THE MASTER'S TOUCH
In the still air the music lies unheard;
In the rough marble beauty hides unseen:
To make the music and the beauty, needs
The master's touch, the sculptor's chisel keen.
Great Master, touch us with thy skillful hand;
Let not the music that is in us die:
Great Sculptor, hew and polish us; not let,
Hidden and lost, thy form within us lie!
Spare not the stroke! do with us as thou wilt!
Let there be naught unfinished, broken, marred;
Complete thy purpose, that we may become
Thy perfect image, thou our God and Lord!
-HORATIUS BONAR.
If there be some weaker one
Give me strength to help him on;
If a blinder soul there be
Let me guide him nearer thee;
Make my mortal dream come true
With the work I fain would do;
Clothe with life the weak intent;
Let me be the thing I meant;
Let me find in thy employ
Peace that dearer is than joy;
Out of self to love be led.
And to heaven acclimated,
Until all things sweet and good
Seem my natural habitude.
There are three lessons I would write;
Three words as with a burning pen,
In tracings of eternal light
Upon the hearts of men:
Have hope. Though clouds environ now,
And gladness hides her face in scorn,
Put thou the shadow from thy brow,
No night but hath its morn.
Have faith. Where'er thy bark is driven,
The calm's disport, the tempest's mirth,
Know this-God rules the hosts of heaven,
The inhabitants of earth.
Have love. Not love alone for one,
But men, as men, thy brothers call,
And scatter, like the circling sun,
Thy charities on all.
Thus grave these lessons on thy soul
Hope, faith and love-and thou shalt find Strength when life's surges rudest roll,
Light when thou else wert blind.
-From the German of Schiller.
Man is his own star, and the soul that can
Render an honest and a perfect man
Commands all light, all influence, all fate;
Nothing to him falls early, or too late.
Our acts our angels are, or good or ill,
Our fatal shadows that walk by us still.
-JOHN FLETCHER.
The sweetest lives are those to duty wed,
Whose deeds, both great and small,
Are close-knit strands of an unbroken thread,
Where love ennobles all.
The world may sound no trumpets, ring no bells,
The book of life the shining record tells.
Thy love shall chant its own beatitudes
After its own life-workings. A child's kiss
Set on thy sighing lips shall make thee glad;
A poor man served by thee shall make thee rich;
A sick man helped by thee shall make thee strong;
Thou shalt be served thyself by every sense
Of service which thou renderest.
This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream:
There spread a cloud of dust along a plain;
And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged
A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords
Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner
Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes.
A craven hung along the battle's edge,
And thought, "Had I a sword of keener steel-
That blue blade the king's son bears—but this
Blunt thing"-he snapped and flung it from his hand,
And lowering crept away and left the field.
Then came the king's son, wounded, sore bestead,
And weaponless, and saw the broken sword,
Hilt buried in the dry and trodden sand,
And ran and snatched it; and with battle shout
Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down,
And saved a great cause that heroic day.
In the slimy bed of a sluggish mere
Its root had humble birth,
And the slender stem that upward grew
Was coarse of fibre and dull of hue,
With naught of grace or worth.
The gelid fish that floated near
Saw only the vulgar stem.
The clumsy turtle paddling by,
The water snake with his lidless eye,—
It was only a weed to them.
But the butterfly and the honey bee,
The sun and sky and air,
They marked its heart of virgin gold
In the satin leaves of spotless fold,
And its odor rich and rare.
So the fragrant soul in its purity,
To sordid life tied down,
May bloom to heaven and no man know,
Seeing the coarse vile stem below,
How God hath seen the crown.
-JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE.
I ask, O Lord, that from my life may flow
Such gladsome music, soothing, sweet and clear
From a fine-strung harp, to reach the weary ear
Of struggling men,
To bid them pause awhile and listen; then
With spirit calmer, stronger than before,
Take up their work once more,
I only pray that, through the common days
Of this, my life, unceasingly may steal
Into some aching heart strains that shall help to heal
Its long-borne pain,
To lift the thoughts from self and worldly gain
And fill the life with harmonies divine;
Oh, may such power be mine!
Thus would I live; and when all working davs
Are o'er for me,
May the rich music of my life ring on
-M. P. N., in Wesleyan Magazine.
As far as Earth is from the sky,
So Love is high.
Where Alpine lakes their vigils keep
Is Love more deep.
In Nature there no boundaries are
That tell how far Love goes.
Love's measure as each countless star,
God knows.
One only thing we know:
Love comes to stay;
Though God's to give, it is not even His
There are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave,
There are souls that are pure and true;
Then give to the world the best you have,
And the best will come back to you.
Give love, and love to your life will flow,
A strength in your utmost need;
Have faith, and a score of hearts will show
Their faith in your word and deed.
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