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In a service which Thy will appoints,
For my inmost heart is taught the truth
And a life of self-renouncing love
A. L. Waring
THE FORCE OF PRA YER
"What is good for a bootless bene?" With these dark words begins my tale;
And their meaning is, whence can comfort spring When prayer is of no avail?
"What is good for a bootless bene?"
The falconer to the lady said;
For she knew that her son was dead.
She knew it by the falconer's words,
And from the love that was in her soul
Young Romilly through Barden woods
Is ranging high and low;
To let slip upon buck or doe.
The pair have reach'd that fearful chasm,
How tempting to bestride!
With rocks on either side.
This striding place is called the Strid,
A name which it took of yore:
And shall a thousand more.
And hither is young Romilly come,
And what may now forbid,
Shall bound across the Strid?
He sprang in glee—for what cared he
That the river was strong and the rocks were steep? But the greyhound in the leash hung back,
And check'd him in his leap.
The boy is in the arms of Wharf,
And strangled by a merciless force; For never more was young Romilly seen
Till he rose a lifeless corse.
Now there is stillness in the vale,
And long unspeaking sorrow: Wharf shall be to pitying hearts
A name more sad than Yarrow.
Long, long in darkness did she sit,
In Bolton, on the field of Wharf,
The stately Priory was rear'd,
To matins join'd a mournful voice,
And the Lady pray'd in heaviness
But slowly did her succour come,
Oh there is never sorrow of heart,
If but to God we turn, and ask
THE CHRISTIAN'S PRA YER
Jesus, my strength, my hope,
On Thee I cast my care,
And know thou hear'st my prayer.
Give me on Thee to wait
Till I can all things do, On Thee Almighty to create,
Almighty to renew!
I want a sober mind, A self-renouncing will, That tramples down and casts behind The baits of pleasing ill:
A soul inured to pain,
I want a godly fear,
A quick discerning eye, That looks to Thee when sin is near,
That sees the tempter fly;
A spirit still prepared,
And arm'd with jealous care, For ever standing on its guard,
And watching unto prayer.
I want a heart to pray,
To pray and never cease, Never to murmur at Thy stay,
Or wish my sufferings less;
This blessing, above all,
Always to pray, I want,
And never, never faint.
I want a true regard,
A single, steady aim,
To Thee and Thy great name;
A jealous, just concern
For Thine immortal praise; A pure desire that all may learn
And glorify Thy grace.
I rest upon Thy word;
My succour and salvation, Lord,
Till Thou my patient spirit guide
xv THOUGHTS OF CHRIST Jesu, the very thought of Thee
With sweetness fills the breast; But sweeter far Thy face to see, And in Thy presence rest.
No voice can sing, no heart can frame,
Nor can the memory find,
The Saviour of mankind.
O hope of every contrite heart,
O joy of all the meek,
How good to those who. seek!
But what to those who find? Ah! this
The love of Jesus, what it is, -
Jesu, our only joy be Thou,
As Thou our prize wilt be;
Bernard of Fontaine