BELOVED, IT IS MORN !

BELOVED, it is morn!

A redder berry on the thorn, A deeper yellow on the corn, For this good day new-born. Pray, Sweet, for me

That I may be

Faithful to God and thee.

Beloved, it is day!

And lovers work, as children play, With heart and brain untir'd alway.

Dear love, look up and pray,

Pray, Sweet, for me

That I may be

Faithful to God and thee.

Beloved, it is night!

Thy heart and mine are full of light, Thy spirit shineth clear and white,

God keep thee in His sight!

Pray, Sweet, for me

That I may be

Faithful to God and thee,

LOVE'S LEADING.

DID love deceive thee, dearest, when he brought
One so unworthy as this friend of thine

To thy heart's temple, yea, its inmost shrine,

And, through the veil of purple twin'd and wrought,
Bade her come in, fearing and doubting not,
And see the lamp's white flame that burns alway;
And bade her care and trim it night and day?
Oh, dreadful honour that she had not sought.
Oh, torment of the doubt and the surmise,
"How can I keep the sacred flame alight?
My hand lacks skill and cunning, and my eyes
Are dim because they have not wept aright,
And my feet fail as his who walks by night-"
But Love has led me hither, and Love is wise.

WILD GRAPES.

I WAIT to meet the Master: a white fleece
Of cloud is hanging in the evening sky;
A little paly gold lies tenderly

About the sun's calm death-bed.

Happy peace

I know not, and my fellows whisper low,

"What hast thou, O thou waiting one, to shew

The One who cometh?

What hast thou paid?"

For thy life's dear lease

And I—I do not know.

Looks He for grapes? I have brought Him forth wild

grapes;

And who shall crush from these wild grapes of mine,

Meet for that cup of His, the royal wine?

I know not, but from my soul's depth escapes

My child-right cry to Him Who all things shapes,

"The worlds are Thine, my Father, and I am Thine."

"MAN IS NOT GOOD TILL HE CEASES TO STRIVE AFTER GOODNESS."

I.

THERE came one day a leper to my door :
I shrank from him in loathing and in dread,
But yet, remembering how old legends said
That Jesus Christ so often heretofore

Came in such guise to try His saints of yore,

I brought him in, and cloth'd, and warm'd, and fed; Yea, brake my box of precious nard, to pour

Its costly fragrancy upon his feet.

And when the house was fill'd with odour sweet,

I lookt to see the loveliest face,—but o'er

The leper came no change divine to greet

My eager soul, which did such change entreat.

And then I bow'd my head, and wept full sore—

Ah! the times change; such visions come no more!

II.

With tear-dimm'd eyes I went upon my way,

Past from the city to the April wood,

Where the young trees in trembling gladness stood;
And once again my grieved heart grew gay.
Then did I see a little child at play;

All the sweet April fountain of his blood
Tost out in joy, that brake in laughter-spray ;
And all my heart it lov'd him; so I bent

To kiss his sunny mouth. Then through me went
That which I may not tell, nor can, to-day.
When was such healing with such wounding blent?
Such pain supreme with such supreme content?
The fires of God comfort as well as slay,

Else had I surely died, who am but clay.