THE USEFUL LIFE.

Ψυχή μου, ψυχή μου,

Αναστα, τὶ καθευδεις.

OLD GREEK HYMN.

Go labor on; spend, and be spent,—
Thy joy to do the Father's will;

It is the way the Master went,

Should not the servant tread it still?

Go labor on; 'tis not for nought;
Thy earthly loss is heavenly gain;
Men heed thee, love thee, praise thee not;
The Master praises,—what are men?

Go labor on; enough, while here,
If He shall praise thee, if he deign
Thy willing heart to mark and cheer;
No toil for Him shall be in vain.

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THE USEFUL LIFE.

Go labor on; your hands are weak,

Your knees are faint, your soul cast down;

Yet falter not; the prize you seek,

Is near, a kingdom and a crown!

Go labor on, while it is day,

The world's dark night is hastening on;
Speed, speed thy work, cast sloth away:
It is not thus that souls are won.

Men die in darkness at your side,
Without a hope to cheer the tomb;

Take up the torch and wave it wide,

The torch that lights time's thickest gloom.

Toil on, faint not, keep watch and pray ;
Be wise the erring soul to win;
Go forth into the world's highway,
Compel the wanderer to come in.

Toil on, and in thy toil rejoice;

For toil comes rest, for exile home;
Soon shalt thou hear the Bridegroom's voice,
The midnight peal, behold I come!

PASSING THROUGH.

I WALK as one who knows that he is treading
A stranger soil;

As one round whom a serpent-world is spreading
Its subtle coil.

I walk as one but yesterday delivered
From a sharp chain;

Who trembles lest the bond so newly severed
Be bound again.

I walk as one who feels that he is breathing
Ungenial air;

For whom as wiles, the tempter still is wreathing
The bright and fair.

My steps, I know, are on the plains of danger,
For sin is near;

But looking up, I pass along, a stranger,

In haste and fear.

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PASSING THROUGH.

This earth has lost its power to drag me downward; Its spell is gone;

My course is now right upward, and right onward, To yonder throne.

Hour after hour of time's dark night is stealing
In gloom away;

Speed thy fair dawn of light, and joy, and healing,
Thou Star of day!

For thee its God, its King, the long-rejected,
Earth groans and cries;

For thee the long-beloved, the long-expected,
Thy bride still sighs!

FORWARD.

SHALL this life of mine be wasted?
Shall this vineyard lie untilled?
Shall true joy pass by untasted,
And this soul remain unfilled?

Shall the God-given hours be scattered,
Like the leaves upon the plain?

Shall the blossoms die unwatered
By the drops of heavenly rain?

Shall I see each fair sun waking,
And not feel, it wakes for me?
Each glad morning brightly breaking,
And not feel, it breaks for me?

Shall I see the roses blowing,

And not wish to bloom as they? Holy fragrance round me throwing, Luring others on the way.