More careful, not to serve Thee much, But to please Thee perfectly. There are briers besetting every path, That call for patient care; There is a cross in every lot, And an earnest need for prayer; But a lowly heart that leans on Thee In a service which Thy will appoints, For my inmost heart is taught “the truth” And a life of self-renouncing love Is a life of liberty. A. L. WARING. FROM "MY SOUL AND I." K NOW well, my soul, God's hand controls Whate'er thou fearest; Round Him in calmest music rolls Whate'er thou hearest. What to thee is shadow, to Him is day, And not on a blind and aimless way Like warp and woof all destinies Are woven fast, Linked in sympathy like the keys Of an organ vast. Pluck one thread, and the web ye mar; Of a thousand keys, and the paining jar Oh, restless spirit! wherefore strain Heaven and hell, with their joy and pain, Back to thyself is measured well Thy neighbor's wrong is thy present hell, And in life, in death, in dark and light, All are in God's care; Sound the black abyss, pierce the deep of night, And He is there. Leaning on Him, make with reverent meekness His own thy will, And with strength from Him shall thy utter weakness Life's task fulfil. J. G. WHITTier. THE STRAIGHT ROAD. BEAUTY may be the path to highest good, And some successfully have it pursued. Thou, who wouldst follow, be well warned to see The straightest way perhaps which may be sought DISCIPLES' HYMN-BOOK. SEMITA JUSTORUM. WHEN I look back upon my former race, Seasons I see at which the Inward Ray More brightly burned, or guided some new way; Truth, in its wealthier scene and nobler space, Given for my eye to range, and feet to trace. And next, I mark, 'twas trial did convey, Or grief, or pain, or strange eventful day, To my tormented soul such larger grace. So now, whene’er, in journeying on, I feel The shadow of the Providential Hand, Deep breathless stirrings shoot across my breast, Searching to know what He will now reveal, What sin uncloak, what stricter rule command, And girding me to work His full behest. JOHN HENRY NEWMAN, 1833. I BEAUTY AND DUTY. SLEPT, and dreamed that life was beauty; A noon-day light and truth to thee. SONNET. DISCIPLES HYMN-BOOK. HEN I consider how my light is spent, WHE Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent JOHN MILTON, THE RIGHT MUST WIN. OH, it is hard to work for God, To rise and take His part Upon this battle-field of earth, He hides Himself so wondrously, Or He deserts us at the hour And seems to leave us to ourselves Ill masters good, good seems to change And, worst of all, the good with good Is at cross purposes. Ah! God is other than we think; Far beyond reason's height, and reached Workman of God! oh, lose not heart, But learn what God is like; And in the darkest battle-field Thou shalt know where to strike. |