PROGRESS.

But we weak ones, but we sinners,
Would not in our poorness stay;
We, the low ones, would be winners
Of what holy height we may,
Ever nearer

To thy pure and perfect day.

Shall things withered, fashions olden,
Keep us from life's flowing spring?
Waits for us the promise golden, -
Waits each new diviner thing?
Onward! onward!

Why this faithless tarrying?

By the old aspirants glorious,
By the hearts that hopéd all,
By the strivers, half-victorious,
By each soul heroical,

By thy dearest,

By thy Milton and thy Paul,

By their holy, high achieving,

By their visions more divine,

By each gift of our receiving

From these mighty ones of thine,

By the radiance

That on us from them doth shine,

By each saving word unspoken,

By thy truth, as yet half won,

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By each idol still unbroken,
By thy will, yet poorly done, -
Hear us! hear us!

Our Almighty, help us on!

Nearer to thee would we venture,
Of thy truth more largely take,
Upon life diviner enter,

Into day more glorious break;
To the ages

Fair bequests and costly make.

Ours must be a nobler story

Than was ever writ before:
After-comers! dim our glory;

Be your smiles and winnings more!
Everlasting!
Fuller grace incessant pour!

TRUE REST.

J. S. DWIGHT.

SWEET is the pleasure
Itself cannot spoil!

Is not true leisure

One with true toil?

AROUSE THEE, SOUL!

ROBERT NICOLL.

AROUSE thee, soul!

Be, what thou surely art, An emanation from the Deity,

A flutter of that heart

Which fills all nature, sea, and earth and sky: Arouse thee, soul!

Arouse thee, soul!

And let the body do

Some worthy deed for human happiness,
To join, when life is through,
Unto thy name, that angels both may bless:
Arouse thee, soul!

Arouse thee, soul!

Leave nothings of the earth;
And if the body be not strong to dare,
To blessed thoughts give birth,

High as yon heaven, pure as heaven's air:
Arouse thee, soul!

THE HOURS.

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THE HOURS.

JONES VERY.

THE minutes have their trusts as they go by, To bear His love who wings their viewless flight;

To Him they bear their record as they fly,

And never from their ceaseless round alight. Rich with the life Thou liv'st they come to me: O may I all that life to others show,

That they from strife may rise and rest in Thee,

And all thy peace in Christ by me may know! Then shall the morning call me from my rest,

With joyful hope that I thy child may live; And when the evening comes 't will make me blest,

To know that Thou wilt peaceful slumbers give,

Such as Thou dost to weary laborers send,

Whose sleep from Thee doth with the dews descend.

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