I'll seek by day some glade unknown,
All light and silence, like Thy throne!
And the pale stars shall be, at night,
The only eyes that watch my rite.

Thy Heaven, on which 'tis bliss to look,
Shall be my pure and shining book,
Where I shall read, in words of flame,
The glories of Thy wondrous name.

I'll read Thy anger in the rack

That clouds awhile the day-beam's track; Thy mercy in the azure hue

Of sunny brightness breaking through !

There's nothing bright, above, below,
From flowers that bloom to stars that glow,
But in its light my soul can see
Some feature of Thy Deity!

There's nothing dark, below, above,
But in its gloom I trace Thy love,
And meekly wait that moment when
Thy touch shall turn all bright again!

CCXVII

HARVEST HOME

Come, ye thankful people, come,

Raise a song of harvest home!

All is safely gather'd in,

Ere the winter snows begin;

T. Moore

God, our Maker, doth provide
For our wants to be supplied;
Come to God's own temple, come,
Raise a song of harvest home!

We ourselves are God's own field,
Fruit unto His praise to yield;
Wheat and tares together sown,
Unto joy or sorrow grown ;
First the blade, and then the ear,
Then the full corn shall appear;
Grant, O Harvest-Lord, that we
Wholesome grain and pure may be.

For the Lord our God shall come
And shall take His harvest home!
From His field shall purge away
All that doth offend that day;
Give His angels charge at last
In the fire the tares to cast,
But the fruitful ears to store

In His garner evermore.

Then thou Church triumphant, come,
Raise the song of harvest-home!

All are safely gather'd in,

Free from sorrow, free from sin;
There for ever purified,

In God's garner to abide.

Come, ten thousand angels, come,
Raise a glorious harvest home!

H. Alford

CCXVIII

JOY TAUGHT BY NATURE

The child leans on its parent's breast,
Leaves there its cares, and is at rest;
The bird sits singing by his nest,
And tells aloud

His trust in God, and so is blest
'Neath every cloud.

He has no store, he sows no seed;
Yet sings aloud, and doth not heed;
By flowing stream or grassy mead
He sings to shame
Men who forget, in fear of need,
A Father's name.

The heart that trusts for ever sings,
And feels as light as it had wings;
A well of peace within it springs,

Come good or ill:

Whate'er to-day, to-morrow, brings,

It is His will!

I. Williams

CCXIX

WAVES AND LEAVES

Waves, waves, waves !

Graceful arches lit with night's pale gold,
Boom like thunder through the mountains roll'd,
Hiss and make their music manifold,

Sing and work for God along the strand.

Leaves, leaves, leaves !

Beautified by Autumn's scorching breath,
Ivory skeletons carven fair by death,
Float and drift at a sublime command.

Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts!

Rolling wave-like on the mind's strange shore, Rustling leaf-like through it evermore,

O that they might follow God's good Hand! William Alexander

CCXX

THE RAINBOW

Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky

When storms prepare to part,

I ask not proud philosophy

To teach me what thou art.

Still seem as to my childhood's sight,

A midway station given, For happy spirits to alight

Betwixt the earth and heaven.

Can all that optics teach, unfold
Thy form to please me so

As when I dreamt of gems and gold
Hid in thy radiant bow?

When Science from Creation's face
Enchantment's veil withdraws,

What lovely visions yield their place
To cold material laws!

And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams,
But words of the Most High,

Have told why first thy robe of beams
Was woven in the sky.

When o'er the green undelug'd earth
Heaven's covenant thou didst shine,
How came the world's grey fathers forth
To watch thy sacred sign!

And when its yellow lustre smil'd
On mountains yet untrod,
Each mother held aloft her child,
To bless the bow of God.

Methinks thy jubilee to keep
The first-made anthem rang
On earth deliver'd from the deep,
And the first poet sang.

Nor ever shall the Muse's eye
Unraptur'd greet thy beam;
Theme of primeval prophecy,
Be still the poet's theme.

The earth to thee its incense yields,
The lark thy welcome sings,
When glittering in the freshen'd fields
The snowy mushroom springs.

How glorious is thy girdle cast
O'er mountain, tower, and town,
Or mirror'd in the ocean vast,

A thousand fathom down.
T