148 A PRAYER IMITATED FROM THE PERSIAN Lord! who art merciful as well as just, Father Almighty, who has made me man, Four things which are not in Thy treasury, My sins, and my contrition. ROBERT SOUTHEY 149 GOD IS GOOD God, Thou art good! each perfumed flower, The insect fluttering for an hour,— I hear it in each breath of wind; The hills that have for ages stood, Each little rill that many a year Has the same verdant path pursued, And every bird, in accents clear, Joins in the song that God is good. The restless sea, with haughty roar, And swells the chorus,-" God is good." The countless hosts of twinkling stars The moon that walks in brightness says MRS. FOLLEN 150 THE GOODNESS OF GOD Yes, God is good: in earth and sky, Ten thousand voices seem to cry, The sun that keeps his trackless way, The merry birds prolong the strain, Their song with every spring renew'd; And balmy air and falling rain, Each softly whispers, "God is good." I hear it in the rushing breeze; Yes, God is good, all Nature says, By God's own hand with speech endued; And man, in louder notes of praise, Should sing for joy that "God is good." JOHN HAMPDEN GURNEY 151 THEY TELL ME They tell me, "Give thy nation up; They tell me: "Think not to rebuild Of whose old splendor there is left 66 Dream not thy nation to arouse Out of its slumber deep; Behold, it has so many years Lain in a marmot's sleep!" False prophets, hush! Fie, charlatans! The path my fathers trod through life Should Death demand me, I will mount My God, my race, I will not change More than a stranger's treasure-house A grave among my sires. EZEKIEL LEAVITT Translation from the Hebrew by Alice Stone Blackwell 152 HEBREW CRADLE SONG Night has on the earth descended, All around is silence deep. Sleep, my darling, I am with thee; Sleep a calm and peaceful sleep. I no lullabies shall sing thee; Sleep in peace, oh, sleep on sweetly, Wondrous songs we used to sing, Turning green with early spring. Where grew daffodils and myrtles, Stately palms upreared their heights, Cypress trees spread wide their branches, Splendid roses blossomed bright. But those notes are hushed and silenced; Mourning sounds instead of singing; All thou needs must know, my darling, But why now in vain disturb thee? The dark day of rain hath passed! To the school, my son, I'll lead thee |