O THOU Who art of all that is
Beginning both and end,
For the thrill, the leap, the gladness
Of our pulses flowing free;
E'en for every touch of sadness
That may bring us nearer thee.
Hearty be our work and willing,
As to thee and not to men;
For we know our soul's fulfilling
Is to give it thee again.
We follow thee through unknown paths, 181.
Since all to thee must tend:
Thy judgments are a mighty deep
Beyond all fathom-line;
Our wisdom is the childlike heart;
Our strength, to trust in thine.
We bless thee for the skies above,
And for the earth beneath;
For hopes that blossom here below,
And wither not with death;
But most we bless thee for thyself,
O heavenly Light within,
Whose dayspring in our hearts dispels
The darkness of our sin.
Be thou in joy our deeper joy,
Our comfort when distressed;
Be thou by day our strength for toil,
And thou by night our rest!
And when these earthly dwellings fail,
And Time's last hour is come,
Be thou, O God, our dwelling-place
And our eternal home!
My God, I thank thee, who hast made
The earth so bright;
So full of splendor and of joy,
Beauty and light;
So many glorious things are here,
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.
I thank thee more that all our joy
Is touched with pain;
That shadows fall on brightest hours,
That thorns remain;
So that earth's bliss may be our guide,
And not our chain.
For thou who knowest, Lord, how soon
Our weak heart clings,
Hast given us joys, tender and true,
Yet all with wings,
So that we see, gleaming on high,
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.
ADELAIDE A. PROCTER.
ASK and receive,-'tis sweetly said;
Yet what to plead for know I not;
For wish is worsted, hope o'ersped,
And aye to thanks returns my thought.
If I would pray, I've naught to say
But this, that God may be God still;
For him to live is still to give,
And sweeter than my wish his will.
O wealth of life beyond all bound!
Eternity each moment given!
What plummet may the Present sound?
Who promises a future heaven?
Or glad, or grieved, oppressed, relieved,
In blackest night, or brightest day,
Still pours the flood of golden good,
And more than heartfull fills me aye. "All mine is thine," the sky-soul saith; "The wealth I am, must thou become; Richer and richer, breath by breath,Immortal gain, immortal room!" And since all his mine also is,
Life's gift outruns my fancies far, And drowns the dream in larger stream, As morning drinks the morning-star.
St. Agnes, 31. Arlington, 19.
Used by per. of OLIVER DITSON & Co.
Mine be the reverent listening love
That waits all day on thee;
The service of a watchful heart
Which no one else can see;
The faith that, in a hidden way
No other eye may know,
Finds all its daily work prepared,
And loves to have it so.
My heart is resting, O my God!
My heart is in thy care:
I hear the voice of joy and praise
Resounding everywhere!
ANNA L. WARING.
The heritage. St. Agnes, 31.
I HAVE a heritage of joy
That yet I must not see:
The Father's hand that makes it mine
Is keeping it for me.
I have a certainty of love
That sets my heart at rest;
A calm assurance for to-day
That to be thus is best.
And a new song is in my mouth
To long loved music set,-
Glory to thee for all the grace
I have not tasted yet!
Glory to thee for strength withheld,
For want and weakness known,
The fear that sends me to thy breast
For what is most mine own.
My heart is resting, O my God!
My heart is in thy care:
I hear the voice of joy and praise
Resounding everywhere!
Anna L. Waring
Palestine, 68.
A LIVING, loving, lasting word,
My listening ear believing heard,
While bending down in prayer;
Like a sweet breeze that none can stay,
It passed my soul upon its way,
And left a blessing there.
Then joyful thoughts, that come and go
By paths the holy angels know,
Encamped around my soul':
As in a dream of blest repose,
Mid withered reeds a river rose,
And through the desert stole.
I lifted up my eyes to see-
The wilderness was glad for me,
My heart within was strong!
And sweeter, nearer, clearer heard,
It came, that everlasting word
Of promise and of song!
Hidden in light. Palestine, 68.
Look up, look up, my soul, still higher!
On to the heavenly goal aspire,
On God's love ever lean:
Burst this dull earth's control, and wing
Thy way where no clouds roll, and sing
In deeps of God unseen.
What though thy way be dark, and earth
With ceaseless care do cark, till mirth
To thee no sweet strain sings?
Still hide thy life above, and still
Believe that God is love; fulfil
Whatever lot he brings.
Salvation. Greenville, 46. KNOW, my soul, thy full salvation! Rise o'er sin and fear and care; Joy to find in every station
Something still to do and bear. Think what spirit dwells within thee, Think what Father's smiles are thine, Think what he hath done to win thee; Child of heaven, canst thou repine? Haste thee on from grace to glory, Armed with faith and winged with prayer;
Heaven's eternal day's before thee,
God's own hand shall guide thee there:
Faithful in thy earthly mission, Faithful through thy pilgrim-days, Hope shall change to glad fruition, Faith to sight, and prayer to praise.
The happy pilgrim. Hummel, 23.
FAINT not along thine earthly road,
Thou pilgrim soul of mine;
Still, still be gladsome in thy God,
Still sing thy song divine!
Doth life in all bright ways for thee
Its glory oft unroll?
O, take thy pleasures holily,
Sing unto God, my soul!
A dreary desert dost thou trace,
Dim shineth thy far goal?
That desert make thy Holy Place,
Pursue thy song, my soul!
When the glad Spirit's voice divine
Through thy stirred deeps doth roll,
When glows with faith that heart of
thine,
Sing forth thy song, O soul!
192. A travelling song. Arlington, 19.
I TRAVEL all the irksome night
By ways to me unknown;
I travel like a bird in flight,
Onward, but not alone.
In secret paths God leads me on
To his divine abode,
And shows new miracles of love
Through all the heavenly road.
The ways most rugged and perplexed
He renders smooth and straight:
Through all the paths I'll sing his name,
Even unto heaven's gate.
Grand breaths of God they sweep sublime.
A thread of Law runs through my prayer
Stronger than iron cables are;
And love and longing towards her goal
Are pilots sweet to guide the soul.
O thou God's mariner, heart of mine!
Spread canvas to the airs divine!
Spread sail! and let thy Fortune be
Forgotten in thy Destiny.
The wind ahead? The wind is free!
Forevermore it favoreth me:
To shores of God still blowing fair,
O'er seas of God my bark doth bear.
For Life must live, and Soul must sail,
And Unseen over Seen prevail;
And all God's argosies come to shore,
Let ocean smile, or rage, or roar.
The will of God. St. Agnes, 31.
I WORSHIP thee, dear Will of God!
And all thy ways adore;
And every day I live I seem
To love thee more and more.
When obstacles and trials seem
Like prison-walls to be,
I do the little I can do,
And leave the rest to thee.
I have no cares, O blessed Will!
For all my cares are thine;
I live in triumph, Lord! for thou
Hast made thy triumphs mine.
I know not what it is to doubt;
My heart is ever gay;
I run no risk, for, come what will,
Thou always hast thy way.
Ride on, ride on triumphantly,
Thou glorious Will, ride on!
Faith's pilgrim sons behind thee take
The road that thou hast gone.
NAUGHT have I else to do,I sing the whole day long;
And he whom most I love to please
Doth listen to my song.
Thou hast an ear to hear,
A heart to love and bless;
And though my notes were e'er so rude,
Thou wouldst not hear the less.
My cage confines me round;
Abroad I cannot fly;
But though my wing is closely bound,
My heart's at liberty.
O, it is good to soar
These bolts and bars above,
To thee whose purpose I adore,
Whose providence I love;
And feel thy mighty will
My willfulness control,
And learn, a prisoner of the Lord,
The freedom of the soul.
No longer forward or behind
I look in hope or fear,
But, grateful, take the good I find,
God's blessing now and here.
I plough no more a desert land,
To harvest weed and tare;
The manna dropping from God's hand
Rebukes my painful care.
THERE is a something sweet and pure,Through life, through death it may endure;
With steady foot I onward press,
And long to win that Blessedness.
It hath no shadow, this soft light,
But makes each daily duty bright;
It bids each heart-born tumult cease,
And sobers joy to quiet peace.
An all-abiding sense of Love,
In silence falling from above;
A conscience clear from willful sin,
That hath no subterfuge within:
Fixed duty claiming every power,
And human love to charm each hour,—
These, these, my soul, make Blessedness:
I ask no more, I seek no less.
And yet I know these are too much;
My very being's life they touch:
Without them all, O, let me still
Find Blessedness in God's dear will.
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