One by one thy duties wait thee-
Let thy whole strength go to each,
Let no future dreams elate thee,

Learn thou first what these can teach.

One by one (bright gifts from heaven)
Joys are sent thee here below;
Take them readily when given-
Ready, too, to let them go.

One by one thy griefs shall meet thee;
Do not fear an armed band;
One will fade as others greet thee-
Shadows passing through the land.

Do not look at life's long sorrow;

See how small each moment's pain;
God will help thee for to-morrow,
So each day begin again.

Every hour that fleets so slowly
Has its task to do or bear;
Luminous the crown, and holy,
When each gem is set with care.

Do not linger with regretting,
Or for passing hours despond;
Nor, thy daily toil forgetting,
Look too eagerly beyond.

Hours are golden links, God's token,
Reaching heaven; but, one by one,
Take them, lest the chain be broken
Ere the pilgrimage be done.

Adelaide Anne Procter [1825-1864]

UNBELIEF

THERE is no unbelief;

Whoever plants a seed beneath the sod
And waits to see it push away the clod,
He trusts in God.

"There is no Death"

Whoever says when clouds are in the sky,
"Be patient, heart; light breaketh by and by,"
Trusts the Most High.

Whoever sees 'neath Winter's field of snow
The silent harvest of the future grow,
God's power must know.

Whoever lies down on his couch to sleep,
Content to lock each sense in slumber deep,
Knows God will keep.

Whoever says, "To-morrow," "The unknown," "The future," trusts the Power alone

He dares disown.

The heart that looks on when eyelids close,
And dares to live when life has woes,

God's comfort knows.

There is no unbelief;

And day by day, unconsciously,

The heart lives by that faith the lips deny,

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"THERE IS NO DEATH"

THERE is no death! The stars go down
To rise upon some other shore,
And bright in heaven's jeweled crown
They shine for evermore.

There is no death!

The dust we tread

Shall change beneath the summer showers

To golden grain or mellow fruit

Or rainbow-tinted flowers.

The granite rocks disorganize

To feed the hungry moss they bear;

The forest leaves drink daily life

From out the viewless air.

There is no death! The leaves may fall,
The flowers may fade and pass away—
They only wait, through wintry hours,
The coming of the May.

There is no death! An angel form
Walks o'er the earth with silent tread;
He bears our best loved things away,
And then we call them "dead."

He leaves our hearts all desolate-
He plucks our fairest, sweetest flowers;
Transplanted into bliss, they now
Adorn immortal bowers.

The bird-like voice, whose joyous tones
Made glad this scene of sin and strife,
Sings now an everlasting song,

Amid the tree of life.

Where'er He sees a smile too bright,

Or soul too pure for taint of vice,

He bears it to that world of light,
To dwell in Paradise.

Born into that undying life,

They leave us but to come again; With joy we welcome them-the same Except in sin and pain.

And ever near us, though unseen,

The dear immortal spirits tread;

For all the boundless universe

Is life-there are no dead!

John Luckey McCreery [1835-1906]

THE FOOL'S PRAYER

THE royal feast was done; the King
Sought some new sport to banish care,

And to his jester cried: "Sir Fool,

Kneel now, and make for us a prayer!"

The Fool's 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,

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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,
"Be merciful to me, a fool!"

Edward Rowland Sill [1841-1887]

THE ECLIPSE

WHITHER, O whither didst Thou fly?
When did I grieve Thine holy eye?
When Thou didst mourn to see me lost,
And all Thy care and counsels crossed.
O do not grieve, where'er Thou art!
Thy grief is an undoing smart,

Which doth not only pain, but break

My heart, and makes me blush to speak.
Thy anger I could kiss, and will;

But O Thy grief, Thy grief, doth kill!

Henry Vaughan [1622-1695]

COMFORT

SPEAK low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet
From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low,
Lest I should fear and fall, and miss Thee so,
Who art not missed by any that entreat.
Speak to me as to Mary at Thy feet!
And if no precious gums my hands bestow,
Let my tears drop like amber, while I go
In reach of Thy divinest voice complete
In humanest affection-thus, in sooth,
To lose the sense of losing. As a child,
Whose song-bird seeks the wood for evermore,
Is sung to in its stead by mother's mouth,
Till, sinking on her breast, love-reconciled,
He sleeps the faster that he wept before.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning [1806-1861]