SARAH FLOWER ADAMS. From HYMNS AND ANTHEMS. Edited by W. J. Fox. He sendeth sun, He sendeth shower, WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. From THE CHURCH GATE. Although I enter not, Yet round about the spot Ofttimes I hover ! And near the sacred gate, My lady comes at last, [1811-1863 With modest eyes downcast; ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. DESPONDENCY REBUKED. Say not, "The struggle nought availeth, And as things have been they remain." When daylight comes, comes in the light, 1809-1866] JOHN EDWARD TAYLOR. TRANSLATION FROM MICHAEL ANGELO. If it be true that any beauteous thing Who adores the Maker needs must love his work. CHARLES KINGSLEY. A FAREWELL. Be good, sweet Maid, and let who will be clever ; Do noble things, not dream them all day long ; And so make life, death, and that vast "for ever" One grand sweet song. JAMES BALLANTINE. [1808-1877 CASTLES IN THE AIR. The bonnie bonnie bairn sits poking in the ase, Glowering in the fire with his wee round face; Laughing at the fuffing lowe-what sees he there? Ha! the young dreamer's building castles in the air. His wee chubby face, and his towzy curly pow, For all so sage he looks, what can the laddie ken? stare There are more folks than him building castles in the air. . . He'll glower at the fire, and he'll keek at the light, JOHN HENRY NEWMAN. THE PILLAR OF THE CLOUD. Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from homeLead Thou me on! Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou I loved to choose and see my path, but now I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, Pride ruled my will: remember not past years. So long thy power hath blessed me, sure it still Will lead me on. O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till The night is gone; And with the morn those angel faces smile Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile. ARCHBISHOP R. C. TRENCH. RETRIBUTION. Oh righteous doom, that they who make While they who bid stern Duty lead, Of Duty only taking heed, Find Pleasure by the way. CHARLES MACKAY. From NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOURS. A look all innocence and trust, A painter's daughter-poor, perchance, But rich in native elegance ; God bless the maid !—she may not be From ETERNAL JUSTICE. Truth shall conquer at the last, W. C. BENNETT. BABY MAY. Part only. Cheeks as soft as July peaches, |