, thouOur trembling hearts defend;Give us a respite from our toil,Calm and subdue our woes;Through the long day we suffer, Lord,O give us now repose!â€”Adelaide Procter.

Theshadows of the evening hours

Fall from the darkening sky;

Upon the fragrance of the flowers

The dews of evening lie;

Before Thy throne, O Lord of Heaven,

We kneel at close of day;

Look on Thy children from on high,

And hear us while we pray.

The sorrows of Thy servants, Lord,O do not Thou despise;But let the incense of our prayersBefore Thy mercy rise;The brightness of the coming nightUpon the darkness rolls:With hopes of future glory chaseThe shadows on our souls.

The sorrows of Thy servants, Lord,

O do not Thou despise;

But let the incense of our prayers

Before Thy mercy rise;

The brightness of the coming night

Upon the darkness rolls:

With hopes of future glory chase

The shadows on our souls.

Slowly the rays of daylight fade;So fade within our heartThe hopes in earthly love and joy,That one by one depart:Slowly the bright stars, one by one,Within the heavens shine;â€”Give us, O Lord, fresh hopes in Heaven,And trust in things divine.

Slowly the rays of daylight fade;

So fade within our heart

The hopes in earthly love and joy,

That one by one depart:

Slowly the bright stars, one by one,

Within the heavens shine;â€”

Give us, O Lord, fresh hopes in Heaven,

And trust in things divine.

Let peace, O Lord, Thy peace, O God,Upon our souls descendFrom midnight fears and perils, thouOur trembling hearts defend;Give us a respite from our toil,Calm and subdue our woes;Through the long day we suffer, Lord,O give us now repose!

Let peace, O Lord, Thy peace, O God,

Upon our souls descend

From midnight fears and perils, thou

Our trembling hearts defend;

Give us a respite from our toil,

Calm and subdue our woes;

Through the long day we suffer, Lord,

O give us now repose!

â€”Adelaide Procter.

Thedarkness falls; the wind is high;Dense, black clouds fill the western sky;The storm will soon begin;The thunders roar, the lightnings flash,I hear the great round rain-drops dash,Are all the children in?They're coming softly to my side,Their forms within my arms I hide,No other arms are sure:The storm may rage with fury wild,With trusting faith each little childWith mother feels secure.But future days are drawing near;They'll go from this warm shelter hereOut in the world's wild din.The rains will fall, the cold winds blow,I'll sit alone and long to knowAre all the children in.Will they have shelter then secure,Where hearts are waiting strong and sure,And love is true when tried?Or will they find a broken reed,When strength of heart they so much needTo help them brave the tide?God knows it all; His will is best;I'll shield them now and yield the restTo His most righteous hand:Sometimes the souls He loves are rivenBy tempests wild, and thus are drivenNearer the better land.If He should call me home beforeThe children go, on that bless'd shoreAfar from care and sin,I know that I shall watch and waitTill He, the keeper of the gate,Lets all the children in.â€”Unidentified.

Thedarkness falls; the wind is high;

Dense, black clouds fill the western sky;

The storm will soon begin;

The thunders roar, the lightnings flash,

I hear the great round rain-drops dash,

Are all the children in?

They're coming softly to my side,Their forms within my arms I hide,No other arms are sure:The storm may rage with fury wild,With trusting faith each little childWith mother feels secure.

They're coming softly to my side,

Their forms within my arms I hide,

No other arms are sure:

The storm may rage with fury wild,

With trusting faith each little child

With mother feels secure.

But future days are drawing near;They'll go from this warm shelter hereOut in the world's wild din.The rains will fall, the cold winds blow,I'll sit alone and long to knowAre all the children in.

But future days are drawing near;

They'll go from this warm shelter here

Out in the world's wild din.

The rains will fall, the cold winds blow,

I'll sit alone and long to know

Are all the children in.

Will they have shelter then secure,Where hearts are waiting strong and sure,And love is true when tried?Or will they find a broken reed,When strength of heart they so much needTo help them brave the tide?

Will they have shelter then secure,

Where hearts are waiting strong and sure,

And love is true when tried?

Or will they find a broken reed,

When strength of heart they so much need

To help them brave the tide?

God knows it all; His will is best;I'll shield them now and yield the restTo His most righteous hand:Sometimes the souls He loves are rivenBy tempests wild, and thus are drivenNearer the better land.

God knows it all; His will is best;

I'll shield them now and yield the rest

To His most righteous hand:

Sometimes the souls He loves are riven

By tempests wild, and thus are driven

Nearer the better land.

If He should call me home beforeThe children go, on that bless'd shoreAfar from care and sin,I know that I shall watch and waitTill He, the keeper of the gate,Lets all the children in.

If He should call me home before

The children go, on that bless'd shore

Afar from care and sin,

I know that I shall watch and wait

Till He, the keeper of the gate,

Lets all the children in.

â€”Unidentified.

Heleads us on,By paths we did not knowUpward He leads us, though our steps be slow,Though oft we faint and falter on the way,Though storms and darkness oft obscure the day,Yet when the clouds are goneWe know He leads us on.He leads us onThrough all the unquiet years;Past all our dreamland hopes, and doubts, and fearsHe guides our steps. Through all the tangled mazeOf sin, of sorrow, and o'erclouded daysWe know His will is done;And still He leads us on.And He, at last,After the weary strifeâ€”After the restless fever we call lifeâ€”After the dreariness, the aching pain,The wayward struggles which have proved in vain,After our toils are pastâ€”Will give us rest at last.â€”Unidentified.

Heleads us on,

By paths we did not know

Upward He leads us, though our steps be slow,

Though oft we faint and falter on the way,

Though storms and darkness oft obscure the day,

Yet when the clouds are gone

We know He leads us on.

He leads us onThrough all the unquiet years;Past all our dreamland hopes, and doubts, and fearsHe guides our steps. Through all the tangled mazeOf sin, of sorrow, and o'erclouded daysWe know His will is done;And still He leads us on.

He leads us on

Through all the unquiet years;

Past all our dreamland hopes, and doubts, and fears

He guides our steps. Through all the tangled maze

Of sin, of sorrow, and o'erclouded days

We know His will is done;

And still He leads us on.

And He, at last,After the weary strifeâ€”After the restless fever we call lifeâ€”After the dreariness, the aching pain,The wayward struggles which have proved in vain,After our toils are pastâ€”Will give us rest at last.

And He, at last,

After the weary strifeâ€”

After the restless fever we call lifeâ€”

After the dreariness, the aching pain,

The wayward struggles which have proved in vain,

After our toils are pastâ€”

Will give us rest at last.

â€”Unidentified.

Nothingbut leaves: the spirit grievesOver a wasted life.Sins committed while conscience slept;Promises made, but never kept;Hatred, battle, and strifeâ€”Nothing but leaves.Nothing but leaves: no garnered sheavesOf life's fair ripened grain;Words, idle words, for earnest deeds.We sow our seedâ€”lo! tares and weeds:Go reap with toil and painNothing but leaves.Nothing but leaves: memory weavesNo veil to sever the past;As we return our weary way,Counting each lost and misspent day,We find sadly, at last,Nothing but leaves.And shall we meet the Master so,Bearing our withered leaves?The Saviour looks for perfect fruit:We stand before Him, humbled, mute,Waiting the word He breathesâ€”Nothing but leaves.â€”Unidentified.

Nothingbut leaves: the spirit grievesOver a wasted life.Sins committed while conscience slept;Promises made, but never kept;Hatred, battle, and strifeâ€”Nothing but leaves.

Nothingbut leaves: the spirit grieves

Over a wasted life.

Sins committed while conscience slept;

Promises made, but never kept;

Hatred, battle, and strifeâ€”

Nothing but leaves.

Nothing but leaves: no garnered sheavesOf life's fair ripened grain;Words, idle words, for earnest deeds.We sow our seedâ€”lo! tares and weeds:Go reap with toil and painNothing but leaves.

Nothing but leaves: no garnered sheaves

Of life's fair ripened grain;

Words, idle words, for earnest deeds.

We sow our seedâ€”lo! tares and weeds:

Go reap with toil and pain

Nothing but leaves.

Nothing but leaves: memory weavesNo veil to sever the past;As we return our weary way,Counting each lost and misspent day,We find sadly, at last,Nothing but leaves.

Nothing but leaves: memory weaves

No veil to sever the past;

As we return our weary way,

Counting each lost and misspent day,

We find sadly, at last,

Nothing but leaves.

And shall we meet the Master so,Bearing our withered leaves?The Saviour looks for perfect fruit:We stand before Him, humbled, mute,Waiting the word He breathesâ€”Nothing but leaves.

And shall we meet the Master so,

Bearing our withered leaves?

The Saviour looks for perfect fruit:

We stand before Him, humbled, mute,

Waiting the word He breathesâ€”

Nothing but leaves.

â€”Unidentified.

I loveThee, O my God! but notFor what I hope thereby,Nor yet because who love Thee notMust die eternally.I love Thee, O my God! and stillI ever will love Thee,Solely because, my God, Thou artWho first has lovÃ¨d me!For me, to lowest depths of woeThou didst Thyself abase;For me didst bear the cross, the shame,And manifold disgrace;For me didst suffer pains unknown,Blood-sweat and agony.Yea, death itselfâ€”all, all for me!For me, Thine enemy!Then shall I not, O Saviour, mine!Shall I not love Thee well?Not with the hope of winning heaven,Nor of escaping hell;Not with the hope of earning aught,Nor seeking a reward;But freely, fully, as ThyselfHast lovÃ¨d me, O Lord!â€”Francis Xavier.

I loveThee, O my God! but not

For what I hope thereby,

Nor yet because who love Thee not

Must die eternally.

I love Thee, O my God! and still

I ever will love Thee,

Solely because, my God, Thou art

Who first has lovÃ¨d me!

For me, to lowest depths of woeThou didst Thyself abase;For me didst bear the cross, the shame,And manifold disgrace;For me didst suffer pains unknown,Blood-sweat and agony.Yea, death itselfâ€”all, all for me!For me, Thine enemy!

For me, to lowest depths of woe

Thou didst Thyself abase;

For me didst bear the cross, the shame,

And manifold disgrace;

For me didst suffer pains unknown,

Blood-sweat and agony.

Yea, death itselfâ€”all, all for me!

For me, Thine enemy!

Then shall I not, O Saviour, mine!Shall I not love Thee well?Not with the hope of winning heaven,Nor of escaping hell;Not with the hope of earning aught,Nor seeking a reward;But freely, fully, as ThyselfHast lovÃ¨d me, O Lord!

Then shall I not, O Saviour, mine!

Shall I not love Thee well?

Not with the hope of winning heaven,

Nor of escaping hell;

Not with the hope of earning aught,

Nor seeking a reward;

But freely, fully, as Thyself

Hast lovÃ¨d me, O Lord!

â€”Francis Xavier.

Ourcourse is onward, onward into light:What though the darkness gathereth amain,Yet to return or tarry, both are vain.How tarry, when around us is thick night?Whither return? what flower yet ever might,In days of gloom, and cold, and stormy rain,Enclose itself in its green bud again,Hiding from wrath of tempest out of sight?Courage!â€”we travel through a darksome cave;But still, as nearer to the light we draw,Fresh gales will reach us from the upper air,And wholesome dews of heaven our foreheads lave,The darkness lighten more, till full of aweWe stand in the open sunshineâ€”unaware.â€”Richard Chenevix Trench.

Ourcourse is onward, onward into light:

What though the darkness gathereth amain,

Yet to return or tarry, both are vain.

How tarry, when around us is thick night?

Whither return? what flower yet ever might,

In days of gloom, and cold, and stormy rain,

Enclose itself in its green bud again,

Hiding from wrath of tempest out of sight?

Courage!â€”we travel through a darksome cave;

But still, as nearer to the light we draw,

Fresh gales will reach us from the upper air,

And wholesome dews of heaven our foreheads lave,

The darkness lighten more, till full of awe

We stand in the open sunshineâ€”unaware.

â€”Richard Chenevix Trench.

Whenthe weariness of Life is ended,And the task of our long day is done,And the props, on which our hearts depended,All have failed or broken, one by one:Evening and our Sorrow's shadow blended,Telling us that peace is now begun.How far back will seem the sun's first dawningAnd those early mists so cold and gray!Half forgotten even the toil of morning,And the heat and burden of the day.Flowers that we were tending, and weeds scorning,All alike are withered and cast away.Vain will seem the impatient heart which waited,Toils that gathered but too quickly round;And the childish joy, so soon elatedAt the path we thought none else had found;And the foolish ardor soon abatedBy the storm which cast us to the ground.Vain those pauses on the road, each seemingAs our final home and resting-place;And the leaving them, while tears were streamingOf eternal sorrow down our face;And the hands we held, fond folly dreamingThat no future could their touch efface.All will then be faded:â€”night will borrowStars of light to crown our perfect rest;And the dim vague memory of faint sorrowJust remain to show us all was best,Then melt into a divine to-morrow:â€”O how poor a day to be so blest!â€”Adelaide Procter.

Whenthe weariness of Life is ended,

And the task of our long day is done,

And the props, on which our hearts depended,

All have failed or broken, one by one:

Evening and our Sorrow's shadow blended,

Telling us that peace is now begun.

How far back will seem the sun's first dawningAnd those early mists so cold and gray!Half forgotten even the toil of morning,And the heat and burden of the day.Flowers that we were tending, and weeds scorning,All alike are withered and cast away.

How far back will seem the sun's first dawning

And those early mists so cold and gray!

Half forgotten even the toil of morning,

And the heat and burden of the day.

Flowers that we were tending, and weeds scorning,

All alike are withered and cast away.

Vain will seem the impatient heart which waited,Toils that gathered but too quickly round;And the childish joy, so soon elatedAt the path we thought none else had found;And the foolish ardor soon abatedBy the storm which cast us to the ground.

Vain will seem the impatient heart which waited,

Toils that gathered but too quickly round;

And the childish joy, so soon elated

At the path we thought none else had found;

And the foolish ardor soon abated

By the storm which cast us to the ground.

Vain those pauses on the road, each seemingAs our final home and resting-place;And the leaving them, while tears were streamingOf eternal sorrow down our face;And the hands we held, fond folly dreamingThat no future could their touch efface.

Vain those pauses on the road, each seeming

As our final home and resting-place;

And the leaving them, while tears were streaming

Of eternal sorrow down our face;

And the hands we held, fond folly dreaming

That no future could their touch efface.

All will then be faded:â€”night will borrowStars of light to crown our perfect rest;And the dim vague memory of faint sorrowJust remain to show us all was best,Then melt into a divine to-morrow:â€”O how poor a day to be so blest!

All will then be faded:â€”night will borrow

Stars of light to crown our perfect rest;

And the dim vague memory of faint sorrow

Just remain to show us all was best,

Then melt into a divine to-morrow:â€”

O how poor a day to be so blest!

â€”Adelaide Procter.

Back to Index Next