'Twixt Heaven and us; the manna was not good After sun-rising; far day sullies flowers:

Rise to prevent the sun; sleep doth sins glut,

And Heaven's gate opens when the world's is shut.

Walk with thy fellow creatures: note the hush And whisperings amongst them. Not a spring

Or leaf but hath his morning hymn; each bush And oak doth know I Am. Can'st thou not sing? O leave thy cares and follies! go this way And thou art sure to prosper all the day.

H. Vaughan

CIII

TO A CHILD

Y fairest child, I have no song to give you;

MY so gray:

Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave

For every day.

you

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long:
And so make life, death, and that vast for ever,
One grand, sweet song.
C. Kingsley

CIV

THE CHRISTIAN'S PROGRESS

HROUGH sorrow's path, and danger's road,

Tamid the deepening gloom,

We, soldiers of an injured King,
Are marching to the tomb.

There, when the turmoil is no more,
And all our powers decay,
Our cold remains in solitude
Shall sleep the years away.

Our labors done, securely laid
In this our last retreat,
Unheeded, o'er our silent dust
The storms of life shall beat.

Yet not thus lifeless, thus inane,
The vital spark shall lie,

For o'er life's wreck that spark shall rise
To see its kindred sky.

These ashes too, this little dust,

Our Father's care shall keep, Till the last angel rise, and break The long and dreary sleep.

There love's soft dew o'er every eye,
Shall shed its mildest rays,

And the long silent dust shall burst

With shouts of endless praise.

H. Kirke White

CV

THE CHARITIES OF THE POOR

HERE is a thought so purely blest,

THERE

That to its use I oft repair,

When evil breaks my spirit's rest,

And pleasure is but varied care,

A thought to gild the stormiest skies,
To deck with flowers the bleakest moor,
A thought whose home is paradise,

The charities of poor to poor.

It were not for the rich to blame,

If they, whom fortune seems to scorn,
Should vent their ill-content and shame
On others less or more forlorn :
But, that the veriest needs of life
Should be dispensed with freer hand,
Than all their stores and treasures rife -
Is not for them to understand.

To give the stranger's children bread,
Of your precarious board the spoil,
To watch your helpless neighbor's bed,
And sleepless meet the morrow's toil;
The gifts, not proffered once alone,

The daily sacrifice of years,

And when all else to give is gone,

The precious gifts of love and tears.

Therefore lament not, honest soul !

That Providence holds back from thee,

The means thou might'st so well control,
The luxuries of charity.

Manhood is nobler, as thou art;

And should some chance thy coffers fill,
How art thou sure to keep thine heart,
To hold unchanged thy loving will?

Wealth, like all other power, is blind,
And bears a poison in its core,
To taint the best, if feeble mind,
And madden that debased before.
It is the battle, not the prize,

That fills the hero's breast with joy ;
And industry the bliss supplies

Which mere possession might destroy.

R. M. Milnes

CVI

SAYING THE RESPONSES

THAT is the Church, and what am I?"

"WA world to one poor sandy grain,

А

A waste of sea and sky,

To one frail drop of rain.

"What boots one feeble infant tone
To the full choir denied, or given,
Where millions round the throne
Are chanting morn and even?"

Nay, the kind watchers hearkening there
Distinguish in the deep of song
Each little wave, each air,

Upon the faltering tongue.

Each half-note in the great Amen,
Even by the utterer's self unheard,
They store; O fail not then

To bring thy lowly word.

CVII

7. Keble

G

SAYING THE CREED

IVE me a tender spotless child,

Rehearsing o'er at eve, or morn,

His chant of glory undefiled,

The creed that with the Church was born.

Down be his earnest forehead cast,

His slender fingers joined for prayer, With half a frown his eye sealed fast, Against the world's intruding glare.

Who, while his lips so gently move,
And all his look is purpose strong,
Can say what wonders, wrought above,
Upon his unstained fancy throng?

The world new framed, the Christ new born, The mother-maid, the cross, and grave,

The rising sun on Easter morn,

The fiery tongues sent down to save.

The gathering Church, the font of life,

The saints and mourners kneeling round;

The Day to end the body's strife,

The Saviour in His people crowned.