E asked not to be born; 'tis not by will
That we are here beneath the battle-smoke
Without escape, by good as well as ill,
By fact and mystery, opposed; no cloak
Of an Elijah, no stairs whereupon
Angels ascending and descending shine.
Over the head here pillowed on a stone,
Anywhere found. Nor ought we to repine
For each year hath its harvest, every day
Some clang of cymbals, laughter, or sweet moan;
Yea, thought itself is triumph, nor would I pray
For rest, or shrink, if I could but command
Courage of heart, courage of heart and hand.
Courage of heart and hand, Faith first of all:
Such is the prayer of the perplexèd man,
Mistrusting the still Voice, and its true call
To work; opposed it may be by the ban
Of social ills;-prayer answered by desires
Within the soul for more than sense receives,
And by sky-pointing fingers of fair spires,
From whose kind creeds the refuged mortal weaves
Protecting garments for this pilgrim-strife,
Passing from world to world.
With full breast bare to all the winds of life,
And ready hand and answering eye and ear,
Gain faith and courage through self-harmony,
Cheerful in strong repose,—fearless to live or die.
WILLIAM BELL SCOTT.
NATURE'S least worthy growths have quickest
And soonest answering service readiest meed,
And undiscerning glory's shining wing
Lights earliest on an ill-deserving head.
Winter o'er autumn-scattered wheat doth fling
A white oblivion that keeps warm the seed;
And wisest thought needs deepest burying,
Before its ripe effect begins to breed.
Therefore, O spiritual seedsman, cast
With unregretful hand thy rich grain forth,
Nor think thy word's regenerating birth
Dead, that so long lies locked in human breast.
Time, slow to foster things of lesser worth,
Broods o'er thy work, and God permits no waste.
WILLIAM CALDWELL Roscoe.
THY WAY IS IN THE DEEP.
THY way is in the deep, O Lord!
E'en there we'll go with Thee :
We'll meet the tempest at thy word,
And walk upon the sea!
Poor tremblers at his rougher wind,
Why do we doubt him so ?—
Who gives the storm a path, will find
The way our feet shall go.
A moment may his hand be lost,-
Drear moment of delay !—
We cry 'Lord! help the tempest-tost-
And safe we're borne away.
The Lord yields nothing to our fears,
And flies from selfish care;
But comes himself, where'er He hears
The voice of loving prayer.
O happy soul of faith divine!
Thy victory how sure!
The love that kindles joy is thine,—
The patience to endure.
Come, Lord of peace! our griefs dispel;
And wipe our tears away :
'Tis thine, to order all things well,
And ours, to bless the sway.
MY TIMES ARE IN THY HAND.
FATHER, I know that all my life
Is portioned out for me,
And the changes that are sure to come
I do not fear to see;
But I ask Thee for a present mind
Intent on pleasing Thee.
I ask Thee for a thoughtful love,
Through constant watching wise,
To meet the glad with joyful smiles,
And to wipe the weeping eyes;
And a heart at leisure from itself,
To soothe and sympathize.
I would not have the restless will
That hurries to and fro,
Seeking for some great thing to do,
Or secret thing to know;
I would be treated as a child,
And guided where I go.
Wherever in the world I am,
In whatsoe'er estate,
I have a fellowship with hearts
To keep and cultivate;
And a work of lowly love to do
For the Lord on whom I wait.
So I ask Thee for the daily strength
To none that ask denied,
And a mind to blend with outward life
While keeping at thy side;
Content to fill a little space,
If Thou be glorified.
And if some things I do not ask
In my cup of blessing be,
I would have my spirit filled the more
With grateful love to Thee-
More careful, not to serve Thee much,
But to please Thee perfectly.
There are briars besetting every path
That call for patient care;
There is a cross in every lot,
And an earnest need for prayer;
But a lowly heart that leans on Thee
Is happy anywhere.
In a service which thy will appoints,
There are no bonds for me;
For my inmost heart is taught 'the truth'
That makes thy children 'free;'
And a life of self-renouncing love
Is a life of liberty.
THE PILLAR OF THE CLOUD.
LEAD, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom,
The night is dark, and I am far from home
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene,- -one step enough for me.
|