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Where, in each room of the well-furnished tent,
He lies warm and without adventure,
Then cease discoursing, soul; till thine own ground.
Do not thyself or friends importune.
George Herbert. 1593–1635.
S To be abhorréd more
OME think there is no earthly state
Than to be mean and poor :
That I am needy made;
am not sad.
For earth and all that therein is,
The Lord's possessions be;
Who hath enough for me :
Yet sometimes they have need;
And them doth always feed.
Though poverty seem grievous may,
And much afflicteth some, It is the best and safest way
Unto the world to come ;
Nor tempts nor so perverts,
Who thereon set their hearts.
Therefore, that every man might grow
With his estate content ;
When through this world He went; He wealth and honor prizéd not,
Though we now prize it high, And Satan, therefore, nothing got
By tempting Him thereby.
Lord ! though I do sometimes complain
That outward means are scant, And would assume that luggage fain,
Which I but think I want;
My Saviour lived on earth,
Is changed into mirth.
Let still my heart be pleased so,
Whate'er betide me shall ; Yea, make me, though I poorer grow,
Contented therewithal :
And let me not be one of them
Who, in profession poor,
That they may cheat the more.
The works my calling doth propose,
Let me not idly thun;
Is more than twice undone :
eftate enlarge I may, Enlarge my love to Thee; And though I more and more decay,
Yet let me thankful be.
For be we poor or be we rich,
If well employ'd we are,
Things needful to prepare ;
As manna heretofore,
The strongest got no more.
Nor poverty nor wealth is that
Whereby we may acquire
Whereto we should aspire ;
And strive to do my best,
A means of being blefl'd.
The rich in love obtain from Thee
Thy special gifts of grace ; The poor in spirit those men be
Who shall behold Thy face : Lord ! grant
may be one of these,
AY by day the manna fell ;
O, to learn this lesson well! Still by constant mercy fed,
Give us, Lord, our daily bread.
“Day by day” the promise reads ;
Daily strength for daily needs : Cast foreboding fears away ;
Take the manna of to-day !
Lord, our times are in thy hand;
All our sanguine hopes have planned, To thy wisdom we resign,
And would mould our wills to thine.
Thou our daily task shalt give ;
Day by day to thee we live ;
So shall added years fulfil
Not our own, our Father's will.
O, to live exempt from care,
By the energy of prayer ;
YEARS gone down into the past;
What pleasant memories come to me, Of your untroubled days of peace,
And hours of almost ecstacy !
Yet would I have no moon stand still,
Where life's most pleasant valleys lie; Nor wheel the planet of the day
Back on his pathway through the sky.
For though, when youthful pleasures died,
My youth itself went with them, too ; To-day, aye ! even this very hour,
Is the best hour I ever knew.
Not that my Father gives to me
More bleffings than in days gone by,