XXI. When the firmament quivers with daylight's young beam, And the woodlands awaking burst into a hymn, And the glow of the sky blazes back from the stream, How the bright ones of heaven in the brightness grow dim! O, 'tis sad, in that moment of glory and song, Till the circle of ether, deep, ruddy, and vast, Scarce glimmers with one of the train that were there; And their leader the day-star, the brightest and last, Twinkles faintly, and fades in that desert of air. Thus, Oblivion, from midst of whose shadow we came, Let them fade-but we'll pray flight, that the age, in whose Of ourselves and our friends the remembrance shall die, May rise o'er the world with the gladness and light Of the morning that withers the stars from the sky. W. C. Bryant. XXII. HOW LONG? How long, O Lord, in weariness and sorrow, Sighing o'er faded flowers and cisterns broken; How long, thro' snares of error and temptation, How long shall passing faults and trifles sever How long shall last the night of toil and sadness, Return! return! come in Thy power and glory, Hymns from Land of Luther. XXIII. Leave God to order all thy ways, And hope in Him whate'er betide, Thou'lt find Him in the evil days Thine all-sufficient strength and guide; Who trusts in God's unchanging love, Builds on the rock that nought can move. Only thy restless heart keep still, And wait in cheerful hope; content To take whate'er His gracious will, His all-discerning love hath sent ; Nor doubt our inmost wants are known To Him who chose us for His own. He knows when joyful hours are best, And makes thee own His loving care. Sing, pray and swerve not from His ways, Trust His rich promises of grace, So shall they be fulfilled in thee; C. Winkworth. XXIV. ONE BY ONE. One by one the sands are flowing, One by one (bright gifts from heaven) One by one thy griefs shall meet thee, Do not look at life's long sorrow; Every hour that fleets so slowly Hours are golden links, God's token; Miss Procter. XXV. THE PILGRIM OF THE DESERT. Wearily flaggeth my Soul in the Desert ; Sand ever sand, not a gleam of the fountain; Life dwelt with life in my far native valleys, Labour had brothers to aid and beguile; A tear for my tear, and a smile for my smile; Under the almond-tree once in the springtime, The sigh of my Leila was hushed on my breast, Below on the herbage there darkened a shadow; Dropped from the almond-tree, sighing the blossom; Then the step of a stranger came mute thro' the shadow, |