147 THE WORTH OF SUFFERING.

O deem not that earth's crowning bliss
Is found in joy alone;

For sorrow, bitter though it be,
Hath blessings all its own.

As blossoms smitten by the rain
Their sweetest odors yield;

As where the plough has deepest struck,
Rich harvests crown the field.

So to the hopes, by sorrow crushed,
A nobler faith succeeds;

And life, by trials furrowed, bears
The fruit of loving deeds.

148 FOR SPIRITUAL STRENGTH.

O Lord, to whom the heart's desires lie bare
Ere yet expressed in supplicating prayer,
Grant me but this and gladly will I die :
That Thou to me Thy grace wilt not deny !
Keep in Thy hand my life until its close,
And sweet I'll slumber in my soul's repose.

Swayed by the impetus of youth till now,
When may my conscience its own strength avow?
The worldliness that dwells within my heart
Hath kept me from my longed-for goal apart;
How can I, living, truly love the Lord,
I, slave of passion and of sin abhorred ?

'T is death in life Thy standard to desert;
'Tis life in death Thy power to assert.
Yet passeth me, how I Thy grace shall gain,
How prove my faith, Thy service how attain ?
Lead me, O Lord! upon Thy tranquil way,
Deliver me from folly's tempting sway.

149

“IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN.”

Led by kindlier hand than ours,

We journey through this earthly scene,
And should not in our weary hours

Turn to regret what might have been.

And yet these hearts, when torn by pain,
Or wrung by disappointment keen,
Will seek relief from present cares

In thoughts of joys that might have been.

But let us still these wishes vain ;

We know not that of which we dream.
Our lives might have been sadder yet;

God only knows what might have been.

Forgive us, Lord, our little faith:

And keep us all, from morn till e'en,
Still to believe that lot the best

Which is not that which might have been.

And grant, we may so pass the days
The cradle and the grave between,

That death's dark may not darker be

For thought of what life might have been.

150 WHO IS THE ANGEL THAT COMETH?

(A Chant.)

Who is the angel that cometh?

Life!

Let us not question what he brings,
Peace or strife;

Under the shade of his mighty wings,
One by one,

Are his secrets told;

One by one,

Lit by the rays of each morning sun,
Shall a new flower its petals unfold,
With the mystery hid in its heart of gold.

We will arise and go forth to greet him,
Singing gladly with one accord:
"Blessed is he that cometh

In the name of the Lord."

Who is the angel that cometh?

Pain!

Let us arise and go forth to greet him;
Not in vain

Is the summons come for us to meet him;
He will stay

And darken our sun;

He will stay

A desolate night, a weary day.

Since in that shadow our work is done, And in that shadow our crowns are won, Let us say still, while his bitter chalice Slowly into our hearts is poured: "Blessed is he that cometh

In the name of the Lord."

Who is the angel that cometh?

Death!

But do not shudder and do not fear;
Hold your breath,

For a kingly presence is drawing near.
Cold and bright

In his flashing steel,

Cold and bright

The smile that comes like a starry light
To calm the terror and grief we feel;

He comes to help, and to save, and to heal. Then let us, baring our hearts and kneeling, Sing while we wait this angel's sword :

"Blessed is he that cometh

In the name of the Lord."

151

MEDITATION ON DEATH.

Forget thine anguish,

Vexed heart again!

Why shouldst thou languish

With earthly pain?
The husk shall slumber

Bedded in clay,

Silent and sombre,

Oblivion's prey.

Why full of terror,
Compassed with error,
Trouble thy heart
For thy mortal part?
The soul flies home,
The corpse is dumb,

Of all thou didst have

Follows naught to the grave;

Thou fliest thy nest

Swift as a bird to thy rest.