SARAH FLOWER ADAMS.

From HYMNS AND ANTHEMS.

Edited by W. J. Fox.

He sendeth sun, He sendeth shower,
Alike they're needful for the flower;
And joys and tears alike are sent
To give the soul fit nourishment.
As comes to me or cloud or sun-
Father, thy will, not mine, be done.

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.

From THE CHURCH GATE.

Although I enter not,

Yet round about the spot

Ofttimes I hover !

And near the sacred gate,
With longing eyes I wait,
Expectant of her. .'

My lady comes at last,
Timid, and stepping fast,
And hastening hither,

[1811-1863

With modest eyes downcast;
She comes-she's here-she's past-
May Heaven go with her...

ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.

DESPONDENCY REBUKED.

Say not, "The struggle nought availeth,
The labour and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,

And as things have been they remain."
If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars ;
It may be, in yon smoke concealed,
Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers,
And, but for you, possess the field.
For while the tired waves, vainly breaking
Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back, through creeks and inlets making,
Comes silent, flooding in, the main.
And not by eastern windows only,

When daylight comes, comes in the light,
In front, the sun climbs slow-how slowly!
But westward, look! the land is bright.

1809-1866] JOHN EDWARD TAYLOR.

TRANSLATION FROM MICHAEL ANGELO.
See, Michael Angelo considered as a philosophic Poet.
S'EGLI È CHE D'UOM MORTAL GIUSTO DESIO.

If it be true that any beauteous thing
Raises the pure and just desire of man
From earth to God, the eternal fount of all,
Such I believe my love; for as in her
So fair, in whom I all besides forget,
I view the gentle work of her Creator,
I have no care for any other thing
Whilst thus I love. Nor is it marvellous,
Since. . .

Who adores the Maker needs must love his work.

CHARLES KINGSLEY.

A FAREWELL.

Be good, sweet Maid, and let who will be clever ; Do noble things, not dream them all day long ; And so make life, death, and that vast "for ever" One grand sweet song.

JAMES BALLANTINE. [1808-1877

CASTLES IN THE AIR.

The bonnie bonnie bairn sits poking in the ase, Glowering in the fire with his wee round face; Laughing at the fuffing lowe-what sees he there? Ha! the young dreamer's building castles in the air.

His wee chubby face, and his towzy curly pow,
Are laughing and nodding to the dancing lowe.
He'll brown his rosy cheeks, and singe his sunny hair,
Glowering at the imps with their castles in the air. . .

For all so sage he looks, what can the laddie ken?
He's thinking upon nothing, like many mighty men.
A wee thing makes us think, a small thing makes us

stare

There are more folks than him building castles in the air. . .

He'll glower at the fire, and he'll keek at the light,
But many sparkling stars are swallowed up by night;
Older eyes than his are glamoured by a glare-
Hearts are broken, heads are turned, with castles in
the air.

JOHN HENRY NEWMAN.

THE PILLAR OF THE CLOUD.

Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom Lead Thou me on!

The night is dark, and I am far from homeLead Thou me on!

Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene ;-one step enough for me.

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou
Shouldst lead me on.

I loved to choose and see my path, but now
Lead Thou me on!

I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, Pride ruled my will: remember not past years.

So long thy power hath blessed me, sure it still Will lead me on.

O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till The night is gone;

And with the morn those angel faces smile Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.

ARCHBISHOP R. C. TRENCH.

RETRIBUTION.

Oh righteous doom, that they who make
Pleasure their only end,
Ordering the whole life for its sake,
Miss that whereto they tend.

While they who bid stern Duty lead,
Content to follow, they-

Of Duty only taking heed,

Find Pleasure by the way.

CHARLES MACKAY.

From NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOURS.
In London Lyrics.

A look all innocence and trust,
Lit up at times by sunny mirth,
Like summer smiling on the earth;

A painter's daughter-poor, perchance, But rich in native elegance ;

God bless the maid !—she may not be
Without some touch of vanity. .
She quite believes, like other belles,
The pleasant tale her mirror tells.
In artless faith and virtue strong,
Too loving to do Love a wrong.
She takes delight in simple things,
And in the sunshine works and sings. .
Give me Mary, frank and free!
Her beauty, grace, and modesty.

From ETERNAL JUSTICE.
In Voices from the Crown.

Truth shall conquer at the last,
For round and round we run,
And ever the Right comes uppermost,
And ever is Justice done.

W. C. BENNETT.

BABY MAY.

Part only.

Cheeks as soft as July peaches,
Lips whose dewy scarlet teaches
Poppies paleness. Round large eyes,
Ever great with new surprise;