Love's sweetest mark, laud's highest theme, man's most desired light, To love Him life, to leave Him death, to live in Him delight. true. Though young, yet wise, though small, yet strong; though man, yet God He is; As wise He knows, as strong He can, as God He loves to bliss. His knowledge rules, His strength defends, His love doth cherish all; His birth our joy, His life our light, His death our end of thrall. Alas! He weeps, He sighs, He pants, yet do His angels sing; Out of His tears, His sighs and throbs, doth bud a joyful spring. Almighty Babe, whose tender arms can force all foes to fly, Correct my faults, protect my life, direct me when I die! Robert Southwell [1561?-1595] AN UPPER CHAMBER I CAME into the City and none knew me; But I knew where one so long had waited In the low room at the stairway's height, I came into the City when you hailed me Saviour, and again your chosen Lord:- But through all the joy I knew—I only— Never, though you crown me with your gold, THE SECOND CRUCIFIXION LOUD mockers in the roaring street I hear, and to myself I smile, For Christ talks with me all the while. No angel now to roll the stone Yet while they deem my Lord is dead Ah! never more shall Mary hear Her Lord is gone, and she must go. Yet all the while my Lord I meet Poor Lazarus shall wait in vain, The healing hem shall ne'er again Be touched by suffering humankind. Yet all the while I see them rest, No more unto the stubborn heart With gentle knocking shall He plead, No more the mystic pity start, For Christ twice dead is dead indeed. So in the street I hear men say, Yet Christ is with me all the day. Richard Le Gallienne [1866 THE WINGED WORSHIPPERS GAY, guiltless pair, What seek ye from the fields of Heaven? Ye have no need of prayer, Ye have no sins to be forgiven. Why perch ye here, Where mortals to their Maker bend? Can your pure spirits fear The God ye never could offend? Ye never knew The crimes for which we come to weep. Penance is not for you, Blessed wanderers of the upper deep. To you 'tis given To wake sweet Nature's untaught lays, Beneath the arch of Heaven To chirp away a life of praise. Then spread each wing, Far, far above, o'er lakes and lands, In yon blue dome not reared with hands. Or, if ye stay To note the consecrated hour, Teach me the airy way, And let me try your envied power. Above the crowd, On upward wings could I but fly, 'Twere Heaven indeed Through fields of trackless light to soar, And Nature's own great God adore. Charles Sprague (1791-1875] DE SHEEPFOL' 'DE massa ob de sheepfol', Oh den, says de hirelin' shepa'd: Dey's some black sheep an' ol' wedda's, De res', dey's all brung in." Den de massa ob de sheepfol', Dat guards de sheepfol' bin, Goes down in de gloomerin' meadows, So he le' down de ba's ob de sheepfol', Callin' sof', "Come in. Callin' sof', "Come in. Come in." Come in." Den up t'ro' de gloomerin' meadows, Wha'r de sleet fa' pie'cin' thin, De po' los' sheep ob de sheepfol', Sarah Pratt McLean Greene [1856 THE LOST SHEEP ("THE NINETY AND NINE") THERE were ninety and nine that safely lay But one was out on the hills away, "Lord, thou hast here thy ninety and nine: But the Shepherd made answer: ""Tis of mine And although the road be rough and steep I go to the desert to find my sheep." But none of the ransomed ever knew How deep were the waters crossed, Nor how dark was the night that the Lord passed through Ere he found his sheep that was lost. Out in the desert he heard its cry Sick and helpless, and ready to die. "Lord, whence are those blood-drops all the way, That mark out the mountain-track?" "They were shed for one who had gone astray Ere the Shepherd could bring him back." "Lord, whence are thy hands so rent and torn?" But all through the mountains, thunder-riven, There rose a cry to the gate of heaven, |