THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. As shadows cast by cloud and sun And while the years, an endless host, Come pressing swiftly on, The brightest names that earth can boast Just glisten and are gone. Yet doth the Star of Bethlehem shed And still it leads, as once it led, O Father, may that holy star WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. THE RIGHT MUST WIN. O, IT is hard to work for God, He hides himself so wondrously, As though there were no God; He is least seen when all the powers Of ill are most abroad. Or he deserts us at the hour Ill masters good, good seems to change To ill with greatest ease; And, worst of all, the good with good Is at cross-purposes. Ah! God is other than we think ; Workman of God! O, lose not heart, Thou shalt know where to strike. Thrice blest is he to whom is given The instinct that can tell "Blessed are they who are homesick, for they shall come at last to their Father's house."- HEINRICH STILLING. NoT as you meant, O learned man, and good! I shall go to the Father's house, and see If for a time some loved one goes away, Nay, if we love and honor, we shall make Approval of the work, which most was done, Our Father's house, I know, is broad and grand; Yet I'm not homesick, and the children here I would be joyful as my days go by, On his sure word rely? And if sometimes the way be rough and steep, Or at my waking I would only weep, A. D. F. RANDOLPH. WHY THUS LONGING? WHY thus longing, thus forever sighing Wouldst thou listen to its gentle teaching, Poor indeed thou must be, if around thee Thou no ray of light and joy canst throw, If no silken chord of love hath bound thee To some little world through weal and woe; If no dear eyes thy fond love can brighten, Not by deeds that gain the world's applauses, Daily struggling, though unloved and lonely, When all nature hails the Lord of light, And his smile, nor low nor lofty scorning, Gladdens hall and hovel, vale and height? Other hands may grasp the field and forest, Thou art wealthier, all the world is thine. Yet if through earth's wide domains thou rovest, HARRIET WINSLOW SEWALL. THE LOVE OF GOD. THOU Grace Divine, encircling all, A soundless, shoreless sea! Wherein at last our souls must fall, O Love of God most free! When over dizzy heights we go, One soft hand blinds our eyes, The other leads us, safe and slow, O Love of God most wise! And though we turn us from thy face, The saddened heart, the restless soul, But not alone thy care we claim, Our wayward steps to win; We know thee by a dearer name, O Love of God within! And filled and quickened by thy breath, Our souls are strong and free To rise o'er sin and fear and death, O Love of God, to thee! ELIZA SCUDDER. MY TIMES ARE IN THY HAND. FATHER, I know that all my life Is portioned out for me, And the changes that will surely 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, 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, Wherever in the world I am, I have a fellowship with hearts And a work of lowly love to do, For the Lord on whom I wait. So I ask thee for the daily strength, 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 I would have my spirit filled the more There are briers besetting every path, And an earnest need for prayer; But a lowly heart that leans on thee Is happy anywhere. In a service which thy love appoints, For my secret heart is taught "the truth" ANNA L. WARING. Then with a ripple and a radiance through me Safe to the hidden house of thine abiding Carry the weak knees and the heart that faints; Shield from the scorn and cover from the chiding; Give the world joy, but patience to the saints. Saints, did I say? with your remembered faces, Dear men and women, whom I sought and slew! Ah, when we mingle in the heavenly places, How will I weep to Stephen and to you! O for the strain that rang to our reviling Still, when the bruised limbs sank upon the sod ; O for the eyes that looked their last in smiling, Last on this world here, but their first on God! O, could I tell, ye surely would believe it! O, let my sound be stormy in their ears! Throat that would shout but cannot stay for straining, Eyes that would weep but cannot wait for tears. Quick in a moment, infinite forever, Send an arousal better than I pray; Give me a grace upon the faint endeavor, Souls for my hire and Pentecost to-day! Hark what a sound, and too divine for hearing, Is it the music of his people's prayer? Surely he cometh, and a thousand voices Shout to the saints and to the deaf are dumb; Surely he cometh, and the earth rejoices, Glad in his coming who hath sworn, I come. This hath he done, and shall we not adore him? Flash from our eyes the glow of our thanksgiving, |