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Only that could make me poor of beauty which I dread

Sometimes, I know not why, save that it is

The one thing which I could not

bear, not bear Even with Ruth by me, even for

Ruth's sake — If this perpetual plodding with the


Should blind my fretted eyes!


A suMMEit mist on the mountain

heights, A golden haze in the sky, A glow on the shore of sleeping


And shadows lie heavily.

Far in the valley the town lies still, Dreaming asleep in the glare,

Dreamily near purs the drowsy rill, Dreams are afloat in the air.

Dreaming above us the languid sky, Dreaming the slumbering lake.

And we who rest floating listlessly. Say, love, do we dream or wake?


0 Happy glow, O sun-bathed tree, O golden-lighted river,

A love-gift has been given me,
And which of you is giver?

I came upon you something sad, Musing a mournful measure,

Now all my heart in me is glad With a quick sense of pleasure.

I came upon you with a heart
Half-sick of life's vexed story,

And now it grows of you a part,
Steeped in your golden glory.

A smile into my heart has crept
And laughs through all my being,

New joy into my life has leapt,
A joy of only seeing!

O happy glow, O sun-bathed tree,

O golden-lighted river,
A love-gift has been given me,

And which of you is giver?


Two maidens listening to the sea — The younger said "The waves are glad,

The waves are singing as they break."

The elder spake: "Sister, their murmur sounds to me

So very sad."

Two maidens looking at a grave — One smiled, "A place of happy sleep. It would be happy if I slept."

The younger wept: "Oh, save me from the rest you crave,

So lone, so deep."

Two maidens gazing into life —
The younger said, "It is so fair,
So warm with light and love and

The elder sighed: "It seems to me so vexed with strife.

So cold and bare."

Two maidens face to face with death: The elder said, " With quiet bliss Upon his breast I lay my head."

The younger said: "His kiss has frozen all my breath,

Must I be his?"

Charles Wesley.


Listed into the cause of sin.

Why should a good be evil? Music, alas! too long has been

Pressed to obey the devil — Drunken, or lewd, or light, the lay

Flowed to the soul's undoing — Widened, and strewed with j, the w ay

Down to eternal ruin.

Who on the part of God w ill rise,

Innocent sound recover — Fly on the prey, and take the prize,

Plunder the carnal lover — Strip him of every moving strain,

Every melting measure — Music in virtue s cause retain,

Rescue the holy pleasure?

Come, let us try if Jesus' love

Will not as well inspire us; This is the theme of those above —

This upon earth shall fire us. Say, if your hearts are tuned to sing

is there a subject greater? Harmony all its strains may bring;

Jesus' name is sweeter.


Christ, whose glory fills the skies, Christ, the true, the only Light,

Sun of Righteousness, arise. Triumph o'er the shades of night!

Day-spring from on high, be near!

Day-star, in my heart appear!

Dark and cheerless is the morn
Unaccompanied by Thee;

Joyless is the day's return
Till thy mercy's beams I see;

Till they inward light impart,

Glad my eyes and warm my heart.

Visit, then, this soul of mine,

Pierce the gloom of sin and grief!

Fill me, Radiancy Divine,
Scatter all my unbelief!

More and more Thyself display.

Shining to the perfect day.


Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly.

While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high!

Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life is past:

Safe into Thy haven guide —

O receive my soul at last!

Other refuge have I none —

Hangs my helpless soul on Thee; Leave, ah ! leave me not alone —

Still support and comfort me. All my trust on Thee is stayed,

All my help from Thee I bring: Cover my defenceless head

With the shadow of Thy wing.

Wilt Thou not regard my call?

Wilt Thou notregard my prayer? Lo! I sink. I faint, I fall —

Lo! on Thee I cast my care; Reach me out Thy gracious hand.

While I of Thy strength receive! Hoping against hope I stand —

Dying, and behold I live.

Thou, O Christ, art all I want —
More than all in Thee I find;

Raise the fallen, cheer the faint.
Heal the sick, and lead the blind.

Just and holy is Thy name —

I am all unrighteousness; False, and full of sin I am: —

Thou art full of truth and grace.


Plenteous grace with Thee is

Grace to cover all my sin;
Let the healing streams abound —

Make and keep me pure within.
Thou of life the fountain art —

Freely let me take of Thee; Spring Thou up within my heart —

Rise to all eternity.


Come, let us anew our journey pursue,

Roll round with the year, And never stand still, till the Master appear.

His adorable will let us gladly fulfil,

And our talents improve, By the patience of hope, and the labor of love.

Our life is a dream; our time, as a

stream, Glidas swiftly away; And the fugitive moment refuses to


The arrow is flown; the moment is
The millennial year
Rushes on to our view, and eternity's

0 that each in the day of his coming

may say, "I have fought my way through;

I have finished the work thou didst

give me to do."

O that each, from his Lord, may re-
ceive the glad word,
"Well and faithfully done;
"Enter into my joy, and sit down on
my throne."

Ella Wheeler.


TrriNK not some knowledge rests with thee alone.
Why, even God's stupendous secret, Death,
We one by one, with our expiring breath,
Do, pale with wonder, seize and make our own.
The bosomed treasures of the earth are shown
Despite her careful hiding; and the air
Yields its mysterious marvels in despair,
To swell the mighty storehouse of things known.

In vain the sea expostulates and raves;
It cannot cover from the keen world's sight
The curious wonders of its coral caves.
And so, despite thy caution or thy tears,
The prying fingers of detective years
Shall drag thy secret out into the light.

Blanco White.


Mysterious Night! when our first

parent knew Thee from report divine, and heard

thy name; Did he not tremble for this lovely


This glorious canopy of light and blue?

Yet 'neath the curtain of translucent dew,

Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame,

Hesperus with the host of heaven came,

And lo! creation widened in man's view.

Who could have thought such darkness lay concealed

Within thy beams, O Sun! or who could find.

While fly, and leaf, and insect lay revealed,

That to such countless orbs thou

madest us blind! Why do we, then, shun Death with

anxious strife ?— If Light can thus deceive, wherefore

not Life?

Henry Kirke White.


Mild offspring of a dark and sullen sire!

Whose modest form, so delicately fine,

Was nursed in whirling storms,
And cradled in the winds.

Thee when young Spring first questioned Winter's sway,

And dared the sturdy blusterer to the fight,

Thee on this bank he threw
To mark his victory.

In this low vale, the promise of the year.

Serene, thou openest to the nipping gale,

Unnoticed and alone,
Thy tender elegance.

So virtue blooms, brought forth amid the storms

Of chill adversity, in some lone walk Of life she rears her head, Obscure and unobserved;

While every bleaching breeze that on

her blows, Chastens her spotless purity of breast, And hardens her to bear Serene the ills of life.


It is not that my lot is low,
That bids this silent tear to flow;
It is not grief that bids me moan,
It is that I am all alone.

In woods and glens I love to roam. When the tired hedger hies him home;

Or by the woodland pool to rest, When pale the star looks on its breast.

Yet when the silent evening sighs.
With hallowed airs and symphonies,
My spirit takes another tone,
And sighs that it is all alone.

The autumn leaf is sere and dead,
It floats upon the water's bed;
1 would not be a leaf, to die
Without recording sorrow's sigh!

The woods and winds, with sudden wail,

Tell all the same unvaried tale; I've none to smile when I am free, And when I sigh, to sigh with me.

Yet in my dreams a form I view, That thinks on me, and loves me too:

I start, and when the vision's flown, I weep that I am all alone.


Come. Disappointment, come!

Not in thy terrors clad; Come in thy meekest, saddest guise; Thy chastening rod but terrifies The restless and the bad. But I recline Beneath thy shrine, And round my brow resigned, thy peaceful cypress twine.

Though Fancy flies away

Before thy hollow tread, Yet Meditation in her cell; Hears with faint eye the lingering knell.

That tells her hopes are dead; And though the tear By chance appear. Yet she can smile, and say, My all was not laid here.

Come. Disappointment, come! Though from Hope's summit hurled,

Still, rigid nurse, thou art forgiven, For thou severe wert sent from heaven

To wean me from the world; To turn my eye From vanity, And point to scenes of bliss that never, never die.

What is this passing scene!

A peevish April day! A little sun — a little rain, And then night sweeps along the plain,

And all things fade away. Man (soon discussed) Yields up his trust, And all his hopes and fears lie with him in the dust.

Oh, what is beauty's power?

It flourishes and dies; Will the cold earth its silence break, To tell how soft, how smooth a cheek

Beneath its surface lies?
Mute, mute is all
O'er beauty's fall:
Her praise resounds no more when
mantled in the pall.

The most beloved on earth
Not long survives to-day;
So music past is obsolete,
And yet 'twas sweet, 'twas passing
But now 'tis gone away.
Thus does the shade
In memory fade,
When in forsaken tomb the form
beloved is laid.

Then since this world is vain,

And volatile and fleet, Why should I lay up earthly joys, Where rust corrupts, and moth destroys,

And cares and sorrows eat? Why fly from ill With anxious skill. When soon this hand will freeze, this throbbing heart be still?

Come, Disappointment, come!

Thou art not stern to me; Sad monitress! I own thy sway, A votary sad in early day, I bend my knee to thee. From sun to sun My race will run, I only bow and say, My God, Thy will be done.

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