And replied, "O men of grace,
He who sees his Master's face

Will not in his prayers recall

That he is chastised at all."

Translated from the German of Tholuck. JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE.

HYMN.

While thee I seek, protecting Power,

Be my vain wishes stilled,

And may this consecrated hour

With better hopes be filled.

Thy love the powers of thought bestowed,
To thee my thoughts would soar ;
Thy mercy o'er my life has flowed,
That mercy I adore.

In each event of life how clear
Thy ruling hand I see,

Each blessing to my soul more dear
Because conferred by thee.

In every joy that crowns my days,
In every pain I bear,

My heart shall find delight in praise,
Or seek relief in prayer.

When gladness wings my favored hour,
Thy love my thoughts shall fill;
Resigned, when storms of sorrow lower,
My soul shall meet thy will.

My lifted eye without a tear

The lowering storm shall see ;

My steadfast heart shall know no fear,
That heart will rest on thee.

HELEN MARIA WILLIAMS (1762-1827).

HYMN.

Mysterious Presence, source of all,-
The world without, the soul within,-
Fountain of life, O hear our call,
And pour thy living waters in.

Thou breathest in the rushing wind,
Thy spirit stirs in leaf and flower;
Nor wilt thou from the willing mind
Withhold thy light and love and power.

Thy hand unseen to accents clear
Awoke the psalmist's trembling lyre,
And touched the lips of holy seer
With flame from thine own altar fire.

That touch divine still, Lord, impart,
Still give the prophet's burning word;
And, vocal in each waiting heart,
Let living psalms of praise be heard.

SETH CURTIS BEACH.

But serene in the rapturous throng,
Unmoved by the rush of the song,

With eyes unimpassioned and slow
Among the dead angels, the deathless
Sandalphon stands listening breathless

To sounds that ascend from below;

From the spirits on earth that adore,
From the souls that entreat and implore
In the fervor and passion of prayer;
From the hearts that are broken with losses,
And weary with dragging the crosses
Too heavy for mortals to bear.

And he gathers the prayers as he stands,
And they change into flowers in his hands,

Into garlands of purple and red;
And beneath the great arch of the portal,
Through the streets of the City immortal
Is wafted the fragrance they shed.

Sandalphon.

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

THE LESSON OF THE LEAVES.

O thou who bearest on thy thoughtful face
The wearied calm that follows after grief,
See how the autumn guides each loosened leaf
To sure repose in its own sheltered place.
Ah, not forever whirl they in the race

Óf wild forlornness round the gathered sheaf,
Or hurrying onward in a rapture brief
Spin o'er the moorlands into trackless space.
Some hollow captures each; some sheltering wall
Arrests the wanderer on its aimless way;

The autumn's pensive beauty needs them all,
And winter finds them warm, though sere and gray.
They nurse young blossoms for the spring's sweet call,
And shield new leaflets for the burst of May.

THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON.

Fewer programmes, we who have no prescience; Fewer systems, we who are held and do not hold. Aurora Leigh.

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

Our little systems have their day,
They have their day and cease to be;
They are but broken lights of thee,
And thou, O Lord, art more than they.

In Memoriam.

ALFRED TENNYSON.

This Quiet all it hath a mind to doth.

Caliban upon Setebos.

ROBERT BROWNING.

We'll be calm

And know that, when indeed our Joves come down,
We all turn stiller than we have ever been.
Aurora Leigh.

ELIZABETH Barrett BROWNING.

O fret not after knowledge! -I have none,
And yet my song comes native with the warmth.
O fret not after knowledge!-I have none,'
And yet the Evening listens.

From a Sonnet.

JOHN KEATS.

The threads our hands in blindness spin
No self-determined plan weaves in ;
The shuttle of the unseen powers
Works out a pattern not as ours.

Through wish, resolve, and act, our will
Is moved by undreamed forces still;
And no man measures in advance
His strength with untried circumstance.

Overruled.

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.

The Poet.

XVI.

Patience.

Teach me your mood, O patient stars!
Who climb each night the ancient sky,
Leaving on space no shade, no scars,
No trace of age, no fear to die.

RALPH WALDO EMERSON.

Time, that aged nurse,

Rocked me to patience.

Endymion.

JOHN KEATS.