not name,

We fight, we fall!

Noiseless the conflict and unseen

of men;

We rise, are beaten down, and rise

again,

Just as in other days, and set

Their backs to labor, bending low;

But quivering, leaping from the lake The marvellous shining burdens

rise

the same,

And even to dearest eyes draw close the veil;

But in the blessed heavens these wars are past;

Disguise is o'er! With new anointed vision, face to face,

We shall see all, and clasped in close embrace Shall watch the haunting shadow flee at last,

And know as we are known, and fear no more.

MIRACLE.

On! not in strange portentous way Christ's miracles were wrought of old,

The common thing, the common clay He touched and tinctured, and straightway

It grew to glory manifold.

The barley loaves were daily bread Kneaded and mixed with usual

skill;

No care was given, no spell was said, But when the Lord had blessed, they fed

The multitude upon the hill.

The hemp was sown 'neath common

sun,

Watered by common dews and rain, Of which the fisher's nets were spun; Nothing was prophesied or done

To mark it from the other grain.

And all amazed, no man spake

But gazed with wonder in his eyes.

So still, dear Lord, in every place

Thou standest by the toiling folk, With love and pity in Thy face, And givest of Thy help and grace

To those who meekly bear the yoke.

Not by strange sudden change and spell,

Baffling and darkening nature's

face;

Thou takest the things we know so well

And buildest on them Thy miracle —
The heavenly on the common-place.
The lives which seem so poor, so low,
The hearts which are so cramped
and dull,

The baffled hopes, the impulse slow,
Thou takest, touchest all, and lo!
They blossom to the beautiful.
We need not wait for thunder-peal

Resounding from a mount of fire While round our daily paths we feel Thy sweet love and Thy power to heal Working in us Thy full desire.

INFLUENCE.

COUCHED in the rocky lap of hills
The lake's blue waters gleam,
And thence in linked and measured
rills

Down to the valley stream,
To rise again, led higher and higher,
And slake the city's hot desire.

Hark! the onset! will you fold your
Faith-clad arms in lazy lock?
Up, oh, up! for, drowsy soldier,
Worlds are charging to the shock.

Worlds are charging-heaven beholding!

You have but an hour to fight: Now, the blazoned cross unfolding, On-right onward, for the right!

What! still hug your dreamy slumbers?

'Tis no time for idling play, Wreaths, and dance, and poet-numbers,

Flout them, we must work to-day!

Oh! let all the soul within you

For the truth's sake go abroad! Strike! let every nerve and sinew Tell on ages-tell for God!

RICHARD CRASHAW.

LINES ON A PRAYER-BOOK SENT

TO MRS. R.

small;

To prove that true, schools used to

tell,

A thousand angels in one point can dwell.

It is love's great artillery, Which here contracts itself, and comes to lie

Close couched in your white bosom, and from thence,

As from a snowy fortress of defence,

Against the ghostly foe to take your part,

And fortify the hold of your chaste heart;

It is the armory of light:
Let constant use but keep it bright,
You'll find it yields

To holy hands and humble hearts,
More swords and shields
Than sin hath snares or hell hath
darts.

Flowers of never fading graces,

book,

For worthy souls whose wise

embraces

Store up themselves for Him who is alone

The spouse of virgins, and the virgin's

son.

And every day

Seize her sweet prey,

All fresh and fragrant as he rises, Dropping with a balmy shower,

A delicious dew of spices.

Oh! let that happy soul hold fast

JOHN DONNE.

THE FAREWELL.

As virtuous men pass mildly away, And whisper to their souls to go; Whilst some of their sad friends do

say,

HENRY RIPLEY DORR.

DOOR AND WINDOW.

THERE is a room, a stately room, Now filled with light, now wrapped in gloom.

fears,

Men reckon what it did, and meant:

But trepidation of the spheres,
Though greater far is innocent.

Dull, sublunary lovers' love
(Whose soul is sense) cannot admit
Absence, because it doth remove
Those things which alimented it.

But we're by love so much refined,
That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assured of the mind,
Careless eyes, lips, and hands to miss.

Our two souls, therefore (which are one),

Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to airy thinness beat.

If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two;
Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no
show

To move, but doth, if th' other do.

And though it in the centre sit,
Yet when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect as that comes home.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must Like th' other foot, obliquely run; Thy firmness makes my circles just, And makes me end where I begun.

fast, Stretches the vista of the Past;