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Bless Thou the truth, dear Lord,
To me-to me-

As Thou didst bless the bread
By Galilee;

Then shall all bondage cease,

All fetters fall;

And I shall find my peace,
My all-in-all.

Edward Rowland Sill


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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,
'This is our Earth-most friendly Earth, and fair;
Daily its sea and shore through sun and shadow
Faithful it turns, robed in its azure air:

'There is blest living here, loving and serving,
And quest of truth, and serene friendships dear;
But stay not Spirit! Earth has one destroyer-
His name is Death: flee, lest he find thee here!'

And what if then, while the still morning brightened,
And freshened in the elm the Summer's breath,
Should gravely smile on me the gentle angel,
And take my hand and say, 'My name is Death.'


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,
Comes as a white, soft hand, and reaches o'er
And touches its still face most tenderly.

Unstirred and calm, amid our shifting years,
Lo! where it lies, far from the clash and roar,
With quiet distance blurred, as if thro' tears.

O heart, that prayest so for God to send
Some loving messenger to go before
And lead the way to where thy longings end,

Be sure, be very sure, that soon will come
His kindest angel, and through that still door
Into the Infinite love will lead thee home.


CORENOON and afternoon and night,- Forenoon And afternoon, and night,

Forenoon, and-what!

The empty song repeats itself. No more?

Yea, that is Life: make this forenoon sublime,
This afternoon a psalm, this night a prayer,
And Time is conquered, and thy crown is won.



HAT may we take into the vast Forever?
That marble door

Admits no fruit of all our long endeavor,

No fame-wreathed crown we wore,
No garnered lore.

What can we bear beyond the unknown portal?
No gold, no gains

Of all our toiling: in the life immortal

No hoarded wealth remains,

Nor gilds, nor stains.

Naked from out that far abyss behind us
We entered here:

No word came with our coming, to remind us
What wondrous world was near,

No hope, no fear.

Into the silent, starless Night before us,
Naked we glide:

No hand has mapped the constellations o'er us,
No comrade at our side,

No chart, no guide.

Yet fearless toward that midnight, black and hollow,
Our footsteps fare:

The beckoning of a Father's hand we follow-
His love alone is there,

No curse, no care.


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,
And stood the mocking court before;
They could not see the bitter smile
Behind the painted grin he wore.


He bowed his head, and bent his knee
Upon the monarch's silken stool,
His pleading voice arose: 'O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!

No pity, Lord, could change the heart
From red with wrong to white_as wool;
The rod must heal the sin but Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!

"Tis not by guilt the onward sweep
Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay;
'Tis by our follies that so long

We hold the earth from heaven away.

'These clumsy feet, still in the mire,
Go crushing blossoms without end;
These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust
Among the heart-strings of a friend.

'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;
Men crown the knave, and scourge the tool
That did his will; but Thou, O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool! '

The room was hushed; in silence rose
The King, and sought his gardens cool,
And walked apart, and murmured low,

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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,
And weaponless, and saw the broken sword,
Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand,
And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout
Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down,
And saved a great cause that heroic day.


Joaquín Miller


W von without pain?

HAT song is well sung not of sorrow?

What virtue shall be and not borrow
Bright lustre from many a stain?

What birth has there been without travail ?
What battle well won without blood?
What good shall earth see without evil
Ingarner'd as chaff with the good?

Lo! the Cross set in rocks by the Roman,
And nourish'd by blood of the Lamb,
And water'd by tears of the woman,

Has flourish'd, has spread like a palm;

Has spread in the frosts and far regions
Of snows in the North, and South sands
Where never the tramp of his legions
Was heard, or reach'd forth his red hands.
Be thankful: the price and the payment,
The birth, the privations and scorn,
The Cross, and the parting of raiment,
Are finish'd. The star brought us morn.


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,
Or bold, as made bold with a sign?

Were tne nairy breasts strong and defiant?
Were the naked arms brawny and strong?

Were the bearded lips lifted reliant,

Thrust forth and full sturdy with song?

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