One by one thy griefs shall meet thee,
Do not fear an armed band;

One will fade as others greet thee,
Shadows passing through the land.
Do not look at life's long sorrow;
See how small each moment's pain;
God will help thee for to-morrow,
So each day begin again.

Every hour that fleets so slowly
Has its task to do or bear;
Luminous the crown, and holy,
If thou set each gem with care.

105

OW in the morn thy seed,

SOW

At eve hold not thine hand;

To doubt and fear give thou no heed,

Broad-cast it o'er the land.

Beside all waters sow,

The highway furrows stock;

Drop it where thorns and thistles grow, Scatter it on the rock.

The good, the fruitful ground,

Expect not everywhere;

O'er hill and dale, by plots, 'tis found;

Go forth then everywhere.

Thou know'st not which

The late or early sown;

may thrive,

Grace keeps the precious germ alive,
When and wherever strown;

And duly shall

appear,

In verdure, beauty, strength,
The tender blade, the stalk, the ear,
And the full corn at length.

Thou canst not toil in vain ;
Cold, heat, and moist and dry
Shall foster and mature the grain,
For garners in the sky.

Hence, when the glorious end,
The day of God is come,

The angel reapers shall descend,
And heaven cry,

106

66

"Harvest home!"

NELL me not in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream," For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem.

Life is real, life is earnest,

And the grave is not its goal;
"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still like muffled drums are beating

Funeral marches to the grave.

Lives of good men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us,
Footprints on the sands of time:
Footprints that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwreck'd brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us then be up and doing,
Nor our onward course abate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labour and to wait.

107

[HATSOEVER be the seed,

Thought or feeling, word or deed,

Buried howsoever deep,

What we sow that shall we reap.

Every day and every hour,

'Mid the sunshine, 'mid the shower,
We are planting what must grow,
Yield it joy, or yield it woe.

In the past full many a root
Have we laid for bitter fruit,
Sad regrets, and thoughts of gloom,
Ripening for the day of doom.

In the future may we sow
Only what to joy will grow,
Seeds of truth and holiness,
Evermore our souls to bless!

108

O labour on; spend, and be spent,

Go on;

It is the way the Master went,

Should not the servant tread it still? Go labour on; 'tis not for nought; Thy earthly loss is heavenly gain; Men heed thee, love thee, praise thee not; The Master praises,-what are men? Go labour on; enough, while here, If he shall praise thee, if he deign Thy willing heart to mark and cheer; No toil for him shall be in vain. Go labour on; your hands are weak, Your knees are faint, your soul cast down; Yet falter not; the prize you seek Is near, -a kingdom and a crown! Go labour on, while it is day,

The world's dark night is hastening on; Speed, speed thy work, cast sloth away: It is not thus that souls are won. Men die in darkness at your side,

Without a hope to cheer the tomb;
Take up the torch and wave it wide,

The torch that lights time's thickest gloom.
Toil on, faint not, keep watch and pray;
Be wise the erring soul to win ;
Go forth into the world's highway,
Compel the wanderer to come in.
Toil on, and in thy toil rejoice;

For toil comes rest, for exile home;
Soon shalt thou hear the Bridegroom's voice,
The midnight peal, Behold I come!

109

LORD, it belongs not to my care,

Whether I die or live;

To love and serve thee is my share,
And this thy grace must give.
If life be long, I will be glad
That I may long obey;

If short, yet why should I be sad
To soar to endless day?

Christ leads me through no darker rooms
Than he went through before;

He that unto God's kingdom comes,

Must enter by his door.

Come, Lord, when grace has made me meet

Thy blessed face to see;

For if thy work on earth be sweet,

What will thy glory be?

Then shall I end my sad complaints,
And weary sinful days,

And join with the triumphant saints,
Who sing Jehovah's praise.

My knowledge of that life is small,
The eye of faith is dim;

But 'tis enough that Christ knows all,
And I shall be with him.

110

ORK, work to-day! the night comes fast,

WORK
Soon will the fleeting hours be past;

Work, work to-day! for never more
Will time its precious gifts restore.