PART VI.

PENITENCE.

DE PROFUNDIS CLAMAVI.

C. G. FENNER.

Up from the deeps, O God, I cry to thee!
Hear the soul's prayer, hear thou her litany,
O thou who say'st, "Come, wanderer, home to
me!"

Up from the deeps of sorrow, wherein lie
Dark secrets veiled from earth's unpitying eye,
My prayers, like star-crowned angels, God-ward

fly.

Up from the deeps of joy, deep tides that swell With fulness that the heart can never tell, Thanks shall ring clear as rings a festal bell.

DE PROFUNDIS CLAMAVI.

From the calm bosom when in quiet hour
God's holy spirit reigns with largest power,

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Then shall each thought in prayer's white blossom flower.

From the dark mine, where slow Thought's diamond burns,

Where the Gold-spirits vein their rugged urns, From that grim Cyclop-forge my spirit turns,

And gazes upward at thy clear blue sky,
And 'midst the light that floods it does espy
Bright stars unseen by superficial eye.

Where Sin's Red Dragons lie in caverns deep,
And glare with stony eyes that never sleep,
And o'er the Heavenly Fruit strict ward do keep;

Thence my poor heart, long struggling to get free, Torn by the strife, in painful agony

Crieth, O God, my God, deliver me!

Up from the thickest tumult of the game, Where spring Life's arrows with unerring aim, My shaft of prayer, Acestes' like, shall flame.

Not from life's shallows, where the waters sleep, A dull low marsh, where stagnant vapors creep, But ocean-voiced, deep calling unto deep,

As he of old, King David, called to thee, As cries the heart of poor Humanity,

THOU, who dost dwell alone,-
Thou, who dost know thine own,

Thou, to whom all are known
From the cradle to the grave,-
Save, O save!

From the world's temptations;

From tribulations;

From that fierce anguish

Wherein we languish;

From that torpor deep

Wherein we lie asleep,

Heavy as death, cold as the grave,

Save, O save!

When the Soul, growing clearer,

Sees God no nearer;

When the Soul, mounting higher,

To God comes no nigher;

A LITANY.

But the arch-fiend Pride
Mounts at her side,
Foiling her high emprise,
Sealing her eagle eyes,

And, when she fain would soar,
Makes idols to adore;

Changing the pure emotion

Of her high devotion

To a skin-deep sense

Of her own eloquence;

Strong to deceive, strong to enslave, -

Save, O save!

From the ingrained fashion

Of this earthly nature

That mars thy creature,

From grief that is but passion,
From mirth that is but feigning,
From tears that bring no healing,
From wild and weak complaining,
Thine own strength revealing,
Save! O save!

From doubt where all is double,
Where wise men are not strong,
Where comfort turns to trouble,
Where just men suffer wrong,
Where sorrow treads on joy,
Where sweet things soonest cloy,

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Where faiths are built on dust,

Where love is half mistrust,

Hungry, and barren, and sharp as the sea, O set us free!

O let the false dream fly
Where our sick souls do lie
Tossing continually.

O where thy voice doth come,
Let all doubts be dumb;

Let all words be mild,
All strifes be reconciled,
All pains beguiled;

Light brings no blindness,
Love no unkindness,
Knowledge no ruin,

Fear no undoing.

From the cradle to the grave,
Save, O save!

THE SPREADING SPECK.

W. R. ALGER'S POETRY OF THE EAST."

ON every human soul there lies
A little dusky speck of sin,
As small as a mote's eye in size :
But when that speck doth once begin