MY SOUL AND I. 305 Folly and fear are sisters twain: One closing her eyes, The other peopling the dark inane Know well, my soul, God's hand controls Round him in calmest music rolls What to thee is shadow to Him is day, And not on a blind and aimless way Man sees no future-a phantom show Past time is dead and the grasses grow Nothing before him, nothing behind: Over the seeming void, and find The Present-the Present, is all thou hast Like the patriarch's angel hold him fast Why fear the night? why shrink from Death, There is nothing in Heaven or earth beneath Peopling Life's shadows we turn from Him All is spectral and vague and dim Oh, restless spirit! wherefore strain Heaven and hell-with their joy and pain, Back to thyself is measured well Thy neighbor's wrong is thy present hell, In life, in death, in dark and light Sound the black abyss, pierce the deep night, All which is real now remaineth And fadeth never; The hand which upholds it now, sustaineth Leaning on Him make with reverent meekness And with strength from Him shall thy utter weakness And that cloud itself, which now before thee Lies dark in view. Shall with beams of light from the inner glory MY SOUL AND I. And like meadow midst through Autumn's dawn Uprolling thin, Its thickest fold when about thee drawn Then of what is to be and of what is done The past and the time to be are one, 307 JOHN G. WHITTIER. ARCHBISHOP LEIGHTON thought," that in this world, the Christian's white robe would be very likely to be entangled and defiled, if he wore it too flowingly. Our only, safest way," said he, "is to gird up our affections wholly. When we come to the place of our rest, we may wear our long white robes in full length without disturbance for no unclean thing is there : yea, the streets of that new Jerusalem are paved with gold." ABOUT the river of life there is a wintry wind though heavenly sunshine the Iris colours its agitation, the frost fixes upon its repose. Let us beware that our rest become not the rest of stones, which, so long as they are torrent tossed, and thunder. stricken, maintain their majesty: but when the stream is silent, and the storm passed, suffer the grass to cover them, and the lichen to feed on them. RUSKIN. Che Wasted Fountains. "And their nobles have sent their little ones to the waters: they came to the pits and found no water; they returned with their vessels empty." Jer xiv. 3. When the youthful fever of the soul, Is awakened in thee first, And thou goest, like Judah's children forth To slake thy burning thirst; And when dry and wasted like the springs Before thee, in their emptiness Life's broken cisterns stand; When the golden fruits that tempted thee, And thine early visions fade and pass, When faith darkens, and hopes vanish, Though the transient springs have failed thee, Wilt thou sit among the ruins, With all words of cheer unspoken, Till the silver cord is loosened, From strong limbs that should be chainless, There are words to raise the fallen, There are crushed and broken spirits, Lofty dreams to be embodied, By the might of one strong will. A. C. LYNCH. 309 SOME, by a mistake, call a person absent minded, when the mind shuts the door, pulls in the latch-string, and is wholly at home. |