Incompleteness.

OTHING resting in its own completeness
Can have worth or beauty: but alone

Because it leads and tends to further sweetness,
Fuller, higher, deeper, than its own.

Spring's real glory dwells not in the meaning,
Gracious though it be, of her blue hours;
But is hidden in her tender leaning

To the summer's richer wealth of flowers.

Dawn is fair because the mists fade slowly
Into day, which floods the world with light:
Twilight's mystery is so sweet and holy,
Just because it ends in starry night.

Childhood's smiles unconscious graces borrow
From strife, that in a far-off future lies;
And angel-glances (veiled now by life's sorrow)
Draw our hearts to some beloved eyes.

Life is only bright, when it proceedeth
Towards a truer, deeper life above;
Human love is sweetest when it leadeth
To a more divine and perfect love.

Learn the mystery of progression duly,
Do not call each glorious change decay;
But know we only hold our treasures truly
When it seems as if they passed away;

Nor dare to blame God's gifts for incompleteness;
In that want their beauty lies; they roll
Towards some infinite depth of love and sweetness,
Bearing onwards man's reluctant soul.

44

Tribulation worketh Patience."

S the harp strings only render

All their treasures of sweet sound,
All their music, glad or tender,
Firmly struck or tightly bound;

So the hearts of Christians owe
Each its deepest, sweetest strain,
To the pressure firm of wo2,

And the tension tight of pain.

Spices crushed their pungence yield,
Trodden scents their sweets respire;
Would you have its strength revealed,
Cast the incense in the fire.

Thus the crushed and broken frame
Oft doth sweetest graces yield;
And through suffering toil and shame,
From the martyr's keenest flame,
Heavenly incense is distilled!

Clinging to Thee.

OLY Saviour, Friend unseen,

Since on Thine arm Thou bidst me lean, Help me, throughout life's varying scene, By faith to cling to Thee!

Blest with this fellowship divine,

Take what Thou wilt, I'll ne'er repine,

E'en as the branches to the vine

My soul would cling to Thee.

Far from her home, fatigued, opprest,

Here she has found her place of rest;

An exile still, yet not unblest,

While she can cling to Thee!

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Without a murmur I dismiss

My former dreams of earthly bliss;

My joy, my consolation this,

Each hour to cling to Thee!

What though the world deceitful prove,
And earthly friends and joys remove;
With patient, uncomplaining love

Still would I cling to Thee!

Oft when I seem to tread alone

Some barren waste with thorns o'ergrown, Thy voice of love, in tenderest tone,

Whispers, "Still cling to Me;"

Though faith and hope awhile be tried,
I ask not, need not, aught beside;
How safe, how calm, how satisfied,

The souls that cling to Thee!

They fear not Satan or the grave,
They feel Thee near and strong to save,
Nor fear to cross e'en Jordan's wave,
Because they cling to Thee;

Blest is my lot, whate'er befall;

What can disturb me, what appal,

Whilst as my Rock, my Strength, my All, Saviour, I cling to Thee!

UCH have I borne, but not as I should bear;
The proud will unsubdued, the formal prayer,
Tell me Thou yet wilt chide, Thou canst not spare,
O Lord, Thy chastening rod!

O help me, Father, for my sinful heart
Back from this discipline of grief would start,
Unmindful of His sorer, deeper smart,

Who died for me, my God!

Yet if each wish denied, each woe and pain,
Break but some link of that oppressive chain
Which binds us still to earth, and leaves a stain
Thou only canst remove-

Then am I blest-O bliss from man concealed!
If here to Christ, the weak one's tower and shield,
My heart through sorrow be set free to yield
A service of deep love.

Thankfulness.

Y God, I thank Thee who hast made
The earth so bright;

So full of splendour and of joy,
Beauty and light;

So many glorious things are here,
Noble and right.

I thank Thee, too, that Thou hast made
Joy to abound;

So many gentle thoughts and deeds

Circling us round,

That in the darkest spot of earth

Some love is found.