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The heart that ministers for Thee
In thy own work will rest ;
Can serve thy children best.
That waits all day on Thee,
Which no one else can see-
No other eye may know,
And loves to have it so.
My heart is in Thy care-
Resounding every where.
Ten thousand voices say,
ANNA LÆTITIA WAKING,
• Thou in faithfulness hast afflicted me.'
LORD, in this dust thy sovereign voice
First quickened love divine ;
My very praise is thine.
I praise Thee, while thy providence
In childhood frail I trace, For blessings given, ere dawning sense
Could seek or scan thy grace ;
Blessings in boyhood's marvelling hour;
Bright dreams, and fancyings strange ; Blessings, when reason's awful power
Gave thought a bolder range ;
Blessings of friends, which to my door
Unasked, unhoped, have come; And, choicer still, a countless store
Of eager smiles at home.
Yet, Lord, in memory's fondest place
I shrine those seasons sad, When, looking up, I saw thy face
In kind austereness clad.
I would not miss one sigh or tear,
Heart-pang, or throbbing brow; Sweet was the chastisement severe,
And sweet its memory now.
Yes ! let the fragrant scars abide,
Love-tokens in thy stead, Faint shadows of the spear-pierced side
And thorn-encompassed head.
And such thy tender force be still,
When self would swerve or stray ; Shaping to truth the froward will
Along thy narrow way.
Deny me wealth ; far, far remove
The lure of power or name ;
JOHN HENRY NEWMAN.
HAPPY days, O months, O years,
Which, even in this dim world of woe, 'Tis now impossible can show The print of grief, the stain of tears :
O blessed times, which now no more
Exposed to chance or change remain ;
Which having been, no after stain Can dim the brightness that ye wore :
Dark shadows of approaching ill
Fall thick upon life's forward track;
But on its past they stream not back, What once was bright remains so still.
RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH. LIFE OF LIFE.
WHAT'S that, which, ere I spake, was gone!
So joyful and intense a spark That, whilst o'erhead the wonder shone,
The day, before but dull, grew dark ? I do not know ; but this I know,
That, had the splendour lived a year, The truth that I some heavenly show
Did see, could not be now more clear.
This know I too: might mortal breath
Express the passion then inspired, Evil would die a natural death,
And nothing transient be desired;
And error from the soul would pass,
And leave the senses pure and strong
I got me boughs off many a tree:
And brought'st thy sweets along with Thee.
The sun arising in the East,
Though he give light and th' East perfume; If they should offer to contest
With thy arising, they presume. Can there be any day but this,
Though many suns to shine endeavour? We count three hundred, but we miss : There is but one, and that one ever.
AFTER ATTENDING A PRESBYTERIAN
O GOD! I thank Thee for a homely taste
And appetite of soul, that wheresoe'er I find thy Gospel-preached Word or PrayerBefore me set, by whomsoever placed, I love the food, and let no morsel waste : Who serves me, who feeds with me, I less care ; All who speak truth to me commissioned are ; All who love God are in my Church embraced. Not that I have no sense of preferenceNone deeper !—but I rather love to draw, Even here, on earth, on toward the future law, And Heaven's fine etiquette, where Who? and
Whence? May not be asked; and, at the Wedding Feast, North shall sit down with South, and West with East.