Dear! of all happy in the hour, most blest
He who has found our hid security,
Assured in the dark tides of the world that rest,
And heard our word, 'Who is so safe as we?'
We have found safety with all things undying,
The winds, and morning, tears of men and mirth,
The deep night, and birds singing, and clouds flying,
And sleep, and freedom, and the autumnal earth.
We have built a house that is not for Time's throwing.
We have gained a peace unshaken by pain for ever.
War knows no power. Safe shall be my going,
Secretly armed against all death's endeavour;
Safe though all safety's lost; safe where men fall;
And if these poor limbs die, safest of all.

Cheer, though you part at morn!
Cheer, though you never part:
Sigh not, nor look forlorn;
Never lose heart!
For, to the hope you don,
Face that your soul puts on,
Whether in sun or storm,
Will the world's face conform.
Sing from the start.
Never lose heart.

I dare not look at those dear eyes,
The sun was never half so bright,
There surely more of rapture lies
Than ever bless'd a mortal's sight.

In thy sweet face I see impress'd
Ten thousand thousand charms divine,
The sunbeams of thy guileless breast
Like Heaven's eternal mercies shine!

Angel of love! life's endless joy,
Our hope at morn, our evening prayer;
The bliss above would have alloy,
Unless dear--------- thou wert there!

Oh! Woman--what a charm hast thou
Our rebel nature thus to tame:
We ever must adore and bow.
While virtue guards thy holy fane!

Werthing.

The saints should never be dismay’d,
Nor sink in hopeless fear;
For when they least expect his aid,
The Saviour will appear.


This Abraham found: he raised the knife;
God saw, and said, “Forbear!
Yon ram shall yield his meaner life;
Behold the victim there.”


Once David seem’d Saul’s certain prey;
But hark! the foe’s at hand;[1]
Saul turns his arms another way,
To save the invaded land.


When Jonah sunk beneath the wave,
He thought to rise no more;[2]
But God prepared a fish to save,
And bear him to the shore.


Blest proofs of power and grace divine,
That meet us in his word!
May every deep-felt care of mine
Be trusted with the Lord.


Wait for his seasonable aid,

The yesterday doth never smile,
The day goes drudging through the while,
Yet, in the name of Godhead, I
The morrow front, and can defy;
Though I am weak, yet God, when prayed,
Cannot withhold his conquering aid.
Ah me! it was my childhood's thought,
If He should make my web a blot
On life's fair picture of delight,
My heart's content would find it right.
But O, these waves and leaves,--
When happy stoic Nature grieves,
No human speech so beautiful
As their murmurs mine to lull.
On this altar God hath built
I lay my vanity and guilt;
Nor me can Hope or Passion urge
Hearing as now the lofty dirge
Which blasts of Northern mountains hymn,
Nature's funeral high and dim,--
Sable pageantry of clouds,
Mourning summer laid in shrouds.
Many...

He who has no hands
Perforce must use his tongue;
Foxes are so cunning
Because they are not strong.

Whilst I in prison or in court look down,
Nor beg thy favour nor deserve thy frown,
In vain malicious Fortune hast thou tried
By taking from my state to quell my pride:
Insulting girl, thy present rage abate,
And wouldst thou have my humbled, make me great.

- "they show an outward hideousness,
And speak off half a dozen dang'rous words,
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst;
And this is all."

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, Act V. Scene 4.


FIRST CONSUL.

My dear Talleyrand! I am sorry to send
For you out of your bed; but you know you're my friend:
No secret I hide from your generous breast;
This invasion is always invading my rest:
My soldiers, poor devils! are ready to start,
But to stay where I am is the wish of my heart;
And yet I have sworn at their head to appear:
I am puzzl'd to act 'twixt my threats and my fear;
If I go, I am lost! - say, what shall I do?

TALLEYRAND.

Why I think I've a snug little project in view:
I have felt for you long, and have ransack'...

Yet at the last, ere our spearmen had found him,
Yet at the last, ere a sword-thrust could save,
Yet at the last, with his masters around him,
He spoke of the Faith as a master to slave.
Yet at the last, though the Kafirs had maimed him,
Broken by bondage and wrecked by the river,
Yet at the last, tho' the darkness had claimed him,
He called upon Allah, and died a Believer!

Perfection ever is the price of toil.
Of marchings long, and hardships by the way,
Of burdens borne, oft in the heat of day,
'Tis then as right the victor claims the spoil.

The world admires the wreath upon his brow,
But he alone can tell how much it cost,
And how to gain it he had all things lost.
Results men see, but not the when, or how.

The stately elm which rears its head so high,
And spreads abroad so gracefully its boughs,
Beneath which may repose a herd of cows,
Grows under ground as well as toward the sky.

The bridge which spans the swiftly-flowing stream
O'er which the iron horse, by night and day,
With heavy tread speeds on its busy way,
Rests not on sand, nor slender post and beam.

Below the shifting sand, on solid rock,

Unless our Souls win back to Thee,
We shall have lost this fight.
Yes, though we win on field and sea,
Though mightier still our might may be,
We still shall lose if we win not Thee.
    Help us to climb, as in Thy sight,
    The Great High Way of Thy Delight.

It is the world-old strife again,--
The fight 'twixt good and ill.
Since first the curse broke out in Cain,
Each age has worn the grim red chain,
And ill fought good for sake of gain.
    Help us, through all life's conflict, still
    To battle upwards to Thy Will.

Are we to be like all the rest,
Or climb we loftier height?
Can we our wayward steps arrest?--
All life with nobler life invest?--
And so fulfil our Lord's behest?
    Help us, through all the world's dark night,

Deep is the sea, and deep is hell, but Pride mineth deeper;
It is coiled as a poisonous worm about the foundations of the soul.
If thou expose it in thy motives, and track it in thy springs of thought,
Complacent in its own detection, it will seem indignant virtue;
Smoothly will it gratulate thy skill, O subtle anatomist of self.
And subtle at its very being, while it nestleth the deeper in thy bosom.
Pride is a double traitor, and betrayeth itself to entrap thee,
Making thee vain of thy self knowledge; proud of thy discoveries of pride.
Fruitlessly thou strainest for humility, by darkly diving into self;
Rather look away from innate evil, and gaze upon extraneous good:
For in sounding the deep things of the heart, thou shalt learn to be vain of its capacities.
But in viewing the heig...

        I saw a city filled with lust and shame,
        Where men, like wolves, slunk through the grim half-light;
        And sudden, in the midst of it, there came
        One who spoke boldly for the cause of Right.

        And speaking, fell before that brutish race
        Like some poor wren that shrieking eagles tear,
        While brute Dishonour, with her bloodless face
        Stood by and smote his lips that moved in prayer.

        "Speak not of God!    In centuries that word
        Hath not been uttered!    Our own king are we."
        And God stretched forth his finger as He heard
        And o'er it cast a thousand leagues of sea.

Almighty Power! Who through the past
    Our Nation's course has safely led;
Behold again the sky o'ercast,
    Again is heard the martial tread!
        Our stay in each contingency,
        Our Father's God, we turn to thee!

For lo! The bugle note of war
    Is wafted from a southern strand!
O Lord of Battles! we implore
    The guidance of Thy mighty hand,
        While as of yore, the hero draws
        His sword in Freedom's sacred cause!

And when at last the oaken wreath
    Shall crown afresh the victor's brow;
And Peace the conquering sword resheath,
    Be with us then, as well as now!
        Our stay in each contingency,
        In peace or war, we turn to Thee!

There is no thing we cannot overcome
    Say not thy evil instinct is inherited,
Or that some trait inborn makes thy whole life forlorn,
    And calls down punishment that is not merited.

Back of thy parents and grandparents lies
    The Great Eternal Will.    That, too, is thine
    Inheritance; strong, beautiful, divine,
Sure lever of success for one who tries.

Pry up thy faults with this great lever, Will.
    However deeply bedded in propensity,
However firmly set, I tell thee firmer yet
    Is that vast power that comes from Truth's immensity.

Thou art a part of that strange world, I say.
    Its forces lie within thee, stronger far
    Than all thy mortal sins and frailties are,
Believe thyself divine, and watch, and pray.

There i...

Blessings on thee, noble boy!
With thy sunny eyes of blue,
Speaking in their cloudless depths
Of a spirit pure and true.

In thy thoughtful look and calm,
In thy forehead broad and high,
We have seemed to meet again
One whose home is in the sky.

Thou to Earth art still a stranger,
To Life's tumult and unrest;
Angel visitants alone
Stir the fountains in thy breast.

Thou hast yet no Past to shadow
With a fear the Future's light,
And the Present spreads before thee
Boundless as the Infinite.

But each passing hour must waken
Energies that slumber now,
Manhood with its fire and action
Stamp that fair, unfurrowed brow.

Into Life's sublime arena,
Opening through the world's broad mart,
Bear thy Mother's gentl...

        Making his advances
        He does not look at her, nor sniff at her,
        No, not even sniff at her, his nose is blank.

        Only he senses the vulnerable folds of skin
        That work beneath her while she sprawls along
        In her ungainly pace,
        Her folds of skin that work and row
        Beneath    the    earth-soiled    hovel    in    which    she moves.

        And so he strains beneath her housey walls
        And catches her trouser-legs in his beak
        Suddenly, or her skinny limb,
        And strange and grimly drags at her
        Like a dog,
        Only agelessly silent, with a reptile's awful persistency.

        Grim, gruesome gallantry, to which he is doomed.
        Dragged out of an eternity of sil...

And they were stronger hands than mine
That digged the Ruby from the earth,
More cunning brains that made it worth
The large desire of a king,
And stouter hearts that through the brine
Went down the perfect Pearl to bring.

Lo, I have wrought in common clay
Rude figures of a rough-hewn race,
Since pearls strew not the market-place
In this my town of banishment,
Where with the shifting dust I play,
And eat the bread of discontent.

Yet is there life in that I make.
0 thou who knowest, turn and see,
As thou hast power over me
So have I power over these,
Because I wrought them for thy sake,
And breathed in them mine agonies.

Small mirth was in the making, now
I lift the cloth that cloaks the clay,
And, wearied, at thy feet I la...