It has smiled on my successes, Do you wonder that my picture JUDGE NOT. JUDGE not; the workings of his brain And of his heart thou canst not see; What looks to thy dim eyes a stain, In God's pure light may only be A scar, brought from some well-won field, Where thou wouldst only faint and yield. The look, the air, that frets thy sight, The soul has closed in deadly fight With some infernal fiery foe, Whose glance would scorch thy smiling grace, And cast thee shuddering on thy face! The fall thou darest to despise - And judge none lost; but wait and see, The measure of the height of pain FRIEND SORROW. not cheat thy Heart and tell her, "Grief will pass away, Hope for fairer times in future, And forget to-day.". Tell her, if you will, that sorrow Need not come in vain; Tell her that the lesson taught her Cheat her not with the old comfort, Bitter truth, alas! but matter Rather for regret; Bid her not "Seek other pleasures, Rather nurse her cagèd sorrow Till the captive sings. Rather bid her go forth bravely, And the stranger greet; Not as foe, with spear and buckler, Bid her with a strong clasp hold her, Listening for the murmured blessing ONE BY ONE. NE by one the sands are flowing, One by one thy duties wait thee, Learn thou first what these can teach. One by one (bright gifts from Heaven) One by one thy griefs shall meet thee, Do not look at life's long sorrow; Every hour that fleets so slowly Do not linger with regretting, Hours are golden links, God's token, TRUE HONORS. S my darling tired already, Can she put the logs together, Hark! The wind among the cedars Sixty Christmas Days have found me Yes, I feel my darling stealing In that strange old dream of mine? With the red cross on their breastplates, Went to gain the Holy Land. While with eager eyes of wonder That a spirit near me passed. Then I raised my eyes, and, shining Where the moon's first ray was bright, Stood a winged Angel-warrior Clothed and panoplied in light: So, with Heaven's love upon him, Stern in calm and resolute will, does the picture Looked St. Michael, Hang in the old cloister still? Threefold were the dreams of honor That absorbed my heart and brain; Threefold crowns the Angel promised, Each one to be bought by pain: |