Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

The graven flowers that wreath the sword Make not the blade lefs ftrong.

But smiting hands fhall learn to heal,

To build as to destroy;

Nor lefs my heart for others feel
That I the more enjoy.

All as God wills, who wisely heeds
To give or to withhold,

And knoweth more of all my needs
Than all my prayers have told !

Enough that bleffings undeserved
Have marked my erring track –
That whereso'er my feet have swerved,
His chaftening turned me back-

That more and more a Providence
Of love is understood,

Making the springs of time and sense

Sweet with eternal good

That death seems but a covered way
Which opens into light,
Wherein no blinded child can stray
Beyond the Father's fight-

That care and trial seem at last,

Through Memory's sunset air,

[merged small][ocr errors]

That all the jarring notes of life
Seem blending in a psalm,
And all the angles of its ftrife
Slow rounding into calm.

And so the fhadows fall apart,
And so the weft winds play;
And all the windows of my heart
I open to the day.

J. G. Whittier.

A

ENDURANCE.

STRONG and mailed angel,
With eyes serene and deep
Unwearied and unwearying,
His patient watch doth keep.

A strong and mailed angel

In the midnight and the day; Walking with me at my labor, Kneeling by me when I pray.

What he says no other heareth;
None liften save the stars,

That move in armed battalions,
Clad with the strength of Mars.

Low are the words he speaketh "Young dreamer, God is great! 'Tis glorious to suffer!

'Tis majefty to wait!"

O, Angel of Endurance!

O, saintly and sublime! White are the arméd legions

That tread the halls of Time!

Blessed, and brave, and holy!
The olive on my heart,
Baptized with thy baptizing,
Shall never more depart.

O, strong and mailéd angel!
Thy trailing robes I see!
Read other souls the leffon
So meekly read to me!

Still chant the same grand anthem

The beautiful and great

"'Tis glorious to suffer,

'Tis majesty to wait!"

L. H. F.

1

TIMES GO BY TURNS.

HE loppéd tree in time may grow again;

TH

Toft naked plants renew both fruit ad Howers;

The sorrieft wight may find release from pain;
The driest soil suck in some moistening showers;
Times go by turns, and chances change by course
From foul to fair from better hap to worse.

[ocr errors]

The sea of fortune doth not ever flow,
She draws her favors to the lowest ebb,

Her tides have equal times to come and go,

Her loom doth weave the fine and coarseft web;
No joy so great, but runneth to an end;
No hap so hard but may in fine amend.

Not always fall of leaf, nor ever spring;
No endless night, nor yet eternal day;
The saddeft bird a season finds to fing,
The roughest storm a calm may soon allay:
Thus, with succeeding turns, God tempereth all,
That man may hope to rise, yet fear to fall.

A chance may win what by mischance was loft;
That net that holds no great, takes little fish;

In some things all, in all things none are croff'd ;
Few all they need, but none have all they wish;
Unmingled joys here to no man befall;
Who least, hath some; who most, hath never all.
Robert Southwell. 1562-1594.

PRESUMPTION AND DESPAIR.

ON

NE time I was allowed to steer,
Through realms of azure light;
Henceforth, I said, I need not fear
A lower, meaner flight;

But here fhall evermore abide,
In light and splendor glorified.

My heart one time the rivers fed,
Large dews upon it lay;
A freshness it has won, I said,

Which fhall not pass away;
But what it is, it fhall remain,
Its freshness to the end retain.

But when I lay upon the fhore,
Like some poor, wounded thing,
I deemed I fhould not evermore
Refit my shattered wing;

« ZurückWeiter »