May measure out the ocean deep-may What are ten thousand worlds compared with count The sands, or the sun's rays-but God! for Thee Thee? And what am I, then! Heaven's unnumbered host, There is no weight nor measure. None can Though multiplied by myriads, and array'd mount Up to thy mysteries. Reason's bright spark, Though kindled by the light, in vain would try To trace Thy counsels, infinite and dark; In all the glory of sublimest thought, Is but an atom in the balance weighed Against Thy greatness-is a cypher brought Against infinity. What am I, then? Naught. And thought is lost ere thought can soar so Naught!—but the effluence of Thy light di vine, Pervading worlds, hath reached my bosom, too; Yes; in my spirit doth Thy spirit shine, I am, O God, and surely thou must be! Thou art! directing, guiding all thou art! Direct my understanding, then, to Thee; Control my spirit, guide my wondering heart; Though but an atom 'midst immensity, Still I am something, fashioned by Thy hand! I hold a middle rank, 'twixt heaven and earth, On the last verge of mortal being stand,. Close to the realm where angels have their birth, Thou the beginning with the end hast bound, So suns are born, so worlds spring forth from Thee; And as the spangles in the sunny rays Shine around the silver snow, the pageantry Of Heaven's bright army glitters in Thy praise. A million torches lighted by Thy hand Wander unwearied through the blue abyss; They own Thy power, accomplish thy command, All gay with life, all eloquent with bliss. What shall we call them? Piles of crystal light? A glorious company of golden streams? Lamps of celestial ether burning bright? Suns lighting systems with their joyous beams? But Thou to them art as the moon to night. Yes, as the drop of water in the sea, All this magnificence in Thee is lost; FROM THE RUSSIAN OF DERZHAVIN. SOMETIME. OMETIME, when all life's lessons have been learned, And sun and stars forevermore have set, The things which our weak judgments here have spurned,— The things o'er which we grieved with lashes wet Will flash before us, out of life's dark night, As stars shine most in deeper tints of blue; And we shall see how all God's plans were right, And how what seemed reproof was love most true. And we shall see how, while we frown and sigh, God's plans go on as best for you and me ; How, when we called, he heeded not our cry, Because his wisdom to the end could see. And even as wise parents disallow Too much of sweet to craving babyhood, So, God, perhaps, is keeping from us now Life's sweetest things because it seemeth good. And if, sometimes, commingled with life's wine, And that, sometimes, the sable pall of death Conceals the fairest boon his love can send. If we could push ajar the gates of life, And stand within, and all God's workings see, We could interpret all this doubt and strife, And for each mystery could find a key! We find the wormwood, and rebel and But not to-day. Then be content, poor heart! God's plans, like lilies, pure and white un shrink, (Originally published in the Spectator (No. 465) and hence often attributed to Addison.) Long ago was I weary of voices Th' unwearied sun, from day to day, Soon as the evening shades prevail, While all the stars that round her burn, LIGHT. (Extract.) YOD said: "Let there be light!" Then startled seas, and mountains cold, And lo! the rose, in crimson dressed, Then was the skylark born; Flowed o'er the sunny hills of noon; EBENEZER ELLIOTT. ALONE. WALK down the valley of silenceDown the dim, noiseless valley, alone, And I hear not the fall of a footstep Around me, save God's and my own; And the hush of my heart is as holy As hovers where angels have flown. Whose music my heart could not win; Long ago was I weary of noises That fretted my soul with their din; Long ago was I weary of places Where I found but the human and sin. I walked in the world with the worldly, I craved what the world never gave, And I said, "In the world each ideal, That shines like a star on life's wave, Is wrecked on the shores of the real, And sleeps like a dream in a grave." And still did I pine for the perfect, But caught a mere glimpse of its blue, And I wept when the clouds of the mortal Veiled even that glimpse from my view. And I toiled on, heart tired of the human, And I moaned 'mid the mazes of men, Till I knelt, long ago, at an altar, And I heard a voice call me; since then I walk down the valley of silence That lies far beyond mortal ken. Do you ask what I found in the valley? 'Tis my trysting place with the divine, And I fall at the feet of the holy, And above me a voice said, “Be mine," And there rose from the depths of my spirit An echo, "My heart shall be thine." Do you ask how I live in the valley? And my prayer, like a perfume from censers. In the hush of the valley of silence I dream all the songs that I sing, And the music floats down the dim valley Till each finds a word for each wing. That to hearts, like the dove of the deluge, A message of peace they may bring. But far on the deep there are billows That never shall break on the beach; And I have heard songs in the silence That never shall float into speech, And I have had dreams in the valley Too lofty for language to reach. And I have seen thoughts in the valley, Do you ask me the place of the valley, And God and his angels are there, "Twas here we met, and parted company. Why should their gain be such a grief to me? This scene of loss! Thou heavy cross! Dear Savior, take the burden off, I pray, These sombre robes, these saddened faces, all And parting takes the marrow out of life. And never more Shall time restore The broken links. "Twas only yesterday A little way! This sentence I repeat, It is not so. Oh! give me faith to feel it when I say That they are gone-gone but a little way. ANONYMOUS. THE PAUPER'S DEATH-BED. READ softly-bow the head- No passing-bell doth toll- Is passing now. Stranger! however great, With lowly reverence bow; There's one in that poor shedOne by that paltry bedGreater than thou. Beneath that Beggar's roof, Lo! Death doth keep his state; Enter-no crowds attendEnter-no guards defend This palace-gate. That pavement damp and cold No smiling courtiers tread; One silent woman stands Lifting with meagre hands No mingling voices sound- O change-0 wondrous change!- O change-stupendous change! CAROLINE ANNE BOWLES SOUTHEY. LIFE. MADE a posie while the day ran by; But Time did beckon to the flowers, and they And withered in my hand. My hand was next to them, and then my heart; I took, without more thinking, in good part, Who did so sweetly death's sad taste convey, Farewell, dear flowers; sweetly your time ye HENRY KIRKE WHITE. THE ELIXIR. EA EACH me, my God and King, In all things thee to see, And what I do in anything To do it as for thee. Not rudely, as a beast, To run into an action, But still to make thee prepossessed, And give it his perfection. |