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ISCOURAGE not thyself, my soul,

Nor murmur, though compelld we be
To live subjected to control,
When many others may be free;
For though the pride of some disdains
Our means and much despised lot,
We shall not lose our honest pains,
Nor shall our suff'rance be forgot.

To be a servant is not base,
If baseness be not in the mind,
For servants make but good the place,
Whereto their Maker them affign'd:
The greatest princes do no more,
And if sincerely I obey,
Though I am now despised and poor,
I shall become as great as they.

The Lord of heav'n and earth was pleased
A servant's form to undertake;
By His endurance I am eased,
And serve with gladness for His sake :
Though check'd unjustly I should be,
With silence I reproofs will bear,

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For much more injuréd was He
Whose deeds most worthy praises were.

He was reviled, yet naught replied,
And I will imitate the same ;
For though some faults may be denied,
In part I always faulty am:
Content with meek and humble heart,
I will abide in my degree,
And act an humble servant's part,
Till God shall call me to be free.

George Wither.

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Where mightier do assault than do defend,
The feebler part puts up enforcéd wrong,
And silent sees that speech could not amend.
Yet higher powers most think though they repine, -
When sun is set, the little stars will shine.

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While pike doth range, the filly tench doth Ay,
And crouch in privy creeks with smaller fish;
Yet pikes are caught when little fish go by ;
These feet afloat while those do fill the dish.


There is a time even for the worms to creep,
And suck the dew while all their foes do sleep.

The merlin cannot ever soar on high,
Nor greedy greyhound still pursue the chase ;
The tender lark will find a time to fly,
And fearful hare to run a quiet race.
He that high-growth on cedars did bestow,
Gave also lowly mushrooms leave to grow.

In Haman's pomp poor Mardocheus wept,
Yet God did turn his fate upon his foe;
The Lazar pined while Dives' feast was kept,
Yet he to heaven, to hell did Dives go.
We trample grass, and prize the flowers of May,
Yet grass is green when flowers do fade away.

Robert Southwell.

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AY, Reader ! canst thou bear and not complain,

Grief's filent languor, or the hour of pain ; One small fick-room, with noiseless footstep tread, And raise in peaceful hope the aching head; Smile at the joy it is not thine to share, And make another's pleasure soothe thy care ? Canst thou, while they beguile the weary hours With Nature's charm of sunshine, air, and flowers, Resigned, still quaff thy daily draught, nor mourn O’er days long past, that never can'return? Say, canst thou look, with calm and tearless eyes, On thy imprisoned days, and nights of sighs ? Nor of each friend who calls, implore the skill, And watch the glance that dooms thee well or ill ? Hold out the feverish hand, nor start to see A face that changes on beholding thee ? Firm in thy God, and in thy heavenly trust, Canst thou remember fearless thou art duft? Look to the future, glad and undismayed, And, smiling, see thy life recede in shade? Then, Reader, go — the world to thee can bring In trials, woes, temptations, not one sting.



WEET-voiced Hope, thy fine discourse

Foretold not half life's good to me :
Thy painter, Fancy, hath not force
To show how sweet it is to Be!

Thy witching dream

And pictured scheme
To match the fact still want the power ;

Thy promise brave

From birth to grave
Life's boon inay beggar in an hour.

Ask and receive, - 't is sweetly said ;

Yet what to plead for know I not ; For Wish is worsted, Hope o'ersped, And aye to thanks returns my thought.

If I would pray,

I've nought to say
But this, that God may be God still;

For Him to live

Is still to give,
And sweeter than my wish His will.

Oh wealth of life, beyond all bound !

Eternity each moment given !

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