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Dropping in my uplifted hands

All things for which I blindly cry;

But that His plans and purposes

Have grown to me less strange and dim; And where I cannot understand,

I trust the issues unto Him.

And spite of many broken dreams,

This have I truly learned to say — Prayers which I thought unanswered once

Were answered in God's own best way.

And though some hopes I cherished once,

Perished untimely in their birth, Yet have I been beloved and blest

Beyond the measure of my worth.

And sometimes in my hours of grief

For moments, I have come to stand Where, in the sorrows on me laid,

I felt the chastening of God's hand ;

Then learned I that the weakest ones

Are kept securest from life's harms; And that the tender lambs alone

Are carried in the shepherd's arms.

And, fitting by the wayside blind,
He is the nearest to the light,

Who crieth out moft earnestly,

“Lord, that I might receive my fight!”

O feet, grown weary as ye walk,

When down life's hill my pathway lies, What care I, while my soul can mount

As the young eagle mounts the skies ?

O eyes, with weeping faded out,
What matters it how dim


be? My inner vision sweeps untired

The reaches of eternity !

O death, most dreaded power of all,

When the last moment comes, and thou Darkenest the windows of my soul,

Through which I look on Nature now;

Yea, when mortality diffolves,

Shall I not meet thine hour unawed ? My house eternal in the heavens,

Is lighted by the smile of God!

Phæbe Carey.


DWELL in grace's courts,

Enriched with virtue's rights ; Faith guides my wit, love leads my will,

Hope all my mind delights.

In lowly vales I mount

To pleasure's highest pitch,
My simple dress sure honor brings,

My poor estate is rich.

My conscience is my crown,

Contented thoughts my rest, My heart is happy in itself,

My bliss is in my breaft.

Enough, I reckon wealth l;

A mean, the surest lot,
That lies too high for base contempt,

Too low for envy's shot.

My wishes are but few,

All easy to fulfil ;
I make the limits of my power

The bounds unto my will.

I have no hopes but one,

Which is of heavenly reign : Effects attained, or not desired,

All lower hopes refrain.

I feel no care of coin,

Well-doing is my wealth : My mind to me an empire is,

While grace affordeth health. .

I clip high-climbing thoughts,

The wings of swelling pride: Their fate is worst, that from the height

Of greater honor slide.

Silk sails of largest fize

The storm doth soonest tear : I bear so low and small a sail

As freeth me from fear.

I wrestle not with rage

While fury's Aame doth burn; It is in vain to stop the stream

Until the tide doth turn.

But when the flame is out,

And ebbing wrath doth end, I turn a late-enragéd foe

Into a quiet friend ;

And, taught with often proof,

A tempered calm I find To be most solace to itself,

Best cure for angry mind.

Spare diet is my fare,

My clothes more fit than fine; I know I feed and clothe a foe

That, pampered, would repine.

I envy not their hap

Whom favor doth advance :
I take no pleasure in their pain

That have less happy chance.

To rise by others' fall

I deem a lofing gain :
All states with others' ruins built

To ruins run amain.

No change of fortune's calms

Can cast my comforts down :
When fortune smiles, I smile to think

How quickly she will frown;

And when, in froward mood,

She proved an angry foe,
Small gain I found to let her come,
Less loss to let her go.

Robert Southwell. 1562-1594.

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