After so many deaths I live and write;
I once more smell the dew and rain,
And relish versing. O my only Light,
It cannot be

That I am he,

On whom thy tempests fell all night.

These are thy wonders, Lord of love!
To make us see we are but flowers that glide:
Which when we once can find and prove,
Thou hast a garden for us, where to bide.
Who would be more,

Swelling through store,

Forfeit their Paradise by their pride.

GEORGE HERBERT.

I

I WOULD I WERE A CHILD.

WOULD I were a child

That I might look, and laugh, and say,
My Father!

And follow Thee with running feet, or rather

Be led through dark and wild.

How I would hold thy hand,

My glad eyes often to thy glory lifting!

Should darkness 'twixt thy face and mine come

drifting,

How hearken thy command!

If an ill thing came near,

I would but creep within thy mantle's folding, Shut my eyes close, thy hand yet faster holding, And thus forget my fear.

O soul, O soul, rejoice!

Thou art God's child indeed, for all thy sinning; A poor weak child, yet his, and worth the winning With saviour eyes and voice.

Who spoke the words? Didst Thou? They are too good, even for such a giver : Such water drinking once, I must feel ever As I had drunk but now.

Yet sure He taught us so,

Teaching our lips to say with his, Our Father!
Telling the tale of wanderer who did gather
His goods to him and go!

Ah! Thou dost lead me, God;

But it is dark; no stars! the way is dreary;
Almost I sleep, I am so very weary
Upon this rough hill-road.

Almost! Nay, I do sleep;

There is no darkness save in this my dreaming; Thy fatherhood above, around, is beaming; Thy hand my hand doth keep..

Cast on my face one gleam;

I have no knowledge but that I am sleeping;

Lost n its lies, my life goes out in weeping;
Wake me from this my dream.

How long shall heavy night

Deny the day? How long shall this dull sorrow
Say in my heart that never any morrow

Will bring the vanished light?

Lord, art Thou in the room?

Come near my bed; oh, draw aside the curtain ;
A child's heart would say Father, were it certain
The word would not presume.

But if this dreary sleep

May not be broken, help thy helpless sleeper
To rest in Thee; so shall his sleep grow deeper-
For evil dreams too deep.

Father! I dare at length;

My childhood sure will shield me from all blaming; Sinful, yet hoping, I to Thee come, claiming

Thy tenderness, my strength.

GEORGE MACDONALD.

A CHILD'S THOUGHT OF GOD.

THEY say that God lives very high;
But if you look above the pines
You cannot see our God; and why?

And if you dig down in the mines

You never see Him in the gold; Though from Him all that's glory shines.

God is so good, He wears a fold

Of heaven and earth across his faceLike secrets kept, for love, untold.

But still I feel that his embrace

Slides down by thrills, through all things made, Through sight and sound of every place.

As if my tender mother laid

On my shut lips her kisses' pressure,

Half-waking me at night, and said,

'Who kissed you through the dark, dear guesser ?'

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

EVIDENCES OF RELIGION.

'E who would build the Churches of the Lord!

YE

See that ye make the western portals low:
Let no one enter who disdains to bow.

High Truths profanely gazed at, unadored,
Will be abused at first, at last abhorred;
And many a learned, many a lofty brow
Hath rested, pillowed on a humbler vow
Than keen logicians notice or record.

O stainless peace of blest Humility!
Of all who fain would enter, few, alas!

Catch the true meaning of that kind, sad eye; While thou, God's portress, stationed by the door, Dost stretch thy cross so near the marble floor, That children only, without bending, pass.

AUBREY DE VERE.

FAITH AND SIGHT IN THE LATTER

DAYS.

'I præ sequar.'

THOU say'st, 'Take up thy cross,

O Man, and follow Me :'

The night is black, the feet are slack,
Yet we would follow Thee.

But O, dear Lord, we cry,

That we thy face could see !

Thy blessed face one moment's space—

Then might we follow Thee!

Dim tracts of time divide

Those golden days from me;

Thy voice comes strange o'er years of change; How can I follow Thee?

Comes faint and far thy voice
From vales of Galilee ;

Thy vision fades in ancient shades;

How should we follow Thee?