10

IT is hard to work for God, To rise and take His part Upon this battlefield of earth,

And not sometimes lose heart!
He hides Himself so wondrously,
As though there were no God;

He is least seen when all the powers
Of ill are most abroad.

2 Ah, God is other than we think;
His ways are far above,

Far beyond reason's height, and reached
Only by childlike love.

Workman of God, O lose not heart,
But learn what God is like;
And in the darkest battlefield

Thou shalt know where to strike.

3 Thrice blest is he to whom is given The instinct that can tell

That God is on the field when He

Is most invisible.

Blest too is he who can divine

Where real right doth lie,

And dares to take the side that seems
Wrong to man's blindfold eye.

4 Then learn to scorn the praise of men, And learn to lose with God;

For Jesus won the world through shame,
And beckons thee His road:
For right is right, since God is God,
And right the day must win;
To doubt would be disloyalty,
To falter would be sin.

Frederick W. Faber, 1849

A- men.

Worlds are charging, heaven beholding;
Thou hast but an hour to fight;
Now, the blazoned cross unfolding,
On, right onward for the right!

3 Scaled to blush, to waver never,
Consecrated, born again,
Sworn to be Christ's soldiers ever,

O for Christ at least be men!
O let all the soul within you

For the truth's sake go abroad!
Strike! let every nerve and sinew
Tell on ages, tell for God.

Arthur Cleveland Coxe, 1840, arr.,
v. 2, line 2 and v. 3, line 2 ȧlt.

1

MY

The earth so bright,

So full of splendor and of joy,

Beauty and light;

So many glorious things are here, Noble and right.

Our weak heart clings,

Hast given us joys, tender and true,

Yet all with wings,

So that we see, gleaming on high,
Diviner things.

5 I thank Thee, Lord, that Thou hast kept The best in store;

We have enough, yet not too much
To long for more:

A yearning for a deeper peace

Not known before.

6 I thank Thee, Lord, that here our souls, Though amply blest,

Can never find, although they seek,

A perfect rest,

Nor ever shall, until they lean

On Jesus' breast.

Adelaide A. Procter, 1858, v. 1, line 1 alt.