Chapter I: Wouldn't (1)

A sprig of mint by the wayward brook,
A nibble of birch in the wood,
A summer day, and love, and a book,
And I wouldn't be a king if I could.

--John Vance Cheney.

The way to make thy son rich is to fill
His mind with rest before his trunk with riches:
For wealth without contentment climbs a hill
To feel those tempests which fly over ditches.

--George Herbert.

THE JEWEL

There is a jewel which no Indian mine can buy,
No chemic art can counterfeit;
It makes men rich in greatest poverty,
Makes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold,
The homely whistle to sweet music's strain;
Seldom it comes, to few from heaven sent,
That much in little, all in naught--Content.

FINDING CONTENT

I could not find the little maid Content,
So out I rushed, and sought her far and wide;
But not where Pleasure each new fancy tried,
Heading the maze of rioting merriment,
Nor where, with restless eyes and bow half bent,
Love in the brake of sweetbriar smiled and sighed,
Nor yet where Fame towered, crowned and glorified,
Found I her face, nor wheresoe'er I went.
So homeward back I crawled, like wounded bird,
When lo! Content sate spinning at my door;
And when I asked her where she was before--
"Here all the time," she said; "I never stirred;
Too eager in thy search, you passed me o'er,
And, though I called you, neither saw nor heard."

--Alfred Austin.

DAILY STRENGTH

Day by day the manna fell;
O to learn this lesson well;
Still by constant mercy fed,
Give me, Lord, my daily bread.

"Day by day," the promise reads;
Daily strength for daily needs;
Cast foreboding fears away;
Take the manna of to-day.

Lord, my times are in thy hand.
All my sanguine hopes have planned
To thy wisdom I resign,
And would make thy purpose thine.

Thou my daily task shalt give;
Day by day to Thee I live;
So shall added years fulfill
Not my own--my Father's will.

Fond ambition, whisper not;
Happy is my humble lot;
Anxious, busy cares away;
I'm provided for to-day.

O to live exempt from care
By the energy of prayer;
Strong in faith, with mind subdued,
Yet elate with gratitude.

--Josiah Conder.

GOD IS ENOUGH

God is enough! thou, who in hope and fear
Toilest through desert sands of life, sore tried,
Climb, trustful, over death's black ridge, for near
The bright wells shine; thou wilt be satisfied.

God doth suffice! O thou, the patient one,
Who puttest faith in him, and none beside,
Bear yet thy load; under the setting sun
The glad tents gleam; thou wilt be satisfied

By God's gold Afternoon! peace ye shall have;
Man is in loss except he live aright,
And help his fellow to be firm and brave,
Faithful and patient; then the restful night.

--Edwin Arnold, from the Arabian.

THE TRULY RICH

They're richer who diminish their desires,
Though their possessions be not amplified,
Than monarchs, who in owning large empires,
Have minds that never will be satisfied.
For he is poor who wants what he would have,
And rich who, having naught, doth nothing crave.

--T. Urchard.

THY ALLOTMENT

Thou cam'st not to thy place by accident,
It is the very place God meant for thee;
And shouldst thou there small scope for action see
Do not for this give room to discontent,
Nor let the time thou owest God be spent
In idle dreaming how thou mightest be,
In what concerns thy spiritual life, more free
From outward hindrance or impediment.
For presently this hindrance thou shalt find
That without which all goodness were a task
So slight that virtue never could grow strong;
And wouldst thou do one duty to His mind--
The Imposer's--over-burdened thou shalt ask,
And own thy need of, grace to help ere long.

--Richard Chenevix Trench.

THE HAPPIEST HEART

Who drives the horses of the sun
Shall lord it but a day;
Better the lowly deed were done,
And kept the humble way.

The rust will find the sword of fame,
The dust will hide the crown;
Aye, none shall nail so high his name
Time will not tear it down.

The happiest heart that ever beat
Was in some quiet breast
That found the common daylight sweet,
And left to Heaven the rest.

--John Vance Cheney.

WELCOME THE SHADOWS

Welcome the shadows; where they blackest are
Burns through the bright supernal hour;
From blindness of wide dark looks out the star,
From all death's night the April flower.

For beauty and for gladness of the days
Bring but the meed of trust;
The April grass looks up from barren ways,
The daisy from the dust.

When of this flurry thou shalt have thy fill,
The thing thou seekest, it will seek thee then:
The heavens repeat themselves in waters still
And in the faces of contented men.

--John Vance Cheney.

THE DAILY COURSE

New every morning is the love
Our wakening and uprising prove;
Through sleep and darkness safely brought,
Restored to life, and power, and thought.

New mercies each returning day
Hover around us while we pray;
New perils past, new sins forgiven,
New thoughts of God, new hopes of heaven.

If on our daily course our mind
Be set to hallow all we find,
New treasures still, of countless price,
God will provide for sacrifice.

Old friends, old scenes, will lovelier be
As more of heaven in each we see;
Some softening gleam of love and prayer
Shall dawn on every cross and care.

We need not bid, for cloistered cell,
Our neighbor and our work farewell,
Nor strive to wind ourselves too high
For sinful man beneath the sky.

The trivial round, the common task,
Will furnish all we ought to ask:
Room to deny ourselves a road
To bring us daily nearer God.

Seek we no more; content with these,
Let present rapture, comfort, ease,
As Heaven shall bid them, come and go;
The secret, this, of rest below.

Only, O Lord, in thy dear love
Fit us for perfect rest above;
And help us this and every day,
To live more nearly as we pray.

--John Keble.

GOD ENOUGH

Let nothing disturb thee,
Nothing affright thee;
All things are passing;
God never changeth;
Patient endurance
Attaineth to all things;
Who God possesseth
In nothing is wanting;
Alone God sufficeth.

--St. Teresa, tr. by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

THE GOLDEN MEAN

He that holds fast the golden mean
And lives contentedly between
The little and the great,
Feels not the wants that pinch the poor,
Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door,
Embittering all his state.

WITHOUT AND WITHIN

If every man's internal care
Were written on his brow,
How many would our pity share
Who raise our envy now?

The fatal secret, when revealed,
Of every aching breast,
Would prove that only while concealed
Their lot appeared the best.

--Pietro Metastasio.

Let us be content in work
To do the thing we can, and not presume
To fret because it's little.

--Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

If none were sick and none were sad,
What service could we render?
I think if _we_ were always glad,
We scarcely could be tender.
If sorrow never claimed our heart,
And every wish were granted,
Patience would die and hope depart--
Life would be disenchanted.

A pilgrim, bound to Mecca, quite away his sandals wore,
And on the desert's blistering sand his feet grew very sore.
"To let me suffer thus, great Allah, is not kind nor just,
While in thine service I confront the painful heat and dust."
He murmured in complaining tone; and in this temper came
To where, around the Kaaba, pilgrims knelt of every name;
And there he saw, while pity and remorse his bosom beat,
A pilgrim who not only wanted shoes, but _feet_.

--From the Persian, tr. by William Rounseville Alger.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

Strength for to-day is all that we need,
As there never will be a to-morrow;
For to-morrow will prove but another to-day
With its measure of joy or of sorrow.

Don't think your lot the worst because
Some griefs your joy assail;
There aren't so very many saws
That never strike a nail.

--Nixon Waterman.

When it drizzles and drizzles,
If we cheerfully smile,
We can make the weather,
By working together,
As fair as we choose in a little while.
For who will notice that clouds are drear
If pleasant faces are always near,
And who will remember that skies are gray
If he carries a happy heart all day?

ASPIRATION

DESIRE, SUPPLICATION, GROWTH

GRADATIM

Heaven is not reached by a single bound;
But we build the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,
And we mount to its summit round by round.

I count this thing to be grandly true:
That the noble deed is a step toward God,
Lifting the soul from the common clod
To a purer air and a broader view.

We rise by the things that are under feet;
By what we have mastered of good and gain,
By the pride deposed and the passion slain,
And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet.

We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust,
When the morning calls us to life and light;
But our hearts grow weary, and ere the night
Our lives are treading the sordid dust.

We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray,
And we think that we mount the air on wings,
Beyond the recall of sensual things,
While our feet still cling to the heavy clay.

Wings for the angels, but feet for men!
We may borrow the wings to find the way;
We may hope, and resolve, and aspire, and pray;
But our feet must rise, or we fall again.

Only in dreams is a ladder thrown
From the weary earth to the sapphire walls,
But the dreams depart, and the vision falls,
And the sleeper wakes on his pillow of stone.

Heaven is not reached at a single bound;
But we build the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,
And we mount to its summit round by round.

--Josiah Gilbert Holland.

MORE AND MORE

Purer yet and purer
I would be in mind,
Dearer yet and dearer
Every duty find;
Hoping still and trusting
God without a fear,
Patiently believing
He will make it clear.

Calmer yet and calmer
Trials bear and pain,
Surer yet and surer
Peace at last to gain;
Suffering still and doing,
To his will resigned,
And to God subduing
Heart and will and mind.

Higher yet and higher
Out of clouds and night,
Nearer yet and nearer
Rising to the light--
Light serene and holy--
Where my soul may rest,
Purified and lowly,
Sanctified and blest.

--Johann W. von Goethe.

THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS

This is the ship of pearl which, poets feign,
Sails the unshadowed main,--
The venturous bark that flings
On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings
In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings
And coral reefs lie bare,
Where the cold sea maids rise to sun their streaming hair.

Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl;
Wrecked is the ship of pearl!
And every chambered cell,
Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell,
As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell,
Before thee lies revealed--
Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed.

Year after year beheld the silent toil
That spread his lustrous coil;
Still, as the spiral grew,
He left the last year's dwelling for the new,
Stole with soft step its shining archway through,
Built up its idle door,
Stretched in its last-found home, and knew the old no more.

Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee,
Child of the wandering sea,
Cast from her lap, forlorn!
From thy dead lips a clearer note is born
Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn;
While on my ear it rings,
Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:

Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul!
As the swift seasons roll!
Leave thy low-vaulted past!
Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast
Till thou at length art free,
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!

--Oliver Wendell Holmes.

WALKING WITH JESUS

My Saviour, on the Word of Truth
In earnest hope I live,
I ask for all the precious things
Thy boundless love can give.
I look for many a lesser light
About my path to shine;
But chiefly long to walk with thee,
And only trust in thine.

Thou knowest that I am not blest
As Thou would'st have me be
Till all the peace and joy of faith
Possess my soul in thee;
And still I seek 'mid many fears,
With yearnings unexpressed,
The comfort of thy strengthening love,
Thy soothing, settling rest.

It is not as Thou wilt with me
Till, humbled in the dust,
I know no place in all my heart
Wherein to put my trust:
Until I find, O Lord! in thee--
The lowly and the meek--
That fullness which thy own redeemed
Go nowhere else to seek.

Then, O my Saviour! on my soul,
Cast down but not dismayed,
Still be thy chastening healing hand
In tender mercy laid:
And while I wait for all thy joys
My yearning heart to fill,
Teach me to walk and work with thee,
And at thy feet sit still.

--Anna Letitia Waring.

A PRAYER TO THE GOD OF NATURE

God of the roadside weed,
Grant I may humbly serve the humblest need.

God of the scarlet rose,
Give me the beauty that Thy love bestows.

God of the hairy bee,
Help me to suck deep joys from all I see.

God of the spider's lace,
Let me, from mine own heart, unwind such grace.

God of the lily's cup,
Fill me! I hold this empty chalice up.

God of the sea-gull's wing,
Bear me above each dark and turbulent thing.

God of the watchful owl,
Help me to see at midnight, like this fowl.

God of the antelope,
Teach me to scale the highest crags of Hope.

God of the eagle's nest,
Oh, let me make my eyrie near thy breast!

God of the burrowing mole,
Let cold earth have no terrors for my soul.

God of the chrysalis,
Grant that my grave may be a cell of bliss.

God of the butterfly,
Help me to vanquish Death, although I die.

--Frederic Lawrence Knowles.

O JESUS CHRIST, GROW THOU IN ME

O Jesus Christ, grow thou in me,
And all things else recede!
My heart be daily nearer thee,
From sin be daily freed.

Each day let Thy supporting might
My weakness still embrace;
My darkness vanish in thy light,
Thy life my death efface.

In thy bright beams which on me fall
Fade every evil thought;
That I am nothing, Thou art all,
I would be daily taught.

More of thy glory let me see,
Thou holy, wise and true,
I would thy living image be,
In joy and sorrow too.

Fill me with gladness from above,
Hold me by strength divine;
Lord, let the glow of thy great love
Through my whole being shine.

Make this poor self grow less and less;
Be Thou my life and aim;
Oh, make me daily through thy grace
More meet to bear thy name!

Let faith in Thee and in thy might
My every motive move;
Be thou alone my soul's delight,
My passion and my love.

--Henry B. Smith.

DAY BY DAY

Looking upward every day,
Sunshine on our faces,
Pressing onward every day
Toward the heavenly places;
Growing every day in awe,
For thy name is holy;
Learning every day to love
With a love more lowly.

Walking every day more close
To our Elder Brother;
Growing every day more true
Unto one another;
Every day more gratefully
Kindnesses receiving,
Every day more readily
Injuries forgiving.

Leaving every day behind
Something which might hinder;
Running swifter every day,
Growing purer, kinder--
Lord, so pray we every day;
Hear us in thy pity,
That we enter in at last
To the holy city.

--Mary Butler.

Better to have the poet's heart than brain,
Feeling than song; but, better far than both,
To be a song, a music of God's making.
Or but a table on which God's finger of flame,
In words harmonious of triumphant verse,
That mingles joy and sorrow, sets down clear
That out of darkness he hath called the light.
It may be voice to such is after given
To tell the mighty tale to other worlds.

--George Macdonald.

FREE FROM SIN

The bird let loose in eastern skies,
When hastening fondly home,
Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies
Where idle warblers roam;
But high she shoots through air and light
Above all low delay,
Where nothing earthly bounds her flight,
Nor shadow dims her way.

So grant me, God, from every care
And stain of passion free,
Aloft, through Virtue's purer air,
To hold my course to thee!
No sin to cloud, no lure to stay
My soul, as home she springs;
Thy sunshine on her joyful way,
Thy freedom in her wings!

--Thomas Moore.

A PRAYER

O that mine eyes might closed be
To what concerns me not to see;
That deafness might possess mine ear
To what concerns me not to hear;
That truth my tongue might always tie
From ever speaking foolishly;
That no vain thought might ever rest
Or be conceived within my breast;
That by each deed and word and thought
Glory may to my God be brought.
But what are wishes! Lord, mine eye
On Thee is fixed; to Thee I cry!
Wash, Lord, and purify my heart,
And make it clean in every part;
And when 'tis clean, Lord, keep it, too,
For that is more than I can do.

--Thomas Elwood, A. D. 1639.

THE ALTERED MOTTO

O the bitter shame and sorrow,
That a time could ever be
When I let the Saviour's pity
Plead in vain, and proudly answered,
"All of self, and none of Thee!"

Yet He found me; I beheld him
Bleeding on the accursed tree,
Heard him pray, "Forgive them, Father!"
And my wistful heart said faintly,
"Some of self and some of Thee."

Day by day his tender mercy,
Healing, helping, full and free,
Sweet and strong, and, ah! so patient,
Brought me lower, while I whispered,
"Less of self, and more of Thee."

Higher than the highest heaven,
Deeper than the deepest sea,
Lord, thy love at last hath conquered;
Grant me now my supplication--
"None of self, and all of Thee."

--Theodore Monod.

INDWELLING

O dwell in me, my Lord,
That I in thee may dwell;
Fulfill thy tender word,
That thy evangels tell;
In me Thou, I in thee,
By thy sweet courtesy.

But wilt thou my guest be,
In this poor heart of mine?
Thy guest? Is this for me
In that pure heart of thine?
In me thou, I in thee,
By thy sweet courtesy.

My chamber, Lord, prepare
Whither thou deignest come;
I may not seek to share
The making of thy home;
In me thou, I in thee,
By thy sweet courtesy.

Thy gracious gifts bestow,
Humility and love;
O cause my heart to glow
By fire sent from above.
In me thou, I in thee,
By thy sweet courtesy.

--Alexander B. Grosart.

Thy name to me, thy nature grant;
This, only this be given;
Nothing besides my God I want,
Nothing in earth or heaven.

Come, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
And seal me thine abode;
Let all I am in thee be lost,
Let all I am be God.

--Charles Wesley.

PERFECTION

O how the thought of God attracts,
And draws the heart from earth,
And sickens it of passing shows
And dissipating mirth!

'Tis not enough to save our souls,
To shun the eternal fires;
The thought of God will rouse the heart
To more sublime desires.

God only is the creature's home,
Though rough and strait the road;
Yet nothing less can satisfy
The love that longs for God.

Oh, utter but the name of God
Down in your heart of hearts,
And see how from the world at once
All tempting light departs.

A trusting heart, a yearning eye
Can win their way above;
If mountains can be moved by faith
Is there less power in love?

How little of that road, my soul,
How little hast thou gone!
Take heart, and let the thought of God
Allure thee further on.

Dole not thy duties out to God,
But let thy hand be free;
Look long at Jesus; his sweet blood--
How was it dealt to thee?

The perfect way is hard to flesh;
It is not hard to love;
If thou wert sick for want of God
How swiftly wouldst thou move.

Be docile to thine unseen Guide;
Love him as he loves thee;
Time and obedience are enough,
And thou a saint shalt be.

--Frederick William Faber.

Thou broadenest out with every year
Each breadth of life to meet;
I scarce can think thou art the same,
Thou art so much more sweet.
With gentle swiftness lead me on,
Dear God, to see thy face;
And meanwhile in my narrow heart
O make thyself more space!

--Frederick William Faber.

LONGING

Of all the myriad moods of mind
That through the soul come thronging,
Which one was e'er so dear, so kind,
So beautiful, as Longing?
The thing we long for, _that_ we are
For one transcendent moment,
Before the Present poor and bare
Can make its sneering comment.

Still, through our paltry stir and strife,
Glows down the wished ideal,
And longing molds in clay what life
Carves on the marble real;
To let the new life in, we know,
Desire must ope the portal;
Perhaps the longing to be so
Helps make the soul immortal.

Longing is God's fresh heavenward will
With our poor earthward striving;
We quench it that we may be still
Content with merely living;
But, would we learn that heart's full scope
Which we are hourly wronging,
Our lives must climb from hope to hope,
And realize our longing.

Ah! let us hope that to our praise
Good God not only reckons
The moments when we tread his ways,
But when the spirit beckons;
That some slight good is also wrought,
Beyond self-satisfaction,
When we are simply good in thought
Howe'er we fail in action.

--James Russell Lowell.

MORE HOLINESS

More holiness give me;
More strivings within.
More patience in suffering,
More sorrow for sin.
More faith in my Saviour,
More sense of his care,
More joy in his service,
More purpose in prayer.

More gratitude give me,
More trust in the Lord,
More pride in his glory,
More hope in his word.
More tears for his sorrows,
More pain at his grief,
More meekness in trial,
More praise for relief.

More purity give me,
More strength to o'ercome,
More freedom from earth-stains,
More longings for home;
More fit for the kingdom,
More used I would be,
More blessed and holy--
More, Saviour, like thee.

--Philip Paul Bliss.

"MY SOUL DOTH MAGNIFY THE LORD"

My soul shall be a telescope,
Searching the distant bounds of time and space,
That somehow I may image, as I grope,
Jehovah's power and grace.

My soul a microscope shall be,
In all minutest providences keen
Jehovah's patient thoughtfulness to see,
And read his love between.

My soul shall be a burning-glass
That diligence to worship may succeed,
That I may catch God's glories as they pass,
And focus to a deed.

So, even so,
A mote in his creation, even I
Seeking alone to do, to feel, to know,
The Lord must magnify.

--Amos R. Wells.

Lord, let me not be too content
With life in trifling service spent--
Make me aspire!
When days with petty cares are filled
Let me with fleeting thoughts be thrilled
Of something higher!

Help me to long for mental grace
To struggle with the commonplace
I daily find.
May little deeds not bring to fruit
A crop of little thought to suit
A shriveled mind.

I know this earth is not my sphere,
For I cannot so narrow me but that
I still exceed it.

--Robert Browning.

A SHRINKING PRAYER

Give me, O Lord, a heart of grace,
A voice of joy, a smiling face,
That I may show, where'er I turn,
Thy love within my soul doth burn!

Then life be sweet, and joy be dear,
Be in my mind a quiet fear;
A patient love of pain and care,
An enmity to dark despair.

A tenderness for all that stray,
With strength to help them on their way;
A cheerfulness, a heavenly mirth,
Brightening my steps along the earth.

I ask and shrink, yet shrink and ask;
I know thou wilt not set a task
Too hard for hands that thou hast made,
Too hard for hands that thou canst aid.

So let me dwell all peacefully,
Content to live, content to die;
Rejoicing now, rejoicing then,
Rejoicing evermore. Amen.

--Rosa Mulholland.

THAT I MAY SOAR

Great God, I ask thee for no meaner pelf
Than that I may not disappoint myself;
That in my action I may soar as high
As I can now discern with this clear eye.

And next in value which thy kindness lends,
That I may greatly disappoint my friends,
Howe'er they think or hope that it may be,
They may not dream how thou'st distinguished me.

That my weak hand may equal my firm faith,
And my life practise more than my tongue saith;
That my low conduct may not show,
Nor my relenting lines,
That I thy purpose did not know,
Or overrated thy designs.

--Henry David Thoreau.

A CRY OF THE SOUL

O God of truth, for whom alone I sigh,
Knit thou my heart by strong, sweet cords to thee.
I tire of hearing; books my patience try;
Untired to thee I cry;
Thyself my all shalt be.

Lord, be thou near and cheer my lonely way;
With thy sweet peace my aching bosom fill;
Scatter my cares and fears; my griefs allay;
And be it mine each day
To love and please thee still.

My God! Thou hearest me; but clouds obscure
Even yet thy perfect radiance, truth divine!
O for the stainless skies, the splendors pure,
The joys that aye endure
When thine own glories shine!

--Pierre Corneille.

A PURPOSE TRUE

Lord, make me quick to see
Each task awaiting me,
And quick to do;
Oh, grant me strength, I pray,
With lowly love each day
And purpose true.

To go as Jesus went,
Spending and being spent,
Myself forgot;
Supplying human needs
By loving words and deeds,
Oh, happy lot!

--Robert M. Offord.

There are deep things of God. Push out from shore;
Hast thou found much? Give thanks, and look for more.
Dost fear the generous Giver to offend?
Then know his store of bounty hath no end.
He doth not need to be implored or teased;
The more we take the better he is pleased.

--Charles Gordon Ames.

BREATHE ON ME

Breathe on me, Breath of God,
Fill me with life anew,
That I may love what thou dost love,
And do what thou wouldst do.

Breathe on me, Breath of God,
Until my heart is pure,
Until with thee I will one will,
To do or to endure.

Breathe on me, Breath of God,
Till I am wholly thine;
Till all this earthly part of me
Glows with thy fire divine.

Breathe on me, Breath of God,
So shall I never die,
But live with thee the perfect life
Of thine eternity.

--Edwin Hatch.

THE COMPARATIVE DEGREE

What weight of woe we owe to thee,
Accurst comparative degree!
Thy paltry step can never give
Access to the superlative;
For he who would the wisest be,
Strives to make others wise as he,
And never yet was man judged best
Who would be better than the rest;
So does comparison unkind
Dwarf and debase the haughty mind.

Make not a man your measuring-rod
If you would span the way to God;
Heed not our petty "worse" or "less,"
But fix your eyes on perfectness.
Make for the loftiest point in view,
And draw your friends along with you.

--Amos R. Wells.

Thy nature be my law,
Thy spotless sanctity,
And sweetly every moment draw
My happy soul to thee.

Soul of my soul remain;
Who didst for me fulfill,
In me, O Lord, fulfill again
Thy heavenly Father's will.

--Charles Wesley.

LEAD ON, O LORD

Jesus still lead on
Till our rest be won;
And although the way be cheerless,
We will follow, calm and fearless;
Guide us by thy hand
To our Fatherland.

If the way be drear,
If the foe be near,
Let not faithless fears o'ertake us,
Let not faith and hope forsake us;
For, through many a foe
To our home we go.

When we seek relief
From a long-felt grief:
When oppressed by new temptations,
Lord, increase and perfect patience;
Show us that bright shore
Where we weep no more.

Jesus, still lead on
Till our rest be won;
Heavenly Leader, still direct us,
Still support, control, protect us,
Till we safely stand
In our Fatherland.

--Nicolaus Ludwig Zinzendorf.

Give me this day
A little work to occupy my mind;
A little suffering to sanctify
My spirit; and, dear Lord, if thou canst find
Some little good that I may do for thee,
I shall be glad, for that will comfort me.
Mind, spirit, hand--I lift them all to thee.

O make me patient, Lord,
Patient in daily cares;
Keep me from thoughtless words,
That slip out unawares.
And help me, Lord, I pray,
Still nearer thee to live,
And as I journey on,
More of thy presence give.

O square thyself for use. A stone that may
Fit in the wall is not left in the way.

--From the Persian.

Think, and be careful what thou art within,
For there is sin in the desire of sin:
Think and be thankful in a different case;
For there is grace in the desire of grace.

--George Gordon Byron.

A man's higher being is knowing and seeing;
Not having or toiling for more;
In the senses and soul is the joy of control,
Not in pride and luxurious store.

--John Boyle O'Reilly.

Be with me, Lord, where'er my path may lead;
Fulfill thy word, supply my every need;
Help me to live each day more close to thee.
And O, dear Lord, I pray abide with me.

In all I think or speak or do,
Whatever way my steps are bent,
God shape and keep me strong and true,
Courageous, cheerful, and content.

--W. D. Russell.

Make my mortal dreams come true
With the work I fain would do:
Clothe with life the weak intent,
Let me be the thing I meant.

--John Greenleaf Whittier.

This be my prayer, from dawn to eve,
Working between the suns;
Lord, make my arm as firm as a knight's
My soul as white as a nun's.

Every hour that fleets so slowly has its task to do or bear;
Luminous the crown and holy, if we set each gem with care.

O for a man to rise in me,
That the man that I am
May cease to be.

--Alfred Tennyson.

PRAYER

WORSHIP, COMMUNION, DEVOTION

THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER

Father of all! in every age,
In ev'ry clime adored,
By saint, by savage, and by sage,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!

Thou great First Cause, least understood,
Who all my sense confined
To know but this, that thou art good,
And that myself am blind:

Yet gave me, in this dark estate,
To see the good from ill;
And binding nature fast in fate,
Left free the human will.

What conscience dictates to be done,
Or warns me not to do,
This, teach me more than hell to shun,
That, more than heaven pursue.

What blessings thy free bounty gives
Let me not cast away;
For God is paid when man receives--
T' enjoy is to obey.

Yet not to earth's contracted span
Thy goodness let me bound;
Or think thee Lord alone of man
When thousand worlds are round;

Let not this weak, unknowing hand
Presume thy bolts to throw,
And deal damnation round the land
On each I judge thy foe.

If I am right, thy grace impart
Still in the right to stay;
If I am wrong, O teach my heart
To find that better way.

Save me alike from foolish pride
Or impious discontent,
At aught thy wisdom has denied
Or aught thy wisdom lent.

Teach me to feel another's woe;
To hide the fault I see;
That mercy I to others show,
That mercy show to me.

Mean though I am, not wholly so
Since quicken'd by thy breath;
O lead me wheresoe'er I go,
Through this day's life or death.

This day be bread and peace my lot:
All else beneath the sun
Thou know'st if best bestowed or not;
And let thy will be done.

To Thee, whose temple is all space,
Whose altar earth, sea, skies!
One chorus let all Being raise,
All Nature's incense rise!

--Alexander Pope.

THE HOUR OF PRAYER

My God, is any hour so sweet,
From blush of morn to evening star,
As that which calls me to thy feet:
The hour of prayer?

Blest is that tranquil hour of morn,
And blest that solemn hour of eve,
When, on the wings of prayer upborne,
The world I leave.

Then is my strength by thee renewed;
Then are my sins by thee forgiven;
Then dost thou cheer my solitude
With hopes of heaven.

No words can tell what sweet relief
Here for my every want I find;
What strength for warfare, balm for grief,
What peace of mind.

Hushed is each doubt, gone every fear;
My spirit seems in heaven to stay;
And e'en the penitential tear
Is wiped away.

Lord, till I reach that blissful shore,
No privilege so dear shall be
As thus my inmost soul to pour
In prayer to thee.

--Charlotte Elliott.

PETITION

Be not afraid to pray--to pray is right.
Pray, if thou canst, with hope; but ever pray,
Though hope be weak or sick with long delay;
Pray in the darkness if there be no light.

Far is the time, remote from human sight,
When war and discord on the earth shall cease;
Yet every prayer for universal peace
Avails the blessed time to expedite.

Whate'er is good to wish, ask that of heaven,
Though it be what thou canst not hope to see.
Pray to be perfect, though material leaven
Forbid the spirit so on earth to be;
But if for any wish thou darest not pray,
Then pray to God to cast that wish away.

--Hartley Coleridge.

SOMETIME, SOMEWHERE

Unanswered yet the prayer your lips have pleaded
In agony of heart these many years?
Does faith begin to fail? Is hope departing?
And think you all in vain those falling tears?
Say not the Father hath not heard your prayer;
You shall have your desire sometime, somewhere.

Unanswered yet?--though when you first presented
This one petition at the Father's throne
It seemed you could not wait the time of asking,
So urgent was your heart to make it known!
Though years have passed since then, do not despair;
The Lord will answer you sometime, somewhere.

Unanswered yet? Nay, do not say ungranted;
Perhaps your work is not yet wholly done.
The work began when first your prayer was uttered,
And God will finish what he has begun.
If you will keep the incense burning there
His glory you shall see sometime, somewhere.

Unanswered yet? Faith cannot be unanswered,
Her feet were firmly planted on the Rock;
Amid the wildest storms she stands undaunted,
Nor quails before the loudest thunder shock.
She knows Omnipotence has heard her prayer,
And cries, "It shall be done"--sometime, somewhere.

--Miss Ophelia G. Browning.

SECRET PRAYER

Lord, I have shut my door--
Shut out life's busy cares and fretting noise,
Here in this silence they intrude no more.
Speak thou, and heavenly joys
Shall fill my heart with music sweet and calm--
A holy psalm.

Yes, I have shut my door,
Even on all the beauty of thine earth--
To its blue ceiling, from its emerald floor,
Filled with spring's bloom and mirth;
From these, thy works, I turn; thyself I seek;
To thee I speak.

And I have shut my door
On earthly passion--all its yearning love,
Its tender friendships, all the priceless store
Of human ties. Above
All these my heart aspires, O Heart divine!
Stoop thou to mine.

Lord, I have shut my door!
Come thou and visit me: I am alone!
Come as when doors were shut thou cam'st of yore
And visited thine own.
My Lord, I kneel with reverence, love, and fear,
For thou art here.

--Mary Ellen Atkinson.

WHAT MAN IS THERE OF YOU?

The homely words--how often read!
How seldom fully known:
"Which father of you, asked for bread,
Would give his son a stone?"

How oft has bitter tear been shed,
And heaved how many a groan,
Because thou wouldst not give for bread
The thing that was a stone!

How oft the child thou wouldst have fed
Thy gift away has thrown;
He prayed, thou heardst, and gavest bread--
He cried, "It is a stone!"

Lord, if I ask in doubt and dread,
Lest I be left to moan,
Am I not he, who, asked for bread,
Would give his son a stone?

--George Macdonald.

DENIAL

I want so many, many things,
My wishes on my prayers take wings,
And heavenward fly to sue for grace
Before the loving Father's face.

But He, well knowing all my need,
Kindly rebukes my foolish greed,
And, granting not the gift I ask,
Sets me instead to do some task--

Some lowly task--for love of him,
So lowly, and in light so dim,
My sorrowing soul must cease to sing,
And only sigh, "'Tis for the King."

And scarcely can my faith repeat
Her sad petition at his feet:
"These daily tasks Thou giv'st to me,
Help, Lord, to do as unto thee!"

Yet while his bidding thus I do--
I know not how, or why, 'tis true--
My thoughts to sweet contentment glide,
And I forget the wish denied.

And so my prayers he hears and heeds,
Mindful of all my daily needs;
Gracious, most gracious, too, in this--
Denying, when I ask amiss.

--Luella Clark.

A BLESSING IN PRAYER

If when I kneel to pray,
With eager lips I say:
"Lord, give me all the things that I desire--
Health, wealth, fame, friends, brave heart, religious fire,
The power to sway my fellow men at will,
And strength for mighty works to banish ill"--
In such a prayer as this
The blessing I must miss.

Or if I only dare
To raise this fainting prayer:
"Thou seest, Lord, that I am poor and weak,
And cannot tell what things I ought to seek;
I therefore do not ask at all, but still
I trust thy bounty all my wants to fill"--
My lips shall thus grow dumb,
The blessing shall not come.

But if I lowly fall,
And thus in faith I call:
"Through Christ, O Lord, I pray thee give to me
Not what I would, but what seems best to thee
Of life, of health, of service, and of strength,
Until to thy full joy I come at length"--
My prayer shall then avail;
The blessing shall not fail.

--Charles F. Richardson.

Teach me, dear Lord, what thou wouldst have me know;
Guide me, dear Lord, where thou wouldst have me go;
Help me, dear Lord, the precious seed to sow;
Bless thou the seed that it may surely grow.

THE TIME FOR PRAYER

When is the time for prayer?
With the first beams that light the morning sky,
Ere for the toils of day thou dost prepare,
Lift up thy thoughts on high;
Commend thy loved ones to his watchful care:
Morn is the time for prayer!

And in the noontide hour,
If worn by toil or by sad care oppressed,
Then unto God thy spirit's sorrows pour,
And he will give thee rest:
Thy voice shall reach him through the fields of air:
Noon is the time for prayer!

When the bright sun hath set,
Whilst yet eve's glowing colors deck the skies,
When with the loved, at home, again thou'st met,
Then let thy prayers arise
For those who in thy joys and sorrows share:
Eve is the time for prayer!

And when the stars come forth--
When to the trusting heart sweet hopes are given
And the deep stillness of the hour gives birth
To pure bright dreams of heaven--
Kneel to thy God; ask strength life's ills to bear:
Night is the time for prayer.

When is the time for prayer?
In every hour, while life is spared to thee--
In crowds or solitude--in joy or care--
Thy thoughts should heavenward flee.
At home--at morn and eve--with loved ones there,
Bend thou the knee in prayer!

NOT A SOUND INVADES THE STILLNESS

Not a sound invades the stillness,
Not a form invades the scene,
Save the voice of my Beloved,
And the person of my King.

And within those heavenly places,
Calmly hushed in sweet repose,
There I drink, with joy absorbing,
All the love thou wouldst disclose.

Wrapt in deep adoring silence,
Jesus, Lord, I dare not move,
Lest I lose the smallest saying
Meant to catch the ear of love.

Rest, then, O my soul, contented:
Thou hast reached thy happy place
In the bosom of thy Saviour,
Gazing up in his dear face.

FORMAL PRAYER

I often say my prayers,
But do I ever pray;
And do the wishes of my heart
Go with the words I say?

I may as well kneel down
And worship gods of stone,
As offer to the living God
A prayer of words alone.

For words without the heart
The Lord will never hear:
Nor will he to those lips attend
Whose prayers are not sincere.

--John Burton.

BLESSINGS OF PRAYER

What various hindrances we meet
In coming to a mercy-seat!
Yet who that knows the worth of prayer
But wishes to be often there!

Prayer makes the darkened cloud withdraw;
Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw;
Gives exercise to faith and love;
Brings every blessing from above.

Restraining prayer, we cease to fight;
Prayer keeps the Christian's armor bright;
And Satan trembles when he sees
The weakest saint upon his knees.

Were half the breath that's vainly spent
To heaven in supplication sent,
Our cheerful song would oftener be
"Hear what the Lord has done for me."

--William Cowper.

WHAT IS PRAYER?

Prayer is the soul's sincere desire,
Uttered or unexpressed;
The motion of a hidden fire
That trembles in the breast.

Prayer is the burden of a sigh,
The falling of a tear,
The upward glancing of an eye,
When none but God is near.

Prayer is the simplest form of speech
That infant lips can try;
Prayer the sublimest strains that reach
The Majesty on high.

Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice,
Returning from his ways;
While angels in their songs rejoice
And cry, "Behold, he prays!"

Prayer is the Christian's vital breath,
The Christian's native air,
His watchword at the gates of death;
He enters heaven with prayer.

O Thou, by whom we come to God,
The Life, the Truth, the Way;
The path of prayer thyself hast trod:
Lord, teach us how to pray!

--James Montgomery.

SPIRITUAL DEVOTION

The woman singeth at her spinning wheel
A pleasant chant, ballad, or baracolle;
She thinketh of her song, upon the whole,
Far more than of her flax; and yet the reel
Is full, and artfully her fingers feel,
With quick adjustment, provident control,
The lines, too subtly twisted to unroll,
Out to a perfect thread. I hence appeal
To the dear Christian Church, that we may do
Our Father's business in these temples mirk
Thus, swift and steadfast; thus, intent and strong;
While, thus, apart from toil, our souls pursue
Some high, calm, spheric tune and prove our work
The better for the sweetness of our song.

--Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

PRAYER OF DEEDS

The deed ye do is the prayer ye pray;
"Lead us into temptation, Lord;
Withhold the bread from our babes this day;
To evil we turn us, give evil's reward!"

Over to-day the to-morrow bends
With an answer for each acted prayer;
And woe to him who makes not friends
With the pale hereafter hovering there.

--George S. Burleigh.

SUNDAY

Not a dread cavern, hoar with damp and mould,
Where I must creep and in the dark and cold
Offer some awful incense at a shrine
That hath no more divine
Than that 'tis far from life, and stern, and old;

But a bright hilltop, in the breezy air
Full of the morning freshness, high and clear,
Where I may climb and drink the pure new day
And see where winds away
The path that God would send me, shining fair.

--Edward Rowland Sill.

PRAYER

When prayer delights thee least, then learn to say,
Soul, now is greatest need that thou should'st pray:

Crooked and warped I am, and I would fain
Straighten myself by thy right line again.

Oh, come, warm sun, and ripen my late fruits;
Pierce, genial showers, down to my parched roots.

My well is bitter, cast therein the tree,
That sweet henceforth its brackish waves may be.

Say, what is prayer, when it is prayer indeed?
The mighty utterance of a mighty need.

The man is praying who doth press with might
Out of his darkness into God's own light.

White heat the iron in the furnace won,
Withdrawn from thence 'twas cold and hard anon.

Flowers, from their stalk divided, presently
Droop, fall, and wither in the gazer's eye.

The greenest leaf, divided from its stem,
To speedy withering doth itself condemn.

The largest river, from its fountain-head
Cut off, leaves soon a parched and dusty bed.

All things that live from God their sustenance wait,
And sun and moon are beggars at his gate.

All skirts extended of thy mantle hold
When angel hands from heaven are scattering gold.

--Richard Chenevix Trench.

MEANING OF PRAYER

One thing, alone, dear Lord, I dread--
To have a secret spot
That separates my soul from thee,
And yet to know it not.

Prayer was not meant for luxury,
Or selfish pastime sweet;
It is the prostrate creature's place
At his Creator's feet.

But if this waiting long hath come
A present from on high,
Teach me to find the hidden wealth
That in its depths may lie.

So in the darkness I can learn
To tremble and adore;
To sound my own vile nothingness,
And thus to love thee more.

--Frederick William Faber.

TALKING WITH GOD

To stretch my hand and touch Him
Though he be far away;
To raise my eyes and see him
Through darkness as through day;
To lift my voice and call him--
This is to pray!

To feel a hand extended
By One who standeth near;
To view the love that shineth
In eyes serene and clear;
To know that he is calling--
This is to hear!

--Samuel W. Duffield.

MY PRAYER

Being perplexed, I say,
"Lord, make it right!
Night is as day to thee,
Darkness is light.
I am afraid to touch
Things that involve so much;
My trembling hand may shake--
My skillful hand may break;
Thine can make no mistake."

Being in doubt, I say,
"Lord, make it plain!
Which is the true, safe way?
Which would be vain?
I am not wise to know,
Nor sure of foot to go;
My blind eyes cannot see
What is so clear to thee.
Lord, make it clear to me."

THE SOURCE OF POWER

There is an eye that never sleeps
Beneath the wing of night;
There is an ear that never shuts
When sink the beams of light.

There is an arm that never tires
When human strength gives way;
There is a love that never fails
When earthly loves decay.

That eye is fixed on seraph throngs;
That arm upholds the sky;
That ear is filled with angel songs,
That love is throned on high.

But there's a power which man can wield
When mortal aid is vain,
That eye, that arm, that love to reach,
That listening ear to gain.

That power is prayer, which soars on high,
Through Jesus, to the throne,
And moves the hand which moves the world,
To bring salvation down.

--James Cowden Wallace.

DIFFERENT PRAYERS

Three doors there are in the temple
Where men go up to pray,
And they that wait at the outer gate
May enter by either way.

There are some that pray by asking;
They lie on the Master's breast,
And, shunning the strife of the lower life,
They utter their cry for rest.

There are some that pray by seeking;
They doubt where their reason fails;
But their mind's despair is the ancient prayer
To touch the print of the nails.

There are some that pray by knocking;
They put their strength to the wheel
For they have not time for thoughts sublime;
They can only act what they feel.

Father, give each his answer,
Each in his kindred way;
Adapt thy light to his form of night
And grant him his needed day.

--William Watson.

TRUE PRAYER

I.

It is not prayer,
This clamor of our eager wants
That fills the air
With wearying, selfish plaints.

It is not faith
To boldly count all gifts as ours--
The pride that saith,
"For me his wealth he ever showers."

It is not praise
To call to mind our happier lot,
And boast bright days,
God-favored, with all else forgot.

II.

It is true prayer
To seek the giver more than gift
God's life to share
And love--for this our cry to lift.

It is true faith
To simply trust his loving will,
Whiche'er he saith--
"Thy lot be glad" or "ill."

It is true praise
To bless alike the bright and dark;
To sing, all days
Alike, with nightingale and lark.

--James W. White.

THE POWER OF PRAYER

Lord, what a change within us one short hour
Spent in thy presence will prevail to make;
What heavy burdens from our bosoms take;
What parched grounds refresh as with a shower!
We kneel--and all about us seems to lower;
We rise--and all, the distant and the near,
Stands forth in sunny outline, brave and clear.
We kneel, how weak! we rise, how full of power!
Why, therefore, should we do ourselves this wrong,
Or others, that we are not always strong;
That we are ever overborne with care,
Anxious and troubled, when with us is prayer,
And joy and strength and courage are with thee?

--Richard Chenevix Trench.

Asked and unasked, thy heavenly gifts unfold,
And evil, though we ask it, Lord, withhold.

--Homer, tr. by Frederic Rowland Marvin.

MARY OF BETHANY

Her eyes are homes of silent prayer,
Nor other thought her mind admits
But, he was dead, and there he sits.
And he that brought him back is there.

Then one deep love doth supersede
All other, when her ardent gaze
Roves from the living brother's face
And rests upon the Life indeed.

All subtle thought, all curious fears.
Borne down by gladness so complete,
She bows, she bathes the Saviour's feet
With costly spikenard and with tears.

Thrice blest whose lives are faithful prayers,
Whose loves in higher love endure;
What souls possess themselves so pure,
Or is there blessedness like theirs?

--Alfred Tennyson.

PRAYER ITS OWN ANSWER

"Allah, Allah!" cried the sick man, racked with pain the long night
through;
Till with prayer his heart was tender, till his lips like honey grew.

But at morning came the Tempter; said, "Call louder, child of pain!
See if Allah ever hear, or answer 'Here am I' again."

Like a stab the cruel cavil through his brain and pulses went;
To his heart an icy coldness, to his brain a darkness, sent.

Then before him stands Elias; says "My child! why thus dismayed?
Dost repent thy former fervor? Is thy soul of prayer afraid?"

"Ah!" he cried, "I've called so often; never heard the 'Here am I';
And I thought, God will not pity, will not turn on me his eye."

Then the grave Elias answered, "God said, 'Rise, Elias, go,
Speak to him, the sorely tempted; lift him from his gulf of woe.

"'Tell him that his very longing is itself an answering cry;
That his prayer, "Come, gracious Allah," is my answer, "Here am I"'.

"Every inmost aspiration is God's angel undefiled;
And in every 'O my Father!' slumbers deep a 'Here, my child!'"

--Jelal-ed-Deen, tr. by James Freeman Clarke.

THE CONTENTS OF PIETY