By anguish which made pale the sun,
I hear Him charge His saints that none
Among His creatures anywhere

Blaspheme against Him with despair,
However darkly days go on.

Take from my head the thorn-wreath brown!

No mortal grief deserves that crown.

O súpreme Love, chief Misery,

The sharp regalia are for THEE
Whose days eternally go on!

For us,

whatever 's undergone,
Thou knowest, willest what is done.
Grief may be joy misunderstood;
Only the Good discerns the good.
I trust Thee while my days go on.

Whatever's lost, it first was won:
We will not struggle nor impugn.
Perhaps the cup was broken here,

That Heaven's new wine might show more clear.

I praise Thee while my days go on.

I praise Thee while my days go on;

I love Thee while my days go on :

Through dark and dearth, through fire and frost,
With emptied arms and treasure lost,
I thank Thee while my days go on.

And having in Thy life-depth thrown
Being and suffering (which are one),
As a child drops his pebble small
Down some deep well, and hears it fall
Smiling-so I. THY DAYS GO ON.

PROSPICE.

Fear death?-to feel the fog in my throat,

The mist in my face,

When the snows begin, and the blasts denote

I am nearing the place,

Robert Browning.

The power of the night, the press of the storm,

The post of the foe;

Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form,
Yet the strong man must go :

For the journey is done and the summit attained,
And the barriers fall,

Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gained,
The reward of it all.

I was ever a fighter, so one fight more,

The best and the last!

I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forbore,
And bade me creep past,

No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers,

The heroes of old,

Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears

Of pain, darkness, and cold.

For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave,

The black minute 's at end,

And the elements' rage, the fiend-voices that rave,

Shall dwindle, shall blend,

Shall change, shall become first a peace, then a joy,
Then a light, then thy breast,

O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again,
And with God be the rest!

ADAM TO EVE.

From "The Drama of Exile. —Mrs. Browning.

Raise the majesties

Of thy disconsolate brows, O well-beloved,

And front with level eyelids the To come,

And all the dark o' the world. Rise, woman, rise

To thy peculiar and best altitudes

Of doing good and of enduring ill,—

Of comforting for ill, and teaching good,
And reconciling all that ill and good

Unto the patience of a constant hope,

Rise with thy daughters! If sin came by thee,
And by sin, death, the ransom-righteousness,
The heavenly life and compensative rest

Shall come by means of thee. If we by thee
Had issue to the world, thou shalt go forth
An angel of the wo thou didst achieve;
Found acceptable to the world instead

Of others of that name, of whose bright steps
Thy deed stripped bare the hills.

Be satisfied;

Something thou hast to bear through womanhood -
Peculiar suffering answering to the sin;

Some pang paid down for each new human life;

Some weariness in guarding such a life

Some coldness from the guarded; some mistrust

From those thou hast too well served; from those beloved
Too loyally, some treason: feebleness

Within thy heart, and cruelty without;
And pressures of an alien tyranny,
With its dynastic reasons of larger bones
And stronger sinews. But, go to thy love
Shall chant itself its own beatitudes,

After its own life-working. 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. Such a crown
I set upon thy head, Christ witnessing

With looks of prompting love

- to keep thee clear Of all reproach against the sin foregone,

From all the generations which succeed.

Thy hand which plucked the apple, I clasp close;
The lips which spake wrong counsel, I kiss close, -
I bless thee in the name of Paradise,

And by the memory of Edenic joys

Forfeit and lost; - by that last cypress tree
Green at the gate, which thrilled as we came out;
And by the blessed nightingale, which threw
Its melancholy music after us; —

And by the flowers, whose spirits full of smells
Did follow softly, plucking us behind
Back to the gradual banks and vernal bowers
And fourfold river-courses: - by all these,

I bless thee to the contraries of these;
I bless thee to the desert and the thorns,
To the elemental change and turbulence,
And to the roar of the estranged beasts,
And to the solemn dignities of grief,
To each one of these ends, and to their END
Of Death and the hereafter

ACTION.

Action is the expression of thought by means of different movements of the body.

"No one can recite with propriety what he does not feel; the key to gesture, as well as to modulation, is earnestness. No one can portray character unless he can realize it, and he can realize it only by making it for the time his own.

"In the natural order of passionate expression, looks are first, gestures second, and words last. Inexpressive motions should always be avoided. No gesture should be made without a reason for it; and when any gesture has been assumed, there should be no change from it without a reason. The habit of allowing the hands to fall to the side immediately after every gesture, produces an ungracefully restless effect. The speaker seems

'Awkward, embarrassed, stiff, without the skill
Of moving gracefully, or standing still-
Blessed with all other requisites to please,
He wants the striking elegance of ease.'

"Some orators accompany every vocal accent with a bodily motion; but the consequence is that their monotonous manipulations fatigue the eye. A gesture that illustrates nothing is worse than useless; it destroys the effect of really appropriate movements."

The following principles have been gleaned, for the most part, from Austin's "Chironomia," to which work teachers are referred for a full exposition of the subject of gesture.

The gracefulness of motion in the human frame, consists in the facility and security with which it is executed; and the grace of any position depends upon the ease with which it can be varied. Hence, in standing, the position is graceful when the weight of the body is principally supported on one leg, while the other is so placed as to be ready to relieve it promptly and without effort. . The foot which sustains the principal weight (usually the left) must be so placed that a perpendicular line, let fall from the pit of the neck, would pass through the heel, --the centre of gravity of the body being for the time in that line, while the other foot merely assists in preserving this position. The characteristics of a good attitude are, firmness, freedom, simplicity, and grace. The appearance of the orator should be equally removed from the awkwardness of the rustic, with toes turned in and knees bent, and from the affectation of the dancing master, whose position is the opposite extreme. The sustaining foot is to be planted firmly; the leg braced, but not contracted; the other foot and limb being relaxed, ready for immediate, though oftentimes almost imperceptible change and action.

All awkward habits should be carefully avoided: as, resting the weight of the body alternately on one foot and then on the other; swinging to