IV.

AND should the twilight deepen into night,
And sorrow grow to anguish, be thou strong;
Thou art in God, and nothing can go wrong
That a fresh life-pulse cannot set aright;
That thou dost know the darkness, proves the light.
Weep if thou wilt, but weep not thou too long;
Or weep and work, for work will lead to song.
But search thy heart, if hid from all thy sight
There lie no cause for Beauty's slow decay;
If for completeness and diviner youth,
And not for very love, thou lov'st the truth;
If thou hast learned to give thyself away
For love's own self, not for thyself, I say:
Were God's love less, the world were lost, in sooth.

V.

AND do not fear to hope. Can poet's brain More than the Father's heart rich good invent? Each time we smell the Autumn's dying scent, We know the primrose time will come again; Not more we hope, nor less would soothe our pain. Be bounteous in thy faith, for not mis-spent

Is confidence unto the Father lent:

Thy need is sown and rooted for his rain.

His thoughts are as thine own; nor are His ways Other than thine, but by their loftier sense

Of beauty infinite, and love intense.

Work on. One day, beyond all thoughts of praise,
A sunny joy will crown thy head with rays;
Nor other than thy need thy recompense.

GEORGE MACDONALD.

ISOLATION.

MAN dwells apart, though not alone,
He walks among his peers unread;
The best of thoughts which he hath known,
For lack of listeners are not said.

Yet dreaming on earth's clustered isles,

He saith, "They dwell not lone like men," Forgetful that their sun-fleck'd smiles.

Flash far beyond each other's ken.

He looks on God's eternal suns
That sprinkle the celestial blue,
And saith, "Ah! happy shining ones,

I would that men were grouped like you!"

Yet this is sure, the loveliest star

That cluster'd with its peers we see;

Only because from us so far

Doth near its fellows seem to be.

JEAN INGELOW.

EXAGGERATION.

WE overstate the ills of life, and take
Imagination (given us to bring down

The choirs of singing angels overshone

By God's clear glory) down on earth to rake
The dismal snows instead, flake following flake,
To cover all the corn; we walk upon

The shadow of hills across a level thrown,
And pant like climbers; near the alderbrake
We sigh so loud, the nightingale within
Refuses to sing loud, as else she would.
O brothers, let us leave the shame and sin
Of taking vainly, in a plaintive mood,
The holy name of GRIEF-holy herein,
That by the grief of ONE came all our good.

E. B. BROWNING.

Penitence.

LEVAVI OCULOS.

CRIED to God, in trouble for my sin;

To the Great God who dwelleth in

the deeps.

The deeps return not any voice or sigh.

But with my soul I know Thee, O Great God; The soul Thou givest knoweth Thee, Great God; And with my soul I sorrow for my sin.

Full sure I am there is no joy in sin;
Joy-scented Peace is trampled under foot,
Like a white growing blossom into mud.

Sin is establish'd subtly in the heart
As a disease; like a magician foul
Ruleth the better thoughts against their will.

Only the rays of God can cure the heart,
Purge it of evil: there's no other way
Except to turn with the whole heart to God.

In heavenly sunlight live no shades of fear;
The soul there, busy or at rest, hath peace;
And music floweth from the various world.

The Lord is great and good, and is our God.
There needeth not a word but only these;
Our God is good, our God is great. 'Tis well!

All things are ever God's; the shows of things
Are of men's fantasy, and warp'd with sin;
God, and the things of God, immutable.

O great good God, my pray'r is to neglect
The shows of fantasy, and turn myself
To Thy unfenced, unbounded warmth and light!

Then were all shows of things a part of truth :
Then were my soul, if busy or at rest,
Residing in the house of perfect peace!

W. ALLINGHAM.

SELF-REPROACH.

THIS did not once so trouble me,
That better I could not love Thee;
But now I feel and know