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THE POET'S TRUSTING HEART.

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THE POET'S TRUSTING HEART.

SPINNING.

Of these lines, often printed with other titles and attributed to other authors, it has been said that "no finer symbolic pieture of human life has ever been framed."

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LUTHER'S HYMN.

"Ein' feste Burg ist unser Gott."

This hymn, called by Heine the Marseillaise of the Reformation, is the most famous of all that Luther wrote. It is founded on the Forty-sixth Psalm, and is supposed to have been composed at Coburg, in 1530, before the Diet of Augsburg. Mr. Carlyle refers it to the time of blackest threatenings," when Luther had been summoned to the Diet of Worms, from the coincidence of the third verse with Luther's answer to Spalatin, who tried to dissuade him from the journey: "If there were as many devils in Worms as there are tiles on the roofs, I would go, and would not be afraid. If Huss was burnt to ashes, the truth was not burnt with him." Some, however, think that it was composed at the close of the Second Diet of Spires, that in 1529, which revoked the religious liberty granted in the previous one of 1526. Dr. Merle d'Aubigné assigns it to the year 1530, and it was sung by Luther at the time of the Diet of Augsburg, in that year; but Kübler says that it was in Joseph Klug's Hymnbook in 1529. Mr. Longfellow supports the theory that it was written at Wartburg Castle, in 1521. See page 138, and for another version of this hymn, page 384. There are several other English versions.

THOMAS CARLYLE, the translator of the version below, is one of the most eminent living writers of English. He is a Scot, and has the sterling traits of his countrymen. He was born in Dumfries-shire, in 1795, and now lives in London.

A SAFE stronghold our God is still,
A trusty shield and weapon;
He'll help us clear from all the ill
That hath us now o'ertaken.

The ancient Prince of hell
Hath risen with purpose fell;
Strong mail of craft and power
He weareth in this hour;
On earth is not his fellow.

With force of arms we nothing can,

Full soon were we down-ridden; But for us fights the proper Man, Whom God himself hath bidden.

Ask who is this same?
ye,

Christ Jesus is his name,
The Lord Zebaoth's Son,
He and no other one
Shall conquer in the battle.

And were this world all devils o'er,
And watching to devour us,
We lay it not to heart so sore,
Not they can overpower us.
And let the Prince of ill
Look grim as e'er he will,
He harms us not a whit :
For why? His doom is writ,
One little word shall slay him.

That word, for all their craft and force,
One moment will not linger,
But, spite of hell, shall have its course,
'Tis written by his finger.

And though they take our life, Goods, honor, children, wife, Yet is their profit small; These things shall vanish all, The city of God remaineth. MARTIN LUTHER, 1530 Translated by THOMAS CARLYLE, 1831.

THE TRUSTING HEART.
"Befielil du deine Wege."

Scarcely had GERHARDT attained his twelfth year, when the Thirty Years' War broke out. Forced to quit his native land, he was appointed, in 1631, preacher at the Nicolai Church at Berlin, where he remained ten years, honored and respected But as his religious opinions differed from those of the Elector, he was ordered to quit the country. Utterly destitute, he and his wife directed their steps towards his native land, performing the journey on foot. When evening arrived, they sought repose at a little village inn, when his wife gave way to a burst of natural emotion. Gerhardt reminded her of the text beginning" Commit thy way unto the Lord," and retiring to an arbor in the garden, he composed the hymn "Befiehl du deine Wege," for which of all his productions he is most celebrated. When they were about to retire to rest, two gentlemen entered the parlor in which they were seated. One of them, in conversing with the poet, told him they were on their way to Berlin, in search of the deposed clergyman, Paul Gerhardt, by order of Duke Christian of Merseberg. Gerhardt's wife turned pale, but he calmly declared he was the person they were seeking. Great was the astonishment of both husband and wife when one of the strangers delivered to Gerhardt a letter from the duke, informing him that he had settled a cousiderable pension on him, as a compensation for the injustice of which he had been a victim. Then Gerhardt turned to his wife, and gave her the hymn he had composed, with the words, "See how God provides! Did I not bid you to trust in God, and all would be well?" This story, though related by Miss Cox, is not completely authenticated.

To God thy way commending,
Trust him whose arm of might,
The heavenly circles bending,
Guides every star aright:
The winds, and clouds, and lightning
By his sure hand are led;
And he will, dark shades brightening,
Show thee what path to tread.

Trust God, his time awaiting,

If thou wilt have success,
Work, his work contemplating,

That he thy work may bless:
Whate'er is worth thy getting

By prayer thou shalt obtain,
And not by anxious fretting,
Or self-inflicted pain.

Thy love, O Father, gloweth
With zeal for mortals' good,
And what is hurtful knoweth
To human flesh and blood:
Our future thou foreseest,
And, through thy strong right hand,

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Here is my heart!-O Friend of friends, be My grave, so long a dark and drear abyss,

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Is now scarce noticed on the way to bliss;
Once at the gates of hell it yawning lay,
Now stands as portal to the land of day;
It takes me to the Father's home so blest ;
It brings me to the feast, a welcome guest.
JOHANN PETER LANGE. Translated
by MRS. ERIC FINDLATER.

EHRENFRIED LIEBICH.

MY FATHER IS THE MIGHTY LORD. "Mein Vater ist der grosse Herr der Welt."

DR. JOHANN PETER LANGE was born near Eberfeld, in 1502, and since 1854 has been Professor of Theology at Bonn. He is the author of many works in prose and verse, including a Life of Jesus, and a work on Dogmatics. He is also the editor of a very useful and voluminous Commentary on the Old and New Testaments, which has been translated into English and enlarged for an American edition. Mrs. Eric Findlater is the wife of a Presbyterian minister at Lorhernhead, in the Highlands of Scotland. She was born in 1823. My Father is the mighty Lord, whose arm Spans earth and sky, and shields his child from harm,

Whose still, small voice of love is yet the

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HYMN OF TRUST.

O LOVE Divine, that stooped to share
Our sharpest pang, our bitterest tear,
On thee we cast each earth-born care,
We smile at pain while thou art near!

Though long the weary way we tread,

And sorrow crown each lingering year, No path we shun, no darkness dread, Our hearts still whispering, thou art near! When drooping pleasure turns to grief,

And trembling faith is changed to fear, The murmuring wind, the quivering leaf, Shall softly tell us, thou art near! On thee we fling our burdening woe, O Love Divine, forever dear, Content to suffer while we know, Living and dying, thou art near! OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

POSIES FOR THINE OWN BEDCHAMBER.

WHAT wisdom more, what better life, than pleaseth God to send?

What worldly goods, what longer use, than pleaseth God to lend?

What better fare than well-content, agreeing

with thy wealth?

What better guest than trusty friend, in sickness and in health?

What better bed than conscience good, to pass the night with sleep?

What better work than daily care from sin thyself to keep?

What better thought than think on God, and

daily him to serve ?

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