Εγώ εἰμι ὁ Ποιμὴν ὁ ἀγαθύς.

PASTOR est mihi Deus,

quo quod sit aptum dante nil requiro: prata per uirentia

me ducit, undae qua canunt amoenae.

Ille me uagum bonus

custos pudendis a uiis reducit: sistit Ille tramite

recto, uerendae sanctitatis auctor.

Mortis atra sit licet

calcanda uallis, nil mali timebo, dux enim manus tua est,

firmas euntem Tu potente uirga.

hostibus palam meis.

lasso fruendam ponis ipse mensam; balsamis nitet caput

tuis, abundat Te replente poclum.

sic amore prouido,

dum uita restat, usque me sequeris,

aede et in tua, Deus,

felix in omne commorabor aeuum.

Gratia Caeli.

VT poli quondam nebulae serenos
obruunt risus, ita damna uitae
saepe ridentis oculos obortis

nubibus umbrant;

utque siccati fugiunt uapores
aureum Phoebo referente uultum,
sic obumbrantis fugat alma curas
gratia caeli.

Sweet are the Uses of Adversity.

I HAVE been honoured and obeyed,
I have met scorn and slight;
and my heart loves earth's sober shade
more than her laughing light.

for what is rule but a sad weight

of duty and a snare?

what meanness, but with happier fate

the Saviour's cross to share?

this my hid choice, though not from heaven, moves on the heavenward line;

cleanse it, good Lord, from sinful leaven,

and make it simply thine.

LYRA APOSTOLICA.

Psalm CXXI.

MINE eyes I lift unto the hills:
whence comes my promised aid?
'from Him-the Lord, whose glory fills
the heaven and earth He made.
may He sustain thy foot, and keep
around thee watch and ward:
He slumbereth not, He shall not sleep,
thy keeper, Israel's guard.
the Lord it is defends thy way,

the Lord upon thy right,

that shades thee from the sun by day,

and from the moon by night.

the Lord shall keep thee from all ill;
thy soul He watcheth o'er :

thy going and thy coming still
He keepeth evermore.'

Ingenium Res Adversae nudare solent.

IMPERIO quondam, quondam dignatus honore, mox idem opprobrio ludibrioque fui: seriaque in terris semper mihi dulcior umbra est quam liquida ridens ebria luce dies. quid regnare tulit nisi pondus triste laboris retiaque occultis insidiosa dolis?

et quid pauperies? Christi suspiria, Christi sortiri luctu cum leuiore crucem.

haec igitur, si non caelo demissa, uoluntas me tamen haud dubia ducit ad astra uia. hanc Tu labe, Deus, turpique adspargine purga, et Tibi quae placeant omnia uelle iube.

Tutela mihi Deus.

ATTOLLENS Oculos ad iuga montium
'quis nunc mittit opem pollicitam?' rogo.
'missurus Deus est, luce sua replens
terram quam posuit, quem statuit polum.
gressus Ille tuos erigat, Illius

te tutamen, agens excubias, tegat.
Illi non oculos obruerit sopor,
qui te servat, amans Isacidum genus.
ad dextram Deus est: ipse tuae uidet
omnes ipse regit circuitus uiae,
depellitque fauens, si tibi sol die
siquid nocte tulit luna periculi.
cunctis Ille malis eripiet caput;
custos Ille animae semper adest tuae;
et, siue exieris siue reueneris,
omni te uigilans tempore sospitat.'

The Better Land.

I HEAR thee speak of the better land,
thou callest its children a happy band:
mother, oh where is that radiant shore;
shall we not seek it, and weep no more?
is it where the flower of the orange blows,
and the fire-flies dance through the myrtle-boughs?—
not there, not there, my child.

is it where the feathery palm-trees rise,
and the date grows ripe under sunny skies;
or midst the green islands of glittering seas,
where fragrant forests perfume the breeze,
and strange bright birds on their starry wings
bear the rich hues of all glorious things?—

not there, not there, my child.

is it far away in some region old,

where the river wanders o'er sands of gold, where the burning rays of the ruby shine, and the diamond lights up the secret mine, and the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand; is it there, sweet mother, that better land?— not there, not there, my child.

eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy; ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy; dreams cannot picture a world so fair, sorrow and death may not enter there; time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom; for beyond the clouds and beyond the tomb, it is there, it is there, my child.

MRS HEMANS.

Arva beata petamus Arva.

NARRAS de meliore, mater, ora; felices ibi credis esse coetus: dic o dic ubi sit; licetne terram fulgentem petere et carere fletu? an qua flore citri renidet aestas, et musca saliunt flagrante myrti?— Tellus quam cupis haud ibi est, puelle.-an qua sub face laetiore fructus alatae properat tumere palmae, qua splendor maris insulis inerrat siluosis, zephyrosque odorat arbor, stellatisque auium caterua pennis rerum mille nouos rapit colores?— Tellus quam cupis haud ibi est, puelle.— an mundo procul abditur uetusto,

qua flumen ruit aureis arenis,

qua secreta uibrant per antra. lucem gemmae multicolore fulgurantes

scintilla, niueisque margaritis

albet curalium micantis actae?—
Tellus quam cupis haud ibi est, puelle.
nulli uisa oculo, tenelle, nulla
laetos succinuit modos in aure:
numquam mens ita liberam creauit
letoque et lacrimis serenitatem.
nam, qua nescit edax nocere tempus,
trans nubes radiat nigras, sepulchri
uernat trans hiemem beata Tellus;
et quod tu cupis omne ibi est, puelle.