SOME MURMUR WHEN THEIR SKY
IS CLEAR.

SOME murmur when their sky is clear
And wholly bright to view,

If one small speck of dark appear
In their great heaven of blue:

And some with thankful love are filled,
If but one streak of light,
One ray of God's good mercy, gild
The darkness of their night.

In palaces are hearts that ask,
In discontent and pride,
Why life is such a dreary task,

And all good things denied:
And hearts in poorest huts admire
How Love has in their aid-
Love that not ever seems to tire-
Such rich provision made.

RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH, D. D.

SORROW.

UPON my lips she laid her touch divine,
And merry speech and careless laughter

died;

She fixed her melancholy eyes on mine,
And would not be denied.

I saw the west-wind loose his cloudlets white,
In flocks careering through the April sky;
I could not sing, though joy was at its height;
For she stood silent by.

I watched the lovely evening fade away. –
A mist was lightly drawn across the stars.
She broke my quiet dream: I heard her say,
"Behold your prison-bars!

STRONG Son of God! immortal Love, Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace, Believing where we cannot prove!

Thine are these orbs of light and shade; Thou madest life in man and brute; Thou madest Death; and lo, thy foot Is on the skull which thou hast made! Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:

Thou madest man, he knows not why; He thinks he was not made to die; And thou hast made him: thou art just. Thou seemest human and divine,

The highest, holiest manhood, thou: Our wills are ours, we know not how; Our wills are ours, to make them thine.

Our little systems have their day;

They have their day and cease to be; They are but broken lights of thee, And thou, O Lord, art more than they. We have but faith: we cannot know; For knowledge is of things we see ; And yet we trust it comes from thee, A beam in darkness: let it grow.

Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell; That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before,

But vaster.

We are fools and slight; We mock thee when we do not fear: But help thy foolish ones to bear; Help thy vain worlds to bear thy light.

Forgive what seemed my sin in me;
What seemed my worth since I began;
For merit lives from man to man,
And not from man, O Lord, to thee.
Forgive my grief for one removed,

Thy creature, whom I found so fair.
I trust he lives in thee, and there
I find him worthier to be loved.

Forgive these wild and wandering cries,
Confusions of a wasted youth;
Forgive them where they fail in truth,
And in thy wisdom make me wise.
1850.

ALFRED TENNYSON.

A PRAYER IN MENTAL CONFLICT.

My God! lo, here before thy face

I cast me in the dust;

Where is the hope of happier days?
Where is my wonted trust?
Where are the sunny hours I had
Ere of thy light bereft ?
Vanished is all that made me glad,,
My pain alone is left.

I shrink with fear and sore alarm
When threatening ills I see,

As in mine hour of need thine arm
No more could shelter me;

As though thou couldst not see the grief
That makes my courage quail,

As though thou wouldst not send relief When human helpers fail.

Cannot thy might avert e'en now

What seems my certain doom,
And still with light and succor bow
To him who weeps in gloom?
Art thou not evermore the same?

Hast not thyself revealed
In Holy Writ, that we may claim
Thee for our strength and shield?

O Father, compass me about

With love, for I am weak;
Forgive, forgive my sinful doubt,
Thy pitying glance I seek;
For torn and anguished is my heart,

Thou seest it, my God;

Oh, soothe my conscience' bitter smart, Lift off my sorrows' load!

821

I know thy thoughts are peace towards me,
Safe am I in thy hands,
Could I but firmly build on thee,

For sure thy counsel stands !
Whate'er thy word hath promised, all
Wilt thou full surely give;
Wherefore from thee I will not fall,
Thy word doth make me live.

Though mountains crumble into dust,

Thy covenant standeth fast:

Who follows thee in pious trust

Shall reach the goal at last.

Though strange and winding seem the way While yet on earth I dwell,

In heaven my heart shall gladly say,
"Thou, God, dost all things well."

Take courage, then, my soul, nor steep
Thy days and nights in tears,

Soon shalt thou cease to mourn and weep,
Though dark are now thy fears.

He comes, he comes, the Strong to save;
He comes, nor tarries more;

His light is breaking o'er the wave,
The clouds and storms are o'er!
DREWES, 1797. Translated by

C. WINKWORTH, 1855.

LOW SPIRITS.

FEVER and fret and aimless stir
And disappointed strife,
All chafing, unsuccessful things,
Make up the sum of life.

Love adds anxiety to toil,

And sameness doubles cares, While one unbroken chain of work

The flagging temper wears.

The light and air are dulled with smoke :
The streets resound with noise;
And the soul sinks to see its peers
Chasing their joyless joys.

Voices are round me; smiles are near;
Kind welcomes to be had;
And yet my spirit is alone,
Fretful, outworn, and sad.
A weary actor, I would fain

Be quit of my long part;
The burden of unquiet life

Lies heavy on my heart.

Sweet thought of God! now do thy work As thou hast done before;

Wake up, and tears will wake with thee, And the dull mood be o'er.