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Who is enough for this far-reaching work?

At whose poor heart doth not the vile worm lurk ? This priceless trust in earthen case is set:

Who holds it falls, if he do once forget

In God's gift, only, might and worth are met.
When, in Christ's name and stead, thou shalt beseech,
His loving Gospel to the others preach,

And pledges of God's grace share forth to each,
When other hearts lie open to thine own,

Eyes trusting look to thee, as on a throne;
Nothing but Christ's rich blood can for thyself atone.

Bethink thee, well, how one may speak true blame
Of deadly sin, and load it thick with shame;
One may bear charge for God and take Christ's name,
And yet, at reckoning, may be cast off,

A woe to loving ones, to friends a scoff.
But oh, what deeper loss shall his be, then,

Who, of his priesthood, made a lure to men !
Who drew in weaker souls, and led them wrong:
His Gospel but a witching, wicked song!

Where, out of God's great love, shall that bad wretch belong!

Lift up thy faith beyond the inner sky

Where, in deep peace, GOD ever sits on high: Amid all sounds which meet there in his praise,Which worlds and hosts, cherubs and seraphs raise To Him, far off and near, Ancient of Days,

One, only GOD, thrice Holy Three in One,
Beyond time's death, as ere time was begun,
There He that calls thee in dread stillness sits,
While, flashing everywhere, high, glorious music
flits.

To Him the rain-drop plashing on the sea,
The wing'd seed wafted from the forest-tree,
The insect's flutterings, and the sun's swift ray
Kindling up countless atoms in its way,
Each after each, to bring to earth the day—
All things are seen, all, all are heard,—yet He
Hears thy thoughts moving in the midst of thee.
Let not the busy world, with its loud din,
Let not the sweet, enticing calls of sin,

Let nothing draw thine ear from God's still voice within !

He sees thee all; the flashing of an eye;

The changing cheek; the bosom swelling high;
Yea the first impulse of the peaceful blood,
Ere, with fell passion's surge, it rushes to its flood.
He sees the little pictures spread within

Thy mind's deep chambers, where no eye can win,

As if no other thing on earth's smooth face,
But thou, alone, in clearest light had place :
As if He looked on thee and thee alone,

Thus

open standest thou: thus seen, thus known.

K

Look not on wrong, nor let the Tempter dare
To find a back-way up into thy heart,
And open all his cursed, tempting ware
To bargain with thee for thy better part.
Thou hast no secrets that are hid from God;
Thine inmost places by his feet are trod :
Hast thou sin there? it lies before his sight:
Die, if thou must, but cast it from thee, quite !

If thou hast ever taken gifts of Hell
And then repented, and hast thrown them out,
And swept all clean (while bloody tear-drops fell)
And scattered holy balms, the place about;
Search yet again; thou knowest but too well
If thine own hand have somewhere laid away
Some sin that penitence might overlook,
To come to light, some time, and draw astray
Thy weaker thoughts, or, at the dreadful day,
To stand revealed, and damn thee from God's Book.

The spirit, like the wind that wears no form
In wooing summer-breath, or ruthless storm,
Breaks up the dark heart's strongly-frozen deep,
Or lays the whirl of earthly lusts to sleep.
He, only, is thy strength and warmth and light:
Trust well thy faith in Him, where faith is sight.

Robert Lowell.

Light and Love.

"God is light :" "God is love."

RIGHT waits for us in Heaven: Inspiring thought!

That when the darkness all is over

past,

The beauty which the Lamb of God has bought Shall flow about our savéd souls at last,

And wrap them from all night-time and all woe: The Spirit and the Word assure us so.

LOVE lives for us in Heaven: Oh, not so sweet
Is the May dew which mountain flowers enclose,
Nor golden raining of the winnowed wheat,
Nor blushing out of the brown earth, of rose,
Or whitest lily, as, beyond time's wars,
The silvery rising of these two twin stars!

A Psalm of Life.

Alice Cary.

ELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real!

Life is earnest !

And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating

Funeral marches to the

grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,

In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act-act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead !

Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time;

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