So I ask Thee for the daily strength, To none that ask denied, And a mind to blend with outward strife And if some things I do not ask I would have my spirit filled the more There are briars besetting every path That call for patient care; There is a cross in every lot, And an earnest need for prayer; In a service which Thy will appoints, For my inmost heart is taught the truth I ANONYMOUS. THE NIGHTMARE. I. COME in gleams from the land of dreams, I come from my rest in the death-owl's nest, And my wings gleam bright in the wild moonlight, And down sweeps my car like a falling star, When the winds have hushed their breath, When ye feel in the air from the cold sepulchre, The damp sad smell of death. II. My vigil I keep by the murderer's sleep, The sweat-drops fall on the dark prison wall, III. I fly to the bed where the weary head, And with false dreams of fame I kindle the flame No thought does he take of the world awake, The holy fire of his own loved lyre, Is his best and dearest treasure ; The last dear token his lyre is broken, And his heart is broken too. IV. When the maiden asleep for her lover may weep Afar on the boundless sea, And she dreams he is pressed to her welcome breast, Returned from his dangers free; I come in the form of a wave of the storm, And sweep him away from her heart, And then in her dream she starts with a scream, And still in the light of her tear-bound sight, Till my swift elision dispels the vision, And she wakes as from a trance. V. When the clouds first born of the breezy morn In the western chambers roam, I glide away in the twilight gray, To rest in my shadowy home; And darkness and sleep to their kingdoms sweep, But where I dwell no man can tell, Who has seen my hideous form, A RIPPLE ON THE LAKE. HERE was a ripple on the water's face, THE A ripple on the waters of Loch Fyne. From the clear wave a dying youth aghast Glared round and upwards as he breathed that cry; So came that ripple on the water's face, |