Sick or healthful, slave or free,
Wealthy, or despised and poor-
What is that to him or thee,

So his love to Christ endure?
When the shore is won at last,
Who will count the billows past?

Only, since our souls will shrink
At the touch of natural grief,
When our earthly lov'd ones sink,
Lend us, Lord, thy sure relief;
Patient hearts, their pain to see,
And Thy grace to follow Thee.

Suspiria.

Keble.

AKE them, O Death! and bear away
Whatever thou canst call thine own!
Thine image, stamped upon this clay,
Doth give thee that, but that alone!

Take them, O Grave! and let them lie
Folded upon thy narrow shelves,

As garments by the soul laid by,
And precious only to ourselves!

Take them, O great Eternity!

Our little life is but a gust,

That bends the branches of thy tree,

And trails its blossoms in the dust!

Longfellow.

Mortality.

"And we shall be changed."

E dainty mosses, lichens grey,
Press'd each to each in tender fold,
And peacefully thus, day by day,
Returning to their mould;-

Brown leaves, that with aërial grace

Slip from your branch like birds a-wing,

Each leaving in the appointed place

Its bud of future spring;

If we, God's conscious creatures, knew
But half your faith in our decay,
We should not tremble as we do
When summon'd clay to clay.

But with an equal patience sweet,
We should put off this mortal gear,
In whatsoe'er new form is meet,

Content to re-appear.

Knowing each germ of life He gives
Must have in Him its source and rise,
Being that of His being lives

May change, but never dies.

Ye dead leaves, dropping soft and slow,
Ye mosses green, and lichens fair,

Go to your graves, as I will go,

For God is also there.

My Times are in Thy hand.

T

ATHER, 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 patient mind,
Intent on pleasing Thee.

I ask Thee for a thoughtful love,
Through constant watching wise,
To meet the glad with joyful smiles,
And wipe the weeping eyes;
And a heart at leisure from itself,
To soothe and sympathise.

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,

So 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-than to serve Thee much
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 the lowly heart that leans on Thee;
Is happy anywhere.

In a service that Thy love appoints,

There are no bonds for me;

For my secret heart is taught "the truth," That makes Thy children "free,"

And a life of self-renouncing love,

Is a life of liberty.

A. L. Waring.

Milton on his Blindness.

AM old and blind;

Men point at me as smitten by God's frown, Afflicted and deserted by my kind;

Yet I am not cast down.

I am weak, yet strong;

I murmur not that I no longer seePoor, old, and helpless, I the more belong, Father supreme! to Thee.

O merciful One!

When men are farthest, then Thou art most near; When friends pass by, my weakness shun, Thy chariot I hear.

Thy glorious face

Is leaning towards me, and its holy light Shines in upon my lonely dwelling place, And there is no more night.

I recognise Thy purpose, clearly shewn ; My vision Thou hast dimmed that I may see Thyself Thyself alone.

I have nought to fear;

This darkness is but the shadow of Thy wing: Beneath it I am almost sacred, here

Can come no evil thing.