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Bless Thou the truth, dear Lord,
As Thou didst bless the bread
Then shall all bondage cease,
All fetters fall;
And I shall find my peace,
Edward Rowland Sill
A MORNING THOUGHT
And the dawn whitened, and the East was clear, Strange peace and rest fell on me from the presence Of a benignant Spirit standing near:
And I should tell him, as he stood beside me,
'There is blest living here, loving and serving,
And what if then, while the still morning brightened,
HERE lies a little city in the hills;
White are its roofs, dim is each dwelling's door, And peace with perfect rest its bosom fills.
There the pure mist, the pity of the sea,
Unstirred and calm, amid our shifting years,
O heart, that prayest so for God to send
Be sure, be very sure, that soon will come
CORENOON and afternoon and night,- Forenoon And afternoon, and night,
The empty song repeats itself. No more?
Yea, that is Life: make this forenoon sublime,
HAT may we take into the vast Forever?
Admits no fruit of all our long endeavor,
No fame-wreathed crown we wore,
What can we bear beyond the unknown portal?
Of all our toiling: in the life immortal
No hoarded wealth remains,
Nor gilds, nor stains.
Naked from out that far abyss behind us
No word came with our coming, to remind us
No hope, no fear.
Into the silent, starless Night before us,
No hand has mapped the constellations o'er us,
No chart, no guide.
Yet fearless toward that midnight, black and hollow,
The beckoning of a Father's hand we follow-
No curse, no care.
THE FOOL'S PRAYER
HE royal feast was done; the King
And to his jester cried: Sir Fool,
Kneel now, and make for us a prayer!
The jester doffed his cap and bells,
He bowed his head, and bent his knee
No pity, Lord, could change the heart
"Tis not by guilt the onward sweep
We hold the earth from heaven away.
'These clumsy feet, still in the mire,
'The ill-timed truth we might have keptWho knows how sharp it pierced and stung? The word we had not sense to say
Who knows how grandly it had rung?
'Our faults no tenderness should ask,
The chastening stripes must cleanse them all; But for our blunders-oh, in shame Before the eyes of heaven we fall.
'Earth bears no balsam for mistakes;
The room was hushed; in silence rose
Be merciful to me, a fool!'
HIS I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream :—
And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged
A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes. A craven hung along the battle's edge,
And thought, Had I a sword of keener steelThat blue blade that the king's son bears, but this Blunt thing!'-he snapt and flung it from his hand, And lowering crept away and left the field.
Then came the king's son, wounded, sore bestead,
W von without pain?
HAT song is well sung not of sorrow?
What virtue shall be and not borrow
What birth has there been without travail ?
Lo! the Cross set in rocks by the Roman,
Has flourish'd, has spread like a palm;
Has spread in the frosts and far regions
THE LAST SUPPER
And when they had sung an hymn they went out into the Mount of Olives.
WHAT song sang the twelve with the Saviour
When finish'd the sacrament wine?
Were they bow'd and subdued in behavior,
Were tne nairy breasts strong and defiant?
Were the bearded lips lifted reliant,
Thrust forth and full sturdy with song?