But if distractions manifold prevail, RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH. WHAT AN APPEAL. HAT mean these slow returns of love, these Of withered prayer, of dead, unflowering praise? Dusk veils on holy vision? This most deep, Lo, time is precious as it was before; As sinful sin; my goal as unattained: And yet I drowse, and dream, and am not pained At sin as flagrant as of old, or more. Dear Lord, what can I do? I come to Thee, I have none other helper. Thou art free To save me, or to kill. But I appeal To thy dear love, which cannot elsewise deal Wake, wake me, Lord! Arouse me. Let thy fire And run into warm tears; for I aspire To hold Thee faster, dearer, warmer, nigher, QUI LABORAT ORAT. ONLY Source of all our light and life, Whom as our truth, our strength, we see and feel, But whom the hours of mortal moral strife Alone aright reveal! Mine inmost soul, before Thee inly brought, With eye down-dropt, if then this earthly mind. If well assured 'tis but profanely bold In thought's abstractest forms to seem to see, Oh, not unowned, Thou shalt unnamed forgive, In worldly walks the prayerless heart prepare; And if in work its life it seem to live, Shalt make that work be prayer. K Nor times shall lack, when, while the work it plies, But, as Thou willest, give or e'en forbear The beatific supersensual sight, So, with thy blessing blest, that humbler prayer ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. TO THE SUPREME BEING. THE prayers I make will then be sweet indeed My unassisted heart is barren clay, That of its native self can nothing feed: Of good and pious works Thou art the seed, WORDSWORTH (from MICHAEL ANGELO). Praise and Adoration. THE LORD IS MY PORTION. My heart is resting, O my God, I will give thanks and sing; My heart is at the secret source Of every precious thing. Now the frail vessel Thou hast made No hand but thine shall fill, For the waters of the Earth have failed, I thirst for springs of heavenly life, I seek the treasure of thy love, To long-loved music set- Sometimes I long for promised bliss, A kneeling host of thy redeemed There is a multitude around Responsive to my prayer; In I see the glory of the Lord How oft, in still communion known, Or show me what it meant ! But the yearning thought is mingled now For thy people know the secret source |