Doubts, hopes, in eager tumult rise :
Hear, O my God! one earnest prayer;
Room for my bird in Paradise,

And give her angel plumage there!

E. Judson

CXXI

HEAVEN

HIS world is all a fleeting show,
For man's illusion given:

The smiles of joy, the tears of woe
Deceitful shine, deceitful flow;

There's nothing true but Heaven!

And false the light on glory's plume,
As fading hues of even ;

And love, and hope, and beauty's bloom,
Are blossoms gathered from the tomb;
There's nothing bright but Heaven!

Poor wanderers of a stormy day,

From wave to wave we're driven; And fancy's flash, and reason's ray, Serve but to light the troubled way;

There's nothing calm but Heaven!

T. Moore

CXXII

DIFFERENT MINDS

OME murmur when their sky is clear

SOME muunt when to view,

If one small speck of dark appear

In their great heaven of blue:
And some with thankful love are filled
If but one streak of light,

One ray of God's good mercy, gild
The darkness of their night.

In palaces are hearts that ask,
In discontent and pride,
Why life is such a dreary task,
And all good things denied:
And hearts in poorest huts admire
How Love has in their aid
(Love that not ever seems to tire)

Such rich provision made.

Archbishop Trench

CXXIII

I

THE RULE OF GOD

SAY to thee-Do thou repeat

To the first man thou mayest meet

In lane, highway, or open street,

That he and we and all men move

Under a canopy of love,

As broad as the blue sky above;

That doubt and trouble, fear and pain, And anguish, all are shadows vain, That death itself shall not remain ;

That weary deserts we may tread,
A dreary labyrinth may thread,
Through dark ways underground be led ;

Yet, if we will one Guide obey,
The dreariest path, the darkest way,
Shall issue out in heavenly day;

And we, on divers shores now cast,
Shall meet, our perilous voyage past,
All in our Father's house at last.

And ere thou leave him, say thou this: Yet one word more - They only miss The winning of that perfect bliss,

Who will not count it true, that love
Blessing, not cursing, - rules above.
And that in it we live and move.

And one thing further make him know:
That to believe these things are so,
This firm faith never to forego,—

Despite of all that seems at strife
With blessing, all with curses rife,
That this is blessing, this is life.

Archbishop Trench

WRITTEN IN FRIARS' CARSE HERMITAGE, ON NITHSIDE

HOU whom chance may hither lead,

TH

Be thou clad in russet weed,

Be thou decked in silken stole,

Grave these counsels on thy soul.

Life is but a day at most,
Sprung from night, in darkness lost
Hope not sunshine every hour,
Fear not clouds will always lower.

As thy day grows warm and high,
Life's meridian flaming nigh,
Dost thou spurn the humble vale?

;

Life's proud summits wouldst thou scale?

Check thy climbing step elate,

Evils lurk in felon wait:

Dangers, eagle-pinioned, bold,

Soar around each cliffy hold,

While cheerful Peace, with linnet song,

Chants the lowly dells among.

--

As the shades of evening close,
Beckoning thee to long repose,
As life itself becomes disease,
Seek the chimney-nook of ease,

And teach the sportive young ones round,
Saws of experience, wise and sound.
Say, man's true genuine estimate,
The grand criterion of his fate,
Is not, Art thou high or low?
Did thy fortune ebb or flow?
Did many talents gild thy span,
Or frugal Nature grudge thee one?
Tell them, and press it on their mind,
As thou thyself must shortly find,
The smile or frown of awful Heaven
To Virtue or to Vice is given.
Say, to be just, and kind, and wise,
There solid self-enjoyment lies;
That foolish, selfish, faithless ways,
Lead to be wretched, vile, and base.

Thus, resigned and quiet, creep
To the bed of lasting sleep;

Sleep, whence thou shalt ne'er awake,
Night, where dawn shall never break,
Till future life, future no more,
To light and joy the good restore,
To light and joy unknown before.

Stranger, go! Heaven be thy guide!
Quod the beadsman of Nithside.

Robert Burns