^^^aiM^^ ^4^J^^ /f?t 
 
 
ft 
 
 ii/ 
 
WISDOM SERIES. 
 
 Selections from the Aj>ocryj>ha. 
 
 The Wisdo)n of Jesus, the Son of Sirach ; or, 
 
 Ecclcsiasticus. 
 Selections from the Thoughts of Marcus Aurelius 
 
 Antoninus. 
 Selections from the " Imitation of Christ.'''' 
 Sunshine in the Soul. Poems selected by the Editor 
 
 of " Qu'iet Hours.'''' First and Second Series. 
 Selections from Efictetus. 
 The Life and History of the Rev. Doctor John 
 
 Tauler. 
 Selections from Fctielo7i. 
 Socrates. The Apology and Cr'ito of Plato. 
 Socrates. The Phcedo of Plato. 
 
 Other volumes in preparation ; the series edited by 
 the editor of " Qitiet Hours.'''' iSwc, cloth, red edges. 
 Price 50 cents each. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, Boston. 
 
Sunshine 
 In the Soul 
 
 ^otms sclecteD bg tlje EUitot of 
 
 "I ux>K to Thee iu eveiy need. 
 
 And never look in vain ; 
 1 feel Thy touch, Eternal Love, 
 
 And all is well again. 
 The thought of Thee is mightier far 
 Than siu and pain and sorrow are." 
 
 »0}«{0« 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 Eobertfi ^votl^tve 
 
 1884. 
 

 Copyright, 1876, 
 By Roberts Brothers. 
 
 EXCHANGE 
 SROWN Ui^-liV LiSRARY 
 OCT 7. 1938 
 
 Unjvkksity Pi^ess : John Wilson & Son, 
 Cambridge. 
 
preface. 
 
 These poems have been brought together 
 from many sources, old and new, with the 
 liope that their notes of encouragement and 
 c:heerfulness may help to carry strength and 
 courage into daily life. I have repeated here 
 bivo poems which were printed in "Quiet 
 Hours," because I could, not spa^e., them. 
 They are, " Thou GracO',- Div4ne encircling 
 all," and " I look to Thee in every need." 
 I have taken the liberty of substituting the 
 word " chafing " for " craven " in the first 
 line of "Alone with God," and "mother" 
 for " bosom " in the first verse of " How 
 beautiful our lives may be." 
 
 I must express my thanks to Messrs. J. R. 
 Osgood & Co., Scribner & Co., and Roberts 
 
4 Preface. 
 
 Brothers for their permission to use copy- 
 righted poems. And I make grateful ac- 
 knowledgments to the authors »vho have so 
 kindly allowed me to use thei; poems. 
 
 M. W. T. 
 December, 1S76. 
 
InOeji* of Smt iLiucs. 
 
 Aft asterisk shows that omissions have been made in the 
 poem indicated. 
 
 PACK 
 
 ♦Abide with me, fast falls the eventide . . . 124 
 
 A branch of yellow autumn leaves 47 
 
 *Ah ! dearest Lord, to feel that Thou art near . 105 
 
 * A dreary desert dost thou trace 103 
 
 *Alone with God ! day's chafing cares .... 25 
 
 *As God leads me, will I go 20 
 
 Awake! O beautiful Hesperus 36 
 
 *Ee Thou my Sun, my selfishness destroy . . 63 
 
 *Calm Soul of all things ! make it mine ... 42 
 
 *Come, children, let us go 62 
 
 ♦Commit thy way to God 80 
 
 ♦Dear night I this world's defeat 29 
 
 ♦Father, replenish with Thy grace 93 
 
 Furenoon, and afternoon, and night, — Forenoon 22 
 
 Free of the world, by right divine 64 
 
 ♦From heart to heart, from creed to creed . . 75 
 
 ♦God Hveth ever 81 
 
 ,God ploughed one day with an earthquake . . 120 
 
6 3Inticx of JFi'rst 3Lincs. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 God sends sometimes a stillness in our life . . 52 
 
 God speaks to hearts of men in many ways . . 122 
 
 God's smile is on the waters 4^ 
 
 •^Happy me, O happy sheep 10 1 
 
 He hides within the lily 45 
 
 How beautiful it is to be alive 94 
 
 IIow beautiful our lives may be ; how bright . 9S 
 
 How few, who from their youthful day ... 89 
 
 *I ask not, take away this weight of care ... t8 
 
 I cannot think but God must know 30 
 
 *I have a little trembling light, which still . . 32 
 
 *I have seen a curious child 118 
 
 I hear through all the solemn pines .... 48 
 
 I look to Thee in every need 12 
 
 It is not happiness I seek 17 
 
 I wake this morn and all my life 23 
 
 *I will not doubt the love untold 44 
 
 Judge not ; the workings of his brain .... 56 
 
 *Lame from our birth, and daily we are brought 40 
 
 Late on me, weeping, did this whisper fall . . 96 
 
 Let nothing make thee sad or fretful .... 70 
 
 Life! I know not what thou art 112 
 
 *Like a cradle rocking, rocking 35 
 
 *Look up, look up, my soul, still higher ... 79 
 
 Lord, what a change within us one short hour 109 
 
 Li. . ^ly, shadowy, soft and still 25 
 
 Midwinter comes to-morrow 20 
 
 *Mother, fold me to your knees . ... 22 
 
hxtitx of iFirst limes. 
 
 My days are as the grass 
 
 My God, I thank Thee, who hast made 
 My little maiden of four years old . . 
 
 None loves me, Father, with Thy love 
 
 Not so in haste, my heart 
 
 Now, on land and sea descendincr . . 
 
 *0 foolish heart, be still . . . 
 
 *0 God ! Thy power is wonderful 
 
 *0 God ! whose thoughts are brightest light 
 
 *Oh ! Source divine, and Life of all 
 
 *0h, this is blessing, this is rest . . 
 
 O leave thyself to God ! and if indeed 
 
 O Lord ! how happy should we be 
 
 *0 Love ! how cheering is thy ray 
 
 *0 Mother-Heart, to Thee I turn 
 
 One Lord there is, all lords above 
 
 On the earth a flower grew . . . 
 
 O Thou in all Thy might so far . 
 
 *Quiet from God ! how beautiful to keep 
 
 *Renew Thine image. Lord, in me . . 
 
 Serene, I fold my hands and wait . . 
 Since thy Father's arm sustains thee 
 Source of my life's refreshing springs . , 
 ^Spirit sent from God above . . 
 Sweet morn from countless cups of gold 
 
 ►Teach me my God and King .... 
 The day with light its genial self engirds 
 The dying year grows strangely mild . 
 
8 Ettlicx of jjFirst Ernes. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 The farmer chides the tardy spring 87 
 
 The lad and lass were forced to part .... 43 
 
 *The life of man has wondrous hours . . . . 1 1 1 
 
 *There sits not on the wilderness's edge . . . 117 
 
 Therefore, our Heavenly Father 31 
 
 *There 's a wideness in God's mercy .... 64 
 
 *The stream of life from fountains flows ... 109 
 
 The twilight falls, the night is near 27 
 
 The wind has blown as it listeth 117 
 
 This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign . . 38 
 
 *This world I deem 91 
 
 Thou art with me, O my Father 19 
 
 Thou Grace Divine, encircling all , ... . 15 
 
 *To do or not to do, — to have 91 
 
 Unfold, unfold, take in his light 49 
 
 *What comforts, Lord, to those are given . . 13 
 
 *Whate'er God does is well 76 
 
 *Whate'er my God ordains is right 68 
 
 What have I yet to do 61 
 
 "What shall I do, lest life in silence pass ... 99 
 
 *When, before, my God commanded .... 103 
 
 When I have said my quiet say 122 
 
 When the night is still and far 84 
 
 *When up to nightly skies we gaze 115 
 
 When winds are raging o'er the upper ocean . 108 
 
 With eager impulse, outward tending .... 33 
 
 Within, within, O turn 9 
 
 *Yea, my spirit fain would sink 97 
 
^uml)im in tl)e ^ouh 
 
 WITHIN. 
 
 VyiTHIN ! within, O turn 
 ^ ^ Thy spirit's eyes, and learn 
 Thy wandering senses gently to control ; 
 Thy dearest Friend dwells deep within thy soul, 
 
 And asks thyself of thee, 
 That heart, and mind, and sense He may make 
 whole 
 In perfect harmony. 
 Doth not thy inmost spirit yield 
 And sink where Love stands thus revealed ? 
 
 Be still and veil thy face, 
 The Lord is here, this is His holy place ! 
 Then back to earth, and 'mid its toil and throng 
 One glance within will keep thee calm and 
 
 strong ; 
 And when the toil is o'er, how sweet, O God, to 
 flee 
 
 Within, to Thee ! 
 
 Gerhard Terj^tehgen, i6<37-i76g 
 
10 Sunsfjfne in tfje .Soul. 
 
 FAITH, LOVE, AND PATIENCE. 
 
 "^TONE loves me, Father, with Thy love, 
 -^^ None else can meet such needs as mine 
 O, grant me, as Thou shalt approve. 
 All that befits a child of Thine ! 
 From every doubt and fear release, 
 And give me confidence and peace. 
 
 Give me a faith shall never fail. 
 One that shall always work by love ; 
 And then, whatever foes assail. 
 They shall but higher courage move 
 More boldly for the truth to strive, 
 And more by faith in Thee to live : 
 
 A heart, that, when my days are glad. 
 May never from Thy way decline, 
 And when the sky of life grows sad. 
 May still submit its will to Thine, — 
 A heart that loves to trust in Thee, 
 A patient heart, create in me ! 
 
 From the GHK^'AJ^. 
 
OTnitiug. 11 
 
 WAITING. 
 
 ERENE, I fold my hands and wait, 
 *^ Nor care for wind, or tide, or sea ; 
 
 1 rave no more 'gainst time or fate, 
 
 For, lo ! my own shall come to me. 
 
 I stay my haste, I make delays. 
 For what avails this eager pace ? 
 
 I stand amid the eternal ways, 
 And what is mine shall know my face. 
 
 Asleep, awake, by night or day, 
 The friends I seek are seeking me; 
 
 No wind can drive my bark astray, 
 Nor change the tide of destiny. 
 
 What matter if I stand alone ? 
 
 I wait with joy the coming years ; 
 My heart shall reap where it has sown, 
 
 And garner up its fruit of tears. 
 
 The waters know their own, and draw 
 The brook that springs in yonder height ; 
 
 So flows the good with equal law 
 Unto the soul of pure delight. 
 
12 Sunsjme m tlje 5oiiI. 
 
 The stars come nightly to the sky ; 
 
 The tidal wave unto the sea ; 
 Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high, 
 
 Can keep my own away from me. 
 
 John Burkoughs 
 
 LOOKING UNTO GOD. 
 'God's hand in all things, and all things in God's hand.'' 
 
 T LOOK to Thee in every need, 
 -*- And never look in vain ; 
 T feel Thy touch, Eternal Love, 
 
 And all is well again : 
 The thought of Thee is mightier far 
 Than sin and pain and sorrow are. 
 
 Discouraged in the work of life. 
 
 Disheartened by its load, 
 Shamed by its failures or its fears, 
 
 I sink beside the road ; — 
 But let me only think of Thee, 
 And then new heart springs up in me. 
 
 Thy calmness bends serene above. 
 
 My restlessness to still ; 
 Around me flows Thy quickening life 
 
 To nerve my faltering will; 
 
J^caben on ISartft. 13 
 
 Thy presence fills my solitude : 
 Thy providence turns all to good. 
 
 Embosomed deep in Thy dear love, 
 
 Held in Thy law, I stand ; 
 Thy hand in all things I behold, 
 
 And all things in Thy hand ; 
 Thou leadest me by unsought ways, 
 And turn'st my mourning into praise. 
 
 S. Longfellow. 
 
 HEAVEN ON EARTH. 
 
 VT 7 HAT comforts. Lord, to those are given, 
 ^ ' Who seek in Thee their home and rest ! 
 They find on earth an opening heaven. 
 And in Thy peace are amply blest. 
 
 Their tranquil joy no troubles banish; 
 
 Their hiding-place is safe above ! 
 The dismal clouds of night must vanish 
 
 At dawning of Thy light of love ! 
 
 Wolfgang Christoph Desslek, 169a 
 
14 ^ungjine in tfje SouU 
 
 ALL IS YOURS. 
 
 r^ FOOLISH heart, be still ! 
 ^-^ And vex thyself no more ! 
 Wait thou for God, until 
 
 He open pleasure's door. 
 Thou knovv'st not what is good for thee, 
 
 But God doth know ; — 
 Let Him thy strong reliance be, 
 
 And rest thee so. 
 
 He counted all my days, 
 
 And every joy and tear, 
 Ere I knew how to praise, 
 
 Or even had learned to fear. 
 Before I Him my Father knew, 
 
 He called me child ; 
 His help has guarded me all through 
 
 This weary wild. 
 
 The least of all my cares 
 
 Is not to Him unknown, — 
 He sees and He prepares 
 
 The pathway for His own ; 
 And what His hand assigns to me. 
 
 That serves my peace, — 
 The greatest burden it might be, 
 
 Yet joy's increase ! 
 
Eie ILobe of ©otj. 15 
 
 Give me, my Lord, whatever- 
 
 Will bind my heart to Thee ; 
 For that I make my prayer, 
 
 And know Thou hearest me ! 
 But all that might keep back my soul, 
 
 Make Thee forgot, — 
 Though of earth-good it were the whole, 
 
 Oh give it not ! 
 
 When sickness-pains distress. 
 
 And want doth follow fear, 
 And men their hate express, 
 
 My sky shall still be clear. 
 Then wait I, Lord, and wait for Thee ; 
 
 And I am still, — 
 Though mine should unaccomplished be, 
 
 Do Thou Thy will ! 
 
 Christian Furchtegott Ghllert, 1715-17691 
 
 THE LOVE OF GOD. 
 
 'T^HOU Grace Divine, encircling all, 
 "*- A soundless, shoreless sea 
 Wherein at last our souls must fall ! — 
 O Love of God most free ! 
 
 When over dizzy heights we go. 
 One soft hand blinds our eyes, 
 
16 <Sunsf)m£ m t!je ^ouL 
 
 The other leads us, safe and slow, — 
 O Love of God most wise ! 
 
 And though we turn us from Thy face, 
 
 And wander wide and long, 
 Thou hold'st us still in Thine embrace, — 
 
 O Love of God most strong ! 
 
 The saddened heart, the restless soul, 
 The toil-worn frame and mind, 
 
 Alike confess Thy sweet control, — . 
 O Love of God most kind ! 
 
 But not alone Thy care we claim, 
 
 Our wayward steps to win : 
 We know Thee by a dearer name, — 
 
 O Love of God within ! 
 
 And filled and quickened by Thy breath. 
 Our souls are strong and free 
 
 To rise o'er sin and fear and death, 
 O Love of God, to Thee ! 
 
 Eliza Scudder 
 
Bkssetiness. 17 
 
 BLESSEDNESS. 
 
 TT is not happiness I seek, 
 ■*• Its name I hardly dare to speak ; 
 It is not made for man or earth, 
 And Heaven alone can give it birth. 
 
 There is a something sweet and pure, 
 Through life, through death it may endure ; 
 With steady foot I onward press, 
 And long to win that Blessedness. 
 
 It hath no shadow, this soft light. 
 But makes each daily duty bright ; 
 It bids each heart-born tumult cease, 
 And sobers joy to quiet peace. 
 
 An all-abiding sense of Love, 
 In silence falling from above, 
 A conscience clear from wilful sin, 
 That hath no subterfuge within ; 
 
 Fixed duty claiming every power, 
 And human love to charm each hour, — 
 These, these, my soul, make Blessedness : 
 I ask no more, I seek no less. 
 
18 Sunsf)tne in tlje Soul. 
 
 And yet I know these are too much ; 
 My very being's life they touch : 
 Without them all, oh ! let me still 
 Find Blessedness in God's dear will. 
 
 Louisa J. Hall 
 
 ALL FOR GOOD. 
 
 T ASK not, take away this weight of care ; 
 •^ No, for that love I pray that all can bear ; 
 
 And for the faith that whatsoe'er befall 
 Must needs be good, and for my profit prove. 
 Since from my Father's heart most rich in love, 
 
 And from His bounteous hands it cometh all. 
 
 I ask not that my course be calm and still ; 
 No, here too, Lord, be done Thy holy will : 
 
 I ask but for a quiet childlike heart ; 
 Though thronging cares and restless toil be mine, 
 Yet may my heart remain for ever Thine, 
 
 Draw it from earth, and fix it where Thou art. 
 
 Carl Johann Phi up S pitta. 
 
IJcacir. 19 
 
 PEACE. 
 
 ^T^HOU art with me, O my Fathei, 
 -*• At early dawn of day ; 
 It is Thy glory brighteneth 
 
 The upward streaming ray : 
 It calls me by its loveliness 
 
 To rise and worship Thee ; 
 I feel Thy glorious presence, — 
 
 Thy face I may not see. 
 
 Thou art with me, O my Father, 
 
 In the changing scenes of life, 
 In loneliness of spirit, 
 
 And in weariness of strife ; 
 My sufferings, my comfortings, 
 
 Alternate at Thy will ; 
 I trust Thee, O my Father, 
 
 I trust Thee, and am still. 
 
 Thou art with me, O my Father, 
 
 In evening's darkening gloom ; 
 When night enshrouds the sleepi ig earth. 
 
 Thy presence fills my room : 
 The little stars bring messages 
 
 Of kindness from above ; 
 I love Thee, O my Father, 
 
 And I feel that Thou art love. 
 
 EuPflKMIA S.\> 
 
20 Sunsijine in tje Soul. 
 
 MIDWINTER. 
 
 IVyT ID WINTER comes to-morrow, 
 -i-'-l. My welcome guest to be : 
 White-hair'd, wide-winged Sorrow, 
 
 With Christmas gifts for me. 
 Thy angel, God ! — I thank Thee still. 
 Thy will be done — Thy better will ! 
 
 I thank Thee, Lord ! — the whiteness 
 
 Of winter on my heart 
 Shall keep some glint of brightness. 
 
 Though sun and stars depart. 
 Thou smilest on the snow : Thy will 
 Is dread and drear, but lovely still. 
 
 W. J. LlNTOM 
 
 FOLLOWING. 
 
 A S God leads me, will I go, 
 -^^^ Nor choose my way. 
 Let him choose the joy or woe 
 
 Of every day : 
 They cannot hurt my soul, 
 Because in his control : 
 I leave to him the whole, — 
 
 His children may. 
 
jFoIlolDincj. 21 
 
 As God leads me, I am still 
 
 Within His hand : 
 Though His purpose my self-will 
 
 Doth oft withstand. 
 Yet I wish that none 
 But His will be done, 
 Till the end be won 
 
 That He hath planned. 
 
 As God leads, I am content ; 
 
 He will take care ! 
 All things by His will are sent 
 
 That I must bear. 
 To Him I take my fear, 
 My wishes while I'm here, — 
 The way will all seem clear, 
 
 When I am there ! 
 
 As God leads me, it is mine 
 
 To follow Him ; 
 Soon all shall wonderfully shine, 
 
 Which now seems dim. 
 Fulfilled be His decree ! 
 What He shall choose for me, 
 That shall my portion be, 
 
 Up to the brim ! 
 
 L. Gedickb. 
 
22 Bunsfjme m llje Soul. 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 ■pORENOON, and afternoon, and night! — 
 
 -^ Forenoon, 
 
 And afternoon, and night! — Forenoon, and — 
 
 what ! 
 The empty song repeats itself. No more ? 
 Yea, that is Life : make this forenoon sublime, 
 This afternoon a psalm, this night a prayer, 
 And Time is conquered, and thy crown is won. 
 
 Edward Rowland Sill 
 
 THE CHILD'S FAITH IN LOVE. 
 
 "\/r OTHER, fold me to 5'our knees I 
 •^^■'' How much should I care for these 
 Little joys that come and go, 
 . If you did not love me so ? 
 
 Father, now my prayer is said, 
 Lay your hand upon my head ! 
 Pleasures pass from day to day, 
 But I know that love will stay. 
 
 While I sleep it will be near ; 
 I shall wake and find it here ; 
 I shall feel it in the air, 
 When I say my morning prayer 
 
^ fHorni'ncf Bong. 9.^ 
 
 And when things are sad or wrong, 
 Then I know that love is stronsr : 
 When I ache, or when I weep. 
 Then I know that love is deep. 
 
 Love is old and love is new, 
 You love me and I love you ; 
 And the Lord, who made it thus, 
 Did it in His love for us. 
 
 William Brighty Ranos. 
 
 A MORNING SONG. 
 
 T WAKE this morn, and all my life 
 ■*- Is freshly mine to live ; 
 The future with sweet promise rife. 
 And crowns of joy to give. 
 
 New words to speak, new thoughts to hear. 
 
 New love to give and take ; 
 Perchance new burdens I may bear 
 
 For love's own sweetest sake. 
 
 New hopes to open in the sun, 
 
 New efforts worth the will, 
 Or tasks with yesterday begun 
 
 More bravely to fulfil. 
 
24 ^unsfjmc fn tf)c Soul. 
 
 Fresh seeds for all the time to be 
 
 Are in my hand to sow, 
 Whereby, for others and for me, 
 
 Undreamed-of fruit may grow. 
 
 In each white daisy 'mid the grass 
 
 That turns my foot aside, 
 In each uncurling fern I pass, 
 
 Some sweetest joy may hide. 
 
 And if when eventide shall fall 
 
 In shade across my way, 
 It seems that nought my thoughts recall 
 
 But life of every day, — 
 
 Yet if each step in shine or shower 
 Be where Thy footstep trod, 
 
 Then blessed be every happy hour 
 That leads me nearer God. 
 
 Chambers' Journ/vl 
 
"iaione iMi't!) ©otJ. 25 
 
 AT EVENING. 
 
 T OVELY, shadowy, soft, and still 
 -*— ' Is the eventide ; 
 Ah ! if but my heart and will 
 Evermore might so abide ! 
 Lord, Thy presence can alone 
 Make this lovely calm my own. 
 
 Gerhard Tersteeghn, i697-i7b9. 
 
 ALONE WITH GOD. 
 
 A LONE with God ! day's chafing cares 
 '^ ^ Have crowded onward unawares ; 
 The soul is left to breathe her prayers. 
 
 Alone with God ! no human eye 
 Is here, with eager look to pry 
 Into the meaning of each sigh. 
 
 Alone with God ! He only knows 
 
 If sorrow's ocean overflows 
 
 The silent spring from whence it rose. 
 
 Alone with God ! He mercy lends, — 
 Life's fainting hope, life's meagre ends, 
 Life's dwarfing pain, He comprehends. 
 
26 Sun0{)me in t|)e ^otil. 
 
 Alone with God ! He feeleth well 
 
 The soul's pent life that will o'erswell, — 
 
 The life-long want no words may tell. 
 
 Alone with God ! still nearer bend, 
 O tender Father! condescend 
 In this my need to be my friend. 
 
 Alone with God ! with suppliant mien 
 Upon Thy pitying breast I lean, 
 Nor less because Thou art unseen. 
 
 Alone with God ! safe in Thine arms, 
 Oh shield me from life's wild alarms, 
 Oh save me from life's fearful harms. 
 
 Alone with God ! my Father, bless 
 
 With Thy celestial promises 
 
 The soul that needs thy tenderness. 
 
 Alone with God ! Oh sweet to me 
 This covert to whose shade I flee, 
 To breathe repose in Thee — in Thee ! 
 
 Hymns of the A(i: 
 
^z iJlnotottt). 27 
 
 HE KNOWETH. 
 
 T^HE twilight falls, the night is near ; 
 ■^ I fold my work away, 
 And kneel to One who bends to hear 
 The story of the day. 
 
 The old, old story ; yet I kneel 
 
 To tell it at Thy call ; 
 And cares grow lighter as I feel 
 
 My Father knows them all. 
 
 Yes, all ! The morning and the night, 
 
 The joy, the grief, the loss, 
 The roughened path, the sunbeam bright, 
 
 The hourly thorn and cross. 
 
 Thou knowest all : I lean my head, 
 
 My weary eyelids close ; 
 Content and glad awhile to tread 
 
 This path, since my God knows ! 
 
 And He has loved me ! All my heart 
 With answering love is stirred; 
 
 And every anguished pain and smart 
 Finds healing in the word. 
 
28 ^imsjittc nt t?)c 5oul. 
 
 So here I lay me down to rest, 
 
 As nightly shadows fall, 
 And lean, confiding, on His breast, 
 
 Who knows and pities all ! 
 
 Anonymous- 
 
 vesper HYMN. 
 
 IVrOW on land and sea descending 
 
 -^^ Brings the night its peace profound: 
 
 Let our vesper hymn be blending 
 
 With the holy calm around. 
 Soon as dies the sunset glory. 
 
 Stars of heaven shine out above, 
 Telling still the ancient story, 
 
 Their Creator's changeless love. 
 
 Now our wants and burdens leaving 
 
 To His care, who cares for all, 
 Cease we fearing, cease we grieving ; 
 
 At His touch our burdens fall. 
 As the darkness deepens o'er us, 
 
 Lo, eternal stars arise ; 
 Hope and Faith and Love rise glorious. 
 
 Shining in the spirit's skies. 
 
 Samuel LoNGFELT/rir 
 
STije liigfjt. 29 
 
 THE NIGHT. 
 
 "pvEAR night ! this world's defeat ; 
 ^^ The stop to busy fools ; care's check and 
 curb ; 
 The day of spirits; my soul's calm retreat 
 Which none disturb ! 
 Christ's progress and his prayer-time ; 
 The hours to which high heaven doth chime. 
 
 Were all my loud, evil days 
 Calm and unhauntcd as is thy dark tent, 
 Whose peace but l^y some angel's wing or voice 
 Is seldom rent ; 
 Then I in heaven all the long year 
 Would keep, and never wander here. 
 
 There is in God, some say, 
 A deep but dazzling darkness ; as men here 
 Say it is late and dusky, because they 
 See not all clear. 
 
 Oh for that night ! where I in Him 
 
 Might live invisible and dim ! 
 
 Henrv Vaughan, 1621-1695 
 
30 ^unsljinc m tfjc Soul, 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 T CANNOT think but God must know 
 ■*■ About the thhig I long for so ; 
 I know He is so good, so kind, 
 I cannot think but He will find 
 Some way to help, some way to show 
 Me to the thing I long for so. 
 
 I stretch my hand — it lies so near : 
 It looks so sweet, it looks so dear. 
 " Dear Lord," I pray, " Oh let me know 
 If it is wrong to want it so ? " 
 He only smiles, — He does not speak : 
 My heart grows weaker and more weak, 
 With looking at the thing so dear. 
 Which lies so far, and yet so near. 
 
 Now, Lord, I leave at Thy loved feet 
 This thing which looks so near, so sweet; 
 I will not seek, I will not long, — 
 I almost fear I have been wrong. 
 I'll go, and work the harder. Lord, 
 And wait till by some loud, clear word 
 Thou callest me to Thy loved feet, 
 To take this thing so dear, so sweet. 
 
 Saxe Holm 
 
ODuv JTathci iAnLnucli^ 
 
 OUR FATHER KNOWETIl. 
 Your Father knoweth that ye have need of these things." 
 
 npHEREFORE, our Heavenly Father, 
 ■^ We will not fear to pray 
 For the little needs and longings 
 
 That fill our every day ; 
 And when we dare not whisper 
 
 A want that lieth dim, 
 We say, " Our Father knoweth," 
 
 And leave it all to Him. 
 
 For His great love has compassed 
 
 Our nature, and our need 
 We know not ; but He knoweth, 
 
 And He will bless indeed. 
 Therefore, O Heavenly Father, 
 
 Give what is best to me ; 
 And take the wants unanswered, 
 
 As offerings made to Thee. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
32 Simsijiiu in tijc ^oul. 
 
 THE INWARD LIGHT. 
 
 T HAVE a little trembling light, which slill 
 '- All tenderly I keep, and ever will. 
 I think it never wholly dies away ; 
 But oft it seems as if it could not stay, 
 And I do strive to keep it if I may. 
 
 Sometimes the wind-gusts push it sore aside : 
 Then closely to my breast my light I hide, 
 And for it make a tent of my two hands : 
 And though it scarce miglit on the lamp abide, 
 [t soon recovers, and uprightly stands. 
 
 Sometimes it seems there is no flame at all ; 
 I look quite close, because it is so small : 
 Then all for sorrow do I wee]) and sigh ; 
 But Some One seems to listen when I cry, 
 And the light burns up, and I know not why. 
 
 God, O Father, hear Thy child who cries ! 
 Who would not quench Thy flame ; who would not 
 
 dare 
 To let it dwindle in a sinful air ; 
 Who does feel how all-precious such a prize, 
 And yet, alas ! is feeble, and not wise. 
 
^'piri'tiial jFovrcs. o3 
 
 Oh hoar, dear Father ! for Thou know'st the need 
 Thou know'st what awful height there is in Thee, — 
 How very low I am : Oh do thou feed 
 Thy light, that it burn ever, and succeed 
 My lite to deepest holiness to lead. 
 
 Hknky Septimus Sutton, 1854- 
 
 SPIRITUAL FORCES. 
 
 CENTRIFUGAL. 
 
 VT 7ITH eager impulse outward tending, 
 ' ' Keen to explore the solemn Whole. 
 Hot life-throbs toward far verges sending, — 
 What shaH constrain this reaching soul ? 
 
 CENTRIPETAL. 
 
 By sweet calm sway of inward might 
 
 Held in an orbit's large control, 
 Illuniined by the Light of light, — 
 
 What shall mislead this trusting soul ? 
 
 Katharine Hansoh 
 
34 Sun3|3inf in tljc Soul. 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF GOD. 
 
 r^ THOU, in all Thy might so far, 
 ^-^ In all Thy love so near, — 
 Beyond the range of sun and star. 
 And yet beside us here : — 
 
 What heart can comprehend Thy name, 
 
 Or, searching, find Thee out? 
 Who art within, a quickening Flame, 
 
 A Presence round about ! 
 
 Yet though I know Thee but in part, 
 
 I ask not, Lord, for more : 
 Enough for me to know Thou art, 
 
 To love Thee and adore ! 
 
 Oh sweeter than all else besides. 
 
 The tender mystery 
 That like a veil of shadow hides 
 
 The Light I may not see ! 
 
 And dearer than all things I know 
 
 Is childlike faith to me, 
 That makes the darkest way I go 
 
 An open path to Thee ! 
 
 Frederick L. Hosmhr. 
 
Cfje ilobeof ©atj. 
 
 THE LOVE OF GOD. 
 
 T IKE a cradle rocking, rocking, 
 -*-^ Silent, peaceful, to and fro, 
 Like a mother's sweet looks dropping 
 
 On the little face below, 
 Hangs the green earth, swinging, turning, 
 
 Jarless, noiseless, safe, and slow ; 
 Falls the light of God's face bending 
 
 Down and watching us below. 
 
 And as feeble babes that suffer, 
 
 Toss, and cry, and will not rest, 
 Are the ones the tender mother 
 
 Holds the closest, loves the best, — 
 So when we are weak and wretched, 
 
 By our sins weighed down, distressed, 
 Then it is that God's great patience 
 
 Holds us closest, loves us best. 
 
 Saxb Holm. 
 
36 <Sun0ijin£ in tije Boul. 
 
 HESPERUS. 
 
 A WAKE, O beautiful Hesperus! 
 -^ ^ Awake! for the day is done, 
 And the royal purple curtains are drawn 
 
 Round the couch of the sleeping sun : 
 There is a hush on the blooming earth 
 
 And a hush on the beating sea. 
 And silence, too, in the courts of Heaven ; 
 
 For the stars all wait for thee, 
 Hesperus! 
 All things beautiful wait for thee ! 
 
 'Tis the hour for fancy's fairy reign, 
 
 When the glowing brain is fraught 
 With visions of beauty, and bliss, and love, 
 
 That leave no room for thought. 
 With the light of warm and glorious dreams 
 
 This narrow chamber is bright, 
 And I need but thee to sing with me, 
 
 O sweetest poet of night ! 
 Hesperus I 
 
 Open thy volume of golden light I 
 
 There may I read of the youth of old, 
 Who clambered the mountain height. 
 
 And talked with stars in the midnight hours 
 Till he faded from human sight. — 
 
f^espmis. 37 
 
 Till his brow grew bright with wonderful light, 
 And away from the world's rude jars, 
 
 He was lost in the beams of his radiant dreams, 
 And himself was the fairest of stars. 
 
 Hesperus ! 
 The best beloved of all the stars ! 
 
 There maj^ I read this legend rare, 
 
 And its beautiful meaning learn, 
 While my soul, new-kindled to hopes divine, 
 
 With a holy fire shall burn. 
 Oh never should human heart despair 
 
 Of the presence of God on high, 
 Oh never should human faith grow dim 
 
 Wliile the stars are in the sky ! 
 Hesperus ! 
 
 Thy voice is the voice of eternity ! 
 
 Thou art smiling down on me, Hesperus ! 
 
 With that smile upon my heart 
 I know that kindred to me and mine. 
 
 In those measureless heights, thou art. 
 When thy spirit blossomed into a star, 
 
 In the mystical days of old. 
 The love and the hope it bore on high 
 
 The legend hath never told. 
 Hesperus ! 
 
 Thy sweetest story hath never been told 
 
38 ,Sunsj)in£ in t|)e Soul. 
 
 Oh to be like thee, Hesperus ! 
 
 To chmb the heights of truth, 
 And there to drink of celestial airs, 
 
 And to glow with immortal youth ; — 
 There wrapt in the light which is born in skies 
 
 Where the blessed angels are, 
 To hear earth's harmonies only rise 
 
 Floating sweetly up from afar ! 
 Hesperus ! 
 
 How can my spirit become a star ? 
 
 Frances L. Mace, 1855. 
 
 THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS. 
 
 'TPHIS is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, 
 •^ Sails the unshadowed main, — 
 The venturous bark that flings 
 On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings 
 In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings, 
 
 And coral reefs lie bare, 
 Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their stream 
 ing hair. 
 
 Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl ; 
 
 Wrecked is the ship of pearl ! 
 
 And every chambered cell, 
 Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell, 
 As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell. 
 
E]yt CfjambcrEtj ijiautiUis. 39 
 
 Before thee lies revealed, — 
 Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed ! 
 
 Year after year beheld the silent toil 
 
 That spread his lustrous coil ; 
 
 Still, as the spiral grew, 
 He left the past year's dwelling for the now, 
 Stole with soft step its shining archway through, 
 
 Built up its idle door, 
 Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the 
 old no more. 
 
 Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, 
 
 Child of the wandering sea. 
 
 Cast from her lap, forlorn ! 
 From thy dead lips a clearer note is born 
 Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn ! 
 
 While on mine ear it rings. 
 Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice 
 
 Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, 
 
 A.S the swift seasons roll ! 
 
 Leave thy low-vauited past ! 
 Let each new temple, nobler than the last. 
 Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, 
 
 Till thou at length art free. 
 Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting 
 
 sea ! 
 
 Olivhk VVendeli Hoi.mks 
 
40 .Sitnsfjme m tfje .Soul. 
 
 THE GATE CALLED BEAUTIFUL. 
 
 " And they brought a man lame from his birth, and laid him 
 daily at the gate of the temple, which is called Beautiful." 
 
 T AME from our birth — and daily we are brought 
 "^^ And at the gate called Beautiful are laid 
 Sometimes its wonder makes us free and glad ; 
 
 The gate' called Beautiful ; and yet methinks 
 No word can name it that begins to tell 
 
 How soar its pillars to the highest heavens, 
 And how their roots take hold on lowest hell. 
 
 With what designs its panels are inwrought, 
 O'er-traced with flowers and hills and shining 
 seas, 
 
 And glorified by rise and set of suns, 
 
 And Junes of blossom and October trees ! 
 
 So beautiful, yet never quite the same ! 
 
 The pictures change with every changing hour ; 
 Or sweeter things come stealing into view. 
 
 Which stronger things had hidden by their 
 power. 
 
Cfje ©ate rallcti Beautiful. 41 
 
 There all the stars and systems go their way ; 
 
 There shines the moon so tender in her grace ; 
 And there, than moon or star or sun more fair, 
 
 The blessed wonder of the human face. 
 
 Faces and faces ! some of children sweet ; 
 
 And some of maidens fresh and pure and true ; 
 And some that lovelier are at evening time 
 
 Than any can be while the years are few. 
 
 Til is is the gate called Beautiful ; it swings 
 To music sweeter than was heard that day 
 
 When St. Cecilia, rapt in ecstasy, 
 
 Heard through her trance the angelic roundelay. 
 
 Music of little children at their play ; 
 
 Of mothers husliing them to sleep and dreams ; 
 Of all the birds that sing in all the trees ; 
 
 Of all the murmuring of all the streams. 
 
 And at this gate, not at wide intervals, 
 Are we, lame from our birth, laid tenderly, 
 
 But daily ; and not one day passes by 
 That we look not upon this mystery. 
 
 Gate of the Temple ? surely it is that ! 
 
 It opens not into vacuity ; 
 For all its beauty, it is not so fair 
 
 But that a greater l)eauty there can be ? 
 
42 ^unsjjme m t^e Boul. 
 
 Thy beauty, O my Father ! All is Thine ; 
 
 But there is beauty in Thyself, from whence 
 The beauty Thou hast made doth ever flow 
 
 In streams of never-faihng affluence. 
 
 rhou art the Temple ! and though I am lame, — 
 Lame from my birth, and shall be till I die, — 
 
 I enter through the Gate called Beautiful, 
 And am alone with Thee, O Thou Most High ! 
 
 J. W. CHADWnCK, 
 
 CALM ME. 
 
 /^~^ ALM Soul of all things ! make it mine 
 ^^ To feel, amid the city's jar, 
 That there abides a peace of thine 
 Man did not make, and cannot mar ! 
 
 The will to neither strive nor cry, 
 The power to feel with others give ! 
 Calm, calm me more ! nor let me die 
 Before I have begun to live. 
 
 Matthew Arnold 
 
33catit2 Emmortal, 13 
 
 BEAUTY IMMORTAL. 
 
 npHE lad and lass were forced to part, 
 
 -^ They kissed and went along ; 
 The sight went into the poet's heart, 
 And it came out a song. 
 
 The sun, down-sloping in the west, 
 
 Made gold the evening air ; 
 The sight went into the painter's breast 
 
 And grew to a picture fair. 
 
 The mother murmured to her child, 
 
 And hushed it yet again ; 
 The sound, as the musician smiled, 
 
 Grew music in his brain. 
 
 The damsel turned, her hair to bind, 
 
 A flower was in her zone ; 
 There grew from out the sculptor's mind 
 
 A damsel carved in stone. 
 
 The song was said, the tune was played, 
 
 The girl in marble stood. 
 The sunset in the picture stayed, 
 
 And all was sweet and good. 
 
44 Sims!)m£ in tfjc 5oul. 
 
 And God, who made these things to be, — 
 
 The damsel and the sun, 
 Color and sound, and you and me, — 
 
 Was pleased to see it done. 
 
 And all the angels would be glad 
 
 If, in the world He built, 
 Although there must be some things sad, 
 
 No drop of joy were spilt ; 
 
 But all the beauty in the earth, 
 And skies, and hearts of men, 
 Were gently gathered at its birth, 
 again. 
 
 William Brighty Rand* 
 
 FROM "INSPIRATION." 
 
 T WILL not doubt the love untold, 
 ■■- Which not my worth nor want hath bought, 
 Which wooed me young and woos me old. 
 And to this evening hath me brought. 
 
 Hhnky D. Thorhao. 
 
**€:ou0itjcr Uje ILilics." 45 
 
 CONSIDER THE LILIES, HOW THEY 
 GROW." 
 
 TIE hides within the lily 
 
 -*■ A strong and tender care, 
 That wins the earth-born atoms 
 
 To glory of the air; 
 He weaves the shining garments 
 
 Unceasingly and still, 
 Along the quiet waters, 
 
 In niches of the hill. 
 
 We linger at the vigil 
 
 With him who bent the knee 
 To watch the old-time lilies 
 
 In distant Galilee; 
 And still the worship deepens 
 
 And quickens into new, 
 As brightening down the ages 
 
 God's secret thrilleth through. 
 
 O Toiler of the lily, 
 
 Thy touch is in the man ! 
 No leaf that dawns to petal 
 
 But hints the angel-plan. 
 The flower-horizons open ! 
 
 The blossom vaster shows ! 
 
4G ^unsfjiiie in tije Soul. 
 
 We hear Thy wide worlds echo, — 
 See how the hly grows ! 
 
 Shy yearnings of the savage, 
 
 Unfolding thought by thought, 
 To holy lives are lifted, 
 
 To visions fair are wrought ; 
 The races rise and cluster, 
 
 And evils fade and fall, 
 Till chaos blooms to beauty. 
 
 Thy purpose crowning all ! 
 
 William C. Gannp 
 
 SUNDAY ON LAKE WINNIPISEOGEE 
 
 /~^OD'S smile is on the waters, 
 
 ^-^ His spirit in the air, 
 
 My glad heart owns His presence. 
 
 And swells with thankful prayer. 
 A peace serene and holy 
 
 All Nature's being fills, 
 Breathes from the fragrant lilies. 
 
 Crowns all the circling hills. 
 Whispers in trembling tree-tops. 
 
 Sings in my grateful breast, 
 Where care and grief and longing 
 
 Are hushed in trustful rest. 
 
€\)z 5Lab3 of 3Life. 47 
 
 THE LAW OF LIFE. 
 
 A BRANCH of yellow autumn leaves, 
 ^ ^' So steeped in sunshine through and through 
 rhey seemed like stuff that Nature weaves 
 When all her homespun work she spurns, 
 And from her loom, that glows and burns 
 With all the splendors it achieves, 
 Doth show what she loves best to do. 
 
 I held it 'twixt me and the sun — 
 The lovely, shining beechen spray ; 
 
 The breeze blew fresh, and one by one 
 Came fluttering down the leaflets fair, 
 Till all the twigs were brown and bare. 
 
 " Ah ! thus," I said, *' my. life doth run, 
 And thus my hopes are thrown away." 
 
 A foolish thought. In vision clear 
 
 God's answer came to comfort me. 
 * The golden hopes would soon be sere ; 
 
 They dropped away to leave a place 
 
 For nobler life and richer grace ; 
 Behold where swelling buds appear. 
 
 To crown anew the leafless tree ! " 
 
 Elizabbth W. Dbnisom 
 
48 .^unslliiu in tljc Soul. 
 
 APRIL. 
 
 T HEAR through all the solemn pines 
 -*• The south wind's pleasant flow, 
 And see the clouds, like happy things, 
 
 O'er fields of azure go, 
 While all the sorrow from the earth 
 
 Seems melting with the snow. 
 
 The robin and the bluebird sing 
 
 O'er meadows brown and bare, 
 They cannot know what wondrous bloom 
 
 Is softly budding there ; 
 But all the joy their hearts outpour 
 
 Seems pulsing in the air. 
 
 And we will sing, though all our days 
 
 Seem dark with pain and loss : 
 We know that sorrow's furnace-heat 
 
 Consumes alone our dross ; 
 We know that one dear Father's love 
 
 Gives both our crown and cross. 
 
 Oh, while beneath the snow-drift buds 
 
 The flower we love the best, 
 And on the wind-tossed bough the bird 
 
 Still builds its happy nest, 
 Praise God for all the good we know, 
 
 And trust Him for the rest ! 
 
 Anonymous 
 
2rij£ mebibal. 49 
 
 THE REVIVAL. 
 
 T INFOLD ! unfold ! take in His light, 
 ^^ Who makes thy cares more short than night 
 The joys which with His day-star rise 
 He deals to all but drowsy eyes ; 
 And (what the men of this world miss) 
 'Some drops and dews of future bliss. 
 
 \nd with warm whispers call thee out ! 
 Die frosts are jiast, the storms are gone, 
 And backward life at last comes on. 
 The lofty groves, in express joys, 
 Reply unto the turtle's voice ; 
 And here, in dust and dirt, oh, here. 
 The lilies of his love appear. 
 
 Henry Vaughan, 1621-1695 
 
50 Sunsjme m tlje ^oul. 
 
 A PARABLE FOR HAPPY HEARTS. 
 
 /^N the earth a Flower grew, 
 ^^ From the Sun its being drew ; 
 Day by day this royal friend 
 Sent down blessings without end ; 
 Day by day the Flower held up 
 To be filled with light its cup ; . 
 And the great*Sun ne'er forgot 
 In the universe this dot. 
 
 And the Sun said to the ground : 
 
 " Take my light and bear it round, 
 
 Till my Flower's searching root 
 
 Find my blessing underfoot ; " 
 
 And he said unto the air : 
 
 " Wrap my Flower in tender care, 
 
 Whisper to its very heart 
 
 That my loving breath thou art." 
 
 So the Flower, with gifts bowed down, 
 Humbled toward the earth its crown ; 
 " Tell me, Sun. for so much treasure 
 Showered upon me without measure 
 Can I nothing give ihee back ? 
 Or, if thou dost nothing lack, 
 
a Parable for S:?appo Jifcarts. 51 
 
 Can I pass these gifts divine 
 Unto lives less blest than mine ?" 
 
 But the Sun said, " Nay, not so 
 Shall thy heart thanksgiving show; 
 Rather make thou full employ 
 Of thy privilege and joy, 
 For the best that thou canst be 
 Is the service asked of thee." 
 
 Then the Flower uprose once more, 
 Stronger-hearted than before, — 
 Through its seeming useless days 
 Tried to join earth's hymn of praise 
 With its given power of bloom, 
 Grace, and color, and perfume. 
 
 But what joys passed unenjoyed, 
 What powers only half-employed, 
 Gifts not to the utmost used, 
 Grace not in its life transfused ; 
 What of all its mighty debt 
 To the Sun the Flower owed yet, 
 When its happy life was done, 
 No one knew but Flower and Sun. 
 
 Harriet Ware Hall. 
 
52 Sungjtne in tije Soul. 
 
 TRUE REST. 
 
 /"^OD sends sometimes a stillness in our life, 
 
 ^-^ The bivouac, the sleep, 
 
 When on the silent battle-field the strife 
 
 Is hushed in slumber deep, 
 When wearied hearts exhausted sink to rest, 
 Remembering nor the struggle nor the quest. 
 
 We know such hours, when the dim dewy night 
 
 Bids day's hot turmoil cease ; 
 When star by star steals noiselessly in sight, 
 
 With silent smiles of peace ; 
 When we lay down our load, and half forget 
 The morrow comes, and we must bear it yet. 
 
 We know such hours, when after days of pain, 
 
 And nights when sleep was not, 
 God gives us ease and peace and calm again, 
 
 Till, all the past forgot. 
 We say, in rest and thankfulness most deep, 
 E'en so " He giveth His beloved sleep." 
 
 When some strong chain that bound us by God's 
 strength 
 Is loosed or torn apart ; 
 
S:rue Eest. 53 
 
 Or when, beloved and longed-for, come at length, 
 
 Some friend makes glad our heart ; 
 We know the calm that follows on such bliss, 
 That looks no farther, satisfied with this. 
 
 God does not always loose the chain, nor give 
 
 The loved ones back to us ; 
 Sometimes 'mid strife and tumult we must live, 
 
 Learning His silence thus : 
 There is a rest for those who bear His will, 
 A peacefulness than freedom sweeter still. 
 
 He giveth rest more perfect, pure, and true, 
 
 While we His burthen bear ; 
 It springeth not from parted pain, but through 
 
 The accepted blessing there ; 
 The lesson pondered o'er with thoughtful eyes, 
 The faith that sees in all a meaning wise. 
 
 Deep in the heart of pain God's hand hath set 
 
 A hidden rest and bliss ; 
 Take as His gift the pain, the gift brings yet 
 
 A truer happiness : 
 God's voice speaks, through it all, the high behest 
 That bids His people enter into rest. 
 
 Lucy Fletcher. 
 
54 Sunshine m tfje Soul. 
 
 QUIET FROM GOD. 
 " When He giveth quietness, who then can make trouble?" 
 
 Q 
 
 UIET from God ! how beautiful to keep 
 This treasure, the All-merciful hath given ; 
 To feel, when we awake, and when we sleep. 
 Its incense round us, like a breath from heaven ! 
 
 To sojourn in the world, and yet apart ; 
 
 To dwell widi God, yet still with man to feel; 
 To bear about for ever in the heart 
 
 The gladness which His Spirit doth reveal ! 
 
 V^^ho shall make trouble ? Not the evil minds 
 Which like a shadow o'er creation lower ; 
 
 The soul which peace hath thus attunM finds 
 How strong within doth reign the Calmer's powei 
 
 What shall make trouble ? Not the holy thought 
 Of the departed ; that will be a part 
 
 Of those undying things His peace hath wrought 
 Into a world of beauty in the heart. 
 
 What shall make trouble ? Not slow-wasting pain, 
 Not the impending, certain stroke of death ; 
 
 These do but wear awa}^ then snap, the chain 
 Which bound the spirit down to things beneath. 
 
 Sarah J. Williams 
 
Cfje 3ilixir. 5a 
 
 THE ELIXIR. 
 
 ^EACH me, my God and King, 
 -■- In all things Thee to see, 
 And what I do in any thing, 
 To do it as for Thee. 
 
 A man that looks on glass 
 
 On it may stay his eye ; 
 Or, if he pleaseth, through it pass, 
 
 And then the heaven espy. 
 
 All may of Thee partake : 
 
 Nothing can be so mean. 
 Which, with this tincture, /<7r Thy sake^ 
 
 Will not grow bright and clean. 
 
 A servant with this clause 
 
 Makes drudgery divine : 
 Who sweeps a room, as for Thy laws, 
 
 Makes that and the action fine. 
 
 This is the famous stone 
 
 That turneth all to gold ; 
 For that which God doth touch and own 
 
 Cannot for less be told. 
 
 George Herbert 
 
5G ^unsljine in tlje <Soul. 
 
 A PRAYER. 
 
 T3 ENEW Thine image, Lord, in me, 
 -^^ Lowly and gentle may I be ; 
 
 No charms but these to Thee are dear; 
 No anger mayst Thou ever find. 
 No pride in my unruffled mind. 
 
 But faith, and heaven-born peace be there 
 
 A patient, a victorious mind, 
 
 That life and all things casts behind, 
 
 Springs forth obedient to Thy call ; 
 A heart that no desire can move. 
 But still to adore, beheve, and love. 
 
 Give me, my Lord, my Life, my All ! 
 
 Paul Gekhardt. 
 
 (Tr. by John Wesley.") 
 
 JUDGE NOT. 
 
 TUDGE not ; the workings of his brain 
 ^ And of his heart thou canst not see ; 
 What looks to thy dim eyes a stain, 
 In God's pure light may only be 
 
3utJfje ^ot 57 
 
 A scar, brought from some well-won field, 
 Where thou wouldst only faint and yield. 
 
 The look, the air, that frets thy sight, 
 
 May be a token, that below 
 Tlie soul has closed in deadly fight 
 
 With some infernal fiery foe. 
 Whose glance would scorch thy smiling grace, 
 And cast thee shuddering on thy face ! 
 
 The fall thou darest to despise — 
 May be the angel's slackened hand 
 
 Has suffered it, that he may rise 
 And take a firmer, surer stand ; 
 
 Or, trusting less to earthly things, 
 
 May henceforth learn to use his wings. 
 
 And judge none lost ; but wait, and see, 
 
 With hopeful pity, not disdain ; 
 The depth of the abyss may be 
 
 The measure of the height of pain 
 And love and glory that may raise 
 This soul to God in after days ! 
 
 Adelaide A. Proctbr. 
 
58 &mxQ})im in tlje ^oul. 
 
 LARVyE. 
 
 A /TY little maiden of four years old — 
 ■i-^-^ No myth, but a genuine child is she, 
 With her bronze-brown eyes, and her curls oi 
 gold — 
 Came, quite in disgust, one day, to me. 
 
 Rubbing her shoulder with rosy palm, 
 As the loathsome touch seemed yet to thrill her, 
 
 She cried, " O mother ! I found on my arm 
 A horrible, crawling caterpillar ! " 
 
 And with mischievous smile she could scarcely 
 smother, 
 
 Yet a glance, in its daring, half awed and shy, 
 She added, " While they were about it, mother, 
 
 I wish they 'd just finished the butterfly ! " 
 
 They were words to the thought of the soul that 
 turns 
 
 From the coarser form of a partial growth, 
 Reproaching the infinite patience that yearns 
 
 With an unknown glory to crown them both. 
 
 Ah, look thou largely, with lenient eyes. 
 On whatso beside thee may creep and cling, 
 
 For the possible beauty that underhes 
 The passing phase of the meanest thing ! 
 
f^argj :3iititjmcnt0. 59 
 
 What if God's great angels, whose waiting love 
 
 Beholdeth our pitiful life below, 
 From the holy height of their heaven above, 
 
 Couldn't bear with the worm till the wings 
 should grow ? 
 
 Adeline D. T. Whitney 
 
 HARSH JUDGMENTS. 
 
 /^ GOD ! whose thoughts are brightest light, 
 ^-^ Whose love always runs clear, 
 To whose kind wisdom sinning souls 
 Amidst their sins are dear ! 
 
 Sweeten my bitter-thoughted heart 
 
 With charity hke Thine, 
 Till self shall be the only spot 
 
 On earth which does not shine. 
 
 Hard-heartedness dwells not with souls 
 Round whom Thine arms are drawn ; 
 
 And dark thoughts fade away in grace, 
 Like cloud-spots in the dawn. 
 
 flow Thou canst think so well of us> 
 
 Yet be the God Thou art. 
 Is darkness to my intellect, 
 
 But sunshine to my heart. 
 
60 ^iinsjmc m tTje Sotil. 
 
 Yet habits linger in the soul ; 
 
 More grace, O Lord, more grace ! 
 More sweetness from Thy loving heart, 
 
 More sunshine from Thy face. 
 
 When we ourselves least kindly are, 
 
 We deem the world unkind ; 
 Dark hearts, in flowers where honey lies, 
 
 Only the poison find. 
 
 'Tis not enough to weep my sins ; 
 
 'Tis but one step to heaven ; 
 When I am kind to others, then 
 
 I know myself forgiven. 
 
 Would that my soul might be a world 
 
 Of golden ether bright, 
 A heaven where other souls might float, 
 
 Like all Thy worlds, in light. 
 
 All bitterness is from ourselves, 
 
 All sweetness is from Thee ; 
 Sweet God ! for evermore be Thou 
 
 Fountain and fire in me ! 
 
 F. W. Faber 
 
mUxk ant) I^cst. Gl 
 
 WORK AND REST. 
 
 TT7HAT have I yet to do ? 
 
 * ^ Day weareth on — 
 Flowers that, opening new, 
 Smiled through the morning's dew. 
 Droop in the sun. 
 
 'Neath the noon's scorching glare, 
 
 Fainting I stand ; 
 Still is the sultry air, 
 Silentness everywhere 
 
 Through the hot land. 
 
 Yet must I labor still, 
 
 All the day through — 
 Striving with earnest will, 
 Patient my place to fill, 
 
 My work to do. 
 
 Long though my task may l)e. 
 
 Cometh the end. 
 God 'tis that helpeth me, 
 His is the work, and He 
 
 New strength will lend. 
 
 He will direct my feet, 
 Strengthen my hand ; 
 
62 ,Suns})iue in tlje Soul. 
 
 Give me my portion meet ; 
 Firm in His promise sweet 
 Trusting I '11 stand. 
 
 Up, then, to work again ! 
 
 God's word is given, 
 That none shall sow in vain, 
 But find His ripened grain 
 
 Garnered in heaven. 
 
 Larger the shadows fall, 
 
 Night Cometh on ; 
 Low voices softly call, 
 *' Come, here is rest for all ! 
 Labor is done ! " 
 
 Anonymous 
 
 SONG. OF THE PILGRIM. 
 
 /^~^OME, children, let us go I 
 ^^ Our Father is our guide ; 
 And, when the way grows steep and dark- 
 He journeys at our side. 
 Our spirits He would cheer, 
 The sunshine of His love 
 Revives and helps us as we rove, 
 Ah, blest our lot e'en here ! 
 
2EI)C Sini antJ tijc fRotc. i>3 
 
 Come, children, let us go ! 
 
 We travel hand in hand ; 
 Each in his brother finds his joy 
 
 In this wild stranger land. 
 As children let us be, 
 
 Nor by the way fall out, 
 
 The angels guard us round about, 
 And help us brotherly. 
 
 The strong be quick to raise 
 The weaker when they fall ; 
 Let love and peace and patience bloom 
 In ready help for all. 
 All beauty. Lord, we see, 
 All bliss and life and love, 
 In Him in whom we live and move, 
 And we are glad in Thee. 
 
 Gerhard Tersteegen, 1731. 
 
 THE SUN AND THE MOTE. 
 
 "DE Thou my Sun, my selfishness destroy, 
 ^-^ Thy atmosphere of Love be all my joy ; 
 Thy Presence be my Sunshine ever bright. 
 My soul the little mote that liv^s but in Thy light. 
 
 Gerhard Tersteegen. 
 
64 Sunshine m t!)e .Soul. 
 
 THE MERCY OF THE LORD. 
 
 *" I ^HERE 's a wideness in God's mercy, 
 
 Like the wideness of the sea ; 
 There's a kindness in His justice 
 Which is more than hberty. 
 
 For the love of God is broader 
 
 Than the measures of man's mind ; 
 
 And the Heart of the Eternal 
 Is most wonderfully kind. 
 
 If our love were but more simple, 
 We should take Him at His word ; 
 
 And our lives would be all sunshine 
 In the sweetness of our Lord. 
 
 F. W. Faber 
 
 THE WORLD'S FREEMAN. 
 
 Tr?REE of the world ! by right divine 
 -^ The earth, O prisoned soul, is thine. 
 Rise up ! come out ! in sun and air 
 Claim and possess thy rightful share. 
 Within thy dark and lonesome cell 
 It is thy choice, not fate, to dwell. 
 
m)z OTorltj's iFrecman. 65 
 
 Whatever thou canst hear or sec 
 Of grand or sweet is meant for thee ; 
 And every joy, for which thy heart 
 Can gladden, shall be thine In part ; 
 And every sorrow thou canst share. 
 For thee its blessed fruit shall bear. 
 
 Thou call'st " thine own " a narrow spot, 
 And frettest ; but hast thou forgot 
 That far, and far, this earth is spread. 
 The one sky stretching overhead ? 
 One earth, one sky, one common air. 
 One household, 'neath one Father's care. 
 Thou toil'st to build thy selfish walls ; 
 But, when the evening shadow falls, 
 Thy Father's voice thou 'It gladly hear, — 
 " Come home, my child, for night is near ! " 
 
 Then, looking backward o'er thy day, 
 Thy walls will show as children's play, — 
 As children's play who set apart 
 Their garden-beds with careful art, 
 What time their father claims alone 
 The whole wide garden for his own. 
 
 Lo ! where no parted claim may be, 
 A mighty love makes all things free, — 
 Come forth ! in love and life divine. 
 Thou child of God ! the world is thine. 
 
 Harkiet Wake Hall {after C. C Everett). 
 5 
 
6G .Sunsljinc in X\)t 5oul. 
 
 THE SECRET PLACE OF THE MOST HIGH. 
 
 Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on 
 Thee : because he trusteth in Thee" — Isa. xxvi. 3. 
 
 o 
 
 Into Thine arms, O Lord, I flee ; 
 I hide me in Thy faithful breast, 
 And pour out all my soul to Thee ; 
 And hushing every adverse sound, 
 Songs of defence my soul surround, 
 As if all saints encamped about 
 One trusting heart pursued by doubt. 
 
 And oh, how solemn, yet how sweet. 
 Their one assured, persuasive strain ! 
 "The Lord of Hosts is thy retreat. 
 Still in His hand thy times remain, — 
 And He will prove His riglit to reign 
 O'er all things that concern thy heart." 
 
 tenderness, O truth divine ! 
 Lord, I am altogether Thine. 
 
 1 have bowed down, — I need not flee, - 
 Peace, peace is mine in trusting Thee. 
 
 And now I count supremely kind 
 The rule that once I thought severe, 
 And precious to my altered mind 
 At length Thy least reproofs appear 
 
%}t OTarct!} for Wlq, 67 
 
 Now to the love that casts out fear 
 Mercy and truth indeed seem one ; 
 Why should I hold my ease so dear ? 
 The work of training must be done. 
 I must be taught what I would know, 
 1 must be led where I would go, 
 And all the rest ordained for me, 
 Till that which is not seen I see, 
 Is to be found in trusting Thee. 
 
 Anna L. Waring. 
 
 HE CARETH FOR US. 
 'Casting all your care upon Him ; for He careth for you." 
 
 /^ LORD ! how happy should we be, 
 ^^ If we could cast our care on Thee, 
 
 If we from self could rest ; 
 And feel at heart that One above, 
 In perfect wisdom, perfect love, 
 
 Is working for the best. 
 
 How far from this our daily life ! 
 How oft disturbed by anxious strife, 
 
 By sudden wild alarms ; 
 Oh, could we but relinquish all 
 Our earthly props, and simply fall 
 
 On Thine almighty arms ! 
 
G8 ^unsljinc in tijc ^axi\. 
 
 Could we but kneel and cast our load, 
 E'en while we pmy, upon our God, 
 
 Then rise with lightened cheer ; 
 Sure that the Father, who is nigh 
 To still the famished ravens' cry, 
 
 Will hear, in that we fear. 
 
 We cannot trust Him as we should ; 
 So chafes weak nature's restless mood 
 
 To cast its peace away ; 
 But birds and flowerets round us preach, 
 All, all the present evil teach 
 
 Sufficient for the day. 
 
 Lord, make these faithless hearts of ours 
 Such lessons learn from birds and flowers ; 
 
 Make them from self to cease ; 
 Leave all things to a Father's will, 
 And taste, before Him lying still. 
 
 E'en in affliction, peace. 
 
 Joseph Anstice, 1S36 
 
 THE QUIET HOPING HEART. 
 
 TT THATE'ER my God ordains is right, 
 
 ' ^ His will is ever just ; 
 Howe'er He order now my cause, 
 I will be still and trust. 
 
CTfje (Hlviict ?t?opiug It^cart. 69 
 
 He is my God ; 
 
 Though dark my road, 
 He holds me that I shall not fall, 
 Wherefore to Him I leave it all. 
 
 Whate'er my God ordains is right, 
 Though I the cup must drink 
 That bitter seems to my faint heart, 
 I will not fear nor shrink ; 
 Tears pass away 
 With dawn of day, 
 Sweet comfort yet shall fill my heart, 
 And pain and sorrow shall depart. 
 
 Whate'er my God ordains is right. 
 
 My Light, my Life is He, 
 Who cannot will me aught but good, 
 I trust Him utterly ; 
 For well I know. 
 In joy or woe. 
 We soon shall see as sunlight clear 
 How faithful was our Guardian here. 
 
 Whate'er my God ordains is right. 
 
 Here will I take my stand ; 
 Though sorrow, need, or death make earth 
 
 For me a desert land, 
 
70 Suns|)tne m t^e Soul. 
 
 My Father's care 
 Is around me there, 
 He holds me that I shall not fall, 
 And so to Him I leave it all. 
 
 Samuel Rodigast, 1675. 
 
 TO MYSELF. 
 
 T ET nothing make thee sad or fretful, 
 -*— ' Or too regretful, 
 
 Be still ; 
 What God hath ordered must be right, 
 Then find in it thine own delight, 
 
 My will. 
 
 Why shouldst thou fill to-day vidth sorrow 
 About to-morrow, 
 
 My heart ? 
 One watches all with care most true, 
 Doubt not that He will give thee too 
 
 Thy part. 
 
 Only be steadfast, never waver, 
 
 Nor seek earth's favor, 
 
 But rest : 
 Thou knowest what God wills must be 
 For all His creatures, so for thee, 
 
 The best. 
 
 Paul Flemming, i6o9-i64a 
 
iHs iFatfjer. 71 
 
 MY FATHER. 
 
 /^~\ GOD ! Thy power is wonderful, 
 ^-^ Thy glory passing bright ; 
 Thy wisdom, with its deep on deep, 
 A rapture to the sight. 
 
 There's not a craving in the mind, 
 Thou dost not meet and still ; 
 
 There 's not a wish the heart can have^ 
 Which Thou dost not fulfil. 
 
 All things that have been, all that are, 
 All things that can be dreamed ; 
 
 All possible creations, made, 
 Kept faithful, or redeemed, — 
 
 All these may draw upon Thy power, 
 
 Thy mercy may command ; 
 And still outflows Thy silent sea. 
 
 Immutable and grand. 
 
 O little heart of mine ! shall pain 
 
 Or sorrow make thee moan, 
 When all this God is all for thee, 
 
 A Father all thine own ? 
 
 F. W. Fai 
 
Sungijine in tijc Soul. 
 
 GOD IN THE HEART. 
 
 O OURCE of my life's refreshing springs, 
 *^ Whose presence in my heart sustains me, 
 Thy love appoints me pleasant things, 
 Thy mercy orders all that pains me. 
 
 If loving hearts were never lonely, 
 
 If all they wish might always be. 
 Accepting what they look for only. 
 
 They might be glad, but not in Thee. 
 
 Well may Thy own beloved, who see 
 In all their lot their Father's pleasure, 
 
 Bear loss of all they love, save Thee, 
 Their living, everlasting treasure. 
 
 Well may Thy happy children cease 
 From restless wishes, prone to sin ; 
 
 And, in Thy own exceeding peace. 
 Yield to Thy daily discipline. 
 
 We need as much ttie cross we bear, 
 As air we breathe, as light we see ; 
 
 It draws us to Thy side in prayer. 
 It binds us to our strength in Thee. 
 
 Anna L. Waring 
 
BfGliiirj 111 i3oXi. 73 
 
 RESTING IN GOD. 
 " Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him." 
 
 OINCE thy Father's arm sustains thee, 
 
 *^ Peaceful be ; 
 
 When a chastening hand restrains thee, 
 
 It is He. 
 Know His love in full completeness 
 Fills the measure of thy weakness ; 
 If He wound thy spirit sore, 
 
 Trust Him more. 
 
 Without murmur, uncomplaining, 
 
 In His hand 
 Leave whatever things thou canst not 
 
 Understand. 
 Though the world thy folly spurneth, 
 From thy faith in pity turncth, 
 Peace thy inmost soul shall fill, 
 
 Lying still. 
 
 Like an infant, if thou thinkest 
 
 Thou canst stand ; 
 Childlike, proudly pushing back 
 
 The offered hand, 
 
74 ^unslji'ne in tljt .S^oiiU 
 
 Courage soon is changed to fear. 
 Strength doth feebleness appear : 
 In His love if thou abide, 
 He will guide. 
 
 Fearest sometimes tliat thy Father 
 
 Hath forgot ? 
 When the clouds around thee gather, 
 
 Doubt Him not. 
 Always hath the daylight broken, — 
 Always hath He comfort spoken, — 
 Better hath He been for years 
 
 Than thy fears. 
 
 Therefore, whatsoe'er betideth, 
 
 Night or day, — 
 Know His love for thee provideih 
 
 Good alway. 
 Crown of sorrow gladly take, 
 Grateful wear it for His sake, 
 Sweetly bending to His will. 
 
 Lying still. 
 
 To His own thy Father giveth 
 
 Daily strength ; 
 To each troubled soul that liveth, 
 
 Peace at length. 
 
^11 mu .Springs arc in ilEljcc. 75 
 
 Weakest lam()s have largest share 
 Of this tender Shepherd's care ; 
 Ask Him not, then, " When ? " or " How ? " 
 Only bow. 
 
 Karl Rudolph Hagenbach. 
 ( 7V. by H. A . P.) 
 
 ALL MY SPRINGS ARE IN THEE. 
 
 "T^ROiM heart to heart, from creed to creed, 
 ■*- The hidden river runs, 
 It qnickcns all the ages down, 
 
 It binds the sires to sons, — 
 The stream of Faith whose source is God, 
 
 Whose sound the sound of prayer, 
 Whose meadows are the holy lives 
 
 Upspringing everywhere. 
 
 And still it moves, a broadening flood ; 
 
 And fresher, fuller grows 
 A sense as if the sea were near, 
 
 Towards which the river flows. 
 O Thou, who art the secret Source 
 
 That rises in each soul, 
 Thou art the Ocean too, — Thy charm, 
 
 That ever-deepening roll ! 
 
 William C. Gannktt. 
 
7b ^unsljinc in Ujc cS^oul. 
 
 WHATE'ER GOD DOES IS WELL. 
 
 Vy- HATE'ER God does is well ! 
 ^ ^ His children find it so. 
 Some He doth not with plenty bless, 
 Yet loves them not the less ; 
 But draws their hearts unto Himself away. 
 O hearts, obey ! 
 
 Whate'er God does is well, 
 Whether He gives or takes ! 
 And what we from His hand receive 
 Suffices us to live. 
 
 He takes and gives, while yet He loves us 
 stiU. 
 Then love His will. 
 
 Whate'er God does is well ! 
 And what can our will do ? 
 We cannot reap from what we sow 
 But what His power makes grow. 
 Sometimes He doth all other good destroy, 
 To be thy joy. 
 
 Whate'er God does is well ! 
 In patience let us wait: 
 
TOnitinrj. 77 
 
 He cloth Himself our burdens bear, 
 He doth for us take care. 
 And He our God knows all our weary days. 
 Come, give Him praise. 
 
 B. SCIIMOICK, 1672 173/. 
 
 WAITING. 
 
 ■"^rOT so in haste, my heart ; 
 -^ ^ Have faith in God, and wait; 
 Although He linger long, 
 He never comes too late. 
 
 He never comes too late ; 
 
 He knoweth what is best: 
 Vex not thyself in v^in ; 
 
 Until He cometh, rest ; 
 
 Nor grudge the hours that roll ; 
 The feet that wait for God 
 
 Are soonest at the goal. 
 
 Are soonest at the goal, 
 
 That is not gained by speed ; 
 
 Then hold thee still, my heart. 
 For I shall wait His lead. 
 
 B. T. 
 
78 Sunsljine in dje 5ouI. 
 
 M 
 
 "AS THE GRASS." 
 
 Y days are as the grass, 
 Swiftly my seasons pass, 
 And like the flower of the field I fade ; 
 O soul, dost thou not see, 
 The wise have likened thee 
 To the most living creature that is made ? 
 
 My days are as the grass ; 
 The sliding waters pass 
 Under my roots, upon me drops the cloud ; 
 And not the stately trees 
 Have kinder ministries, — 
 The heavens are too lofty to be proud. 
 
 My days are as the grass ; 
 
 The feet of trouble pass, 
 And leave me trampled that I cannot rise : 
 
 But wait a little while, 
 
 And I shall lift and smile, 
 Before the sweet congratulating skies. 
 
 My days are as the grass ; 
 Soon out of sight I pass, 
 And in the bleak earth I must hide my head ; 
 
3Look ^p. 79 
 
 The wind that passes o'er 
 Will find my place no more, — 
 The wind of death will tell that I am dead. 
 
 But how shall I rejoice 
 
 When I shall hear the voice 
 Of Him who, keeping sprins: with Him alway, 
 
 Lest hope from man should pass, 
 
 Hath made us as the grass, — 
 The grass that always has another day. 
 
 Carl Sphncbr. 
 
 LOOK UP. 
 
 r OOK up, look up, my soul, still higher ; 
 "*— ' On to the heavenly goal aspire, 
 
 On God's love ever leaning : 
 Burst this dull earth's control, and wing 
 Thy way where no clouds roll, and sing 
 
 Thy deep heart's inner meaning. 
 
 What thou2:h thy way be dark, and earth 
 With ceaseless care do cark, till mirth 
 
 To thee no sweet strain singeth ; 
 Still hide thy life above, and still 
 Believe that God is love ; fulfil 
 
 Whatever lot He bringcth. 
 
 Albert Eubule Evans. 1868. 
 
80 <Siin5l)(uc ill the S-oul, 
 
 COMMIT TllV WAY TO GOD. 
 
 /^OMMIT thy way to God, 
 
 ^^ The weight whicli makes thee faint 
 
 Worlds are to Him no load, 
 
 To Him breathe thy comjilaint. 
 He who for winds and clouds 
 
 Maketh a pathway free, 
 Through wastes, or hostile crowds, 
 
 Can make a way lor thee. 
 
 Thou must in Him he Mest, 
 
 Ere bliss can be secure ; 
 On His work must thou rest, 
 
 If thy work shall encUne. 
 To anxious, pryini:; thought, 
 
 And weary, frettin«;- care, 
 
 The Highest yieldeth nought; 
 
 He giveth all to prayer. 
 
 Father ! 'I'hy faidiful love, 
 
 Thy mercy, wise and mild, 
 Sees what will blessing prove. 
 
 Or what will hurt Thy child. 
 And what Thy wise foreseeing, 
 
 l)t)th for Thy children choose, 
 Thou bringcst into being, 
 
 Nor sufl''rest them to lose. 
 
©Ill S'trongljolti of Jl^ope. 81 
 
 Hope, then, tliough woes be douhled, 
 
 Hope, and be undismayed ; 
 Let not thy heart be troubled, 
 
 Nor let it be afraid. 
 This prison where thou art, 
 
 Thy God will break it soon, 
 And flood with li^^ht thy heart 
 
 In His own blessed noon. 
 
 Up ! up ! the day is breakinLC, 
 
 Say to thy cares, good-ni<;ht ! 
 Thy troubles from thee shaking, 
 
 Like dreams in day's fresh light. 
 Thou wearcst not the crown, 
 
 Nor the best course canst tell; 
 God sifteth on the throne, 
 
 And guideth all things well. 
 
 Pai;l Gkkiiakdt. 
 
 OUR STRONGHOLD OF HOPE. 
 
 /^^OD liveth ever! 
 
 ^-^ Wherefore, Soul, despair thou never! 
 Our God is good, in every place 
 
 His love is known. His help is found ; 
 His mighty arm, and tender grace 
 
 Bring good from ills that hem us round. 
 6 
 
5unsfjinc in tijc ^ouL 
 
 Easier than we think can He 
 Turn to joy our agony. 
 Soul, remember 'mid thy pains 
 God o'er all for ever reiirns. 
 
 God liveth ever ! 
 Wherefore, Soul, despair thou never ! 
 He who can earth and heaven control. 
 
 Who spreads the clouds o'er sea and land. 
 Whose presence fills the mighty Whole, 
 In each true heart is close at hand. 
 Love Him, He will surely send 
 Help and joy that never end. 
 Soul, remember in thy pains 
 God o'er all for ever reigns. 
 
 God liveth ever ! 
 Wherefore, Soul, despair thou never! 
 When sins and follies long forgot 
 
 Upon thy tortured conscience prey. 
 Oh, come to God, and fear Hira not, 
 His love shall sweep them all away ; 
 Pains of hell at look of His 
 Change to calm content and bliss. 
 Soul, remember in thy pains 
 God o'er all for ever reigns. 
 
3Lcal)c (ITljusclf to ©otJ. 83 
 
 God livelh ever ! 
 Wherefore, Soul, despair thou never ! 
 Those whom the thoughtless world forsakes, 
 
 Who stand bewildered with their woe, 
 God gently to His bosom takes. 
 
 And bids them all His fulness know. 
 In thy sorrows' swelling flood 
 Own His hand who seeks thy good. 
 Soul, forget not in thy pains 
 God o'er all for ever reigns. 
 
 God liveth ever ! 
 Wherefore, Soul, despair thou never ! 
 What though thou tread with bleeding feet 
 
 A thorny path of grief and gloom. 
 Thy God will choose the way most meet 
 To lead thee heavenwards, lead thee home. 
 For this life's long night of sadness 
 He will give thee peace and gladness. 
 Soul, forget not in thy pains 
 God o'er all for ever reigns. 
 
 ZiHN, i68a. 
 
 LEAVE THYSELF TO GOD. 
 
 /^H, leave thyself to God, and if indeed 
 ^-^ 'Tis given thee to perform so vast a task, 
 Think not at all, think not, but kneel and ask ! 
 friend I by thought was never creature freed 
 
Si ^nm\)int m iljc iMUiU 
 
 From any sin, from any mortal need ; 
 
 }^c patient ! not by tliouoht canst thou devise 
 
 What course of life for thee is rii;ht and wise ; 
 
 It will be written up, and thou wilt read. 
 
 Oft like a sudden pencil of rich light, 
 
 Piercing the thickest umbrage of the wood, 
 
 Will shoot, amidst our troubles infmite. 
 
 The spirit's voice ; oft, like the balmy flood 
 
 Of morn, surprise the universal night 
 
 With glory, and make all things sweet and good. 
 
 Thomas IkiKiuDGi 
 
 THE IIIGHWAV. 
 
 Whatever road I take joins the I>ij;lnvay that leails to Thee." 
 Muoi-uvAL 1'kusian Pokt. 
 
 TT THEN the night is still and far, 
 ^ ^ Watcher from the shadowed deeps I 
 When the morning breaks its bar, 
 
 Life that shines and wakes and leaps ! 
 When old Hible-verses glow. 
 
 Starring all the tleep of thought. 
 Till it fills with quiet dawn 
 
 From the peace our years have brought, — 
 Sui within both skies, we see 
 How all lights lead back to Thee ! 
 
 'Cross the field of daily work 
 
 Run the footpaths, leading — where? 
 
€) Jlotljcv J^rait. 85 
 
 Run tbcy ICast or run (licy West, 
 
 One way all the workers fare : 
 Every awful thing of earth, 
 
 Sin ami pain and battle-noise, 
 Every dear thing — baby's birth, 
 Faces, Howers, or lovers' joys — 
 Is a wicket -gate where we 
 Join the great highway to Thee! 
 
 Restless, restless, speed we on ; 
 
 Whither in the vast unknown ? 
 Not to you and not to nic 
 
 Are the sealed orders shown ; 
 But the Hand that built the road, 
 
 And the Light that leads the feet, 
 Antl this inw.ird restlessness. 
 
 Are such invitation sweet, 
 That where I no longer see, 
 Highway still must lead to Thee. 
 
 Wu.LIAM C. GaNNKTT. 
 
 /^ IMOTHKR-HKART, to Thee I turn,— 
 
 ^-^ Comfort Thy child, for Thee I yearn : 
 
 Like a parched field my soul doth lie 
 
 rining beneath a sultry sky ; 
 
 O Heavenly Dew, O gentle Rain, 
 
 Descend and bid it bloom again. 
 
 G. TKKSTnKt.;B 
 
86 .Sunsljiuc in tijc Soul. 
 
 LOVE AND LAW. 
 
 /^NE Lord there is, all lords above, 
 ^^ His name is Truth, his name is Love. 
 His name is Beauty, it is Lii^ht, 
 His will is Everlasting Ri<;ht. 
 
 But ah ! to Wrong, what is his name ? 
 This Lord is a Consuming Flame 
 To every wrong beneath the sun : 
 He is One Lord, the Holy One. 
 
 Lord of the Everlasting Name, 
 
 Truth, Beauty, Light, Consuming Flame ! 
 
 Shall I not lift my heart to Thee, 
 
 And ask Thee, Lord, to rule in me ? 
 
 If I be ruled in other wise. 
 
 My lot is cast with all that dies. 
 
 With things that harm, and things that hate, 
 
 And roam by night, and miss the Gate, — 
 
 The happy gate, which leads to where 
 Love is like sunshine in the air. 
 And Love and Law are both the same. 
 Named with an Everlasting Name. 
 
 WiLUAM BkiGHTY RaNDA 
 
J^ia Compassions JFail jjltot." 8? 
 
 "HIS COMPASSIONS FAIL NOT." 
 
 'T^HE farmer chides the tardy spring, 
 -*• The sun withholds his wonted ray, 
 The days are dull and cold and gray, 
 No shadow doth the maple fling. 
 
 From snow-chd peaks and icy main, 
 The north wind cometh wet and chill, 
 And evermore the clouds distil 
 
 The hoarded treasure of the rain. 
 
 But still, O miracle of good ! 
 
 The crocus springs, the violets peep, 
 The straggling vines begin to creep. 
 
 The dandelion gilds the sod. 
 
 The rain may fall in constant showers, 
 The south-wind tarry on its way : 
 And through the night and through the day 
 
 Advance the summer's fragrant hours. 
 
 And though the north-wind force him back. 
 The song-bird hurries from the South, 
 With summer's music in his mouth. 
 
 And studs with songs his airy track. 
 
What then, my soul, if thou must know 
 Thy days of darkness, gloom, and cold, 
 If joy its ruddy beams withhold, 
 
 And grief compels my tears to flow ? 
 
 And what if, when with bended form 
 I praise the Lord for sorrows past, 
 There ever comes a fiercer blast, 
 
 And darker ruin of the storm ? 
 
 As tarry not the flowers of June 
 For all the ill the heavens can do, 
 And, to their inmost natures true. 
 
 The birds rejoice in sweetest tune : 
 
 So, Father, shall it be with me ; 
 
 And whether winds blow foul or fair. 
 Through want and woe, and toil and care, 
 
 Still will I struggle up to Thee ; 
 
 That, though my winter days be long. 
 And brighter skies refuse to come, 
 My life no less may sweetly bloom, 
 
 And none the less be full of song. 
 
 John W. Chadwick 
 
^It katis Jt^'s ©10311. 89 
 
 HE LEADS HIS OWN. 
 •' I will lead them in paths that they have not known." 
 
 T TOW few, who from their youthful day, 
 ■*■ ^ Look on to what their hfe may be, 
 Painting the visions of the way 
 
 In colors soft, and bright, and free, — 
 How few who to such paths have brought 
 The hopes and dreams of early thought ! 
 
 For God, through ways they have not known, 
 Will lead His own. 
 
 The eager hearts, the souls of fire, 
 Who pant to toil for God and man ; 
 
 And view with eyes of keen desire 
 The upland way of toil and pain, — 
 
 Almost with scorn they think of rest, 
 
 Of holy calm, of tranquil breast. 
 
 But God, through ways they have not known, 
 Will lead His own. 
 
 A lowlier task on them is laid, — 
 With love to make the labor light ; 
 
 And there their beauty they must shed 
 On quiet homes and lost to sight. 
 
 Changed are their visions high and fair, 
 
 Yet calm, and still, they labor there ; 
 
90 .Stmsjjme in t|)e Soul. 
 
 For God, through ways they have not known, 
 Will lead His own. 
 
 The gentle heart, that thinks with pain 
 
 It scarce can lowliest tasks fulfil ; 
 And, if it dared its life to scan, 
 
 Would ask but pathway low and still, — 
 Often such lowly heart is brought 
 To act with power beyond its thought ; 
 
 For God, through ways they have not knowit. 
 Will lead His own. 
 
 And they, the bright, who long to prove, 
 
 In joyous path, in cloudless lot, 
 How fresh from earth their grateful love 
 
 Can spring without a stain or spot, — 
 Often such youthful heart is given 
 The path of grief, to walk to heaven ; 
 
 For God, through ways they have not known, 
 Will lead His own. 
 
 What matter what the path shall be ? 
 
 The end is clear, and bright to view ; 
 We know that we a strength shall see, 
 
 Whate'er the day may bring to do ; 
 We see the end, the house of God, 
 But not the path to that abode ; 
 
 For God, through ways they have not known, 
 Will lead His own. 
 
 Hymns of the Ages 
 
€\)t 3i?cabcn2 ti) .lare (ITiju ©loru. 01 
 
 THY WILL BE DONE. 
 
 'T^O do, or not to do, — to have, 
 
 -■- Or not to have, — I leave to Thee ; 
 To be or not to be, I leave, — 
 
 Thy only will be done to me : 
 All my requests are lost in one, 
 Father, Thy only will be done ! 
 
 Suffice that for the season past 
 Myself in things divine I sought. 
 
 For comforts cried with eager haste. 
 And murmured when I found them not : 
 
 I leave it now to Thee alone. 
 
 Father, Thy only will be done ! 
 
 Charles Wesley. 
 
 THE HEAVENS DECLARE THY GLORY. 
 
 T 
 
 HIS world I deem 
 But a beautiful dream 
 Of shadows tliat are not Avhat they seem ; 
 Where visions rise. 
 Giving dim surmise 
 Of the things that shall meet our waking eyes. 
 
92 ^unsjinc in tTje Soul. 
 
 I gaze aloof 
 
 On the tissued roof, 
 Where time and space are the warp and woof, 
 
 Which the King of kings 
 
 As a curtain flings 
 O'er the dreadfuhiess of eternal things — 
 
 A tapestried tent 
 
 To shade us meant 
 From the bare everlasting firmament , 
 
 Where the blaze of the skies 
 
 Comes soft to our eyes 
 Through a veil of mystical imageries. 
 
 But could I see, 
 
 As in truth they be, 
 The glories of Heaven that encompass me, 
 
 I should lightly hold 
 
 The tissued fold 
 Of that marvellous curtain of blue and gold. 
 
 Soon the whole, 
 
 Like a parched scroll. 
 Shall before my amazed sight uproll ; 
 
 And without a screen, 
 
 At one burst, be seen 
 The Presence wherein I have ever been. 
 
 T. Whytehead. 
 
3£obc Dibi'nc. 9.*) 
 
 PRAYER FOR INWARD PEACE. 
 
 "pATHER ! replenish with Thy grace 
 -*- This longing heart of mine, 
 Make it Thy quiet dwelling-place. 
 
 Thy sacred inmost shrine ! 
 Forgive that oft my spirit wears 
 Her time and strength in trivial cares ; 
 Enfold her in Thy changeless peace, 
 So she from all but Thee may cease ! 
 
 AiXGELUS SlLESIUS, 1657. 
 
 LOVE DIVINE. 
 
 /^ LOVE, how cheering is thy ray ! 
 ^-^ All pain before Thy presence flies ; 
 Care, anguish, sorrow, melt away, 
 
 Where'er Thy healing beams arise ; 
 O Father, nothing may I see, 
 Nothing desire or seek but Thee. 
 
 Still let Thy love point out my way ; 
 
 How wondrous things Thy love hath wrought ; 
 Still lead me, lest I go astray. 
 
 Direct my work, inspire my thought ; 
 And, if 1 fall, soon may I hear 
 Tliy voice, and know that Love is near. 
 
 Paul Herhardt. 
 
 (Tr. H 7. ll'c:<.'cy.\ 
 
94 .SiinsljiuE 111 t^£ ,SouI. 
 
 HOW BEAUTIFUL TO BE ALIVE. 
 
 T TOW beautiful it is to be alive ! 
 
 -^ -*■ To walce each morn, as if the Maker's grace 
 
 Did us afresh from nothingness derive, 
 
 That we might sing, How happy is our case, 
 
 How beautiful it is to be alive / 
 
 To read in some good book, until we feel 
 Love for the one who wrote it ; then to kneel 
 Close unto Him whose Love our soul will shrive, 
 While every moment's joy doth more reveal 
 How beautiful it is to be alive. 
 
 Rather to go without what might increase 
 Our worldly standing, than our souls deprive 
 Of frequent speech with God, or than to cease 
 To feel, through having lost our health and peace, 
 How beautiful it is to be alive. 
 
 Not to forget, when pain and grief draw nigh, 
 
 Into the ocean of time past to dive 
 
 For memories of God's mercies ; or to try 
 
 To bear all nobly, hoping still to cry 
 
 How beautiful it is to be alive. 
 
 Thus ever, towards Man's height of nobleness 
 Striving, some new progression to contrive ; 
 
huitx: Simsljtne. 'Jo 
 
 Till, just as any other friend's, we press 
 
 Death's hand ; and, having died, feel none the less, 
 
 How beautiful it is to be alive. 
 
 Henry Septimus Sutton. 
 
 INNER SUNSHINE. 
 
 ' I ^HE day with light its genial self engirds ; 
 
 ^ The trees are glad with fluty voices dear. — 
 ''Thou art my God!''' When I say o'er those 
 
 words. 
 I see a light beyond the day ; and hear 
 Voices far richer than the songs of birds. 
 
 Mine eyes with happy tears then overswim : 
 The thoughts I have are sweetest that can be : 
 My mind 's a cup with love above the brim : 
 Fine incense circles around all I see ; 
 In every sound I hear a holy hymn. 
 
 Thou a7-t my God ! Thou, Father, Thou, my 
 friend. 
 
 Afy Saviour, Thou, the Eterjial Lord of all ! 
 
 O thought which doth all deepest thought tran- 
 scend 1 
 
 Beneath whose painful stress well may I fall 
 
 In love and wonder which should know no end ! 
 
 Henry Septimus Sutton, 1854. 
 
96 .Sunsljinc in l()c Soul 
 
 THE DIVINE WHISPER. 
 
 T ATE on me, weeping;, did this whisper fnll : 
 -* -^ '' Dear child, there is no need to weep at all ! 
 Why <;o about to grieve and to despair ? 
 Why woo]^ now through thy Future's eyes, and beai 
 In vain to-chiy to-ini)irow's load of care ? 
 
 " Mine is thy welfare. Yea, the storms fulfil, 
 On those who love me, none but my decrees. 
 Lightninc: shall not strike thee against my will; 
 And I, thy God, can save thee, when I please, 
 From quaking earth, and the devouring seas. 
 
 " Why be so dull, so slow to understand ? 
 Tlie more thou trustest me, the more will grow 
 My love ; and thou, a jewel in my hand, 
 Shalt richer be ; whence thou canst never go 
 So softly slipping but that I shall know. 
 
 " U thou dost seem to fall ; if griefs and pains 
 .And death prevail ; for thee there yet remains 
 My Love, which sent them, and which surely will 
 Thee reinstate, where thou shalt thenceforth fill 
 A place still warmer, and more steadfast still." 
 
 Father ! (1 said) I do accept Thy word, 
 To perfect trust in Thee now am I stirred, 
 
EfSl ill (:?)ot). 97 
 
 By the dear, nracious sayini; I have heard. — 
 And h;\vin«; said thus, foil a peace so deep, 
 What could I tlo, ck\u iViends ? what do, but weep? 
 lIicNKY SuPTiM-js Sutton, 1854. 
 
 REST IN GOD. 
 
 "VT'KA, my spirit fain would sink 
 
 -*■ In Thy heart and hands, my God, 
 Waiting till Thou show the end 
 
 Of the ways she here hath trod ; 
 Stripped of self, how calm her rest 
 
 On her loving Father's breast! 
 
 And my soul coniplaint'lh not, 
 For she knows not pain or fear, 
 
 Clin<;in,n- to her God in faith, 
 
 Trusting though lie slay her here. 
 
 'Tis when flesh and blood repine, 
 Sun of joy. Thou canst not shine. 
 
 Thus my soul before her God 
 Lieth still, nor speaketh more, 
 
 Conqueror thus o'er pain and wrong 
 That once smote her to the core ; 
 
 Like a silent ocean, bright 
 
 With her God's great praise and light. 
 
 WiNKl.KR, I7«I. 
 
I'H Siinol)im- III ['.]£ 'colli. 
 
 now 1{1':autii-ul ouk livks. 
 
 r TOW bcautifu] our lives m;iy be ; how bright 
 
 •^ In privilege ; how fruilful of dehght ! — 
 For we of Love have endless revenue ; 
 And i( we grieve, 'tis not as infants do 
 'I'liat wake, and find no nu)llu:r in tlie ni<rht. 
 
 They put their little hands about, and weep 
 l>ecause they feel mere air, or but the bed 
 Whereon they lie ; but we may rest instead 
 For ever on His bosom, who doth keep 
 Our lives alike safe, when we wake, and sleep. 
 
 And \o\ all rountl us His bright servants stand; 
 Events, His duteous ministers and wise, 
 With frowning brows, perhaps, for their disguise, 
 Hut with such wells of love in their deep eyes, 
 And such strong rescue hidden in their hands I 
 
 And our lives may in glory move along; 
 First holy white, and then nil good, and f.iir 
 For our dear Lord to see, — the meanest thong 
 Of all that whips us, welcome, — and the air 
 We breathe, self-shaped into a natural song. 
 
 Hknuv SuiTiMus Sutton, t!<54. 
 
Jamc anti IDiilu. 99 
 
 FAME .AND DUTY. 
 
 " Tl rHAT shall I do, lest life in silence pass ?*' 
 
 ^^ "And if it do, 
 And never prompt the bray of noisy brass, 
 
 What need'st thou rue ? 
 Remember, aye the ocean- deeps are mute ; 
 
 The shallows roar ; 
 Worth is the ocean, — fiime is but the bruit 
 
 Along the shore." 
 
 "What shall I do to be for ever known ? " 
 
 " Thy duty ever." 
 •'This did full many who yet slept unknown." 
 
 *' Oh, never, never ! 
 rhink'st thou perchance that they remain un- 
 known 
 
 Whom thou know\st not ? 
 By angel trumps in heaven their praise is blown, — 
 
 Divine their lot." 
 
 • What shall I do to gain eternal life ? 
 
 " Discharge aright 
 The simple dues with which each day is rife, 
 
 Yea, with thy might. 
 
100 Sunsjjine in tlje <Soul. 
 
 Ere perfect scheme of action thou devise, 
 
 Will life be fled, 
 While he, who ever acts as conscience cries. 
 
 Shall live, though dead." 
 
 SCHILLHK. 
 
 {Tr. by Arthur Hugh C lough.) 
 
 HE SHALL TEACH YOU ALL THINGS. 
 
 SPIRIT, sent from God above, 
 To teach His perfect will, 
 Lo, I wait to learn Thy love, 
 
 I tremble and am still : 
 To Thy guidance I submit, 
 
 All my soul to Thee I bow, 
 See me sitting at Thy feet ; — 
 Speak, Lord, I hear Thee now. 
 
 T from outward things withdraw ; 
 
 No help in them is found ; 
 At Thy feet I seek the law ; 
 
 I listen for the sound 
 Which shall all my grief control. 
 
 Which shall all my longings fill, 
 Calm the tempest of my soul. 
 
 And bid the sea be still. 
 
Pgalm STwcuts^Ijirti, 101 
 
 PSALM XXIII. 
 
 TTAPPY me ! O happy sheep . 
 
 -*- •*• Whom my God vouchsafes to keep 
 
 Even my God, even he it is 
 
 That points me to these ways of bliss ; 
 
 On whose pastures cheerful spring, 
 
 All the year, doth sit and sing, 
 
 And, rejoicing, smiles to see 
 
 Their green backs wear his livery. 
 
 When my wayward breath is flying, 
 
 He calls home my soul from dying, 
 
 Strokes and tames my rabid grief, 
 
 And does woo me into life. 
 
 When my simple weakness strays, 
 
 Tangled in forbidden ways, 
 
 He, my Shepherd, is my guide ; 
 
 He 's before me, oh my side. 
 
 And behind me ; he beguiles 
 
 Craft in all her knotty wiles : 
 
 He expounds the giddy wonder 
 
 Of my weary steps, and under 
 
 Spreads a path clear as the day, 
 
 Where no churlish rub says nay 
 
 To my jo3'-conducted feet; 
 
 Whilst they gladly go to meet 
 
 Grace and peace, to meet new lays 
 
102 Sunsjnu m tfje SSawl 
 
 Tuned to my great Shepherd's praise. 
 
 Come now, all ye terrors, sally, 
 
 Muster forth into the valley, 
 
 Where triumphant darkness hovers 
 
 With a sable wing, that covers 
 
 Brooding horror. Come, thou death, 
 
 Let the damps of thy dull breath 
 
 Overshadow e'en the shad.e, 
 
 And make darkness' self afraid ; 
 
 There my feet, even there, shall find 
 
 Way for a resolved mind : 
 
 Still, my Shepherd — still, my God, 
 
 Thou art with me ; still Thy rod 
 
 And Thy staff whose influence 
 
 Gives direction, gives defence. 
 
 At the whisper of Thy word, 
 
 Crown'd abundance spreads my board. 
 
 How my head in ointment swims ! 
 
 How my cup overlooks her brims ! 
 
 So, even so, still may I move 
 
 By the line of Thy dear love : 
 
 Still may thy sweet mercy spread 
 
 A shady arm above my head. 
 
 About my paths ; so shall I find 
 
 The fair centre of my mind 
 
 Thy temple, and those lovely walls 
 
 Bright ever with a beam that falls 
 
 Fresh from the pure glance of Thine eye, 
 
Ef;e CrnlargetJ ?l]cart. 103 
 
 Lightning to eternity. 
 
 There I '11 dwell for ever ; there 
 
 Will I find a purer air 
 
 To feed my life with ; there I '11 sup 
 
 Balm and nectar in my cup ; 
 
 And thence my ripe soul will I breathe 
 
 Warm into the arms of Death. 
 
 Richard Crashaw, d. 1650. 
 
 REJOICE EVERMORE. 
 
 A DREARY desert dost thou trace, 
 ^ ^ And quaff a bitter bowl ? 
 The desert make thy Holy Place : 
 
 Sing as thou drinkest. Soul ! 
 Or walkest thou 'neath shining skies, 
 
 A garden all the road ? 
 Sing, Soul, and make thy paradise 
 
 The Paradise of God ! 
 
 T. H. GiLU 
 
 THE ENLARGED HEART. 
 
 TT 7HEN, before, my God commanded 
 ' ' Any thing He would have done, 
 I was close and gripple-handed, 
 
104 ^unsfjinc m tfje &auL 
 
 If He thought it fit to lay 
 Judgments on me, I could say, 
 They are good ; but shrink away. 
 
 All the ways of righteousness 
 
 I did think were full of trouble ; 
 I complained of tediousness, 
 And each duty seemed double. 
 Whilst I served Him but of fear, 
 Every minute did appear 
 Longer far than a whole year. 
 
 But the case is altered now : 
 
 He no sooner turns His eye, 
 But I quickly bend, and bow, 
 Ready at His feet to lie ; 
 Love hath taught me to obey 
 All His precepts, and to say. 
 Not to-morrow, but to-day. 
 
 What He wills, I say I must : 
 What I must, I say I will : 
 He commanding, it is just 
 What He would I should fulfil, 
 Whilst he biddeth, I believe 
 What He calls for He will give : 
 To obey Him, is to live. 
 
.I)cy in [\)z ilovt). 105 
 
 His coniRinndmcnts ,c;rievous are not, 
 
 LongcM" thnn men tliink them so : 
 Though He send me forth, I care not, 
 Whilst He gives me strength to go ; 
 When or whither, all is one ; 
 On His business, not mine own, 
 I shall never go alone. 
 
 If I be complete in Him, 
 
 And in Him all fulness dwelleth, 
 I am sure aloft to swim. 
 
 Whilst that ocean overs welleth. 
 Having Him that 's All in All, 
 I am confident I shall 
 Nothing want, for which I call. 
 
 Francis Quarles, 1592-166*. 
 JOV IN THE LORD. 
 
 A H, dearest Lord ! to feel that Thou art near, 
 ^ ^ Brings deepest peace, and hushes every fear ; 
 To see Thy smile, to hear Thy gracious voice, 
 Makes soul and body inwardly rejoice 
 With praise and thanks. 
 
 Oh well for him who ever day and night 
 Shoukl only seek to feed on Thee aright ! 
 In him a well of joy for ever springs, 
 And all day long his lieart is glad and sings • 
 Who is like Thee ? 
 
 ClIKISTIW GkKGOK, 1778 
 
106 ^uusljiuc in tljc <SouI. 
 
 MORNING HYMN. 
 
 OWEET morn ! from countless cups of jijold 
 *^ Thou liftest reverently on high 
 More incense fine than earth can hold, 
 To fill the sky. 
 
 One interfusion wide of love, 
 
 Thine airs and odors moist ascend, 
 
 And 'mid the azure depths above, 
 With light they blend. 
 
 The lark, by his own carol blest, 
 
 From thy green arbors eager springs ; 
 
 And his large heart in little breast 
 Exulting sings. 
 
 A joy from hidden paradise 
 
 Is rippling down the shiny brooks, 
 
 With beauty like the gleams of eyes 
 In tcndcrest looks. 
 
 The fly his jocund round unweaves, 
 With choral strain the birds salute 
 
 The voiceful flocks, and nothing grieves, 
 And nought is mute. 
 
fBornfncj Jl^unm. 107 
 
 In man, O morn ! a loftier j2:ood, 
 
 Willi conscious blessing, fills the soul, 
 
 A life by reason understood, 
 Which metes the whole. 
 
 With healthful pulse, and tranquil fire, 
 Which plays at ease in every limb, 
 
 His thouL;hts unchecked to heaven aspire, 
 Revealed in him. 
 
 To thousand tasks of fruitful hope, 
 With skill against his toil he bends, 
 
 And finds his work's determined scope 
 Where'er he wends. 
 
 From earth, and earthly toil and strife, 
 To deathless aims his love may rise, 
 
 Each dawn may wake to better life, 
 With purer eyes. 
 
 Such grace from Thee, O God ! be ours, 
 Renewed with every morning's ray. 
 
 And freshening still with added flowers, 
 Each future day. 
 
 Like earth, awake, and warm and bright 
 With joy the spirit moves and burns ; 
 
 So up to Thee, O Fount of Light ! 
 Our light returns. 
 
 John Stuki'n*; 
 
108 Sunsljinc in tlje Soul. 
 
 THE SECRET. 
 
 TT7HEN winds are raging o'er the upper ocean, 
 ^ * And billows wild contend with angry roar, 
 'Tis said, far down beneath the wild commotion, 
 That peaceful stillness reigneth evermore. 
 
 Far, far beneath, the noise of tempest dieth, 
 And silver waves chime ever peacefully ; 
 
 And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er he flieth, 
 Disturbs the Sabbath of that deeper sea 
 
 So to the heart that knows Thy love, O Purest, 
 There is a temple sacred evermore ! 
 
 And all the babble of life's angry voices 
 
 Dies in hushed stillness at its peaceful door. 
 
 Far, far away the roar of passion dieth. 
 
 And loving thoughts rise calm and peacefully ; 
 
 And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er he flieth, 
 Disturbs the soul that dwells, O Lord, in Thee. 
 
 O rest of rests ! O peace serene, eternal ! 
 
 Thou ever livest, and thou changest never ; 
 And in the secret of thy presence dwelleth 
 
 Fulness of joy, for ever and for ever. 
 
 Harriet Beecher Stowe. 
 
El)z .Stream antj tjjc Ipool. 109 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 T ORD, what a change within us one short hour 
 -^-^ Spent in Thy presence will avail to make ! 
 What heavy burdens from our boson\s take, 
 What parch6d grounds refresh, as witli a shower ! 
 We kneel, and all around us seems to lower : 
 We rise, and all, the distant and the near, 
 Stands forth in sunny outline, brave and clear. 
 We kneel how weak ! we rise how full of power ! 
 Why, therefore, should we do ourselves this wrong, 
 Or others, — that we are not always strong, 
 That we are ever overborne with care, 
 That we should ever weak or heartless be, 
 Anxious or troubled, when with us is prayer, 
 And joy and strength and courage are with Thee ? 
 
 RiCHAKD CheNEVIX TrENCH. 
 
 THE STREAM AND THE POOL. 
 
 'T^HE stream of life from fountains ilows, 
 -*- Concealed by sacred woods and caves ; 
 From crag to dell unchecked it goes, 
 And hurrying fast from whence it rose, 
 In foam and flash exulting raves. 
 
110 Sunsljine in tijc <SouI. 
 
 But straight below the torrent's leap, 
 
 Serenely bright its effluence lies, 
 And waves that thunderecl down the s'eep 
 Are hushed in quiet, mute and deep. 
 Reflecting rock, and trees, and skies. 
 
 And 'mid the pool, disturbed yet clear, 
 The noisy gush that feeds it still 
 
 Is seen again descending sheer, 
 
 A cataract within the mere, 
 As bright as down the hill. 
 
 A living picture, smooth and true, 
 Of headlong flight and restless power, 
 
 Whose burst for ever feeds anew 
 
 The lake of fresh and silver dew 
 
 That paints and drinks the stormy shower. 
 
 Do Thou, who pourest forth our days. 
 
 With all their floods of life divine. 
 Bestow Thy Spirit's peaceful gaze. 
 To still the surge those tumults raise. 
 And make Thy calm of being mine ! 
 
 John Stekling. 
 
E\iz Jl^appu Jl^our. Ill 
 
 THE HAPPY HOUR. 
 
 npHE life of man has wondrous hours, 
 •*- Revealed at once to heart and eye, 
 When wake all being's kindled powers, 
 And joy like dew on trees and flowers 
 
 With freshness fills the earth and sky. 
 
 For this one hour no breath of fear, 
 
 Of shame or weakness wandering near 
 Can trusting hearts annoy : 
 
 Past things are dead, or only live 
 
 The life that hope alone can give, 
 And all is faith and joy. 
 
 'Tis not that beauty forces then 
 
 Her blessings on reluctant men, 
 But this great globe with all its might. 
 Its awful depth and heavenly height, 
 
 Seems but my heart with wonder thrilling 
 And beating in my human breast ; 
 
 My sense with inspiration filling, 
 Myself — beyond my nature blest. 
 
 Well for all such hours who know, 
 
 All who hail, not bid them go. 
 If the spirit's strong pulsation 
 
 After keeps its nobler tone. 
 And no helpless lamentation 
 
 Dulls the heart when rapture 's flown ; 
 
112 S'unsbfnc in Uje .Soul. 
 
 If the rocky field of Duty, 
 
 Built aroiuul with mountains hoar, 
 
 Still is dearer than the Beauty 
 Of the sky-land's colored shore. 
 
 John Strklinq 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 T IFE ! I know not what thou art, 
 -^-^ I>ut know that thou and I must part ; 
 And when, or how, or where we met, 
 I own to me 's a secret yet. 
 
 Life ! we 've been loui:: together 
 
 Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 
 
 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear — 
 
 Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear ; 
 
 Then steal away, give little warning, 
 
 Choose thy own time ; 
 Say not Good Night, — but, in some brighter 
 clime. 
 
 Bid me Good Morning. 
 
 Anna L. Uakhau! Dh 
 
Ju %iict ©au0. 113 
 
 [N QUIET DAYS. 
 
 'T^HE dying year grows strangely mild ; 
 -*■ Now in the hazy autumn weather, 
 My heart is like a happy child, 
 And life and I, friends reconciled, 
 Go over the hills together. 
 
 My peaceful days run sweet and still 
 As waters slipping over sand, 
 
 Seeking the shadows of free will 
 
 To gather tender lights and (ill 
 Day's over-lavish hand. 
 
 The summer wood with music rings, 
 The singer's is a troubled breast; 
 I am no more the bird that sings, 
 But that which broods with folded wingi 
 Upon its quiet nest. 
 
 O, fairest month of all the year I 
 
 O sweetest days in life ! they meet ; 
 Within, without is autumn cheer, 
 September there, September here, 
 So tranquil and so sweet. 
 
114 Sunsljme m tfje 5oul. 
 
 Oft have I watched all night with grief, 
 
 All night with joy, — and which is best ? 
 Ah, both were sharp and both were brief, 
 My heart was like a wind-blown leaf, 
 I give them both for rest. 
 
 Fair Quiet, close to Joy allied, 
 But loving shadier walks to keep, 
 
 By day is ever at my side ; 
 
 And all night long with me abide 
 Peace and her sister Sleep. 
 
 Carl Spsncb* 
 
 REVERENCE AND JOY. 
 
 /^H ! Source divine, and Life of all, 
 ^-^ The Fount of Being's fearful sea, 
 Thy depth would every heart appal, 
 That saw not love supreme in Thee. 
 
 We shrink before Thy vast abyss, 
 
 Where worlds on worlds eternal brood » 
 
 We know Thee truly but in this, 
 That Thou bestowest all our <rood. 
 
And so, 'mid boundless time and space, 
 Oh ! grant us still in Thee to dwell ; 
 
 A>nd through Thy ceaseless web to trace 
 Thy presence working all things well. 
 
 Nor let Thou life's delightful play 
 Thy truth's transcendent vision hide , 
 
 Nor strength and gladness lead astray 
 From Thee, our nature's only guide. 
 
 Bestow on every joyous thrill 
 Thy deeper tone of reverent awe ; 
 
 Make pure Thy creature's erring will, 
 And teach his heart to love Thy law. 
 
 John Sterling. 
 
 THE NIGHTLY SKIES. 
 
 VyHEN up to nightly skies we gaze, 
 
 Where stars pursue their endless ways, 
 We think we see from earth's low clod 
 The wide and shining home of God. 
 
 But could we rise to moon or sun, 
 Or path where planets duly run, 
 StiU heaven would spread above us far, 
 And earth remote would seem a star. 
 
IK) ^unsljmc m tljc ^oiil, 
 
 'Tis vain to droam those tracts of space, 
 With all their worlds, approach His face: 
 One glory fills each wheeling ball, — 
 One love has shaped and moved them all. 
 
 This earlh, with all its dust and tears, 
 Is His no less tiian yonder spheres ; 
 And rain-drops weak, and grains of sand, 
 Are stamped by His immediate hand. 
 
 And is this all that man can claim ? 
 
 Is this our longing's final aim ? 
 
 To be like all things round, — no more 
 
 Than pebbles cast on Time's gray shore ? 
 
 Not this our doom, Thou God benign ! 
 Whose rays on us unclouded shine : 
 Thy breath sustains yon fiery dome ; 
 But man is most Thy favored home. 
 
 We view those halls of painted air. 
 
 And own Thy presence makes them fair ; 
 
 But dearer still to Thee, O Lord ! 
 
 Is he whose thoughts to Thine accord. 
 
 John Stkki ink. 
 
1 
 
 lExprrtntion. 1 1 7 
 
 I'.XriCC'lATION. 
 
 Ill'', wiiul has blown as it listcth 
 I wail with i, hccrful mooti; — 
 1 know the work is i^ood. 
 
 Chilly morns of lirst Autumn 
 rroclaim a frost is near; 
 1 rest : 1 do not fear. 
 
 Winter shall eonu' soon, and dreary : 
 Hchiml her bliihe trips Spring, 
 My full reward to bring ! 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 '^ I ^I I \A\K sits not on the wilderness's edge 
 
 In tlie dusk lodges of the wintry North, 
 Nor couches in the rice tield's slimy sedge, 
 
 Nor on the cold, wild waters ventures forth, — 
 Who waits not, in the i)auses of his toil. 
 
 With hojie tliat sjiirits in the air may sing ; 
 Who upward turns not at propilious times, 
 
 r.reathless, his silent leatiu-es listening, 
 in desert and in lodge, on marsh and main, 
 
 To feed his hungry heart and conquer pain. 
 
 CuUNlil.lUS MATTIir.W.S. 
 
118 Bunsfjme in ti)e Soul. 
 
 EXTRACT FROM "THE EXCURSION.*' 
 
 I HAVE seen 
 
 A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract 
 
 Of inland ground, applying to his ear 
 
 The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell ; 
 
 To which, in silence hushed, his very soul 
 
 Listened intensely ; and his countenance soon 
 
 Brightened with joy ; for murmurings from within 
 
 Were heard, — sonorous cadences ! whereby 
 
 To his belief, the Monitor expressed 
 
 Mysterious union with its native Sea. 
 
 Even such a Shell the Universe itself 
 
 Is to the ear of Faith ; and there are times, 
 
 I doubt not, when to you it doth impart 
 
 Authentic tidings of invisible things ; 
 
 Of ebb and flow, and ever-during power ; 
 
 And central peace, subsisting at the heart 
 
 Of endless agitation. 
 
 WiLLiAiM Wordsworth, 
 
 THANKFULNESS. 
 
 IV TY God, I thank Thee who hast made 
 -^^-*- The Earth so bright ; 
 So full of splendor and of joy. 
 Beauty and light ; 
 
Snjnnfefulnrss. ] 1 9 
 
 So many glorious things are here, 
 Noble and right ! 
 
 I thank Thee, too, that Thou hast made 
 
 Joy to abound ; 
 So many gentle thoughts and deeds 
 
 Circling us round. 
 That in the darkest spot of Earth 
 
 Some love is found. 
 
 I thank Thee more that all our joy 
 
 Is touched with pain ; 
 That shadows fall on brightest hours ; 
 
 That thorns remain ; 
 So that Earth's bliss may be our guide, 
 
 And not our chain. 
 
 For Thou who knowest, Lord, how soon 
 
 Our weak heart clings, 
 Hast given us joys, tender and true. 
 
 Yet all with wings, 
 So that we see, gleaming on high, 
 
 Diviner things ! 
 
 I thank Thee, Lord, that Thou hast kept 
 
 The best in store ; 
 We have enough, yet not too much 
 
 To long for more : 
 -A yearning for a deeper peace, 
 
 Not known before. 
 
 Adelaide A Procter. 
 
120 SiingjjinE in tje ^oul. 
 
 <*THE HILLS OF THE LORD." 
 
 f~^OD ploujjhed one clay with an eartliquake, 
 ^^ And drove His furrows deep ! 
 The huddling plains upstarted, 
 The hills were all aleap ! 
 
 But that is the mountains' secret, 
 
 Age-hidden in their breast ; 
 " God's peace is everlasting," 
 
 Are the dream-words of their rest. 
 
 He hath made them the haunt of beauty, 
 
 The home elect of his grace ; 
 He spreadeth his mornings on them, 
 
 His sunsets light their face. 
 
 His thunders tread in music 
 
 Of footfalls echoing long. 
 And carry majestic greeting 
 
 Around the silent throng. 
 
 His winds bring messages to them, — 
 Wild storm -news from the main ; 
 
 They sing it down to the valleys 
 In the love-sone of the rain. 
 
"OTfjc 51]ill3 of tijc 3Lovt)." 121 
 
 Green tribes from far come trooping, 
 
 And over the uplands flock; 
 He hath woven the zones together 
 
 As a robe for his risen rock. 
 
 They are nurseries for young rivers, 
 
 Nests for his flying cloud, 
 Homesteads for new-born races, 
 
 Masterful, free, and proud. 
 
 The people of tired cities 
 
 Come up to their shrines and pray ; 
 God freshens again within them. 
 
 As He passes by all day. 
 
 And lo, I have caught their secret ! 
 
 The beauty deei^er than all ! 
 This faith, — that Life's hard moments. 
 
 When the jarring sorrows befall, 
 
 Are but God ploughing his mountains ; 
 
 And those mountains yet shall be 
 The source of his grace and freshness. 
 And his peace everlasting to me. 
 
 William C. Gannett. 
 
122 Suusijiiu in tljc Soul. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 /'^OD speaks to hearts of men in many ways ; 
 ^-^ Some the red banner of the rising sun, 
 Spread o'er the snow-clad hills, has taught His 
 praise ; 
 
 Some the sweet silence when the day is done ; 
 
 Some, after loveless lives, at length have won 
 His word in children's hearts and children's gaze : 
 And some have found Him where low rafters ring 
 
 To greet the hand that helps, the heart that 
 cheers ; 
 And some in prayer, and some in perfecting 
 
 Of watchful toil through unrewarding years : 
 And some not less are His, who vainly sought 
 His voice, and with His silence have been taught,— 
 Who bare His chain that bade them to be bound. 
 And, at the end, in finding not, have found. 
 
 Spectator 
 
 VESPERS. 
 
 "VT THEN I have said my quiet say, 
 
 ' ^ When I have sung my little song. 
 How sweetly, sweetly dies the day 
 The valley and the hill along ; 
 How sweet the summons, " Come away," 
 That calls me from the busv throng ! 
 
I thought beside the water's flow 
 Awhile to lie beneath the leaves, 
 I thought in Autumn's harvest glow 
 To rest my head upon the sheaves ; 
 But, lo ! methinks the day was brief 
 And cloudy ; flower, nor fruit, nor leaf 
 I bring, and yet accepted, free 
 And blest, my Lord, I come to thee. 
 
 What matter now for promise lost, 
 Through blast of spring or summer rains ! 
 What matter now for purpose crost, 
 For broken hopes and wasted pains ! 
 What if the olive little yields ! 
 What if the grape be blighted ! Thine 
 The corn upon a thousand fields, 
 Upon a thousand hills the vine. 
 
 Thou lovest still the poor : oh, blest 
 
 In poverty beloved to be ! 
 
 Less lowly is my clioice confessed, 
 
 I love the rich in loving Thee ! 
 
 My spirit bare before Thee stands, 
 
 I bring no gift, I ask no sign, 
 
 1 come to Thee with empty hands. 
 
 The surer to be filled from Thine ! 
 
 Dora Greenwrll. 
 
124 ^unsfjtnc in t\)z Soul, 
 
 ABIDE WITH ME. 
 
 A BIDE with me ! fast falls the eventide ; 
 •^ ^ The darkness deepens ; Lord, with me abide ! 
 When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, " 
 Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me ! 
 
 Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day : 
 Earth's joys grow dim ; its glories pass away ; 
 Change and decay in aH around I see ; 
 
 Thou, who changest not, abide with me ! 
 
 1 need Thy presence every passing hour ^« 
 What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's power? 
 Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be ? 
 Through cloud and sunshine, oh, abide with me ! 
 
 I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless ; 
 Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness ; 
 Where is death's sting ? where, grave, thy victory ? 
 I triumph still, if Thou abide with me ! 
 
 H. F. Lyte, i?47. 
 
Enftrjc of Siutljors!. 
 
 Anonymous 27,31,48,61,117 
 
 Anstice, Joseph (1808-1836) 67 
 
 Arnold, Matthew, b. 1S22 42 
 
 Barbauld, Mrs. Anna L^titia (1743-1825) . 112 
 
 BuRBiDGE, Thomas, ^.1817 83 
 
 Burroughs, John 11 
 
 Chadwick, John White, /;. 1840 .... 40, 87 
 
 Chambers' Journal . 23 
 
 Crashaw, Richard (about 1610-1650) . . . loi 
 
 Denison, Elizabeth Worth ington . . • 47 
 Dessler, Wolfgang Christoph {1660-1722) . 13 
 
 Evans, Albert Eobule, 1868 79 
 
 Faber, Frederick William (1S15-1863) 59, 64, 71 
 Flemming, Paul (1609-1640) ....... 68 
 
 Flei'Cher, Lucy 52 
 
 Gannett, William Channing, b. 1840 45, 75, 84, 120 
 Gedicke, Lampertus, (16S3-1735) .... 20 
 
Sunshine 
 In the Soul. 
 
 SclectcU fag tf)e lEDitor of "®utct fljoura," 
 "Sursum CorOa," etc. 
 
 SECOND SERIES. 
 
 " Old friends, old scenes, will lovelier be. 
 As more of Heaven in each we see ; 
 Some softening- gleam of love and prayer 
 Shall dawn on every cross and care." 
 
 BOSTON: 
 Eobcrtfi ^rotl)erfi. 
 
 1884. 
 
Copyright, 1882, 
 By Roberts Brothers. 
 
 University Press : 
 John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 
 
^vttact* 
 
 This little volume is intended as a companion to 
 its predecessor of the same name, and, like that, 
 contains poems of a religious character, treating 
 of the varied experiences of life. 
 
 I wish to express my thanks to the authors 
 who have kindly given me permission to make 
 this use of their poems, and to Messrs. Hough- 
 ton, Mifflin & Co., E. P. Button & Co., D. 
 Appleton & Co., and Roberts Brothers, for allow- 
 ing me to print copyrighted poems. 
 
 M. W. T. 
 
hxatx of JFtrst tines;. 
 
 An asterisk denotes that omissions have been made in 
 the poem indicated. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Ah, whither flee, or where abide 72 
 
 Again I linger by the Langland shore 147 
 
 All night, in the pauses of sleep, I heard . . . . 152 
 
 Among so many, can He care "^d 
 
 Among the rocks the columbines 13 
 
 *Angels, thy old friends, there shall greet thee . . 146 
 
 Another year is dawning ... 87 
 
 *As a bird in meadows fair 38 
 
 As from the bowed-down branches of the trees . . 57 
 
 As one who through a tree 76 
 
 A sparrow lighted chirping on a spray .... 26 
 
 *As the bird trims her to the gale 143 
 
 A swallow in the Spring " . 27 
 
 A volant tribe of bards on earth are found ... 19 
 
 Blindfolded and alone I stand « . 53 
 
 Change not, change not to me, my God .... 64 
 
 Come, track with me this little vagrant rill ... 28 
 
Lntiiw 01" Jrii'oi iinu-.C;. 
 
 *ncar Lord and Father of mankind 
 nim shadows srather thicklv round . 
 
 1 A-ory «lay has its dawn . . 
 I Aorv dav is a fresh be.cinnini 
 
 *Fair, ordered lights, whose niotion. without noise 
 
 Fair, soft lluniiHty, so seldom seen 
 
 Far from the rustlings of the poplar bough . . 
 * ** For Christ's sweet sake, I beg an alms " . . 
 
 *For Nature beats in perfect tune 
 
 I'orsake me not, my God 
 
 For the rapt stillness of the place 
 
 Forth to thv work from n\orn till night . . . 
 
 *e.ive me back my innocence 
 
 (.lod cante from Paran, and on Sinai shone . . 
 
 God strengthen me to bear myself 
 
 Ctod's thoughts are not as our thouglits . . . 
 Grant us Thy peace, down from Thy presence fallin 
 
 "Iladst thou stayed, 1 must have tied" . . 
 lie saves the sheep, the goats He doth not save 
 
 How intinite and sweet. Thou everywhere . 
 
 How noble ought nn- manners now ti^ be . . 
 
 If I were told that I must die to-nutrrow . . 
 
 *If. when the Lord of Cilory was in sight . . 
 
 1 hoard a little spring of secret tears . . . 
 
 1 idle stand, that I may find employ . . . 
 
Entjci of jFfcst ILintQ, 
 
 I know not the way I am going .... 
 Ill darkened air, alone with pain .... 
 *l roamed from hill to hill, frf>m rock to rock 
 
 1 saw him as he turned away 
 
 I sit alone and watch the darkening years 
 
 *rs it not often so 
 
 I struck the board, and cried, " No more I " 
 
 It is an easy thing to say 
 
 *It is the first mild day of March . . . 
 
 It may be in the evening 
 
 I vex my soul with life's great jjroblem ; sit 
 I was bfjrn in my little shroud .... 
 I watched the pale moon going up the sky 
 
 Laid on 'J'liy altar, O our Lord divine . 
 
 '-♦^Last night I fell asleep 
 
 ]>orfI, I acknowledge 'J'hce in this thick clou 
 Lord, I had planned to do Thee service true 
 Lord, 1 have laid my heart ui>on Thy altar 
 Lord, it is Thou ! and I can walk . . 
 
 *Love had he found in huts where ])oor rr 
 Jyord, Tiiou art good — we say it when 
 
 Make a little fence of trust 
 
 Master! how shall I bless Thy name . 
 Mid the thronged bustle of the city street 
 My Al))ine staff recalls each shining he 
 My Father I Ood of life and light . . 
 *My heart for gladness springs . . . 
 My j(;y, my life, my crown ..... 
 
 ht 
 
 lie 
 
Untirx of JFirst 3Linc0. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 My little boy, with pale round cheeks 69 
 
 *]My thoughts are all in yonder town 133 
 
 My whole desire 106 
 
 *Needs no show of mountain hoary 10 
 
 Never yet could careless sleep 39 
 
 Now at last I end the strife 125 
 
 Now I draw near; alone, apart 130 
 
 O bright Ideals ! how ye shine 47 
 
 Often for me between the shade and splendor . . 21 
 
 *0 happy house ! and happy servitude .... 123 
 *Oh for " a desert place " with only the Master's 
 
 smile 104 
 
 Oh, take this heart that I would give 129 
 
 O living will that shalt endure 107 
 
 " O Lord, my God ! " I oft have said 44 
 
 *0 sacred Providence, who from end to end . . 99 
 
 *0 thou that lovest a pure and whitened soul . . 106 
 
 O wise little birds, how do ye know 95 
 
 *Pale star, if star thou be, that art 22 
 
 Silence and darkness, solitude and sorrow ... 58 
 
 Sitting all day in a silver mist 149 
 
 So here hath been dawning 35 
 
 *That music breathes all through my spirit ... 29 
 
 The day dies slowly in the western sky .... 25 
 
 *The little flowers breathe sweetness out .... 60 
 
Cnticx of Ji'rst ILmcs, 
 
 •*The Lord is strong to do His will 90 
 
 The more by thought thou leav'st the crowd behind 71 
 The music of the days which are to come ... 31 
 
 The quiet August noon has come 16 
 
 There is a low, deep music in the wind . 
 *Thcy say there is a hollow safe and still 
 Thou, from the first, unborn, undying Love 
 *Thou spakest, and the waters rolled . . 
 'T is late at night, and in the realm of sleep 
 To him, — whose near end stealing . . 
 To know Thee is all wisdom, and old age 
 To tell my journeys, where I daily walk . 
 
 Weep not for me 
 
 *Welcome, pure thoughts and peaceful hours 
 We live not in our moments or our years 
 *What guerdon hast Thou, Lord, for those 
 *What! never speak one evil word . . . 
 *When dark the road, and sore the foot . 
 
 When the eagle stirs her nest 
 
 With quivering heart and trembling will . 
 
 lOI 
 
 124 
 
 90 
 143 
 
 95 
 
 91 
 
 33 
 
 109 
 
 122 
 
 54 
 76 
 

 THE SKY. 
 
 TT'AR from the nistlinn^s of the poplar hoii,e;]i, 
 -^ Wliich o'er my ()[)CMinjj; life wild music: made, 
 ]''ar from the <j;rcen hills with their heathery ^low 
 And liashiiiL^ streams whereby my chihlhood })layed ; 
 In the (Hm city, 'midst the souiuhn^ How 
 Of restU'SS Hfe, to thee in love 1 turn, 
 () thou rich sky ! and from thy splendors learn 
 How son jj; birds come and part, (lowers wane and 
 
 blow. 
 With thee all sha])es of ^lory find their home, 
 And thou hast tauLjht me well, majestic dome ! 
 r)y stars, by sunsets, by soft clouds which rove 
 Thy blue expanse, or sleep in silvery rest, 
 That Nature's (jod hath left no spot unbless'd 
 With founts of beauty for the eye of love. 
 
 Felicia DtjKO'niicA IIicmans. 
 
10 :Sunsf)ine in tfje ^oul 
 
 "IVTEEDS no show of mountain hoary, 
 "^^ Winding shore, or deepening glen, 
 Where the landscape in its glory 
 
 Teaches truth to wandering men : 
 Give true hearts but earth and sky, 
 And some flowers to bloom and die, — 
 HomeJy scenes and simple views, 
 Lowly thoughts can best infuse. 
 
 John Keble. 
 
 FROM « WOODNOTES." 
 
 "r?OR Nature beats in perfect tune, 
 
 •^ And rounds with rhyme her every rune, 
 
 Whether she work in land or sea, 
 
 Or hide under ground her alchemy. 
 
 Thou canst not wave thy staff in air. 
 
 Or dip thy paddle in the lake, 
 
 But it carves the bow of beauty there. 
 
 And the ripples in rhymes the oar forsake. 
 
 Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
,S{)atJob33 of Bt'rlis. 11 
 
 SHADOWS OF BIRDS. 
 
 TN darkened air, alone with pain 
 ■^ I lay. Like links of heavy chain 
 The minutes sounded, measuring day, 
 And slipping lifelessly away. 
 Sudden across my silent room 
 A shadow darker than its gloom 
 Swept swift ; a shadow slim and small, 
 Which poised and darted on the wall, 
 And vanished quickly as it came ; 
 A shadow — yet it lit like flame ; 
 A shadow — yet I heard it sing, 
 And heard the rustle of its wing-. 
 Till every pulse with joy was stirred ; 
 It was the shadow of a bird ! 
 
 Only the shadow ! Yet it made 
 Full summer everywhere it strayed ; 
 And every bird I ever knew 
 Back and forth in the summer flew ; 
 And breezes wafted over me 
 The scent of every flower and tree ; 
 Till I forgot the pain and gloom 
 And silence of my darkened room. 
 Now, in the glorious open air, 
 
12 Bunsljme m tlje ^oiil. 
 
 I watch the birds fly here and there ; 
 And wonder, as each swift wing cleaves 
 The sky, if some poor soul that grieves 
 In lonely, darkened, silent walls 
 Will catch the shadow as it falls ! 
 
 H. H. 
 
 FROM "THE PRELUDE." 
 
 T ROAMED from hill to hill, from rock to rock, 
 ■*- Still craving combinations of new forms, 
 New pleasure, wider empire for the sight. 
 Proud of her own endowments, and rejoiced 
 To lay the inner faculties asleep. 
 
 And yet I knew a maid, 
 
 A young enthusiast, who escaped these bonds ; 
 
 Her eye was not the mistress of her heart ; 
 
 Far less did rules prescribed by passive taste. 
 
 Or barren intermeddling subtleties, 
 
 Perplex her mind ; but, wise as women are 
 
 When genial circumstance hath favored them. 
 
 She welcomed what was given, and craved no more ; 
 
 Whate'er the scene presented to her view. 
 
 That was the best, to that she was attuned 
 
 By her benign simplicity of life. 
 
 And through a perfect happiness of soul, 
 
^s ^^m I iuas a CfjilH. 13 
 
 Whose variegated feelings were in this 
 Sisters, that they were each some new deh'ght. 
 Birds in the bower, and lambs in the green field, 
 Could they have known her, would have loved ; me- 
 
 thought 
 Her very presence such a sweetness breathed. 
 That flowers, and trees, and even the silent hills, 
 And everything she looked on, should have had 
 An intimation how she bore herself 
 Towards them and to all creatures. God delights 
 In such a being ; for her common thoughts 
 Are piety, her life is gratitude. 
 
 William Wordsworth. 
 
 AS WHEN I WAS A CHILD. 
 
 A MONG the rocks the columbines 
 -^ ^ Nodded at me with friendly signs, 
 And buttercups and violets 
 Smiled in my face like loving pets, 
 For then I was a child. 
 
 Among the rocks the columbines 
 Still nod at me with friendly signs, 
 And 'mid the grass I love to peer 
 And find my darlings just as dear 
 As when I was a child. 
 
U ^uusj)uu m tjc .Soul 
 
 A foolish child! each growing thing 
 A loving message seemed to bring. 
 And yet, e'en now, soft whisp'ring still 
 With joy this wiser heart they fill, 
 For still I am a child. 
 
 Louisa J. Hall. 
 
 THE EDEL-WEISS. 
 
 T WAS born in my little shroud, 
 -*- All woolly, warm, and white ; 
 I live in the mist and the cloud, 
 J live for my own delight. 
 
 I see far beneath me crowd 
 
 The Alpine roses red. 
 
 And the gentian blue, sun-fed, 
 That makes the valleys bright. 
 
 I bloom for the eagle's eye, 
 
 I bloom for the daring hand, 
 I live but for God, and I die 
 
 Unto him, and at his command ! 
 
 Dora Gkeenwell. 
 
Eo mxf SisUr. 15 
 
 TO MY SISTER. 
 
 TT is the first mild day of March : 
 -■- Each minute sweeter than before, 
 The redbreast sings from the tall larch 
 That stands beside our door. 
 
 There is a blessing in the air, 
 Which seems a sense of joy to yield 
 To the bare trees, and mountains bare, 
 And grass in the green field. 
 
 Love, now an universal birth, 
 From heart to heart is stealing. 
 From earth to man, from man to earth, 
 It is the hour of feeling. 
 
 One moment now may give us more 
 Than fifty years of reason : 
 Our minds shall drink at every pore 
 The spirit of the season. 
 
 Some silent laws our hearts will make, 
 Which they shall long obey : 
 We for the year to come may take 
 Our temper from to-day. 
 
16 .Sunsjjme m tjje ^oiiL 
 
 And from the blessed power that rolls 
 About, below, above, 
 We '11 frame the measure of our souls : 
 They shall be tuned to love. 
 
 Then come, my sister ! come, I pray, 
 With speed put on your woodland dress, 
 — And bring no book; for this one day 
 We '11 give to idleness. 
 
 William Wordsworth. 
 
 A SUMMER RAMBLE. 
 
 nr^HE quiet August noon has come, 
 
 A slumberous silence fills the sky, 
 The fields are still, the woods are dumb, 
 In glassy sleep the waters lie. 
 
 And mark yon soft white clouds that rest 
 Above our vale, a moveless throng ; 
 
 The cattle, on the mountain's breast, 
 Enjoy the grateful shadow long. 
 
 Oh, how unlike those merry hours. 
 In early June, when Earth laughs out, 
 
 When the fresh winds make love to flowers, 
 And woodlands sing and waters shout. 
 
^ ^Sumtncr Eamble. 17 
 
 When in the grass sweet voices talk, 
 
 And strains of tiny music swell 
 From every moss-cup of the rock, 
 
 From every nameless blossom's bell. 
 
 But now a joy too deep for sound, 
 
 A peace no other season knows, 
 Hushes the heavens and wraps the ground, 
 
 The blessing of supreme repose. 
 
 Away ! I will not be, to-day, 
 
 The only slave of toil and care. 
 Away from desk and dust ! away ! 
 
 I '11 be as idle as the air. 
 
 Beneath the open sky abroad, 
 
 Among the plants and breathing things, 
 The sinless, peaceful works of God, 
 
 I '11 share the calm the season brings. 
 
 Come, thou, in whose soft eyes I see 
 The gentle meanings of thy heart, 
 
 One day amid the woods with me. 
 From men and all their cares apart. 
 
 And where, upon the meadow's breast 
 
 The shadow of the thicket lies. 
 The blue wild flowers thou gatherest 
 
 Shall glow yet deeper near thine eyes. 
 
 2 
 
18 .Sunsljme in tf)e S011I. 
 
 Come, and when mid the calm profound, 
 I turn, those gentle eyes to seek, 
 
 They, like the lovely landscape round, 
 Of innocence and peace shall speak. 
 
 Rest here, beneath the unmoving shade, 
 
 And on the silent valleys gaze, 
 Winding and widening, till they fade 
 
 In yon soft ring of summer haze. 
 
 The village trees their summits rear 
 Still as its spire, and yonder flock 
 
 At rest in those calm fields appear 
 As chiselled from the lifeless rock. 
 
 One tranquil mount the scene o'erlooks. 
 There the hushed winds their sabbath keep, 
 
 While a near hum from bees and brooks 
 Comes faintly like the breath of sleep. 
 
 Well may the gazer deem that when, 
 Worn with the struggle and the strife, 
 
 And heart-sick at the wrongs of men, 
 The good forsakes the scene of life ; 
 
 Like this deep quiet that, awhile. 
 Lingers the lovely landscape o'er, 
 
 Shall be the peace whose holy smile 
 Welcomes him to a happier shore. 
 
 William Cullen Bryant- 
 
Cfje (Eii'rti ©as of (frrcatton. 19 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 A VOLANT tribe of bards on earth are found, 
 -^^- Who, while tlie flattering zephyrs round them 
 
 play, 
 On "coignes of vantage " hang their nests of clay ; 
 How quickly from that aery hold unbound, 
 Dust for oblivion ! To the solid ground 
 Of nature trusts the mind that builds for aye ; 
 Convinced that there, there only, she can lay 
 Secure foundations. As the year runs round, 
 Apart she toils within the chosen ring; 
 While the stars shine, or while day's purple eye 
 Is gently closing with the flowers of spring ; 
 Where even the motion of an angel's wing 
 Would interrupt the intense tranquillity 
 Of silent hills, and more than silent sky. 
 
 William Wordsworth. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 THE THIRD DAY OF CREATION. 
 
 " I ^HOU spakest, and the waters rolled 
 
 Back from the earth away, 
 They fled, by Thy strong voice controlled, 
 Till Thou didst bid them stay : 
 
20 Sunsljine m tfje Sotil 
 
 Then did that rushing mighty ocean 
 Like a tame creature cease its motion, 
 Nor dared to pass where'er Thy hand 
 Had fixed its bound of slender sand. 
 
 Lord, o'er the waters of my soul 
 The word of power be said ; 
 Its thoughts and passions bid Thou roll 
 
 Each in its channelled bed ; 
 Till that in peaceful order flowing, 
 They time their glad obedient going 
 To Thy commands, whose voice to-day 
 Bade the tumultuous floods obey. 
 
 For restless as the moaning sea, 
 
 The wild and wayward will 
 From side to side is wearily 
 
 Changing and tossing still ; 
 But swayed by Thee, 'tis like the river 
 That down its green banks flows forever, 
 And, calm and constant, tells to all 
 The blessedness of such sweet thrall. 
 
 Then in my heart, Spirit of Might, 
 
 Awake the life within. 
 And bid a spring-tide, calm and bright, 
 
 Of holiness be<rin : 
 
JFram " ^t. ^flaul." 21 
 
 So let it lie with Heaven's grace 
 
 Full shining on its quiet face, 
 
 Like the young Earth in peace profound, 
 
 Amid the assuaged waters round. 
 
 Thomas WiiYTiiiiEAD. 
 
 FROM "ST. PAUL." 
 
 /^FTEN for me between the shade and splendor 
 ^^ Ceos and Tenedos at dawn were gray, 
 Welling of waves, disconsolate and tender. 
 Sighed on the shore and waited for the day. 
 
 Then till the bridegroom from the east advancing 
 Smote him a waterway and flushed the lawn, 
 
 God with sweet strength, with terror, and with 
 trancing, 
 Spake in the purple mystery of dawn. 
 
 Oh, what a speech, and greater than our learning ! 
 
 Scarcely remembrance can the joy renew ; 
 What were they then, the sights of our discerning. 
 
 Sorrows we suffer, and the deeds we do ? 
 
 Lo, every one of them was sunk and swallowed, 
 Morsels and motes in the eternal sea ; 
 
 Far was the call, and farther as I followed 
 Grew there a silence round the Lord and me. 
 
 Fkeueric W. H. Myers. 
 
^'1. 
 
 Sun0f)m£ m tfje <SouL 
 
 GUI BONO? 
 
 TDALE star, if star thou be, that art 
 -*- So fain to shine, though far apart 
 
 From all thy stately peers ; 
 Thou whom the eye can scarce discern, 
 Oh 1 who hath set thee there to burn 
 
 Among the spheres ? 
 
 The night needs not thy tardy ray ; 
 Thou canst not usher in the day. 
 
 Nor make the twilight fair ; 
 What sailor turns to thee at sea ? 
 What mourner doth look up to thee 
 
 In his despair ? 
 
 Mournful or glad, no eye shall chance 
 To light on thee ; no curious glance 
 
 Thy motions shall discern : 
 No lonely pilgrim pause to catch 
 Thy parting ray, nor lover watch 
 
 For thy return. 
 
 Oh ! leave the world that loves thee not, 
 For who shall mark the vacant spot ? 
 
 Oh ! drop into the cloud 
 That waits to take thee out of siglit, 
 Beyond the glare of yonder bright 
 
 And chilly crowd ! 
 
€m Bono ? 23 
 
 " I may not, if I would, return 
 Into the dark, or cease to burn 
 
 My spark of light divine : 
 For He that in my lamp distils 
 The sacred oil, He surely wills 
 
 That I should shine. 
 
 " I fret not at the blaze of spheres. 
 The distant splendor that endears 
 
 The night to men ; but strive — 
 Finding strange bliss in perfect calm — 
 To keep widi these few drops of balm 
 
 My flame alive. 
 
 " It may be that some vagrant world, 
 Or aimless atom, tossed and whirled 
 
 Through windy tracts of space, 
 Perceives by me the hand that tends 
 It ever, and the goal that ends 
 Its tedious race. 
 
 " I know not : me this only care 
 Concerns, that I forever bear 
 
 My silver lamp on high, 
 Nor lift to God a laggard flame, 
 Because on earth I cannot claim 
 
 A partial eye." 
 
 Catholic Would. 
 
24 Sun0j)inc in tije Boul. 
 
 THE MOON. 
 
 T WATCHED the pale moon going up the sky 
 ■^ In solemn splendor. The broad path and fair 
 Lay through resplendent tracts of sapphire air, 
 Methought the stars watched her course mournfully. 
 Then did I mark, veiled were the realms on high 
 Before her path in storm clouds everywhere, 
 That waited her, like wild beast in its lair ; 
 But she went on in still serenity 
 On her calm path of duty. Not less clear 
 Was her white flame ; unwaveringly she trod 
 Through her pure world as though no storm were 
 
 near, 
 Up through the sky, with white feet silver shod, 
 Then passed into the dark cloud without fear, 
 Knowing her pathway was marked out of God. 
 
 Littell's Living Age. 
 
©It Sfjootmcf a ^fconlloljo in lEarlg J)oiitf). 
 
 HOMEWARD. 
 *' There reniaineth a rest." 
 
 npHE day dies slowly in the western sky ; 
 -*■ The sunset splendor fades, and wan and cold 
 The far peaks wait the sunrise ; cheerily 
 The goatherd calls his wanderers to their fold : 
 My weary soul, that fain would cease to roam, 
 Take comfort; evening bringcth all things home 
 
 Homeward the swift-winged seagull takes its flighty 
 The ebbing tide breaks softly on the sand ; 
 The sunlit boats draw shoreward for the night; 
 The shadows deepen over sea and land : 
 
 Be still, my soul ; thine hour shall also come ; 
 
 Behold, one evening God shall lead ihee home. 
 
 Anunvmous 
 
 ON SHOOTING A SWALLOW IN EARLY YOUTH. 
 
 T HOARD a little spring of secret tears, 
 
 -*- For thee, poor bird ; thy death-blow was my 
 
 crime : 
 From the far past it has flowed on for years ; 
 It never dries ; it brims at swallow-time. 
 No kindly voice within me took thy part. 
 Till I stood o'er thy last faint flutterings ; 
 
2G ^unsljinc m tfjc 5oiil. 
 
 Since then, methinks, I have a gentler heart, 
 And gaze with pity on all wounded wings. 
 Full oft the vision of thy fallen head, 
 Twittering in highway dust, appeals to me ; 
 Thy helpless form, as when I struck thee dead, 
 Drops out from every swallow-flight I see. 
 I would not have thine airy spirit laid, 
 I seem to love the little ghost I made. 
 
 Charles Turner 
 
 THE SPARROW. 
 
 A SPARROW lighted chirping on a spray 
 '^ -^ Close to my window, as I knelt in prayer, 
 Bowed by a heavy load of anxious care. 
 The morn was bitter, but the bird was gay, 
 And seemed by cheery look and chirp to say, 
 " What though the snow conceals my wonted fare 
 Nor 1 have barn or store-house anywhere, 
 Yet I trust Heaven even on a winter's day ! " 
 That little bird came like a winged text 
 Fluttering from out God's word to soothe my breast 
 What though my life with wintry cares be vexed. 
 On a kind Father's watchful love I rest ; 
 He meets this vwnienfs 7teedj I leave the next; 
 And, always trusting, shall be always blest ! 
 
 Anonymous 
 
^ ^toalloiJ) in tfje Spring. 27 
 
 A SWALLOW IN THE SPRING. 
 
 A SWALLOW in the Spring 
 ■^ ^ Came to our granary, and 'neath the caves 
 Essayed to make a nest, and there did bring 
 Wet earth and straw and leaves. 
 
 Day after day she toiled 
 With patient art, but, ere her work was crowned, 
 Some sad mishap the tiny fabric spoiled, 
 
 And dashed it to the ground. 
 
 She found the ruin wrought, 
 But, not cast down, forth from the place she flew, 
 And with her mate fresh earth and grasses brought 
 
 And built her nest anew. 
 
 But scarcely had she placed 
 The last soft feather on its ample floor, 
 When wicked hand, or chance, again laid waste 
 
 And wrought the ruin o'er. 
 
 But still her heant she kept, 
 And toiled again — and last night, hearing calls, 
 I looked, — and lo ! three little swallows slept 
 
 Within the earth-made walls. 
 
28 ^ims^ine in tjje Baul 
 
 What truth is here, O man ! 
 Hath Hope been smitten in its early dawn ? 
 Have clouds o'ercast thy purpose, trust, or plan ? 
 
 R. S. S. Andros. 
 
 T OVE had he found in huts where poor men lie ; 
 -*— ' His daily teachers had been woods and rills, 
 The silence that is in the starry sky, 
 The sleep that is among the lonely hills. 
 
 William Wordsworth. 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 /^^OME, track with me this httle vagrant rill, 
 ^-^ Wandering its wild course from the moun- 
 tain's breast ; 
 Now with a brink fantastic, heather-drest. 
 And playing with the stooping flowers at will ; 
 Now moving scarce, with noiseless step and still : 
 Anon, it seems to weary of its rest. 
 And hurries on, leaping with sparkling zest 
 Adown the ledges of the broken hill. 
 So let us live. Is not the life well spent 
 Which loves the lot that kindly Nature weaves 
 For all inheritino^ or adorning Earth ? 
 
mum, 29 
 
 Which throws light pleasure over true content, 
 Blossoms with fruitage, flowers as well as leaves, 
 And sweetens wisdom with a taste of mirth ? 
 
 Thomas Doubledav. 
 
 MUSIC. 
 
 'T^HAT music breathes all through my spirit, 
 
 -■- As the breezes blow through a tree ; 
 And my soul gives light as it quivers, 
 Like moons on a tremulous sea. 
 
 New passions are wakened within me, 
 New passions that have not a name ; 
 
 Dim truths that I knew but as phantoms 
 Stand up clear and bright in the flame. 
 
 And my soul is possessed with yearnings 
 Which make my life broaden and swell ; 
 
 And I hear strange things that arc soundless, 
 And I see the invisible. 
 
 Is it sound, or fragrance, or vision, 
 
 Vocal light wavering down from above .'' 
 
 Past prayer and past praise I am floating 
 Down the rapids of speechless love. 
 
30 <Suns]^ine m tje BouL 
 
 Oh cease then, wild horns ! I am fainting ; 
 
 If ye wail so, my heart will break ; 
 Some one speaks to me in your speaking 
 
 In a language I cannot speak. 
 
 Though the sounds ye make are all foreign, 
 How native, how household they are; 
 
 The tones of old homes mixed with heaven, 
 The dead and the angels, speak there. 
 
 Dear voices that long have been silenced, 
 Come clear from their peaceable land, 
 
 Come toned with unspeakable sweetness 
 From the Presence in which they stand. 
 
 O music ! thou surely art worship ; 
 
 But thou art not like praise or prayer ; 
 And words make better thanksgiving 
 
 Than thy sweet melodies are. 
 
 There is in thee another worship, 
 An outflow of something divine ; 
 
 For the voice of adoring silence, 
 If it could be a voice, were thine. 
 
 Thou art fugitive splendors made vocal, 
 As they glanced from that shining sea, 
 
 Where the Vision is visible music. 
 Making music of spirits who see. 
 
^ ililiisic get uuknoirtn. 31 
 
 Thou, Lord ! art the Father of music ; 
 
 Sweet sounds are a whisper from Thee : 
 Thou hast made Thy creation all anthems, 
 
 Though it singeth them silently. 
 
 But I guess by the stir of this music 
 
 What raptures in heaven can be. 
 Where the sound is Thy marvellous stillness, 
 
 And the music is light out of Thee. 
 
 Frederic William Faber. 
 
 A MUSIC YET UNKNOWN, REMAINING TO BE 
 HEARD ON EARTH. 
 
 'T^HE music of the days which are to come 
 
 -*- Doth haunt me ever, and my footsteps move 
 In time unto it, — paces of deep love 
 And faith unchangeable ! I hear the hum 
 Of mighty workings, and cannot be dumb. 
 To the grand concert of the spheres above 
 Mankind moves on, vain omens to disprove, 
 While overhead, and in the vanward, some 
 Prophetic soul, lark-like, doth soar and sing. 
 A few poor snatches of that music here, 
 My fellow-men, I, as a pledge, would bring, — 
 The music at my heart still answering clear, 
 Which tells me that there must be yet some string 
 Untouched, which God intended Man to hear. 
 
 Henry Ellison. 
 
32 Sunsfjine m tf)e Soul. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 TT 7E live not in our moments or our years ; 
 ^ * The Present we fling from us like the rind 
 Of some sweet Future, which we after find 
 Bitter to taste ; or bind ^Aaf in with fears, 
 And water it beforehand with our tears, 
 Vain tears for that which never may arrive. 
 Meanwhile, the joy whereby we ought to live, 
 Neglected, or unheeded, disappears. 
 Wiser it were to welcome and make ours 
 Whate'erof good, though small, the Presentbrings,— 
 Kind greetings, sunshine, song of birds, and flowers, 
 With a child's pure delight in little things ; 
 And of the griefs unborn to rest secure, 
 Knowing that Mercy ever will endure. 
 
 Richard Chenevix Trench. 
 
 NEW EVERY MORNING. 
 
 TI?VERY day is a fresh beginning, 
 ■^-^ Every morn is the world made new. 
 You who are weary of sorrow and sinning, 
 Here is a beautiful hope for you ; 
 A hope for me and a hope for you. 
 
 All the past things are past and over. 
 
 The tasks are done and the tears are shed. 
 
i^£t0 ^bers MoxniriQ. 33 
 
 Yesterday's errors let yesterday cover ; 
 Yesterday's wounds, which smarted and bled, 
 Are healed with the healing which night has shed. 
 
 Yesterday now is a part of forever ; 
 
 Bound up in a sheaf, which God holds tight, 
 With glad days, and sad days, and bad days which 
 
 never 
 Shall visit us more with their bloom and their bhght, 
 
 Their fulness of sunshine or sorrowful night. 
 
 Let them go, since we cannot re-live them, 
 
 Cannot undo and cannot atone ; 
 God in His mercy receive, forgive them ; 
 Only the new days are our own. 
 
 To-day is ours and to-day alone. 
 
 Here are the skies all burnished brightly, 
 
 Here is the spent earth all re-born. 
 Here are the tired limbs springing lightly 
 To face the sun and to share with the morn 
 
 In the chrism of dew and the cool of dawn. 
 
 Every day is a fresh beginning ; 
 
 Listen, my soul, to the glad refrain, 
 And spite of old sorrow and older sinning. 
 And puzzles forecasted and possible pain. 
 
 Take heart with the day, and begin again. 
 
 Susan Coolidge. 
 
34 ,Sun0f)ine in tfje ^oul 
 
 DAY BY DAY. 
 
 TTVERY day has its dawn, 
 ■^-^ Its soft and silent eve, 
 Its noontide hours of bliss or bale ; — 
 Why should we grieve ? 
 
 Why do we heap huge mounds of years 
 
 Before us and behind, 
 And scorn the little days that pass 
 
 Like angels on the wind ? 
 
 Each turning round a small sweet face 
 
 As beautiful as near ; 
 Because it has so small a face 
 
 We will not see it clear : 
 
 We will not clasp it as it flies, 
 And kiss its lips and brow : 
 
 We will not bathe our wearied souls 
 In its delicious Now. 
 
 And so it turns from us, and goes 
 
 Away in sad disdain : 
 Though we would give our lives for it. 
 
 It never comes again. 
 
Yet every day has its dawn, 
 
 Its noontide and its eve : 
 Live while we live, giving God thanks, — 
 
 He will not let us grieve. 
 
 Dinah Maria Ckaiic. 
 
 TO-DAY. 
 
 O O here hath been dawning 
 *^ Another blue Day : 
 Think wilt thou let it 
 Slip useless away. 
 
 Out of Eternity 
 
 This new Day is born ; 
 
 lYito Eternity, 
 
 At night, will return. 
 
 Behold it aforetime 
 No eye ever did : 
 So soon it forever 
 From all eyes is hid. 
 
 Here hath been dawning 
 Another blue Day : 
 Think wilt thou let it 
 Slip useless away. 
 
 Thomas Caklyle. 
 
36 ^unsfjinc lit tjje .Soul. 
 
 MORNING LIGHT. 
 
 T AST night I fell asleep, 
 •^— ' Hushed in a blessed trance of holy peace. 
 The storm was beating on my window-pane ; 
 But not the wind, nor patter of the rain, 
 
 Could make my comfort cease, 
 Or from its childlike rest my spirit keep. 
 
 For, in the evening hour. 
 One stronger than the storm had talked with me. 
 His voice was low and gentle as the dove ; 
 His words were sweeter than a mother's love ; 
 
 And though I might not see 
 His face, I felt its loveliness and power. 
 
 To sleep I almost feared, 
 Lest I should wake and find it was a dream ; 
 Should find my evening had been spent alone, 
 That no Divine communion I had known, 
 
 And that it did but seem 
 As though a Holy Presence was so near. 
 
 Now, in the solemn calm 
 Of early daybreak, I am very glad; 
 For I awake and find Him still with me. 
 
iHarnincj ILigSt 37 
 
 My evening hymn is morning melody ; 
 
 I know that I have had 
 A cup of blessing, which no time can harm. 
 
 I will arise ere long; 
 My duties call me to their daily round ; 
 Tlie voices of my earthly home awake : 
 I long to meet them bravely for His sake. 
 
 I would that in the sound 
 Of my poor words might echo heavenly song. 
 
 I would my friends should see 
 In my glad eyes the beauty of His face; 
 Should learn that in His presence there is peace, 
 Strength, and contentment, that can never cease; 
 
 And that His guiding grace 
 Can lead to patience and humility. 
 
 I hear the robins' hymn ; 
 And, standing at my window, I can see 
 The flush of sunlight over all around. 
 I do give thanks to God. In every sound, 
 In every lovely sight. He speaks to me, 
 
 He still is very near, — 
 Evening and morning are alike to Him. 
 
 Sunday Magazine. 
 
38 Sunsljine in i\)t ^ouL 
 
 A MORNING SONG OF GLADNESS. 
 
 A S a bird in meadows fair 
 •^ ^ Or in lonely forest sings 
 Till it fills the summer air, 
 
 And the greenwood sweetly rings, 
 So my heart to Thee would raise, 
 O my God, its song of praise 
 That the gloom of night is o'er, 
 And I see the sun once more. 
 
 If Thou, Sun of Love, arise. 
 All my heart with joy is stirred, 
 
 And to greet Thee upward flies 
 Gladsome as yon little bird. 
 
 Shine Thou in me clear and bright 
 
 Till I learn to praise Thee right ; 
 
 Guide me in the narrow way. 
 
 Let me ne'er in darkness stray. 
 
 From the German. About 1580. 
 
^n ^htninc^ Jtlgmn. 39 
 
 AN EVENING HYMN. 
 
 I^TEVER yet could careless sleep 
 ■^^ On Love's watchful eyelid creep ; 
 Never yet could gloomy night 
 Damp His eye's immortal light : 
 Love is His own ray, and sees 
 Whatsoe'er Himself doth please : 
 Love His piercing look can dart 
 Through the shades of my dark heart, 
 And read plainer far than I 
 All the spots which there do lie. 
 Pardon then what Thou dost see, 
 Mighty Love, in wretched me : 
 Let the sweet wrath of Thy ray 
 Chide my sinful night to day ; 
 To the blessed day of grace, 
 Whose dear East smiled in Thy face, 
 So no powers of darkness shall 
 In this night my soul appall ; 
 So shall I the sounder sleep, 
 'Cause my heart awake I keep. 
 Meekly waiting upon Thee, 
 Whilst Thou deign'st to watch for me. 
 
 Joseph Beaumont. 
 
40 .SunsljiHE m tijc <Soul. 
 
 AN EVENING PRAYER. 
 Y Father ! God of life and light, 
 
 M 
 
 •^^■^ Ere evening's hour hath ebbed away, 
 Before Thy throne of grace to-night 
 I offer up this closing day. 
 
 Fresh from Thy hand, this morn it rose 
 
 Divinely fair, sublimely sweet; 
 I bring it back at evening's close, 
 
 Alas, how changed, how incomplete ! 
 
 I bring Thee all this day hath brought. 
 Its storms and sunshine, joy and pain ; 
 
 Its every word and deed and thought ; 
 Its hope and fear, its loss and gain. 
 
 I bring to Thee, to purify, 
 
 Its few faint thoughts of Thee and Heaven ; 
 I bring Thee all its tears to dry, 
 
 And all its sins to be forgiven. 
 
 I lay before Thy pitying gaze 
 
 Its joys to bless, its wounds to cure ; 
 
 I bring it all to speak Thy praise. 
 And tell of Thy compassion sure. 
 
And now, O Lord my God, or ere 
 
 This day in sleep forgotten be, 
 Its dying breath must rise in prayer, 
 
 And bear my latest thought to Thee ! 
 
 And since, perchance, no morrow's light 
 May greet mine ear with wakening call. 
 
 In Thy good care I leave this night 
 Myself, my life, my heart, mine all ! 
 
 The loved ones, those I hold so dear. 
 
 Be pleased, sweet Lord, to guard and keep ; 
 
 To all their hearts this night draw near, 
 And tend and bless them while they sleep. 
 
 My human love, so incomplete. 
 Where can its longings find their rest. 
 
 Except to lay them at Thy feet, 
 Who knowest all, and lovest best ? 
 
 On eyes that weep, on hearts that bleed, 
 May all Thy richest blessings fall ; 
 
 I ask Thy help for all who need. 
 And asking this, I pray for all. 
 
 And if to morn in safety brought. 
 
 Grant that sweet breathings, pure and true, 
 May rest on each awakening thought, 
 
 As on fresh flowers the early dew. 
 
42 ^unsj^mc m t])e Soul. 
 
 Thus, Lord, this night I yield to Thee ; 
 
 Or if I sleep, or if I wake, 
 Whate'er I have, whate'er I be, 
 
 Bid me good-night for Jesus' sake. 
 
 M. L. B. 
 
 EVENTIDE. 
 
 T ORD ! I acknowledge Thee in this thick cloud, 
 
 Although I cannot see Thee ! It may be 
 The glory of Thy face would dazzle me, 
 If that surpassing brightness were allowed. 
 
 In tender mercy dost Thou visit me 
 At evening when Thy gentle dew descends ; 
 Sometimes, in loving voices of ipy friends ; 
 Sometimes, in visions of eternity. 
 
 I could not climb the mountains of Thy love, 
 But in the valleys do Thy rivers flow ; 
 The bitter herbs beside those waters grow. 
 And lo ! they teem with sweetness from above. 
 
 Hold Thou my hand, my Father, I am weak ; 
 Hush me to sleep, for I am sore afraid : 
 Yet, as thy child, I should be undismayed ; 
 For in the silence I should hear Thee speak ! 
 
m\)(i stall mUhzx JHe? 43 
 
 I will not trust my thoughts, which trouble me ; 
 I will not answer all that they would say ; 
 I cast my cares and my regrets away, 
 And leave my spirit all alone with Thee ! 
 
 Sunday Magazine. 
 
 WHO SHALL DELIVER ME? 
 
 /'"^OD strengthen me to bear myself ; 
 ^-^ That heaviest weight of all to bear, 
 Inalienable weight of care. 
 
 All others are outside myself; 
 I lock my door and bar them out, 
 The turmoil, tedium, gad-about. 
 
 I lock my door upon myself, 
 
 And bar them out; bat who shall wall 
 
 Self from myself, most loathed of all ? 
 
 If I could once lay down myself, 
 And start self-purged upon the race 
 That all must run ! Death runs apace. 
 
 If I could set aside myself. 
 
 And start with lightened heart upon 
 
 The road by all men overgone ! 
 
44 ^un0f)ine m tje Bouh 
 
 God harden me against myself, 
 
 This coward with pathetic voice 
 
 Who craves for ease and rest and joys : 
 
 Myself, arch-traitor to myself; 
 
 My hollowest friend, my deadliest foe, 
 
 My clog whatever road I go. 
 
 Yet One there is can curb myself, 
 Can roll the strangling load from me, 
 Break off the yoke and set me free. 
 
 Christina G. Rossetti. 
 
 MY CROSS. 
 
 " r^ LORD, my God ! " I oft have said, 
 ^-^ " Had I some other cross instead 
 Of this I bear from day to day, 
 'T were easier to go on my way. 
 
 " I do not murmur at its weight ; 
 That Thou hast made proportionate 
 To my scant strength ; but oh ! full sore 
 It presses where it pressed before. 
 
 " Change for a space, however brief, 
 The wonted burden, that relief 
 May o'er my aching shoulders steal, 
 And the deep bruise have room to heal ! " 
 
While thus I sadly sighed to-day, 
 
 I heard my gracious Father say, 
 
 " Canst thou not trust my love, my child, 
 
 And to thy cross be reconciled ? 
 
 " I fashioned it thy needs to meet ; 
 Nor were thy discipline complete 
 Without that very pain and bruise, 
 Which thy weak heart would fain refuse." 
 
 Ashamed, I answered, " As Thou wilt ; 
 
 I own m.y faithlessness and guilt ! 
 
 Welcome the weary pain shall be, 
 
 Since only that is best for me." 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 TROUBLED. 
 
 T VEX my soul with life's great problem ; sit 
 "■- And fold my hands, and ponder all the day ; 
 At last, half weary of the hopeless task, 
 I turn to find the light has shpped away. 
 
 When the gray east is cFawning into gold 
 
 I wake, and murmur that the whole world lies 
 
 So soon to be aroused from quiet sleep, 
 To bitter penury and orphans' cries. 
 
46 .Sunsfjme m ti)e Soul. 
 
 And while the morning hours are speeding by, 
 
 I let my daily duties lie undone, 
 The while I think and shudder o'er the wrong 
 
 Men compass 'twixt the rise and set of sun. 
 
 Then, when high noon is shining in the sky, 
 I turn me from my meal, and cannot eat 
 
 For brooding o'er the famine-stricken land. 
 Where thousands die of hunger in the street. 
 
 And yet again, when household friends are near. 
 And I have welcomed them as best I may. 
 
 At all their words of comfort, hope, and cheer 
 I sadly smile, and turn my face away. 
 
 How can I smile when earth so stricken is ? — 
 When I behold her sin and pain and woe ? — 
 
 How can I mingle in their joyous cares, 
 And let these questions all unheeded go ? 
 
 O, child of earth ! whose spirit waxeth faint 
 With thinking of the evils life doth bear, 
 
 Canst thou not trust the pulses of the world, 
 That throb so hotly, to thy Father's care ? 
 
 Into thy charge hath He not given space, 
 
 All of thine own, to make look green and sweet, 
 
 To be a haven unto troubled souls, 
 To be a resting-place for weary feet ? 
 
Doth He require at thy hands aught but this, — 
 To let thy garden show itself so fair 
 
 That others, seeing it, shall straightway go, 
 And till the portions given to their care, 
 
 Till all are like to thine ? He doth not need 
 That thou shouldst aid Him any other way, 
 
 By weak repinings and by fruitless tears, 
 Because of evils which thou canst not stay. 
 
 A thousand years are as a single day 
 
 To Him who doeth all things for the best ; 
 
 Vex not thy soul, do what thou canst, and pray, 
 And leave with Him the care of all the rest. 
 
 Anonymous, 
 
 IDEALS. 
 
 /^ BRIGHT Ideals ! how ye shine 
 ^^ Aloft in realms of air ! 
 Ye pour your streams of light divine 
 Above our low despair. 
 
 I 've climbed and climbed these weary 3^ears 
 
 To come your glories nigh ; 
 I'm tired of climbing, and in tears 
 
 Here on the earth I lie. 
 
48 .Siin0j)me m tfje <SouL 
 
 As a weak child all vainly tries 
 
 To pluck the evening star, 
 So vain have been my life-long cries 
 
 To reach up where ye are. 
 
 Shine on, shine on through earth's dark night, 
 
 Nor let your glories pale ! 
 Some stronger soul may win the height 
 
 Where weaker ones must fail. 
 
 And this one thought of hope and trust 
 
 Comes with its soothing balm, 
 As here I lay my brow in dust, 
 
 And breathe my lowly psalm, — 
 
 That not for heights of victory won, 
 
 But those I tried to gain, 
 Will come my gracious Lord's " Well done," 
 
 And sweet effacing rain. 
 
 Then on your awful heights of blue 
 
 Shine on, forever shine ; — 
 I come ! I '11 climb, I '11 fly to you, 
 
 For endless years are mine. 
 
 Edmund H. Sears^ 
 
STTje OToHar. 49 
 
 ABBA, FATHER. 
 
 /^^IVE me back my innocence, 
 ^^ Give me back my filial fears, 
 Humble, loving confidence, 
 
 Praying sighs, and speaking tears. 
 Weak and helpless may I be, 
 
 To Thine only will resigned ; 
 Ever hanging upon Thee, 
 
 Simple, ignorant, and blind. 
 
 Abba, Father ! hear my cry ; 
 
 Look upon Thy weeping child. 
 Weeping at Thy feet I lie ; 
 
 Kiss me, and be reconciled. 
 Take me up into Thine arms, 
 
 Let me hang upon Thy breast ; 
 Hide me there secure from harms ; 
 
 Lull my sorrowing soul to rest. 
 
 Charles Wesley. 
 
 THE COLLAR. 
 
 T STRUCK the board, and cried, " No more ! 
 
 -^ I will abroad. 
 
 What ! shall I ever sigh and pine ? 
 
 My lines and life are free ; free as the road. 
 
 Loose as the wind, as large as store. 
 
60 ^unsjinc m t^e .SouL 
 
 Shall I be still in suit ? 
 Have I no harvest but a thorn 
 To let me blood, and not restore 
 What I have lost with cordial fruit? 
 
 Sure there was wine, 
 Before my sighs did dry it ; there was corn, 
 Before my tears did drown it. 
 Is the year only lost to me ? 
 Have I no bays to crown it ? 
 No flowers, no garlands gay ? All blasted ? 
 All wasted ? 
 Not so, my heart ; but there is fruit, 
 
 And thou hast hands. 
 Recover all thy sigh-blown age 
 On double pleasures. Leave thy cold dispute 
 Of what is fit, and not. Forsake thy cage, 
 
 Thy rope of sands 
 Which petty thoughts have made, and made to thee 
 Good cable, to enforce and draw 
 
 And be thy law, 
 While thou didst wink and would not see. 
 Away ! take heed ! 
 I will abroad. 
 Call in thy death's head there. Tie up thy fears. 
 He that forbears 
 To suit and serve his need 
 Deserves his load." 
 
Eijz Smok0. 51 
 
 But as I raved, and grew more fierce and wild 
 At every word, 
 Methought I heard one calling, " Child!" 
 And I replied, " My Lord ! " 
 
 George Herbert. 
 
 THE SMOKE. 
 
 T ORD, I have laid my heart upon Thy altar, 
 -*— ' But cannot get the wood to burn ; 
 It hardly flares ere it begins to falter, 
 And to the dark return. 
 
 Old sap, or night-fallen dew, has damped the fuel; 
 
 In vain my breath would flame provoke ; 
 Yet see — at every poor attempt's renewal 
 To Thee ascends the smoke. 
 
 'Tis all I have — smoke, failure, foiled endeavor, 
 
 Coldness, and doubt, and palsied lack : 
 Such as I have I send Thee ; perfect Giver, 
 Send Thou Thy lightning back ! 
 
 George Macdonald 
 
52 Sunsjjine in tf)e Soul. 
 
 UP! UP, MY SOUL. 
 
 TTOW noble ought my manners now to be, 
 
 How white my secret life ; — I, who have seen 
 The Lord in His own glory ! — I, who see 
 So vast a mound of love to intervene 
 Between the torrent of my sins and me ! 
 
 I ought to walk now as the angels do, 
 The holy dead, redeemed by patient strife 
 From this less goodly state ; to whom accrue 
 The higher issues of that noble life 
 Which hath with God undying interview. 
 
 I ought to be as holy- white as they. 
 
 As ardent towards my Lord : — alas, — instead, — 
 
 Upon the very path my Lord doth tread 
 
 To meet my soul, I sink down (sooth to say) 
 
 On the roadside almost a castaway. 
 
 Up ! up, my soul ; awake, and use thy goad. 
 
 T lose forever my divine abode. 
 
 If in this poor estate I thus abide. 
 
 The ground I stand on now will soon subside. 
 
 And be by ocean fathomless o'erfiowed. 
 
 Henry Septimus Sutton. 
 
Not as it mV 53 
 
 "NOT AS I WILL." 
 
 T3LINDF0LDED and alone I stand 
 ■'-^ With unknown thresholds on each hand 
 The darkness deepens as I grope, 
 Afraid to fear, afraid to hope ; 
 Yet this one thing I learn to know 
 Each day more surely as I go, 
 That doors are opened, ways are made. 
 Burdens are lifted or are laid. 
 By some great law unseen and still, 
 Unfathomed purpose to fulfil, 
 " Not as I will." 
 
 Blindfolded and alone I wait ; 
 Loss seems too bitter, gain too late ; 
 Too heavy burdens in the load 
 And too few helpers on the road ; 
 And joy is weak and grief is strong. 
 And years and days so long, so long : 
 Yet this one thing I learn to know 
 Each day more surely as I go, 
 That I am glad the good and ill 
 By changeless law are ordered still, 
 " Not as I will." 
 
54 Sunsjjme in tje ^oul 
 
 " Not as I will : " the sound grows sweet 
 Each time my lips the words repeat. 
 " Not as I will : " the darkness feels 
 More safe than light when this thought steals 
 Like whispered voice to calm and bless 
 All unrest and all lonehness. 
 " Not as I will," because the One 
 Who loved us first and best has gone 
 Before us on the road, and still 
 For us must all his love fulfil, 
 " Not as we will." 
 
 H. H. 
 
 THE EAGLE. 
 
 "As an eagle stirreth up her nest, fluttereth over her young, 
 spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh them, beareth them on her 
 wings: so the Lord alone did lead him." — Deut. xxxii. ii, 12. 
 
 TT THEN the eagle stirs her nest, 
 
 ' '^ Fills it with disturbing things, 
 Then her young ones cannot rest — 
 They must mount upon her wings. 
 
 If the nest were easy still. 
 
 They might tarry where it lies ; 
 
 But the loving mother's will 
 Makes it easier to arise. 
 
E^z ISagle, 55 
 
 Easier — for herself is there, 
 
 Her own guarded work above, 
 Rising, stooping in the air, 
 
 Bent to raise them with her love. 
 
 Comfort done away below, 
 Feeble wings they lift at length, 
 
 And the mother whom they know 
 Bears them upward in her strength. 
 
 She has lived upon the wing, 
 
 She has found her joy on high — 
 
 And she knows their precious thing 
 Is the freedom of the sky. 
 
 So the Lord alone can know 
 
 What His helpless children need ; 
 
 Where 't is good for them to go 
 Only He who dears can lead. 
 
 Whatso'er on earth be dim. 
 
 Upward soaring we shall see : 
 In the heavenly light with Him 
 
 Heavenly will our vision be. 
 
 When our restful things depart, 
 
 Courage let the signal bring ! 
 Let us rise with all our heart. 
 
 Fearless on the eagle's wing. 
 
 Anna L^titia Waring. 
 
56 ^um^inz in tfje ^oiil. 
 
 GOD'S SUPPORT AND GUIDANCE. 
 
 FORSAKE me not, my God, 
 Thou God of my salvation ! 
 Give me Thy hght to be 
 My sure illumination. 
 My soul to folly turns, 
 
 Seeking she knows not what; 
 Oh ! lead her to Thyself — 
 My God, forsake me not ! 
 
 Forsake me not, my God ! 
 
 Take not Thy Spirit from me, 
 And suffer not the might 
 
 Of sin to overcome me. 
 A father pitieth 
 
 The children he begot; 
 My Father, pity me ; 
 
 My God, forsake me not ! 
 
 Forsake me not, my God ! 
 
 Thou God of life and power ; 
 Enliven, strengthen me, 
 
 In every evil hour ; 
 And when the sinful fire 
 
 Within my heart is hot. 
 Be not Thou far from me ; 
 
 My God, forsake me not ! 
 
E^z Perfect TOill of @ot(. 57 
 
 Forsake me not, my God ! 
 
 Uphold me in my going ; 
 That evermore I may 
 
 Please Thee in all well-doing; 
 And that Thy will, O Lord, 
 
 May never be forgot 
 In all my works and ways — 
 
 My God, forsake me not ! 
 
 Forsake me not, my God ! 
 
 I would be Thine forever ; 
 Confirm me mightily 
 
 In every right endeavor. 
 And when my hour is come. 
 
 Cleansed from all stain and spot 
 Of sin, receive my soul ; 
 
 My God, forsake me not ! 
 
 From the German. 
 
 THE PERFECT WILL OF GOD. 
 
 A S from the bowed-down branches of the trees 
 ■^ ^ Snow in the sunshine melteth by degrees, 
 Leaving them free to rise 
 Once more towards the skies ; 
 So, in the brightness of Thy glance divine, 
 May sin melt swiftly from this soul of mine. 
 
 Anna E. Hamilton 
 
58 Suns^me in i\)z ^oul. 
 
 O ILENCE and darkness, solitude and sorrow 
 
 In combination ! Can I cheerful be? 
 And wherefore not ? since I can voices borrow — 
 Society, and light, and peace from Thee, 
 
 My God, from Thee ! 
 
 For other ends has life been given to me : 
 Duties and self-devotion, daily dying 
 Into a higher, better life with Thee, 
 
 My God, with Thee ! 
 
 Strong in Thy strength, though in myself but weak- 
 ness. 
 Equal to all I know that I shall be. 
 If I can seize the mantle of Thy meekness 
 And wrap it close around my soul, like Thee, 
 Blest Lord, like Thee ! 
 
 Anonymous 
 
 LET US PRAY. 
 
 TT 7HEN dark the road, and sore the foot, 
 
 * ^ And desolate the way, 
 We have a Light, a Strength, a Guide, — 
 Or emus, " Let us pray." 
 
ILct us Prag. 59 
 
 Prayer is a culture of the soul 
 
 That turns to wheat our tares ; 
 Prayer is a begging angel whom 
 
 We shelter unawares. 
 
 Prayer is a wisdom which the wise 
 
 To babes have oft resigned ; 
 But He who bade us seek, be sure 
 
 He meant that we should find. 
 
 A small hand feeling in the night, 
 
 A natural gasp for air, 
 A half-articulate aim at speech, — 
 
 To want to pray is prayer. 
 
 " Unasked He gives ; " dost thou object ? 
 
 Yet ask Him not the less, 
 For even a blessing blessing needs 
 
 To make it blessedness. 
 
 " Unasked He gives ; " 't is very true, 
 
 His bounty is so great ; 
 Yet no man ever got from God, 
 
 But he had more to get. 
 
 "But what if we should ask amiss, 
 
 As one who knew has taught ? " 
 There 's no man asks so much amiss 
 
 As he that asks for naueht. 
 
60 .Sunsjine m tfje Soul. 
 
 He gives or He withholds in love, — 
 
 In this one truth we rest : 
 God does the best ; 't is only man 
 
 That does \\.for the best. 
 
 *' He knows thy wants without thine aid, 
 
 He sees the thing thou art ; " 
 He does, and knows our greatest want 
 Is an obeying heart. 
 
 J. B. M. 
 People's Magazine. 
 
 npHE little flowers breathe sweetness out 
 -■- Through all the dewy night ; 
 Should I more churlish be than they, 
 And 'plain for constant light t 
 
 Not so, not so, no load of woe 
 
 Need bring despairing frown ; 
 For while we bear it, we can bear, 
 
 Past that, we lay it down. 
 
 Sarah Williams. 
 
?^eIpl£0S, 61 
 
 HELPLESS. 
 
 T ORD, I had planned to do Thee service true, 
 "^^ To be more humbly watchful unto prayer, 
 More faithful in obedience to Thy word, 
 More bent to put away all earthly care, 
 
 I thought of sad hearts comforted and healed, 
 Of wanderers turned into the pleasant way. 
 
 Of little ones preserved from sinful snare, 
 
 Of dark homes brightened with a heavenly ray; 
 
 Of time all consecrated to Thy will, 
 
 Of strength spent gladly for Thee day by day, — 
 When suddenly the heavenly mandate came, 
 
 That I should give it all, at once, away. 
 
 Thy blessed hand came forth, and laid me down. 
 Turned every beating pulse to throbs of pain. 
 
 Hushed all my prayers into one feeble cry, 
 Then bid me to beheve that loss was gain. 
 
 And was it loss to have indulged such hopes ? 
 
 Nay, they were gifts, from out the inner shrine ; 
 Garlands that I might hang about Thy cross ; 
 
 Gems, to surrender at the call divine. 
 
62 ^unsljme m tje Soul. 
 
 As chiselled image unresisting lies 
 
 In niche by its own sculptor's hand designed, 
 So to my unemployed and silent life 
 
 Let me in quiet meekness be resigned. 
 
 If works of Faith, and labors sweet of Love, 
 May not be mine, yet patient Hope can be 
 
 Within my heart, like a bright censer's fire, 
 With incense of Thanksgiving mounting free. 
 
 Thou art our Pattern to the end of time, 
 O Crucified ! and perfect is Thy will ; 
 
 The workers follow Thee in doing good. 
 The helpless think of Calvary, and are still. 
 
 Caroline M. Noel. 
 
 A VIGIL. 
 
 T SIT alone and watch the darkening years, 
 •^ And all my heart grows dim with doubt and fear 
 Till out of deepest gloom a face appears. 
 The only one of all that shineth clear. 
 
 (O lovely face, that all the world doth wTong ! — 
 But not upon the world thou smilest so ; 
 
 Thou only real amid the phantom throng. 
 Thou only sure, while others come and go !) 
 
m Ut'siL 63 
 
 Make white thy wedding-garments, O my soul ! 
 
 And sigh no longer for thy scanty dower ; 
 For, if He loves thee. He will crown the whole 
 
 With nobler beauty and immortal power. 
 
 (Oh, dearer than the bridegroom to the bride ! 
 
 Nearer than any words of earth can say ! 
 No harm shall come when Thou art by my side, 
 
 And sorrow from Thy look shall flee away.) 
 
 Forget, my soul, the roses of this land. 
 
 Nor mourn that autumn flowers are few and pale 
 
 For see, He bears white lilies in His hand. 
 And grief hath woven thee a silver veil. 
 
 (O silent feet, that hasten day and night ! 
 
 When will ye come and stand beside my door ? 
 Wliat if I meet Thee with the morning light, 
 
 lovely face, and see the world no more !) 
 
 Now is it naught that life hath been unkind, 
 
 And naught that hope deceived us in our youth ; 
 
 This is the face my heart hath ever shrined, 
 And fairer than all fancies is the truth ! 
 
 /O mighty Angel of the secret name ! 
 
 Come, for my heart doth answer the All-hail ; 
 I know Thy clasp is as a wind of flame, 
 
 1 know that I shall perish, yet prevail !) 
 
64 .Sunsjjine in t^t .Soul. 
 
 I see no more the shadow-forms between, 
 I hear the murmurs slowly fall and cease ; 
 
 One smile is all of majesty serene, 
 
 One many-toned voice is saying peace ! 
 
 (Come with the new name and the mystic stone, 
 And speak so low that none shall hear the call ; 
 
 O beautiful, beloved, and still unknown, 
 
 I ask Thee naught ; Thy look hath promised all !) 
 
 Carl Spencer. 
 
 I AM THE LORD; I CHANGE NOT." 
 
 /^~^HANGE not, change not to me, my God, 
 ^^ I would that Thou shouldst be 
 To farthest worlds what Thou hast been 
 
 On this sad earth to me : 
 Though Thou hast baffled sore my life. 
 
 Though Thy swift-scourging rod 
 Hath left me spirit-scarred, I cry, 
 
 Change not to me, my God. 
 
 Change not to me for any change 
 
 That o'er my soul may come. 
 When lips that dearly love Thy praise 
 
 In bitterness are dumb ; 
 
''I am t{)e 3Lorti; E OTianse i^ot/* 65 
 
 Yea, when I love Thee not at all, 
 
 When from Thy face I flee, 
 Let Thy compelling love pursue, — 
 
 My God, change not to me ! 
 
 When Death has wrought his awful change. 
 
 And left me spirit-bare, 
 Thou, who didst hide me 'neath Thy wings, 
 
 Thy mantling love prepare. 
 I am no other than I was 
 
 When most Thou didst befriend ; 
 I trust Thee, Lord, for what Thou wert : 
 
 Be changeless to the end. 
 
 I do not ask with sudden step 
 
 Thy purest heaven to win ; 
 Be still. Most Merciful, all love, 
 
 Relentless to my sin; 
 Yea, Lord, make wholly beautiful 
 
 What Thou hast loved so well ; 
 Burn out in me whate'er defiles, — 
 
 Burn out in fire of hell. 
 
 Let me but know Thy voice, its word 
 
 I will in all obey; 
 In outer darkness still most sure 
 
 That Thou wilt find a way 
 5 
 
66 ,Sun0j)ine in tlje Soul 
 
 To bring Thy banished to Thyself, 
 
 As Thou didst bring of old, 
 When Thy sin-wearied child but thought 
 
 On the forsaken fold. 
 
 Change not to me in those far worlds, 
 
 Where all is strange and new ; 
 Where can my stranger spirit rest, 
 
 If Thou art changed too? 
 As turns the child from ahen crowd 
 
 To the one kindred face, 
 To find that mother-eyes make home 
 
 In unfamiliar place, — 
 
 So, trembling, must I turn to Thee, 
 
 The God whom I have known. 
 The God who, in this lonely world, 
 
 Hath never left me lone. 
 Do with me. Lord, whate'er Thou wilt, 
 
 So only Thou wilt be, 
 Forever and forevermore, 
 
 What Thou hast been to me. 
 
 Arrah Leigh. 
 
Sr^e Sacrifice of tjje mill 67 
 
 THE SACRIFICE OF THE WILL. 
 
 "Thy will be done." 
 
 T AID on Thy altar, O our Lord divine, 
 ■^-^ Accept my gift this day, for Jesu's sake ! 
 I have no jewels to adorn Thy shrine, 
 
 Nor any world-famed sacrifice to make ; 
 But here I bring within my trembling hand 
 
 This Will of mine — a thing that seemeth small ; 
 And Thou alone, O Lord, canst understand 
 
 How, when I yield Thee this, I yield Thee all. 
 Hidden therein. Thy searching gaze can see 
 
 Struggles of passion, visions of delight — 
 All that I have, or am, or fain would be — 
 
 Deep love, fond hope, and longings infinite. 
 It hath been wet with tears, and dimmed with sighs, 
 
 Clenched in my grasp till beauty hath it none : 
 Now, from Thy footstool where it vanquished lies, 
 
 The prayer ascendeth, " May Thy will be done." 
 Take it, O Father, ere my courage fail, 
 
 And merge it so in Thy own will, that e'en 
 If in some desperate hour my cries prevail. 
 
 And Thou give back my gift, it may have been 
 So changed and purified, so fair have grown, 
 
 So one with Thee, so filled with peace divine, 
 I may not know or feel it as mine own, — 
 
 But gaining back my will, may find it Thine. 
 
 Anonymous- 
 
68 ^ungjjme in tlje ^oiil 
 
 OVERSHADOWED. 
 
 " Insomuch that they brought forth the sick into the streets, and 
 laid them on beds and couches, that at least the shadow of Peter, 
 passing by, might overshadow some of them." 
 
 IV yriD the thronged bustle of the city street, 
 
 ■^~-*- In the hot hush of noon, 
 
 I wait, with folded hands and nerveless feet. 
 
 Surely He will come soon. 
 Surely the Healer will not pass me by, 
 But listen to my cry. 
 
 Long are the hours in which I lie and wait. 
 
 Heavy the load I bear ; 
 But He will come ere evening. Soon or late 
 
 I shall behold Him there ; 
 Shall hear His dear voice, all the clangor through : 
 " What wilt thou that I do ? " 
 
 " If Thou but wilt, Lord, Thou canst make me 
 clean," 
 
 Thus shall I answer swift. 
 And He will touch me, as He walks serene ; 
 
 And I shall rise and lift 
 This couch, so long my prison-house of pain, 
 And be made whole again. 
 
Cfje Sfjatiotos. 69 
 
 He lingers yet. But lo ! a hush, a hum ; 
 
 The multitudes press on 
 After some leader. Surely He is come ! 
 
 He nears me ; He is gone ! 
 Only His shadow reached me, as He went ; 
 Yet here I rest content. 
 
 In that dear shadow, like some healing spell, 
 
 A heavenly patience lay ; 
 Its balm of peace enwrapped me as it fell ; 
 
 My pains all fled away, — 
 The weariness, the deep unrest of soul ; 
 I am indeed " made whole." 
 
 It is enough, Lord, though Thy face divine 
 
 Was turned to other men ; 
 Although no touch, no questioning voice was mine. 
 
 Thou wilt come once again ; 
 
 And, if Thy shadow brings such bliss to me, 
 
 What must Thy presence be ? 
 
 Susan Coolidge. 
 
 THE SHADOWS. 
 
 IV /TY little boy, with pale round cheeks, 
 ■^^■*- And large brown dreamy eyes, 
 Not often, little wisehead, speaks, 
 But yet will make rephes. 
 
70 ^unsijine in i\}t Soul 
 
 His sister, always glad to show 
 
 Her knowledge for its praise, 
 Said yesterday, " God 's here, you know ; 
 
 He 's everywhere, always. 
 
 " He 's in this room." His large brown eyes 
 Went wandering round for God. 
 
 In vain he looks, in vain he tries. 
 His wits are all abroad. 
 
 " He is not here, mamma ? No, no ; 
 
 I don't see Him at all, 
 He's not the shadows, is He ? '' So 
 
 His doubtful accents fall, — 
 
 Fall on my heart like precious seed, 
 
 Grow up to flowers of love ; 
 For as my child, in love and need. 
 
 Am I to Him above. 
 
 How oft before the vapors break, 
 
 And day begins to be, 
 In our dim-lighted rooms we take 
 
 The shadows, Lord, for Thee ; — 
 
 While every shadow lying there. 
 
 Slow remnant of the night, 
 Is but an aching, longing prayer. 
 
 For Thee, O Lord, the Light. 
 
 George Macdonald. 
 
f^umilftg, 71 
 
 HUMILITY. 
 
 T7AIR, soft Humility, so seldom seen, 
 -*- So oft despised upon this little earth, 
 Counted by men as dross of nothing worth. 
 Though in the sight of Mightiness supreme 
 'T is hailed and welcomed as a glorious birth, 
 Offspring of greatness, beauty perfected, 
 And yet of such fragility extreme, 
 That if we call it ours, 'tis forfeited; 
 Named, it escapes us, thus we need beware. 
 When with the Publican we plead the prayer, 
 " A sinner. Lord, be merciful to me ! " 
 Our hearts do not say softly, " I thank Thee, 
 O Lord, for this sweet grace, Humility, 
 Which I possess, unlike the Pharisee." 
 
 Littell's Living Age. 
 
 ' I ^HE more by Thought thou leav'st the crowd 
 
 ■*■ behind, 
 
 Draw near by deeper love to all thy kind ; 
 
 So shall thy heart in lowly peace be still, 
 
 And earthly wisdom serve a Heavenly will. 
 
 J. S. 
 
72 .Sunshine in tlje &oul. 
 
 VERSES FROM THE GERMAN. 
 
 RETIREMENT. 
 
 A H, whither flee, or where abide ? 
 
 -*■ ^ Where is the lone sequestered spot, 
 Where outward things can reach me not 
 
 And from their turmoil I may hide ? 
 
 Can no deep solitude be found 
 
 Where prayer and praise might ceaseless be 
 To Him whose grace had set me free 
 
 From each distracting sight and sound ? 
 
 For desert wastes my spirit longs ; 
 Had she the. pinions of a dove, 
 There would she seek the Source of Love 
 
 Far from these restless noisy throngs ; 
 
 She dare not longer make abode, 
 She cannot keep her own faith pure. 
 Where men are caught in folly's lure. 
 
 And strive but to forget their God. 
 
 Then forth, my Soul ! Escape amain 
 
 From snares that long have held thee fast ; 
 Quit worldly schemes and friends at last, 
 
 That so thou mayst that rest attain. 
 
Ucrscs from tfje German. 73 
 
 Where voice nor touch nor sight can come 
 To break tliy commune deep and still 
 With Him who every want can fill, 
 
 Who is alone our proper Home. 
 
 There in some narrow, quiet cell, 
 My Paradise, my Promised Land, 
 These wandering thoughts I might command, 
 
 And fixed in rapt devotion dwell, 
 
 No foe to thwart with blame or praise ; 
 My God alone should fill my soul. 
 As toward my peaceful death should roll 
 
 In changeless course my tranquil days. 
 
 Alas ! poor soul ! hadst thou thy will, 
 'T were resting^re the field was won ; 
 
 How hopest thou all foes to shun 
 When blind self-will goes with thee still? 
 In outward things thou seekest rest. 
 
 But thou wilt never find it so ; 
 
 Nought outward is so much thy foe 
 As what thou hast within thy breast. 
 
 Safe is obedience, that alone ; 
 
 No loyal soldier leaves his post. 
 
 Though toil or pain or life it cost, 
 Until his Captain saith, "Begone." 
 
74 ^unsjine in t!)e ^oul 
 
 And Faith knows not to pause or choose, 
 And flees no strife however stern, 
 Where in the struggle she may learn 
 
 How in God's Will her own to lose. 
 
 But if thy heart on Peace is bent, 
 
 O'er fair false dreams no longer brood 
 
 Of blest, congenial solitude, 
 They will but breed deep discontent ; 
 No Paradise is left us here ; 
 
 Our Peace is in a will resigned ; 
 
 Then amid crowds thou yet mayst find 
 Thy unseen Lord most surely near. 
 
 Translated by Catherine Winkworth- 
 
 GOD'S THOUGHTS NOT OUR THOUGHTS. 
 
 /'^OD'S thoughts are not as our thoughts; we 
 ^-^ look on 
 
 Dreading to climb some mountain far away, 
 Counting the sharp stones on its tedious way; 
 He cares for our small troubles, day by day 
 
 Smoothing them down. 
 
©oti's S[ti0ii5{)t0 not our C})Ougbts. 75 
 
 We keep our patience for our greater cares, 
 And murmur unrepenting o'er the less. 
 Thinking to show our strength in our distress ; 
 His patience with our hourly fretfulness 
 
 Still gently bears. 
 
 God's ways are not as our ways ; we lay down 
 Schemes for His glory, temples for our King, 
 Wherein tribes yet unborn may worship Him; 
 Meanwhile, upon some humble, secret thing 
 He sets His crown. 
 
 We travel far to find Him, seeking still, 
 Often in weariness, to reach His shrine, 
 Ready our choicest treasures to resign ! 
 //t', in our daily homes, lays down the line, 
 " Do here my will." 
 
 There, in the lowly valley, walking on, 
 Some common duty all we have to do. 
 His "higher thoughts " of love make all things new : 
 'His " higher way " we tread, yea, leading to 
 God's holy throne. 
 
 Sunday Magazine. 
 
76 .Sunshine m tfte <SouL 
 
 A 
 
 CARE. 
 
 S one who through a tree 
 
 Looks unto distant sunh't hills, 
 And cannot see 
 Their beauty through the branching tracery ; 
 
 So we 
 From this dark world of which we are so fond, 
 Through the dense branches of the tree of care, — 
 Which, although leafless, all our vision fills, — 
 Can scarce discern the radiance fair 
 Of the bright world beyond. 
 
 Anna E. Hamilton. 
 
 THY WILL BE DONE. 
 
 " Understanding what the will of the Lord is." — Eph. v. 17. 
 
 TT 7ITH quivering heart and trembling will 
 ^ * The word hath passed thy lips, 
 Within the shadow, cold and still. 
 
 Of some fair joy's eclipse : 
 "Thy will be done ! " Thy God hath heard, 
 And He will crown that faith-framed word. 
 
2rj)2 ram be ©one. 77 
 
 Thy prayer shall be fulfilled ; but how ? 
 
 His thoughts are not as thine ; 
 While thou vvouldst only weep and bow, 
 
 He saith, " Arise and shine ! " 
 Thy thoughts were all of grief and night, 
 But His of boundless joy and light. 
 
 Thy Father reigns supreme above : 
 
 The glory of His name 
 Is Grace and Wisdom, Truth and Love, 
 
 His will must be the same. 
 And thou hast asked all joys in one. 
 In whispering forth, ''Thy will be done." 
 
 His will — each soul to sanctify 
 
 Redeeming might hath won ; * 
 His will — that thou shouldst never die, 
 
 Beheving on His Son ; '^ 
 His will — that thou, through earthly strife, 
 Shouldst rise to everlasting life.^ 
 
 That one unchanging song of praise 
 
 Should from our hearts arise ; "* 
 That we should know His wondrous ways. 
 
 Though hidden from the wise ; ^ 
 That we, so sinful and so base. 
 Should know the glory of His grace.^ 
 
 I Thess. iv. 3. ^ John vi. 39. " Matt xi. 25, 26. 
 
 John vi. 40. ^ I Thess v. 18. ^ Eph. i. 5, 6, 11, 12. 
 
78 ^unsjme fn t!)e .Soul. 
 
 His will — to grant the yearning prayer 
 
 For dear ones far away,i 
 That they His grace and love may share, 
 
 And tread His pleasant way ; 
 That in the Father and the Son 
 All perfect we may be in one.^ 
 
 His will — the little flock to bring 
 
 Into His royal fold, 
 To reign forever with their King,^ 
 
 His beauty to behold ; "* 
 Sin's fell dominion crushed for aye, 
 Sorrow and sighing fled away. 
 
 This thou hast asked ! And shall the prayer 
 
 Float upward on a sigh ? 
 No song were sweet enough to bear 
 
 Such glad desires on high ! 
 But God thy Father shall fulfil, 
 In thee and for thee, all His will. 
 
 Frances Ridley Havergal 
 
 * 1 John V. 14-16. 3 Luke xii. 32. 
 
 2 John xvii. 23, 24. * Isa. xxxiii. 17. 
 
CfjanksrjiiJing. 79 
 
 THANKSGIVING. 
 
 " We bless Thee ... for the means of grace and for the hope of 
 glory." 
 
 "pOR the rapt stillness of the place 
 
 •*- Where sacred song and ordered prayer 
 
 Wait the unveiling of Thy face, 
 
 And seek Thy angels' joys to share ; 
 
 For souls won o'er to truth and right, 
 For wisdom dropping as the dew. 
 
 For Thy great Word in lines of light, 
 Made visible to mortal view ; 
 
 For gladness of the summer morning. 
 For fair faint twilight's lingering ray, 
 
 For forest's and for field's adorning, 
 And the wild ocean's ceaseless play ; 
 
 For flowers unsought, in desert places 
 Flashing enchantment on the sight ; 
 
 For radiance on familiar faces 
 
 As they passed upward into light ; 
 
 For blessings of the fruitful season, 
 
 For work and rest, for friends and home, 
 
 For the great gifts of thought and reason, — 
 To praise and bless Thee, Lord, we come. 
 
80 Bungijiue in tf)e .SouL 
 
 Yes, and for weeping and for wailing, 
 For bitter hail and blighting frost, 
 
 For high hopes on the low earth trailing, 
 For sweet joys missed, for pure aims crost. 
 
 For lonely toil and tribulation. 
 
 And e'en for hidings of Thy face, — 
 
 For these Thy heralds of salvation, 
 Thy means and messengers of grace ; 
 
 With joy supreme, with faith unbroken. 
 With worship passing thought or speech. 
 
 Of Thy dear love we hail each token. 
 And give Thee humble thanks for each. 
 
 For o'er our strugghng and our sighing, 
 
 Now quenched in mist, now ghmmering far 
 
 Above our living and our dying, 
 
 Hangs high in Heaven one beckoning star. 
 
 And when we gather up the story 
 Of all Thy mercies flowing free, 
 
 Crown of them all, that hope of glory, 
 Of growing ever nearer Thee. 
 
 Eliza Scuddek. 
 
Jrom ** E\)z Bretoing at ^oma." 81 
 
 FROM "THE BREWING OF SOMA." 
 
 THvEAR Lord and Father of mankind, 
 •^-^ Forgive our foolish ways ! 
 Reclothe us in our rightful mind, 
 In purer lives Thy service find, 
 In deeper reverence, praise. 
 
 In simple trust like theirs who heard 
 
 Beside the Syrian sea 
 The gracious calling of the Lord, 
 Let us, hke them, without a word, 
 
 Rise up and follow Thee. 
 
 O Sabbath rest by Galilee ! 
 
 O calm of hills above, 
 Where Jesus knelt to share with Thee 
 The silence of eternity 
 
 Interpreted by love ! 
 
 With that deep hush subduing all 
 
 Our words and works that drown 
 The tender whisper of Thy call, 
 As noiseless let Thy blessing fall 
 As fell Thy manna down. 
 6 
 
82 Sunsljme m tfte Soul. 
 
 Drop Thy still dews of quietness, 
 
 Till all our strivings cease ; 
 Take from our souls the strain and stress, 
 And let our ordered lives confess 
 
 The beauty of Thy peace. 
 
 Breathe through the heats of our desire 
 
 Thy coolness and Thy balm ; 
 Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire ; 
 Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire, 
 
 O still, small voice of calm ! 
 
 John Greenleaf Whittier. 
 
 WITHOUT CAREFULNESS. 
 " I would have you without carefulness." — i Cor. vii. 32. 
 
 TV/TASTER ! how shall I bless Thy name 
 ■^^■*- For Thy tender love to me. 
 For the sweet enablings of Thy grace, 
 
 So sovereign, yet so free, 
 That have taught me to obey Thy word 
 
 And cast my care on Thee ! 
 
 They tell of weary burdens borne 
 
 For discipline of life, 
 Of long anxieties and doubts, " 
 
 Of struggle and of strife, 
 Of a path of dim perplexities 
 
 With fears and shadows rife. 
 
raitfjout (larEfiilucss. 83 
 
 Oh, I have trod that weary path, 
 
 With burdens not a few. 
 With shadowy faith that Thou wouldst lead 
 
 And help me safely through, 
 Trying to follow and obey, 
 
 And bear my burdens too. 
 
 Master ! dear Master ! Thou didst speak, 
 
 And yet I did not hear. 
 Or long ago I might have ceased 
 
 From every care and fear, 
 And gone rejoicing on my way 
 
 From brightening year to year. 
 
 Just now and then some steeper slope 
 
 Would seem so hard to climb. 
 That I 7mist cast my load on Thee ; 
 
 And I left it for, a time, 
 And wondered at the joy at heart. 
 
 Like sweetest Christmas chime. 
 
 A step or two on winged feet. 
 
 And then I turned to share 
 The burden Thou hadst taken up 
 
 Of ever-pressing care ; 
 So what I would not leave with Thee 
 
 Of course I had to bear. 
 
84 ,Sunsi)ine itt t^e Soul 
 
 At last Thy precious precepts fell 
 
 On opened heart and ear, 
 A varied and repeated strain 
 
 I could not choose but hear, 
 Enlinking promise and command, 
 
 Like harp and clarion clear : 
 
 " No anxious thought upon thy brow 
 The watching world should see ; 
 
 No carefulness ! O child of God, 
 For 7iothmg careful be ! 
 
 But cast thou all thy care on Him 
 Who always cares for thee." 
 
 Did not Thy loving Spirit come 
 In gentle, gracious shower, 
 
 To work Thy pleasure in my soul 
 In that bright, blessed hour, 
 
 And to the word of strong command 
 Add faith and will and power ? 
 
 It was Thy word, it was Thy will — 
 
 That was enough for me ! 
 Henceforth no care shall dim my trust, 
 
 For all is cast on Thee ; 
 Henceforth my inmost heart shall praise 
 
 The grace that set me free. 
 
raitt)Out earcfuluc£S. 85 
 
 And now I find Thy promise true, 
 
 Of perfect peace and rest ; 
 I cannot sigh — I can but sing 
 
 While leaning on Thy breast, 
 And leaving everything to Thee, 
 
 Whose ways are always best. 
 
 I never thought it could be thus, — 
 
 Month after month to know 
 The river of Thy peace without 
 
 One ripple in its flow ; 
 Without one quiver in the trust. 
 
 One flicker in its glow. 
 
 Oh, Thou hast done far more for me 
 
 Than I had asked or thought ! 
 I stand and marvel to behold 
 
 What Thou, my Lord, hast wrought, 
 And wonder what glad lessons yet 
 
 I shall be daily taught. 
 
 How shall I praise Thee, Saviour dear, 
 
 For this new life so sweet. 
 For taking all the care I laid 
 
 At Thy beloved feet, 
 Keeping Thy hand upon my heart. 
 
 To still each anxious beat ! 
 
^ung{)in£ in tf)e ^oul. 
 
 I want to praise, with life renewed, 
 
 As I never praised betore ; 
 With voice and pen, with song and speech, 
 
 To praise Thee more and more. 
 And the gladness and the gratitude 
 
 Rejoicingly outpour, 
 
 I long to praise Thee more, and yet 
 
 This is no care to me : 
 If Thou shalt fill my mouth with songs, 
 
 Then I will sing to Thee ; 
 And if my silence praise Thee best. 
 
 Then silent I will be. 
 
 Yet if it be Thy will, dear Lord, 
 
 Oh, send me forth, to be 
 Thy messenger to careful hearts, 
 
 To bid them taste and see 
 How good Thou art to those who cast 
 
 All, all their care on Thee ! 
 
 Fkances Ridley Havekgal. 
 
 "I WILL ABIDE IN THINE HOUSE." 
 
 A MONG so many, can He care? 
 -^ ^ Can special love be everywhere ? 
 A myriad homes, — a myriad ways, — 
 And God's eye over every place. 
 
^uotljcr Jgcar. 87 
 
 Over J but in ? The world is full; 
 A grand Omnipotence must rule ; 
 But is there life that doth abide 
 With mine own Hving, side by side ? 
 
 So many, and so wide abroad : 
 Can any heart have all of God ? 
 From the great spaces, vague and dim, 
 May one small household gather Him ? 
 
 I asked : my soul bethought of this : — 
 In just that very place of His 
 Where He hath put and keepeth you, 
 God hath no other thing to do ! 
 
 Adeline D. T. Whitney. 
 
 ANOTHER YEAR. 
 
 A NOTHER year is dawning ! 
 •^^ Dear Master, let it be 
 In working or in waiting 
 Another year with Thee ! 
 
 Another year of leaning 
 Upon Thy loving breast, 
 
 Of ever-deepening trustfulness. 
 Of quiet, happy rest. 
 
88 ^imsfjine m tfje Boul. 
 
 Another year of mercies, 
 Of faithfulness and grace ; 
 
 Another year of gladness 
 In the shining of Thy face. 
 
 Another year of progress, 
 
 Another year of praise. 
 Another year of proving 
 
 Thy presence " all the days." 
 
 Another year of service. 
 Of witness for Thy love ; 
 
 Another year of training 
 For holier work above. 
 
 Another year is dawning! 
 
 Dear Master, let it be 
 On earth, or else in heaven. 
 
 Another year for Thee ! 
 
 Fkancics Ridley Havergal, 
 
 IV /FY heart for gladness springs, 
 
 ^^-*- It cannot more be sad, 
 For very joy it laughs and sings, 
 
 Sees nought but sunshine glad. 
 
 The sun that glads mine eyes 
 
 Is Christ the Lord I love, 
 I sing for joy of that which lies 
 
 Stored up for us above. 
 
 Paul Gerhardt. 
 
^JanUgfjibmcf. 89 
 
 THANKSGIVING. 
 
 T ORD, Thou art good — we say it when 
 ^-^ Thy fierce east breezes blow ; 
 Lord, Thou art good, we still repeat 
 
 In Thy soft summer glow ; 
 And whether next day rain or shine, 
 Shadow and sunshine both are Thine. 
 
 We cannot thank Thee as we would 
 
 For all our Past has been ; 
 Such sweet, white blossoms Thou hast dropped 
 
 From fields of living green. 
 Bidding us think how fair is made 
 Thy Land, where such flowers never fade. 
 
 The Future still is hid with Thee, 
 
 Its secret Thou dost know ; 
 We cannot guess its coming bliss, 
 
 And we would have it so : 
 Content, when this year's course is o'er, 
 We shall but love and trust Thee more. 
 
 As little children, called to see 
 
 Their father's gift untied, 
 Are sure that, whatsoe'er he send, 
 
 They will be satisfied ; 
 We thank Thee ere we know Thy gift. 
 And wait till Thou its veil shalt lift. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
90 Sunsljinc in lijc Soul. 
 
 STRONG IN THE LORD. 
 
 'T^HE Lord is strong to do His will, 
 
 ^ Rest then, my soul, be glad and still; 
 He will not faint, He cannot need, 
 His forces far thyself exceed. 
 
 Why spend an effort or a thought 
 On that in which He helps thee not ? 
 And if He help thee, why not sing 
 And tireless through all labor spring ? 
 
 Lo, He is thine ! His vigor seize ; 
 Rest in the Lord, and take thine ease ! 
 Thy God is good for many a day ; 
 
 Rejoice, and in the Lord be gay ! 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 TO-MORROW. 
 
 "T^ IS late at night, and in the realm of sleep 
 -*• My httle lambs are folded like the flocks ; 
 From room to room I hear the wakeful clocks 
 Challenge the passing hour, like guards that keep 
 Their sohtary watch on tower and steep ; 
 
Far off I hear the crowing of the cocks, 
 
 And through the opening door that lime unlocks 
 
 Feel the fresh breathing of To-morrow creep. 
 
 Fo-morrow ! the mysterious, unknown guest, 
 Who cries to me : " Remember Barmecide, 
 And tremble to be happy with tlie rest." 
 
 /Vnd I make answer: " I am satisfied ; 
 I dare not ask ; I know not what is best ; 
 God hath already said what shall betide." 
 
 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 \\ 7ELCOME, pure thoughts and peaceful hours, 
 
 Enriched with sunshine and with showers ! 
 Welcome fair hopes and holy cares, 
 The not to be repented shares 
 Of time and business, the sure road 
 Unto my last and loved abode ! 
 
 O Supreme Bliss ! 
 The circle, centre, and abyss 
 Of blessings, never let me miss 
 Nor leave that path which leads to Thee, 
 Who art alone all things to me ! 
 
 Henry Vaughan. 
 
92 ^unsj^me in t\)z ^oul. 
 
 "IT IS I." 
 
 " Straightway Jesus spake unto them, saying, It is I, be not 
 afraid." "And he said, Come." — Matt. xiv. 27-29. 
 
 T ORD, it is Thou ! and I can walk 
 -*— ' Upon the heaving sea, 
 Firm in a vexed unquiet way, 
 
 Because I come to Thee. 
 If Thou art all I hope to gain 
 
 And all I fear to miss, 
 There is a highway for my heart 
 
 Through rougher seas than this. 
 
 And step by step on even ground 
 
 My trembling foot shall fall, 
 Led by Thy calm, inviting voice, 
 
 Thou Lord and Heir of all. 
 The very thing I cannot bear. 
 
 And have not power to do, 
 I hail the grace that could jDrepare 
 
 For me to carry through. 
 
 These waters would not hold me up 
 
 If Thou wert not my end ; 
 But whom Thou callest to Thyself 
 
 Even wind and waves defend. 
 
*• It IS E." 93 
 
 Our very perils shut us in 
 
 To Thy supporting care ; 
 We venture on the awful deep, 
 
 And find our courage there. 
 
 When I have nothing in my hand 
 
 Wherewith to serve my King, 
 When Thy commandment finds me weak 
 
 And wanting everything, 
 My soul, upon Thy greatness cast, 
 
 Shall rise divinely free ; 
 Then will I serve with what Thou hast, 
 
 And gird myself with Thee. 
 
 It shall be strength, howe'er it tend, — 
 
 The bidding sweet and still 
 Which draws to one ennobling love 
 
 And one benignant will. 
 Most precious when it most demands, 
 
 It brings that cheering cry 
 Across that rolling tide of life, — 
 
 "Take heart, for it is I." 
 
 Oh, there are heavenly heights to reach 
 
 In many a fearful place. 
 Where the poor timid heir of God 
 
 Lies bhndly on his face ; 
 
94 Sun0f)ine in tf)e -Soul. 
 
 Lies languishing for life divine 
 
 That he shall never see 
 Till he go forward at Thy sign, 
 
 And trust himself to Thee. 
 
 Why should I halt because of sin 
 
 Which Thou hast put away ? 
 Let all the truth on every side 
 
 Rebuke me as it may ! 
 With Thee, my Saviour, full in view, 
 
 I know it shall but bless ; 
 It shall but centre all my hope 
 
 In glorious righteousness. 
 
 Forth from some narrow frail defence, 
 
 Some rest Thyself below, 
 Some poor content with less than all 
 
 My soul is called to go. 
 Yes, I will come ! I will not wait 
 
 An outward calm to see, 
 And, O my glory, be Thou great 
 
 Even in the midst of me. 
 
 Anna L^titia Waring. 
 
bonnet 95 
 
 THE FLIGHT OF THE BIRDS. 
 
 OWISE little birds, how do ye know 
 The way to go, 
 Southward and northward, to and fro ? 
 
 Far up in the ether piped they : 
 
 " We but obey 
 One who calleth us far away. 
 
 " He calleth and calleth year by year, 
 
 Now there, now here ; 
 Ever He maketh the way appear." 
 
 Dear little birds ! He calleth me 
 
 Who calleth ye ; 
 Would that I might as trusting be ! 
 
 Harriet McEwen Kimball. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 TO tell my journeys, where I daily walk. 
 These words thou hear'st me use were given me; 
 Give heed then, when with thee my soul would talk, 
 
 That thou the path of peace it goes mayst see. 
 I know no where to turn, each step is new, 
 No wish before me flies to point the way, 
 But on I travel, with no end in view, 
 
96 ^unsjme m i^z .SouL 
 
 1 
 
 Save that from Him who leads I may not stray. 
 He knows it all ; the turning of the road, 
 
 Where this way leads, and that, He knows it well, 
 And finds for me at night a safe abode, 
 
 Though I all houseless know not where to dwell. 
 And canst thou tell then where my journeying lies ? 
 If so, thou tread'st with me the same blue skies. 
 
 Jones Very. 
 
 THE REMOVES OF THE TOKENS OF GOD'S 
 PRESENCE. 
 
 GOD came from Paran, and on Sinai shone. 
 And passed from Sinai into Shiloh's tent ; 
 
 And, parted thence, the unresting glory went 
 To Salem's fane ; and thence again 't is gone. 
 O friends, whose oft-uprooted hearts bemoan 
 
 The uncontinuing city ! sure 't were strange, 
 
 If, where God's sign is doomed to restless 
 change. 
 Unchanging rest for God's beloved were won. 
 In Him confiding, fare we where He will. 
 
 Thoughts of His partings cheering all our lot; 
 God is not bound to one fair tent or hill; 
 
 Ye cannot be, Beloved, where God is not. 
 The compass of the world is His and yours; 
 And everywhere His might safe sojourning secures- 
 
 William Griffiths. 
 
(dux 2a£ti=2Lett£r Bags* 97 
 
 OUR RED-LETTER DAYS. 
 
 IV /TY Alpine staff recalls each shining height, 
 -'-'-^ Each pass of grandeur with rejoicing gained, 
 Carved with a lengthening record self-explained. 
 Of mountain memories sublime and bright. 
 
 No valley life but hath some mountain days, 
 Bright summits in the retrospective view. 
 And toil-won passes to glad prospects new, 
 
 Fair sunht memories of joy and praise. 
 
 Grave on thy heart each past " red-letter day " ! 
 Forget not all the sunshine of the way 
 By which the Lord hath led thee ; answered prayers, 
 And joys unasked, strange blessings, lifted cares, 
 Grand promise-echoes ! Thus thy life shall be 
 One record of His love and faithfulness to thee. 
 
 Frances Ridley Havergal. 
 
98 ^unsfjine m tfje Soul 
 
 THE HEAVENLY GUIDE. 
 
 " And I will bring the blind by a way that they knew not ; I will 
 lead them in paths that they have not known : I will make darkness 
 light before them, and crooked things straight. These things will I 
 do unto them, and not forsake them." — Isaiah xlii. i6. 
 
 T KNOW not the way I am going, 
 -*■ But well do I know my Guide ; 
 With a childlike trust I give my hand 
 
 To the mighty Friend by my side. 
 The only thing that I say to Him, 
 
 As he takes it, is, " Hold it fast, 
 . Suffer me not to lose my way. 
 
 And bring me home at last." 
 
 As when some helpless wanderer, 
 
 Alone in an unknown land. 
 Tells the guide his destined place of rest. 
 
 And leaves all else in his hand. — 
 'Tis home, 'tis home that we wish to reach ; 
 
 He who guides us may choose the way; 
 Little we heed what path we take, 
 
 If nearer home each day. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
ProijiHence, 99 
 
 TRUST. 
 
 "IV TAKE a little fence of trust 
 
 ■^'^-*- Around to-day ; 
 
 Fill the space with loving works, 
 
 And therein stay ; 
 Look not through the sheltering bars 
 
 Upon to-morrow, 
 God will help thee bear what comes, 
 
 If joy or sorrow. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 O SACRED Providence, who from end to end 
 Strongly and sweetly movest ! Shall I write, 
 And not of Thee, througli whom my fingers bend 
 To hold my quill ? shall they not do Thee right ? 
 
 We all acknowledge both Thy power and love 
 To be exact, transcendent, and divine; 
 Who dost so strongly and so sweetly move. 
 While all things have their will, yet none but Thine. 
 
100 Sun0f)in£ in tf)E ^oul. 
 
 For either Thy co7niftand^ or Thy permission 
 Lay hands on all ; they are Thy 7'i}^ht and left : 
 The first puts on with speed and expedition; 
 The other curbs sin's stealing pace and theft ; 
 
 Nothing escapes them both : all must appear, 
 And be disposed, and dressed, and tuned by Thee, 
 Who sweetly temper'st all. If we could hear 
 Thy skill and art, what music would it be ! 
 
 Tempests are calm to Thee, they know Thy hand, 
 And hold it fast, as children do their father's, 
 Which cry and follow. Thou hast made poor sand 
 Check theproud sea, even when it swells and g-'thers. 
 
 Each creature hath a wisdom for his good. 
 The pigeons feed their tender offspring, crying, 
 When they are callow ; but withdraw their food, 
 When they are fledged, that need may teacli them 
 flying. 
 
 All things that are, though they have several ways, 
 Yet in their being join with one advice 
 To honor Thee : and so I give thee praise 
 In all my other hymns, but in this twice. 
 
 George Ifi:i<nERT. 
 
Ei)z Uofcc of tfje Spirit 101 
 
 THE VOICE OF THE SPIRIT. 
 
 'T^HERE is a low, deep music in the wind, 
 -*• Sounding at intervals when all is still, 
 Heard only by the pure in heart, who find 
 Joy in their daily task, doing their Maker's wil 
 
 Be they in velvet clad, or russet stole, 
 
 In hall or hut, theirs is that low, sweet chime, 
 
 Solemn, yet cheerful, speaking to the soul 
 Of joys that rest not in this stranger clime. 
 
 Loud music cannot quench it, nor the sound 
 Of mighty voices, like the mingled roar 
 
 Of tossing waves that with delicious bound 
 Leap onward in their fury to the shore. 
 
 Nor yet the jarring sounds of bustling life, 
 Whose weary footsteps toil in quest of gain 
 
 In dusty marts, 'mid sickening scenes of strife, 
 Till the worn spirit longs for rest, — in vain. 
 
 Yet few do hear it : either care or pride, 
 Or thoughts unholy, folly, grief, or crime. 
 
 Whelming the soul beneath their rushing tide. 
 Hinder the coming of that low, sweet chime. 
 
102 .Sungjjme in i^z ^ouL 
 
 Men's hearts are heavy, or they would not sh'ght 
 Their spirit's oneness with so pure a strain, 
 
 Though faint as when the far-off torrent's might 
 Seems as a murmur stealing o'er the plain. 
 
 From source far mightier comes that low, sweet 
 sound, 
 
 Than deep, deep waters thundering to the ear; 
 From harps and mingled voices that resound 
 
 With anthems high through heaven's eternal year. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 FROM "THE TURNED LESSON." 
 
 TS it not often so, 
 
 •^ That we only learn in part, 
 
 And the Master's testing-time may show 
 
 That it was not quite "by heart " ? 
 Then He gives, in His wise and patient grace, 
 
 That lesson again. 
 With the mark still set in the self-same place. 
 
 Only stay by His side 
 
 Till the page is really known, 
 It may be \y& failed because we tried 
 
 To learn it all alone, 
 And now that He would not let us lose 
 
 One lesson of love, 
 (For He knows the loss ; ) — can we refuse ? 
 
 Frances Ridley Havergal. 
 
Kit CTonstEllation. 103 
 
 THE CONSTELLATION. 
 
 T^AIR, ordered lights, whose motion, without 
 noise. 
 
 Resembles those true joys 
 Whose spring is on that hill where you do grow, 
 
 And we here taste sometimes below, 
 
 With what exact obedience do you move, 
 
 Now beneath, and now above ; 
 And, in your vast progressions, overlook 
 
 The darkest night and closest nook ! 
 
 Some nights I see you in the gladsome East, 
 
 Some others near the West ; 
 And when I cannot see, yet do you shine. 
 
 And beat about your endless line. 
 
 Silence and light and watchfulness with you 
 
 Attend and wind the clue ; 
 No sleep nor sloth assails you, but poor man 
 
 Still either sleeps, or slips his span. 
 
 — Settle and fix our hearts that we may move 
 
 In order, peace, and love ; 
 And, taught obedience by Thy whole creation, 
 
 Become an humble, holy nation J 
 
 Henry Vaughan. 
 
104 ^unsfjine in lijc ^oul. 
 
 COME YE APART. 
 
 1 
 
 I deserP 
 
 " And He said unto them, Come ye yourselves apart into a 
 place, and rest awhile." — Mark vi. 31. 
 
 OH for " a desert place " with only the Master's 
 smile ! 
 Oh for the "coming apart" with only His "rest 
 
 awhile ! " 
 Many are "coming and going" with busy and rest- 
 less feet, 
 And the soul is hungering now, with "no leisure so 
 much as to eat." 
 
 Well : I will wait in the crowd till He shall call me 
 apart, 
 
 Till the silence fall which shall weaken the music of 
 mind and heart ; 
 
 Patiently wait till He give the work of my secret 
 choice. 
 
 Blending the song of life with the thrill of the Mas- 
 ter's voice. 
 
 Fkances Ridley Havekgal. 
 
^ €xm ?^2wn. 105 
 
 A TRUE HYMN. 
 
 IV /TY joy, my life, my crown ! 
 
 "'■-*" My heart was meaning all the day. 
 
 Somewhat it fain would say ; 
 And still it runneth muttering up and down 
 With only this, My joy ^ my life, my croivn ! 
 
 Yet slight not these few words ; 
 If truly said, they may take part 
 
 Among the best in art. 
 The fineness which a hymn or psalm affords. 
 Is, when the soul unto the lines accords. 
 
 He who craves all the mind, 
 And all the soul, and strength, and time. 
 
 If the words only rhyme. 
 Justly complains, that somewhat is behind 
 To make his verse, or write a hymn in kind. 
 
 Whereas, if th' heart be moved, 
 Although the verse be somewhat scant, 
 
 God doth supply the want. 
 As when th' heart says (sighing to be approved) 
 Oh, coicldl love ! and stops ; God writeth. Loved. 
 
 George Herbert. 
 
106 -Sunsi^me m tj)£ ^ouL 
 
 /^ THOU that lovest a pure and whitened soul! 
 ^^ That feedst among the lilies, till the day 
 Break, and the shadows flee ! touch with one coal 
 My frozen heart ! and, with Thy secret key 
 
 Open my desolate rooms ; my gloomy breast 
 With Thy clear fire refine, burning to dust 
 These dark confusions that within me nest, 
 And soil Thy temple with a sinful rust ! 
 
 Henry Vaughan. 
 
 "O GOD! MY HEART IS FIXED." 
 
 IV /FY whole desire 
 ^^■^ Doth deeply turn away 
 Out of all time, unto eternal day. 
 I give myself, and all I call my own, 
 To God forever, to be His alone. 
 
 Now, O my God ! 
 
 My comfort, portion, rest! 
 
 Thou, none but Thou, shalt reign within my breast. 
 
 Call me to Thee ! call me Thyself — oh ! speak, 
 
 And bind my heart to Thee, whom most I seek ! 
 
iFrom "In iilemoriam." 107 
 
 Then let me dwell 
 
 But as a pilgrim here ; 
 
 One to whom earth seems distant — heaven more 
 
 near. 
 Let this my joy, my life, my life-work be, 
 To die to self — to live, my Lord, to Thee. 
 
 I know this road 
 
 Through narrow straits doth wend, 
 
 Wherein my stubborn will must stoop and bend. 
 
 Father, I offer unto Thee my will — 
 
 Thy love can make it humble, sweet, and still. 
 
 Thou art my King — 
 
 My King henceforth alone ; 
 
 And I, Thy servant, Lord, am all Thine own. 
 
 Give me Thy strength ; oh ! let Thy dwelling be 
 
 In this poor heart that pants, my Lord, for Thee ! 
 
 Gerhard Tersteegen. 
 
 FROM " IN MEMORIAM." 
 
 O LIVING will that shalt endure 
 When all that seems shall suffer shock, 
 Rise in the spiritual rock, 
 Flow thro' our deeds and make them pure. 
 
108 .^unsfjme m t\)c Soul. 
 
 That we may lift from out the dust 
 A voice as unto him that hears, 
 A cry above the conquered years 
 
 To one that with us works, and trust, 
 
 f 
 
 With faith that comes of self-control, 
 The truths that never can be proved 
 Until we close with all we loved, 
 
 And all we flow from, soul in soul. 
 
 Alfred Tennyson 
 
 THE GOOD SHEPHERD WITH THE KID. 
 
 TSTE saves the sJieep^ the goats He doth not save. 
 
 So rang Tertullian's sentence, on the side 
 Of that unpitying PhrN^gian sect which cried : 
 " Him can no fount of fresh forgiveness lave, 
 
 Who sins, once washed bv the baptismal wave." — 
 So spake the fierce Tertullian. But she sighed, 
 The infant Church ! of love she felt the tide 
 Stream on her from her Lord's yet recent grave. 
 
 And then she smiled ; and in the Catacombs, 
 With eye suffused but heart inspired true. 
 On those walls subterranean, where she hid 
 
m t{je P?0U0£5alti of ©oil. 109 
 
 Her head, 'mid ignominy, death, and tombs, 
 She her Good Shepherd's hasty image drew — 
 And on His shoulders, not a lamb, a kid. 
 
 Matthew Arnold. 
 
 OF THE HOUSEHOLD OF GOD. 
 
 TT THAT guerdon hast Thou, Lord, for those 
 
 ' ^ Who spend their all on Thee ? 
 What grace, what glory shall compose 
 Thy servants' dignity ? 
 
 They find their glory in their task, 
 
 Their gladness in their care ; 
 What grace, what glory need they ask 
 
 Who of Thy household are ? 
 
 Thy voice their daily work commands ; 
 
 Thy tasks their hands employ ; 
 How sweetly toil those happy hands ! 
 
 What labor and what joy ! 
 
 No weariness o'ercomes their feet ; 
 
 For Thee they go and come ; 
 Their painful pilgrimage how sweet ! 
 
 Still, still they are at home. 
 
110 Sunsljme m t\)z Soul 
 
 With mingled joy and shame oppressed, 
 
 Their work to Thee they bring ; 
 How full their welcome ! what sweet rest 
 
 Enfolds them 'neath Thy wing ! 
 
 Lord ! may I call this bliss my own, 
 
 This nearness sweet to Thee ? 
 May I, poor weakling wanderer lone, 
 
 Of Thine own household be ? 
 
 Lord ! all my tasks wilt Thou assign ? 
 
 Thou all my journeys guide ? 
 Near me may sound those strains divine, 
 
 That fiery pillar glide ? 
 
 For Thee my hands would toil ; for Thee 
 
 My feet would go and come ; 
 Still of Thy household I would be 
 
 On Earth, in Heaven at home. 
 
 Thomas Hornblower Gill. 
 
ILaborarc est ©rare. Ill 
 
 LABORARE EST ORARE. 
 
 "Although St. Francesca was unwearied in her devotions, yet 
 if, during her prayers, she was called away by her husband or any 
 domestic duty, she would close the book cheerfully, saying that a 
 wife and a mother, when called upon, must quit her God at the 
 altar to find Him in her domestic affairs." — Legends of thh. 
 Monastic Orders. 
 
 T TOW infinite and sweet, Thou everywhere 
 
 And all-abounding Love, Thy service is ! 
 Thou liest an ocean round my world of care, 
 My petty every-day ; and fresh and fair. 
 
 Pour Thy strong tides through all my crevices, 
 Until the silence ripples into prayer. 
 
 That Thy full glory may abound, increase, 
 And so Thy likeness shall be formed in me, 
 
 I pray; the answer is not rest or peace, 
 
 But charges, duties, wants, anxieties. 
 
 Till there seems room for everything but Thee, 
 
 And never time for anything but these. 
 
 And I should fear, but lo ! amid the press, 
 The whirl and hum and pressure of my day, 
 
 I hear Thy garment's sweep, Thy seamless dress. 
 
 And close beside my work and weariness 
 Discern Thy gracious form, not far away, 
 
 But very near, O Lord, to help and bless. 
 
4 
 
 112 Sunsljine in tfte Soul 
 
 The busy fingers fly, the eyes may see 
 
 Only the glancing needle which they hold, 
 
 But all my life is blossoming inwardly, 
 
 And every breath is like a litany, 
 
 While through each labor like a thread of gold, 
 
 Is woven the sweet consciousness of Thee ! 
 
 Susan Coolidge. 
 
 THE WATCH OF ONE HOUR. 
 
 T SAW him as he turned away ; 
 
 -*- His eyes cried to me, Watch, and pray ! 
 
 I felt the darkness round me roll. 
 
 Deep burdened on that lonely soul. 
 
 Some longing, pitying looks I cast 
 
 Into the shadows where he passed ; 
 
 Then o'er my sense strange numbness crept. 
 
 My eyes were heavy, and I slept. 
 
 He came, and touched me where I lay. 
 His pale lips sighing, Wake and pray ! 
 In the dim lurid light his face 
 With unknown anguish filled the place. 
 As half in dreams I heard the call, 
 I heard my answer faintly fall ; 
 He turned the lonely watch to keep. 
 He came and found me still asleep. 
 
mjt raatdj of ©nc J^our. 113 
 
 I woke to learn, at dreary cost, 
 The need he owned, the grace I lost. 
 Alone he wrestled, not in vain. 
 Some angel helped him in his. pain. 
 Next day he bore his cross — I saw 
 That march, far off, with grief and awe ; 
 Alone he went to death, but I — 
 It broke my heart to see him die. 
 
 I, when he had no more to crave, 
 Fell weeping, praying, at his grave ; 
 When the dread spell had lost its power, 
 Watched sleepless, thinking of that hour. 
 Shamed by the trembling flesh that failed — 
 Oh that the spirit had prevailed ! 
 How heaven had kept the record bright 
 If one had watched with him that night! 
 
 O Son of Man ! but once have I 
 Left thee alone to strive and die ? 
 How often hath the strife been near 
 Of mortal pain, of deathly fear ? 
 And now in every soul that cried 
 Out of the darkness at my side, 
 Thy sad, reproachful face I see, 
 And hear, •' Ye did it not to me." 
 
114 .Sunsftine m t!je <SouL 
 
 At last I wake, at last I pray; 
 My heart burns in me night and day; 
 Each hour I hear the call to keep 
 The watch, to weep with all that weep. 
 Oh, waken, brothers ! shall his own 
 Leave him to bear the world alone ? 
 One cup he blest ; one grief divine 
 
 Renews to love the kingdom's sign. 
 
 Carl Spencer. 
 
 THE LEGEND BEAUTIFUL 
 
 " T TADST thou stayed, I must have fled ! " 
 -■- -*■ That is what the Vision said. 
 
 In his chamber all alone. 
 Kneeling on the floor of stone, 
 Prayed the Monk in deep contrition 
 For his sins of indecision, 
 Prayed for greater self-denial 
 In temptation and in trial; 
 It was noonday by the dial, 
 And the Monk was all alone. 
 
 Suddenly, as if it lightened, 
 An unwonted splendor brightened 
 All within him and without him 
 In that narrow cell of stone ; 
 
S:{)e Eegenti Beautiful. 115 
 
 And he saw the Blessed Vision 
 Of our Lord, with light Elysian 
 Like a vesture wrapped about Him, 
 Like a garment round Him thrown. 
 
 Not as crucified and slain, 
 Not in agonies of pain, 
 Not with bleeding hands and feet, 
 Did the Monk his Master see ; 
 But as in the village street 
 In the house or harvest-field, 
 Halt and lame and blind He 'healed 
 When He walked in Galilee. 
 
 In an attitude imploring, 
 
 Hands upon his bosom crossed, 
 
 Wondering, worshipping, adoring, 
 
 Knelt the Monk in rapture lost. 
 
 Lord, he thought, in heaven that reio-nest 
 
 Who am I, that thus Thou deignest'' ' 
 
 To reveal Thyself to me } 
 
 Who am I, that from the centre 
 
 Of Thy glory Thou shouldst enter 
 
 This poor cell, my guest to be .? 
 
 Then amid his exaltation, 
 Loud the convent bell appalling. 
 From its belfry calling, calling, 
 Rang through court and corridor 
 
116 ^unsljme m tfje <Soul. 
 
 With persistent iteration 
 He had never heard before. 
 It was now the appointed hour 
 When alike in shine or shower, 
 Winter's cold or summer's heat, 
 To the convent portals came 
 All the blind and halt and lame, 
 All the beggars of the street, 
 P'or their daily dole of food 
 Dealt them by the brotherhood ; 
 And their almoner was he 
 Who upon his bended knee, 
 Rapt in silent ecstasy 
 Of divinest self-surrender, 
 Saw the Vision and the Splendor. 
 
 Deep distress and hesitation 
 Mingled with his adoration ; 
 Should he go, or should he stay ? 
 Should he leave the poor to wait 
 Hungry at the convent gate, 
 Till the Vision passed away ? 
 Should he slight his radiant guest, 
 Slight this visitant celestial, 
 For a crowd of ragged, bestial 
 Beggars at the convent gate ? 
 Would the Vision there remain ? 
 Would the Vision come again ? 
 
E^z ILftjmti iBeautfful 117 
 
 Then a voice within his breast 
 Whispered, audible and clear 
 As if to the outward ear : 
 " Do thy duty ; that is best ; 
 Leave unto thy Lord the rest ! " 
 
 Straightway to his feet he started, 
 And with longing look intent 
 On the Blessed Vision bent, 
 Slowly from his cell departed, 
 Slowly on his errand went. 
 
 At the gate the poor were waiting, 
 Looking through the iron grating, 
 With that terror in the eye 
 That is only seen in those 
 Who amid their wants and woes 
 Hear the sound of doors that close. 
 And of feet that pass them by ; 
 Grown familiar with disfavor, 
 Grown familiar with the savor 
 Of the bread by which men die ! 
 But to-day, they knew not why, 
 Like the gate of Paradise 
 Seemed the convent gate to rise. 
 Like a sacrament divine 
 Seemed to them the bread and wine. 
 In his heart the Monk was praying, 
 
118 Sunsfjme m tfje Soul. 
 
 Thinking of the homeless poor, 
 What they suffer and endure ; 
 What we see not, what we see ; 
 And the inward voice was saying : 
 " Whatsoever thing thou doest 
 To the least of mine and lowest, 
 That thou doest unto me ! " 
 
 Unto me ! but had the Vision 
 Come to him in beggar's clothing, 
 Come a mendicant imploring, 
 Would he then have knelt adoring, 
 Or have listened with derision. 
 And have turned away with loathing ? 
 
 Thus his conscience put the question, 
 Full of troublesome suggestion, 
 As at length, with hurried pace, 
 Towards his cell he turned his face, 
 And beheld the convent bright 
 With a supernatural light, 
 Like a luminous cloud expanding 
 Over floor and wall and ceiling. 
 
 But he paused with awe-struck feeling 
 At the threshold of his door. 
 For the Vision still was standing 
 As he left it there before, 
 When the convent bell appalling. 
 
jFcDin ** E\}z Uisioii of 5ir ILaunfaL" 119 
 
 From its belfry calling, calling, 
 Summoned him to feed the poor. 
 Through the long hour intervening 
 It had waited his return, 
 And he felt his bosom burn, 
 Comprehending all the meaning, 
 When the Blessed Vision said, 
 " Hadst thou stayed, I must have fled ! " 
 
 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 FROM "THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL." 
 " T?OR Christ's sweet sake, I beg an alms " ; — 
 
 Sir Launfal sees naught save the grewsome thing, 
 The leper, lank as the rain-blanched bone, 
 That cowered beside him, a thing as lone 
 And white as the ice-isles of Northern seas 
 In the desolate horror of his disease. 
 
 And Sir Launfal said, " I behold in thee 
 
 An image of Him who died on the tree ; 
 
 Thou also hast had thy crown of thorns, — 
 
 Thou also hast had the world's buffets and scorns, — 
 
 And to thy life were not denied 
 
 The wounds in the hands and feet and side : 
 
 Mild Mary's Son, acknowledge me ; 
 
 Behold, through him, I give to Thee ! " 
 
120 Sunsfjiue in tlje Soul. 
 
 Then the soul of the leper stood up in his eyes 
 
 And looked at Sir Launfal, and straightway he 
 Remembered in what a haughtier guise 
 
 He had flung an alms to leprosie, 
 When he caged his young life up in gilded mail 
 And set forth in search of the Holy Grail. 
 The heart within him was ashes and dust ; 
 He parted in twain his single crust, 
 He broke the ice on the streamlet's brink, 
 And gave the leper to eat and drink ; 
 'Twas a mouldy crust of coarse brown bread, 
 
 'Twas water out of a wooden bowl, — 
 Yet with fine wheaten bread was the leper fed, 
 
 And 't was red wine he drank with Ins thirsty soul. 
 
 As Sir Launfal mused with a downcast face, 
 
 A light shone round about the place ; 
 
 The leper no longer crouched at his side, 
 
 But stood before him glorified, 
 
 Shining and tall and fair and straight 
 
 As the pillar that stood by the Beautiful Gate, — 
 
 Himself the Gate whereby men can 
 
 Enter the temple of God in Man. 
 
 His words were shed softer than leaves from the pine, 
 And they fell on Sir Launfal as snows on the brine, 
 Which mingle their softness and quiet in one 
 With the shaggy unrest they float down upon ; 
 
 I 
 
J^umble Sctbice. 121 
 
 And the voice that was calmer than silence said, 
 
 " Lo, it is I, — be not afraid ! 
 
 In many climes, without avail, 
 
 Thou hast spent thy life for the Holy Grail ; 
 
 Behold, it is here, — this cup which thou 
 
 Didst fill at the streamlet for me but now ; 
 
 This crust is my body broken for thee, 
 
 This water His blood that died on the tree ; 
 
 The Holy Supper is kept, indeed, 
 
 In whatso we share with another's need, — 
 
 Not that which we give, but what we share, — 
 
 For the gift without the giver is bare ; 
 
 Who bestows himself with his alms feeds three, — 
 
 Himself, his hungering neighbor, and me." 
 
 James Russell Lowell. 
 
 HUMBLE SERVICE. 
 
 I 
 
 T is an easy thing to say, 
 
 " Thou knowest that I love Thee, Lord ! 
 And easy in the bitter fray 
 
 For His defence to draw the sword. 
 
 But when at His dear hands we seek 
 
 Some lofty trust for Him to keep, 
 To our ambition vain and weak 
 
 How strange His bidding, " Feed my sheep" ! 
 
122 Sunsljinc in lljc Soul. 
 
 " Too mean a task for love," we cry ; 
 
 Remembering not if, in our pride, 
 We pass His humbler service by, 
 
 Our vows are by our deeds denied. 
 
 O Father ! help us to resign 
 
 Our hearts, our strength, our wills to Thee ; 
 Then even lowliest work of Thine 
 
 Most noble, blest, and sweet will be! 
 
 Harriet McEwen Kimball, 
 
 1 
 
 MATT. XII. 34-36. 
 
 TT 7"HAT ! never speak one evil word, 
 
 ^ ^ Or rash, or idle, or unkind ! 
 O how shall I, most gracious Lord, 
 This mark of true perfection find ? 
 
 Thy sinless mind in me reveal ; 
 
 Thy Spirit's plenitude impart : 
 And all my spotless life shall tell 
 
 The abundance of a loving heart. 
 
 Charles We-.i.ey. 
 
Clje Bier, 123 
 
 AS UNTO THEE. 
 
 /^ HAPPY house ! and happy servitude ! 
 ^^ Where all alike one Master own ; 
 Where daily duty in Thy strength pursued 
 
 Is never hard or toilsome known ; 
 Where each one serves Thee, meek and lowly, 
 
 Whatever Thine appointment be. 
 Till common tasks seem great and holy, 
 
 When they are done as unto Thee. 
 
 C. J. P. Spitta. 
 
 THE IDLER. 
 
 T IDLE stand, that I may find employ, 
 
 Such as my Master when He comes will give ; 
 I cannot find in mine own work my joy, 
 
 But wait, although in waiting I must live ; 
 My body shall not turn which way it will, 
 
 But stand till I the appointed road can find, 
 And journeying so His messages fulfil. 
 
 And do at every step the work designed. 
 Enough for me, still day by day to wait 
 
 Till Thou who fornVst me find'st me too a task ; 
 A cripple lying at the rich man's gate, 
 
 Content for the few crumbs I get to ask ; 
 A laborer but in heart, while bound my hands 
 
 Hang idly down still waiting Thy commands. 
 
 Jones Very 
 
124 ^imsfjine m tje ^ouL 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 n 
 
 *" I ^HOU, from the first, unborn, undying Love, 
 "^ Albeit we gaze not on thy glories near, 
 Before the face of God didst breathe and move, 
 Though night and pain and ruin and death reign 
 
 here. 
 Thou foldest, like a golden atmosphere, 
 The very throne of the eternal God : 
 Passing through thee the edicts of his fear 
 Are mellowed into music, borne abroad 
 By the loud winds, though they uprend the sea, 
 Even from its central deeps : thine empery 
 Is over all ; thou wilt not brook eclipse ; 
 Thou goest and returnest to His lips 
 Like lightning: thou dost ever brood above 
 The silence of all hearts, unutterable Love, 
 
 Alfrel. TENNYy-ov, 1830. 
 
2Ef)e mcsolbe. 125 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 'T^O know thee is all wisdom, and old age 
 -^ Is but to know thee ; dimly we behold thee 
 Athwart the veils of evils which infold thee. 
 We beat upon our aching hearts in rage ; 
 We cry for thee ; we deem the world thy tomb. 
 As dwellers in lone planets look upon 
 The mighty disk of their majestic sun, 
 Hollowed in awful chasms of wheeling gloom, 
 Making their day dim, so we gaze on thee. 
 Come, thou of many crowns, whiterobed Love, 
 Oh ! rend the veil in twain : all men adore thee ; 
 Heaven crieth after thee ; earth waiteth for thee ; 
 Breathe on thy winged throne, and it shall move 
 In music and in light o'er land and sea. 
 
 Alfred Tennyson, 1830. 
 
 THE RESOLVE. 
 
 IVrOW at last I end the strife, 
 -^ ^ To my God I give my hfe, 
 
 Wholly, with a steadfast mind ; 
 Sin I will not hearken more, 
 World, I turn from thee, ' tis o'er 
 
 Not a look r 11 cast behind. 
 
126 .SunsJiriE m tfje <Soul 
 
 Hath my heart been wavering long, 
 Have I dallied oft with wrong, 
 
 Now at last I firmly say ; 
 All my will to this I give, 
 Only to my God to live, 
 
 And to serve Him night and day. 
 
 Lord, I offer at Thy feet 
 
 All I have most dear and sweet, 
 
 Lo ! I keep no secret hoard ! 
 Try my heart, and lurks there aught 
 False within its inmost thought. 
 
 Take it hence this moment, Lord ! 
 
 I will shun no toil or woe, 
 Where Thou leadest I will go, 
 
 Be my pathway plain or rough ; 
 If but every hour may be 
 Spent in work that pleases Thee, 
 
 Ah, dear Lord, it is enough ! 
 
 Thee I make my choice alone, 
 Make for ever, Lord, Thine own 
 
 All my powers of soul and mind ; 
 Yes, I give myself away. 
 Let the Covenant stand for aye 
 
 That my hand to-day hath signed. 
 
 Gerhard Tersteegen. 
 
^jekiel's Uision m tjje 2Cnnpk. 127 
 
 EZEKIEL'S VISION IN THE TEMPLE. 
 
 TF, when the Lord of Glory was in sight, 
 
 ^ Thou turn thy back upon that fountain clear, 
 
 To bow before the " little drop of light," 
 
 Which dim-eyed men call praise and glory here ; 
 What dost thou, but adore the sun, and scorn 
 Him at whose only word both sun and stars were 
 born ? 
 
 If, while around thee gales from Eden breathe, 
 Thou hide thine eyes, to make thy peevish moan 
 
 Over some broken reed of earth beneath, 
 Some darling of blind fancy dead and gone, 
 
 As wisely mightst thou in Jehovah's fane 
 
 Offer thy love and tears to Thammuz slain. 
 
 Thou who hast deigned the Christian's heart to 
 call 
 
 Thy Church and Shrine ; whene'er our rebel will 
 Would in that chosen home of Thine instal 
 
 Belial or Mammon, grant us not the ill 
 We blindly ask ; in very love refuse 
 Whate'er Thou know'st our weakness would abuse. 
 
128 ^unsfjme in tlje ^oul 
 
 Or rather help us, Lord, to choose the good, 
 To pray for nought, to seek to none, but Thee, 
 
 Nor by "our daily bread" mean common food, X\ 
 Nor say, " From this world's evil set us free "; ■ 
 
 Teach us to love, with Christ, our sole true bliss, 
 
 Else, though in Christ's own words, we surely pray 
 amiss. 
 
 John Keble, 
 
 COLLECT FOR SECOND SUNDAY AFTER 
 EPIPHANY. 
 
 Almighty and everlasting God, who dost govern all things in 
 heaven and earth ; mercifully hear the supplications of Thy people, 
 and grant us Thy peace all the days of our life ; through Jesus Christ 
 our Lord. 
 
 GRANT us Thy peace, down from Thy presence 
 falling 
 As on the thirsty earth cool night-dews sweet. 
 Grant us Thy peace, to Thy pure paths recalling, 
 From devious ways, our worn ' and wandering 
 feet. 
 
 Grant us Thy peace, through winning and through 
 losing, 
 Through gloom and gladness of our pilgrim way, 
 Crant us Thy peace, safe in Thy love's enclosing, 
 Thou, who all things in heaven and earth dost 
 sway. 
 
ConsEcration of t\}z P^eart 129 
 
 Give us Thy""peace, not as the world has given, 
 In momentary rays that fitful gleamed, 
 
 But calm, deep, sure, the peace of spirits shriven, 
 Of hearts surrendered and of souls redeemed. 
 
 Grant us Thy peace, that like a deepening river 
 Swells ever outward to a sea of praise. 
 
 O Thou, of peace the only Lord and Giver, 
 Grant us Thy peace, O Saviour, all our days ! 
 
 Eliza Scudder. 
 
 CONSECRATION OF THE HEART. 
 
 /^H, take this heart that I would give 
 ^-^ For ever to be all Thine own ; 
 I to myself no more would live , — 
 
 Come, Lord, be Thou my King alone. 
 
 Yes, take my heart, and in it rule ; 
 
 Direct it as it pleases Thee, — 
 I will be silent in Thy school, 
 
 And learn whate'er Thou teachest me. 
 
 What lives by life that is not Thine 
 I yield it to Thy righteous doom ; 
 
 What yet resists Thy power Divine, 
 Oh let Thy fire of love consume. 
 9 
 
130 ^un0!)me m tfje ^ouL 
 
 And then within the heart abide 
 
 That Thou hast cleansed to be Thy throne ; 
 A look from Thee shall be my guide, 
 
 I watch but till Thy will is known. 
 
 Yes, make me Thine, — though I am weak, 
 Thy service makes us strong and free ; 
 
 My Lord and King, Thy face I seek, 
 For ever keep me true to Thee. 
 
 Gerhard Tersteegen, 1731. 
 
 THE GIFT. 
 
 TVrOW I draw near ; alone, apart 
 ■^^ I stayed, nor deemed I should require 
 Such access ; till my musing heart 
 Suddenly kindled to desire. 
 
 " No farther from Thee than Thy feet ! 
 
 No less a sight than all Thy face ! 
 Nay, touch me where the heart doth beat. 
 
 Breathe where the throbbing brain has place. 
 
 " Yield me the best, the unnamed good. 
 The gift that most shall prove me near, 
 
 Thy wine for drink. Thy flesh for food, 
 Thy tokens of the nail, the spear." 
 
 a 
 
E\)z (Efjousbts of ©oti. 131 
 
 Such cry was mine. I lifted up 
 
 My face, and from all speech did cease, 
 
 Daring to take the bitter cup. 
 
 But ah, Thy perfect gift was Peace ; 
 
 Quiet deliverance from all need, 
 
 A little space of boundless rest. 
 To live within the Light indeed, 
 
 To lean upon the Master's breast. 
 
 Edward Dowden. 
 
 THE THOUGHTS OF GOD. 
 
 'T^HEY say there is a hollow safe and still, 
 -*• A point of coolness and repose 
 Within the centre of a flame, where hfe might dwell 
 Unharmed and unconsumed, as in aluminous shell. 
 
 Which the bright walls of fire enclose 
 In breachless splendor, barrier that no foes 
 Could pass at will. 
 
 There is a point of rest 
 At the great centre of the cyclone's force, 
 
 A silence at its secret source ; — • 
 A little child might slumber undistressed. 
 
 Without the ruffle of one fairy curl, 
 In that strange central calm amid the mighty whirl. 
 
132 Sunsjme in tlje Saul. 
 
 So, in the centre of these thoughts of God, 
 Cyclones of power, consuming glory-fire, — 
 
 As we fall o'erawed 
 Upon our faces, and are lifted higher 
 By His great gentleness, and carried nigher 
 Than unredeemed angels, till we stand 
 
 Even in the hollow of His hand ! 
 
 Nay, more! we lean upon His breast — 
 There^ there we find a point of perfect rest 
 
 And glorious safety ; there we see 
 
 His thoughts to usward, thoughts of peace 
 That stoop in tenderest love ; that still increase 
 With increase of our need ; that never change. 
 That never fail, or falter, or forget. 
 O pity infinite ! 
 O royal mercy free ! 
 
 O gentle climax of the depth and height 
 Of God's most precious thoughts, most wonderful, 
 most strange ! 
 
 " For I am poor and needy, yet 
 The Lord Himself, Jehovah, thinketh upon me!'''' 
 
 Frances Ridley Havergal, 
 
 «ii 
 
mjt iFrt£ntj'0 Burial. 133 
 
 THE FRIEND'S BURIAL. 
 
 TV yTY thoughts are all in yonder town, 
 ■^^■^ Where, wept by many tears, 
 To-day, my mother's friend lays down 
 The burden of her years. 
 
 No sound should break the quietude 
 
 Alike of earth and sky ; — 
 O wandering wind in Seabrook wood, 
 
 Breathe but a half-heard sigh ! 
 
 For all her quiet life flowed on 
 As meadow streamlets flow, 
 
 Where fresher green reveals alone 
 The noiseless ways they go. 
 
 Her path shall brighten more and more 
 
 Unto the perfect day ; 
 She cannot fail of peace who bore 
 
 Such peace with her away. 
 
 O sweet calm face that seemed to wear 
 
 The look of sins forgiven ! 
 O voice of prayer that seemed to bear 
 
 Our own needs up to heaven ! 
 
134 Sunsfjme in t!)e Soul. 
 
 How reverent in our midst she stood, 
 Or knelt in grateful praise ! 
 
 What grace of Christian womanhood 
 Was in her household ways ! 
 
 For still her holy living meant 
 ■ No duty left undone ; 
 The heavenly and the human blent 
 Their kindred loves in one ! 
 
 And if her life small leisure found 
 For feasting ear and eye, 
 
 And Pleasure, on her daily round, 
 She passed unpausing by, 
 
 Yet with her went a secret sense 
 Of all things sweet and fair, 
 
 And Beauty's gracious providence 
 Refreshed her unaware. 
 
 She kept her line of rectitude 
 With love's unconscious ease ; 
 
 Her kindly instincts understood 
 All gentle courtesies. 
 
 An inborn charm of graciousness 
 Made sweet her smile and tone, 
 
 And glorified her farm-wife dress 
 With beauty not its own. 
 
Comintj. 1^^ 
 
 The dear Lord's best interpreters 
 
 Are humble human souls ; 
 The Gospel of a Hf e like hers 
 
 Is more than books or scrolls. 
 
 From scheme and creed the light goes out, 
 
 The saintly fact survives ; 
 The blessed Master none can doubt 
 
 Revealed in holy lives. 
 
 John Greenleaf Whittier. 
 
 COMING. 
 
 " At even, or at midnight, or at the cock-crowing, or in the 
 morning." 
 
 " TT may be in the evening, 
 
 J- When the work of the day is done, 
 And you have time to sit in the twilight 
 
 And watch the sinking sun, 
 While the long bright day dies slowly 
 
 Over the sea, 
 And the hour grows quiet and holy 
 
 With thoughts of Me ; 
 While you hear the village children 
 
 Passing along the street, 
 
136 .Sunsifjine in tf)e .Soul. 
 
 Among those thronging footsteps 
 
 May eome the sound of A/y feet : 
 Therefore I tell you, Watch 
 
 By the light of the evening star, 
 When the room is growing dusky 
 
 As the clouds afar ; 
 Let the door be on the latch 
 
 In your home, 
 For it may be through the gloaming 
 
 I will come. 
 
 "It may be when the midnight 
 
 Is heavy upon the land, 
 And the black waves lying dumbly 
 
 Along the sand ; 
 When the moonless night draws close, 
 And the lights are out in the house ; 
 When the fires burn low and red, 
 And the watch is ticking loudly 
 
 Beside the bed ; 
 Though you sleep, tired out, on your couch, 
 Still your heart must wake and watch 
 
 In the dark room, 
 For it may be that at midnight 
 
 I will come. 
 
 " It may be at the cock-crow. 
 When the night is dying slowly 
 In the sky. 
 
Coming. 137 
 
 And the sea looks calm and holy, 
 
 Waiting for the dawn 
 
 Of the golden sun, 
 
 Which draweth nigh ; 
 When the mists are on the valleys, shading 
 
 The rivers chill, 
 And My morning star is fading, fading 
 
 Over the hill : 
 Behold I say unto you, Watch ; 
 Let the door be on the latch 
 
 In your home ; 
 In the chill before the dawning, 
 Between the night and morning, 
 
 I may come. 
 
 " It may be in the morning, 
 
 When the sun is bright and strong, 
 And the dew is ghttering sharply 
 
 Over the little lawn ; 
 When the waves are laughing loudly 
 
 Along the shore. 
 And the little birds are singing sweetly 
 
 About the door ; 
 With the long day's work before you, 
 
 You rise up with the sun, 
 And the neighbors come in to talk a little 
 
 Of all that must be done ; 
 
138 ^nm])inz in tfje SouL 
 
 But remember that / may be the next 
 
 To come in at the door, 
 To call you from all your busy work 
 
 For evermore : 
 As you work your heart must watch, 
 For the door is on the latch 
 
 In your room, 
 And it may be in the morning 
 
 I will come." 
 
 So He passed down my cottage garden, 
 By the path that leads to the sea. 
 
 Till He came to the turn of the little road 
 Where the birch and laburnum tree 
 Lean over and arch the way ; 
 
 There I saw Him a moment stay, 
 And turn once more to me. 
 As I wept at the cottage door, 
 
 And lift up His hands in blessing: 
 
 Then I saw His face no more. 
 
 And I stood still in the doorway, 
 
 Leaning against the wall. 
 Not heeding the fair white roses. 
 
 Though I crushed them and let them fall 
 Only looking down the pathway, 
 
 And looking towards the sea, 
 
€;0minrj. 139 
 
 And wondering, and wondering 
 
 When He would come back for me, 
 Till I was aware of an Angel 
 
 Who was going swiftly by, 
 With the gladness of one who goeth 
 
 In the light of God Most High. 
 He passed the end of the cottage 
 
 Towards the garden-gate, — 
 (I suppose he was come down 
 At the setting of the sun 
 To comfort some one in the village 
 
 Whose dwelling was desolate), 
 And he paused before the door 
 
 Beside my place. 
 And the likeness of a smile 
 
 Was on his face : — 
 " Weep not," he said, " for unto you is given 
 
 To watch for the coming of His feet 
 Who is the Glory of our blessed Heaven ; 
 
 The work and watching will be very sweet 
 
 Even in an earthly home. 
 And in such an hour as you think not 
 
 He will come." 
 
 So I am watching quietly 
 
 Every day. 
 Whenever the sun shines brightly 
 
 I rise and say, — 
 
140 Sunsfjme in t\)z ^oul 
 
 "Surely it is the shining of His face," 
 And look unto the gates of His high place 
 
 Beyond the sea, 
 For I know He is coming shortly 
 
 To summon me. 
 And when a shadow falls across the window 
 
 Of my room, 
 Where I am working my appointed task, 
 I lift my head to watch the door, and ask 
 
 If He is come; 
 And the Angel answers sweetly 
 
 In my home, — 
 "Only a few more shadows. 
 
 And He will come." 
 
 Barbara Macandrfav. 
 
 WHEN? 
 
 TF I were told that I must die to-morrow, <^S| 
 
 That the next sun 
 Which sinks should bear me past all fear and sorrow 
 
 For any one, 
 All the fight fouglit, all the short journey through : 
 
 What sliould I do ? 
 
 I do not think that I should shrink or falter, 
 But just go on, 
 
 i 
 
TOJen? 141 
 
 Doing my work, nor change, nor seek to alter 
 
 Aught that is gone ; 
 But rise and move and love and smile and pray 
 
 For one more day. 
 
 And, lying down at night for a last sleeping, 
 
 Say in that ear 
 Which hearkens ever : " Lord, within Thy keeping 
 
 How should I fear ? 
 And when to-morrow brings Thee nearer still, 
 
 Do Thou Thy will." 
 
 I might not sleep for awe ; but peaceful, tender, 
 
 My soul would lie 
 All the night long ; and when the morning splendor 
 
 Flushed o'er the sky, 
 I think that I could smile, — could calmly say, 
 
 " It is His day." 
 
 But, if instead a hand from the blue yonder 
 
 Held out a scroll 
 On which my life was writ, and I with wonder 
 
 B^eheld unroll 
 To a long century's end its mystic clew, 
 
 What should I do ? 
 
 What co2dd I do, O blessed Guide and Master, 
 Other than this : 
 
142 ^un0{)ine in tfje ^ouL 
 
 Still to go on as now, not slower, faster, 
 
 Nor fear to miss 
 The road, although so very long it be, 
 
 While led by Thee? 
 
 Step after step, feeling Thee close beside me, 
 
 Although unseen, 
 Through thorns, through flowers, whether the tem- 
 pest hide Thee, 
 
 Or heavens serene, 
 Assured Thy faithfulness cannot betray. 
 
 Thy love decay. 
 
 I may not know, my God ; no hand revealeth 
 
 Thy counsels wise ; 
 Along the path a deepening shadow stealeth. 
 
 No voice replies 
 To all my questioning thought, the time to tell,. 
 
 And it is well. 
 
 Let me keep on, abiding and unfearing 
 
 Thy will always, 
 Through a long century's ripening fruition, ^ 
 
 Or a short day's. 
 Thou canst not come too soon ; and I can wait 
 
 If Thou come late. 
 
 Susan Coolidge 
 
 J 
 
^cng from ^intram. 143 
 
 FROM "TERMINUS." 
 
 A S the bird trims her to the gale, 
 -^^^ I trim myself to the storm of time, 
 I man the rudder, reef the sail, 
 Obey the voice at eve obeyed at prime : 
 " Lowly faithful, banish fear, 
 Right onward drive unharmed ; 
 The port, well worth the cruise, is near, 
 And every wave is charmed." 
 
 Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 SONG FROM SINTRAM. 
 
 'T^O him, — whose near end steahng 
 -*- Through heart and limbs presages night. 
 Who kneeling, 
 
 Who kneeling, sure appealing. 
 Turns soul and hands 
 Where Mercy stands, 
 The Lord will make it light. 
 
 See how the far east brightens ! 
 Hear ye the angels singing 
 Through morning's fresh'ning breath ? 
 
144 ^unsj)ine m tjje ^oul 
 
 No darkness longer frightens : 
 Now, rich with rnercy, bringing 
 Your help, comes gracious Death. 
 Then give him friendly greeting. 
 He will be friendly too, 
 And bring, each joy completing, 
 His olden bliss to you. 
 
 To him, — whose near end stealing 
 
 Through heart and limbs presages night, — 
 Who kneeling, 
 
 Who kneeling, sure appealing. 
 Turns soul and hands 
 Where Mercy stands. 
 The Lord will make it light. 
 De la Mothe Fouqu^. Trans, by William P. Andrews. 
 
 THE GOLDEN GATE. 
 
 T^IM shadows gather thickly round, and up the 
 
 -■-^ misty stair they climb, 
 
 The cloudy stair that upward leads to where the 
 
 closed portals shine. 
 Round which the kneeling s^Dirits wait the opening 
 
 of the Golden Gate, 
 
 I! 
 
 J 
 
Ef}z ©olticn @ate. 145 
 
 And some with eager longing go, still pressing 
 
 forward, hand in hand. 
 And some, with weary step and slow, look back 
 
 where their Beloved stand ; 
 Yet up the misty stair they climb, led onward by 
 
 the Angel Time. 
 
 As unseen hands roll back the doors, the light 
 
 that floods the very air 
 Is but the shadow from within, of the great glory 
 
 hidden there ; 
 And morn and eve, and soon and late, the shadows 
 
 pass within the gate. 
 
 As one by one they enter in, and the stern portals 
 
 close once more, 
 The halo seems to linger round those kneeling 
 
 closest to the door : 
 The joy that lightened from that place shines still 
 
 upon the watcher's face. 
 
 The faint low echo that we hear of far-off music 
 
 seems to fill 
 The silent air with love and fear, and the world's 
 
 clamors all grow still, 
 Until the portals close again, and leave us toihng 
 
 on in pain. 
 
 J 10 
 
146 Sun0i)ine m t|)e Soul. 
 
 Complain not that the way is long, — what road is 
 
 weary that leads there ? 
 But let the Angel take thy hand, and lead thee up 
 
 the misty stair, 
 And then with beating heart await the opening of 
 
 the Golden Gate. 
 
 Adelaide Anne Procter. 
 
 FROM "A HYMN TO THE NAME AND HONOR 
 OF THE ADMIRABLE SAINT TERESA." 
 
 ANGELS, thy old friends, there shall greet thee, 
 Glad at their own home now to meet thee. 
 All thy good works which went before, 
 And waited for thee at the door, 
 Shall own thee there : and all in one 
 Weave a constellation 
 
 Of crowns, with which the King, thy spouse, 
 Shall build up thy triumphant brows. 
 All thy old woes shall now smile on thee. 
 And thy pains sit bright upon thee : 
 All thy sorrows here shall shine, 
 And thy sufferings be divine. 
 Tears shall take comfort, and turn gems, 
 And wrongs repent to diadems. 
 
Uoices of tjje Sea. U7 
 
 And so 
 
 Thou with the Lamb, thy Lord, shalt go. 
 And, wheresoe'er He sets His white 
 Steps, walk with Him those ways of light. 
 Which who in death would live to see, 
 Must learn in life to die like thee. 
 
 Richard Crashaw. 
 
 VOICES OF THE SEA. 
 
 A GAIN I linger by the Langland shore, 
 •^^*- And listen to the music of the Sea, 
 
 For some familiar voice to speak to me 
 Out of the deep, sweet, sad harmonious roar ; 
 Whose murmuring cadences sound like a store 
 
 Of loving words, treasures of memory. 
 
 Once breathed into the ambient air, to be 
 Vibrated through the ages evermore. 
 
 The infinite tides environ us : no strain 
 That e'er awakened human smiles or tears 
 
 Is lost; nor shall we call it back in vain. 
 Beside the shore, amid the eternal spheres. 
 
 Hark, the beloved voices once again 
 Rise from the waves and winds to soothe mine ears. 
 
 The Spectator. 
 
U8 ^unsjjiiu in tlje .SouL 
 
 AT EVENTIDE IT SHALL BE LIGHT. 
 
 ■pORTH to thy work from morn till night, 
 -*■ Through fog and din thy path would be ; 
 Whilst I at home upon the height 
 
 Would work, and rest, and wait for thee. 
 
 But now along the way of life 
 
 Through dust and din my path must be ; 
 Whilst thou, above all mists and strife, 
 
 Waitest at home, on high, for me. 
 
 I will not call them " weary ways " ; 
 
 No murmur ever left thy lips 1 
 I will not sigh o'er " dreary days," 
 
 Though darkened by thy light's eclipse. 
 
 A presence wraps me everywhere. 
 
 The presence in which thou art blest ; 
 
 The face, the sun of worlds, is there, 
 Yet bright to us the glistening west. 
 
 The work is good, the way is right ; 
 
 But yet, I think, an hour shall be 
 At evening on the home-like height 
 
 Which shall be morn to thee and me. 
 
 Elizabeth Charles. 
 
M tfje im&t 149 
 
 IN THE MIST. 
 
 OITTING all day in a silver mist, 
 *^ In silver silence all the day, 
 
 Save for the low, soft hiss of spray, 
 And the lisp of sands by waters kissed, 
 
 As the tide draws up the bay. 
 
 Little I hear and nothing I see, 
 
 Wrapped in that veil by fairies" spun ; 
 The solid earth is vanished for me, 
 And the shining hours speed noiselessly, 
 A web of shadow and sun. 
 
 Suddenly out of the shifting veil 
 A magical bark, by the sunbeams lit. 
 Flits like a dream, — or seems to flit, — 
 
 With a golden prow and a gossamer sail. 
 And the waves make room for it. 
 
 A fair, swift bark from some radiant realm, 
 Its diamond cordage cuts the sky " 
 In glittering lines ; all silently 
 
 A seeming spirit holds the helm 
 And steers : will he pass me by ? 
 
150 Suns^i^^ in t]^^ Soul. 
 
 Ah, not for me is the vessel here ! 
 
 Noiseless and fast as a sea-bird's flight, 
 She swerves and vanishes from my sight ; 
 
 No flap of sail, no parting cheer, — 
 She has passed into the light. 
 
 Sitting some day in a deeper mist, 
 Silent, alone, some other day. 
 An unknown bark from an unknown bay, 
 
 By unknown waters lapped and kissed, 
 Shall near me through the spray. 
 
 No flap of sail, no scraping of keel ; 
 
 Shadowy, dim, with a banner dark. 
 It will hover, will pause, and I shall feel 
 A hand which beckons, and, shivering, steal 
 
 To the cold strand and embark, — 
 
 Embark for that far mysterious realm, 
 Whence the fathomless, trackless waters flow. 
 Shall I see a Presence dim, and know 
 
 A Gracious Hand upon the helm, 
 Nor be afraid to go ? 
 
 And througli black wave and stormy blast, 
 And out of the fog-wreath dense and dun, 
 Guided and held, shall the vessel run, 
 
 Gain the fair haven, night being past. 
 And anchor in the sun ? 
 
 Susan CoolidgEc 
 
^ iloice from ^far. 151 
 
 A VOICE FROM AFAR. 
 
 WEEP not for me ; — 
 Be blithe as wont, nor tinge with gloom 
 The stream of love that circles home , 
 
 Light hearts and free ! 
 Joy in the gifts Heaven's bounty lends ; 
 Nor miss my face, dear friends ! 
 
 I still am near ; — 
 Watching the smiles I prized on earth, 
 Your converse mild, your blameless mirth ; 
 
 Now too I hear 
 Of whispered sounds the tale complete. 
 Low prayers, and musings sweet. 
 
 A sea before 
 The Throne is spread ; its pure, still glass 
 Pictures all earth-scenes as they pass. 
 
 We, on its shore, 
 Share, in the bosom of our rest, 
 God's knowledge, and are blest ! 
 
 John Henry Newman. 
 
152 ^unsj^ine m tlje Soul. 
 
 1 
 
 AFTER THE STORM. 
 
 A LL night, in the pauses of sleep, I heard 
 ■^^ The moan of the Snow-wind and the Sea, 
 Like the wail of Thy sorrowing children, O God ! 
 Who cry unto Thee. 
 
 But in beauty and silence the morning broke, 
 
 O'erflowing creation the glad light streamed ; 
 And Earth stood shining and white as the souls 
 Of the blessed redeemed. 
 
 O glorious marvel in darkness wrought! 
 
 With smiles of promise the blue sky bent, 
 As if to wliisper to all that mourn, 
 Love's hidden intent. 
 
 Harriet McEvven Kimball. 
 
hXbtx of auftors* 
 
 Andros, R. S. S. 
 
 A Swallow in the Spring 27 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Homeward 25 
 
 The Sparrow 26 
 
 My Cross 44 
 
 Troubled 45 
 
 " Silence and darkness " 58 
 
 The Sacrifice of the Will 67 
 
 Thanksgiving 89 
 
 Strong in the Lord 90 
 
 The Heavenly Guide 98 
 
 Trust . 99 
 
 The Voice of the Spirit loi 
 
 Arnold, Matthew, b. 1822. 
 
 The Good Shepherd with the Kid loS 
 
 B., M. L. 
 
 An Evening Prayer 40 
 
 Beaumont, Joseph (1615-1699). 
 
 An Evening Hymn 39 
 
 Bryant, William Cullen (1794-1878). 
 
 A Summer Ramble 16 
 
154 Jintjtx of Suttjors. 
 
 Carlyle, Thomas (1795-1880). 
 
 To-Day ^c 
 
 Catholic World. 
 
 Cui Bono ? 22 
 
 Charles, Mrs. Elizabeth (Rundell), b. about 
 1826. 
 At Eventide it shall be Light 148] 
 
 CooLiDGE, Susan. 
 
 New every Morning 32 
 
 Overshadowed 6g 
 
 Laborare est Orare m 
 
 When.? 140 
 
 In the Mist 140 
 
 Craik, Mrs. Dinah Maria (Mulock), d. 1826. 
 
 Day by Day 34 
 
 Crashaw, Richard (about 1610-1650). 
 
 From " A Hymn to the Honor of St. Teresa " . 146 
 
 DOUBLEDAY, ThOMAS (179O-1876). 
 
 Life 28 
 
 DowDEN, Edward, d. about 1848. 
 
 The Gift 130 
 
 Ellison, Henry. 
 
 A Music yet Unknown 31 
 
 Emerson, Ralph Waldo (1803-1882). 
 
 From " Woodnotes " 10 
 
 From "Terminus " 143 
 
Intiei of Euttors. 155 
 
 Faber, Frederic William (1815-1863). 
 
 Music 29 
 
 FouQU^, Friedrich Heinrich Karl, De la 
 
 MOTHE (1777-1843). 
 
 Song from Sintram 143 
 
 Gerhardt, Paul (1606-1676). 
 
 " My heart for gladness springs " 88 
 
 German, From the. 
 
 A Morning Song of Gladness ....... 38 
 
 God's Support and Guidance 56 
 
 Verses. — Retirement 72 
 
 Gill, Thomas Hornblower, b. 1819. 
 
 Of the Household of God 109 
 
 Greenwell, Dora (i 822-1862). 
 
 The Edel-weiss 14 
 
 Griffiths, William. 
 
 The Removes of the Tokens of God's Presence 96 
 
 Hall, Mrs. Louisa Jane, b. 1802. 
 
 As when I was a Child 13 
 
 Hamilton, Anna E. (about 1846-1876). 
 
 The Perfect Will of God 57 
 
 Care 76 
 
 Havergal, Frances Ridley (1836-1S79). 
 
 Thy Will be Done 76 
 
 Without Carefulness 82 
 
 Another Year 87 
 
 Our Red-Letter Days 97 
 
156 Inlcx of ^utjjorg. 
 
 From '* The Turned Lesson" T02 
 
 Come ye Apart 104 
 
 The Thoughts of God 131 
 
 Hemans, Felicia Dorothea (1793-1835). 
 
 The Sky 9 
 
 Herbert, George (1593-1632). 
 
 The Collar 49 
 
 Providence 99 
 
 A True Hymn 105 
 
 H. H. 
 
 Shadows of Birds . 11 
 
 Not as I will 53 
 
 Keble, John {1792-1866). 
 
 " Needs no show of mountain hoary " . . . . 10 
 
 Ezekiel's Vision in the Temple 127 
 
 Kimball, Harriet McEwen. 
 
 The Flight of the Birds 95 
 
 Humble Service 121 
 
 After the Storm 152 
 
 Leigh, Arrah. 
 
 "I am the Lord; I Change Not" 64 
 
 Living Age, Littell's. 
 
 The Moon 24 
 
 Humility 71 
 
 Longfellow, Henry Wadswortii (1807-1SS2). 
 
 To-Morrow 90 
 
 The Legend Beautiful 114 
 
3Iutiei of ^utfjors. 157 
 
 Lowell, James Russell, b. 1819. 
 
 From "The Vision of Sir Launfal" . . . . I19 
 
 Macandrew, Mrs. Barbara (Miller). 
 
 Coming 135 
 
 Macdonald, George, b. 1824. 
 
 The Smoke 5^ 
 
 The Shadows 69 
 
 Magazine, Sunday. 
 
 Morning Light 3^ 
 
 Eventide 4^ 
 
 God's Thoughts not our Thoughts 74 
 
 Myers, Frederic W. H. 
 
 From " St. Paul " 21 
 
 M., J. B. 
 
 Let us Pray 5^ 
 
 Newman, John Henry, b. 1801. 
 
 A Voice from Afar 151 
 
 Noel, Caroline M. 
 
 Helpless 61 
 
 Procter, Adelaide Anne (1825-1864). 
 
 The Golden Gate 144 
 
 RossETTi, Christina G., b. 1830. 
 
 Who Shall Deliver Me ? 43 
 
 Sears, Edmund Hamilton (1810-1876). 
 
 Ideals 47 
 
158 Cnticx of ^utfjorg. 
 
 ScuDDER, Eliza. 
 
 Thanksgiving 79 
 
 Collect for Second Sunday after Epiphany . . 128 
 Spectator, The. 
 
 Voices of the Sea 147 
 
 Spencer, Carl. 
 
 A Vigil 62 
 
 The Watch of One Hour 112 
 
 Spitta, Carl Johann Philipp, b. 1801. 
 
 As Unto Thee 123 
 
 Sutton, Henry Septimus, 1854. 
 
 Up ! up. My Soul 52 
 
 S., J. 
 
 " The more by Thought " 71 
 
 Tennyson, Alfred, b. 1810. 
 
 From " In Memoriam " 107 
 
 "Thou, from the first, unborn, undying Love " 124 
 
 " To know thee is all wisdom, and old age " . 125 
 
 Tersteegen, Gerhard (1697-1769). 
 
 O God ! my Heart is fixed 106 
 
 The Resolve 125 
 
 Consecration of the Heart 129 
 
 Trench, Richard Chenevix, /;. 1807. 
 
 Sonnet 32 
 
 Turner, Charles (Tennyson) (1808-1879). 
 
 On Shooting a Swallow in early Youth ... 25 
 
 Vaughan, Henry {1621-1695). 
 
 " Welcome, pure thoughts " 91 
 
EntJcx of ^utftorg, 159 
 
 The Constellation 103 
 
 " O Thou that lovest " 106 
 
 Very, Jones (1813-1880). 
 
 Sonnet. — "To tell my journeys " 95 
 
 Sonnet. — The Idler 123 
 
 Waring, Anna L^titia. 
 
 The Eagle 54 
 
 " It is I " 92 
 
 Wesley, Charles (1708-1788). 
 
 Abba, Father 49 
 
 Matt. xii. 34-36 122 
 
 Whitney, Mrs. Adeline Button Train, b. 1824. 
 
 I will abide in Thine House 86 
 
 Whittier, John Greenleaf, b. 1808. 
 
 From " The Brewing of Soma " 81 
 
 From " The Friend's Burial " 133 
 
 Whytehead, THOivtAS (181 5-1842). 
 
 The Third Day of Creation 19 
 
 Williams, Sarah, d. 1868. 
 
 " The little flowers breathe sweetness out " . . 60 
 
 Wordsworth, William {1770-1850). 
 
 From " The Prelude " 12 
 
 To My Sister 15 
 
 Sonnet. — "A volant tribe of bards" . ... 19 
 
 " Love had he found " 28 
 
^ 
 
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