And they a blissful course may hold,
Even now, who, not unwisely hold,
Live in the spirit of this creed ;

Yet find that other strength, according to their need.

I, loving freedom, and untried;
No sport of every random gust,
Yet being to myself a guide,
Too blindly have reposed my trust:
And oft, when in my heart was heard
Thy timely mandate, I deferred

The task, in smoother walks to stray;

But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I

may.

Through no disturbance of my soul,
Or strong compunction in me wrought,
I supplicate for thy control;
But in the quietness of thought:

Me this unchartered freedom tires;
I feel the weight of chance-desires :
My hopes no more must change their name,
I long for a repose that ever is the same.

Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear
The Godhead's most benignant grace;
Nor know we any thing so fair
As is the smile upon thy face;

Flowers laugh before thee on their beds;
And fragrance in thy footing treads;

Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong;
And the most ancient heavens, through thee, are
fresh and strong.

To humbler functions, awful Power!
I call thee: I myself commend
Unto thy guidance from this hour;
Oh, let my weakness have an end!
Give unto me, made lowly wise,
The spirit of self-sacrifice;
The confidence of reason give;

And in the light of truth thy Bondman let me
live!

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

EXTRACT FROM "ST. MATTHEW'S DAY."

`HERE are in this loud stunning tide

THE

Of human care and crime,

With whom the melodies abide

Of the everlasting chime;

Who carry music in their heart

Through dusky lane and wrangling mart,

Plying their daily toil with busier feet,

Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat.

JOHN KEBLE.

FLOWERS WITHOUT FRUIT.

PRUNE

RUNE thou thy words, the thoughts
control

That o'er thee swell and throng;
They will condense within thy soul,
And change to purpose strong.

But he who lets his feelings run
In soft, luxurious flow,

Shrinks when hard service must be done,
And faints at every woe.

Faith's meanest deed more favor bears
Where hearts and wills are weighed,
Than brightest transports, choicest prayers,
Which bloom their hour and fade.

JOHN HENRY NEWMAN, 1833

"HE REMEMBERETH WE ARE DUST."

WHERE'ER her troubled path may be,

The Lord's sweet pity with her go!

The outward wayward life we see,
The hidden springs we may not know.

Nor is it given us to discern

What threads the fatal sisters spun,
Through what ancestral years has run
The sorrow with the woman born;

What forged her cruel chain of moods,
What set her feet in solitudes,

And held the love within her mute;
What mingled madness in the blood,
A life-long discord and annoy,
Water of tears with oil of joy,
And hid within the folded bud
Perversities of flower and fruit.
It is not ours to separate

The tangled skein of will and fate,

To show what metes and bounds should stand

Upon the soul's debatable land,

And between choice and Providence

Divide the circle of events;

But He who knows our frame is just,

Merciful and compassionate,

And full of sweet assurances

And hope for all the language is,

That He remembereth we are dust!

J. G. WHITTIER, from Snow-Bound.

"MY TIMES ARE IN THY HAND."

PSALM XXXI. 15.

FATHER, I know that all my life

Is portioned out for me,

And the changes that are sure to come,

I do not fear to see;

But I ask Thee for a present mind

Intent on pleasing Thee.

I ask Thee for a thoughtful love,
Through constant watching wise,
To meet the glad with joyful smiles,
And to wipe the weeping eyes;
And a heart at leisure from itself,
To soothe and sympathize.

I would not have the restless will
That hurries to and fro,
Seeking for some great thing to do,
Or secret thing to know;

I would be treated as a child,
And guided where I go.

Wherever in the world I am,
In whatsoe'er estate,

I have a fellowship with hearts
To keep and cultivate;
And a work of lowly love to do
For the Lord on whom I wait.

So I ask Thee for the daily strength,
To none that ask denied,

And a mind to blend with outward life

While keeping at Thy side; Content to fill a little space,

If Thou be glorified.

And if some things I do not ask,
In my cup of blessing be,

I would have my spirit filled the more

With grateful love to Thee,