656. DARKNESS. Spiritual

IF in thy heart no golden sunlight lingers
To brighten life within,

And to thy ears earth's sweet and joyous singers
Make only doleful din ;

If, while the world is robed in peerless beauty,
Around thy spirit coil

Serpents of doubt and fear, and sacred duty
Is heavy, joyless toil;

If when thy knees are bow'd in supplication,
Struggling to cast thy care

On Heaven, there comes no strength or consolation

In answer to thy prayer

Seek not to find a reason for thy sadness

In Him who changeth not,

As if His hand withheld the light and gladness
Which thou hast vainly sought.

His loving-kindness is a fount unfailing,
For ever full and free;

If life is dark and prayer is unavailing,
The hindrance is in thee.

Arise and search thy heart-let nothing stay thee;
The fatal cause is there;

This traitor in thy soul may else betray thee
To ruin and despair.

Nor doubt, when thou with heart contrite and lowly
Hast all thy sins confess'd,

Thy night shall pass away, and God the holy
Shall hear and give thee rest.—Dewart.

Not Thou from us, O Lord! but we
Withdraw ourselves from Thee.

When we are dark and dead,
And Thou art cover'd with a cloud,
Hanging before Thee like a shroud,
So that our prayer can find no way,
Oh teach us that we do not say,

'Where is Thy brightness fled?'

But that we search and try

What in ourselves has wrought this blame,
For Thou remainest still the same;
But earth's own vapours earth may fill
With darkness and thick clouds, while still
The sun is in the sky.-Trench.

657. DAVID. Psalms of

SEE Judah's promised king, bereft of all, Driven out an exile from the face of Saul. To distant caves the lonely wanderer flies, To seek that peace a tyrant's frown denies.

Join the fresh winds and seas and plains, Join the bright flowers and rills.

Awake, cold lips, and sing!

Arise, dull knees, and pray;

Lift up, O man, thy heart and eyes;
Brush slothfulness away.

Take thy first meal with God!
He is thy heavenly food;

Feed with and on Him; He with thee
Will feast in brotherhood.

Take thy first walk with God!
Let Him go forth with thee;
By stream or sea or mountain-path,
Seek still His company.

Thy first transaction be

With God Himself above;

So shall thy business prosper well,
And all the day be love. -Bonar.

659. DAY. Dawn of

A WIND came up out of the sea,

And said, 'O mists, make room for me!'

It hail'd the ships, and cried, Sail on,
Ye mariners, the night is gone.'
And hurried landward far away,
Crying, 'Awake! it is the day.'
It said unto the forest, Shout!
Hang all your leafy banners out!'
It touch'd the wood-bird's folded wing,
And said, 'O bird, awake and sing!'
And o'er the farms, 'O chanticleer,
Your clarion blow; the day is near!'

Lost! lost! lost!

I feel all search in vain ;

That gem of countless cost

Can ne'er be mine again :

I offer no reward,—

For till these heart-strings sever

I know that Heaven's intrusted gift Is reft away for ever.

But when the sea and land,

Like burning scroll, have fled, I'll see it in His hand,

Who judgeth quick and dead;
And when of scathe and loss

That man can ne'er repair,
The dread inquiry meets the soul,
What shall it answer there?

The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,

But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary ;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;

Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary.
Longfellow.

663. DAY OF JUDGMENT: a day of joy.

Lo, the Day!-the Day of Life,

Day of unimagined light,

Day when Death itself shall die,
And there shall be no more night!

Steadily that Day approacheth,

When the just shall find their rest,

When the wicked cease from troubling,
And the patient reign most blest.

See the King desired for ages,
By the just expected long,
Long implored, at length He hasteth,
Cometh with salvation strong.

Oh, how past all utterance happy,

Sweet, and joyful it will be
When they who, unseen, have loved Him,
Jesus face to face shall see!

In that Day, how good and pleasant

This poor world to have despised!
And how mournful, and how bitter,

Dear that lost world to have prized!
Blessed, then, earth's patient mourners,
Who for Christ have toil'd and died,
Driven by the world's rough pressure
In those mansions to abide !
There shall be no sighs or weeping,
Not a shade of doubt or fear;
No old age, no want, or sorrow,
Nothing sick or lacking there.

There the peace will be unbroken,

Deep and solemn joy be shed,
Youth in fadeless flower and freshness,

And salvation perfected.

What will be the bliss and rapture

None can dream and none can tell,
There to reign among the angels,
In that heavenly home to dwell.

DAY of wrath! that Day foretold
By the saints and seers of old,
Shall the world in flames infold.

What a trembling, what a fear,
When the dread Judge shall appear,
Strictly searching far and near!

Hark! the trumpet's wondrous tone,
Through the tombs of every zone,
Summons all before the throne.

Death shall shiver, nature quake,
When the creatures shall awake,
Answer to their Judge to make.
Lo, the book of ages spread,
From which all the deeds are read
Of the living and the dead.

Now, before the Judge severe,
Hidden things must all appear;
Nought shall pass unpunish'd here.
Wretched man, what shall I plead,

Who for me will intercede,
When the righteous mercy need?
King of dreadful majesty,
Author of salvation free,
Fount of pity, save Thou me !
Recollect, good Lord, I pray,
I have caused Thy bitter way:
Don't forget me on that Day!
Weary sat'st Thou seeking me,
Died'st, redeeming, on the tree,
Let such toil not fruitless be!
Judge of righteousness severe,
Grant me full remission here,
Ere the reckoning-Day appear.
Sighs and tears my sorrow speak,
Shame and grief are on my cheek:
Mercy, mercy, Lord! I seek.

Thou didst Mary's guilt forgive,
And absolve the dying thief:
Even I may hope relief.

Worthless are my prayers, I know;
Yet, O Christ! Thy mercy show:
Save me from eternal woe!

Make me with Thy sheep to stand, Far from the convicted band, Placing me at Thy right hand.

When the cursed are put to shame,

Cast into devouring flame,

With the blest then call my name !

Suppliant at Thy feet I lie,
Contrite in the dust I cry :

Care Thou for me when I die!

Thomas of Celano, tr. by Schaff.

665. DAYS: not to be despised.

WHY do we heap huge mounds of years before us and behind,

And scorn the little days that pass like angels on the wind?

Each turning round a small, sweet face as beautiful

as near,

Because it is so small a face we will not see it clear; And so it turns from us, and goes away in sad disdain ;

Though we could give our lives for it, it never comes again.

666. DEAD. State of the

Hamlet. To be, or not to be,-that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

And, by opposing, end them ?—To die,—to sleep ;—
No more; and, by a sleep, to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to,-'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, -to sleep ;-
To sleep! perchance to dream :-ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death-
That undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns-puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of?

Shakespeare.

667. DEATH: a blessed transition.

OUT of the shadows of sadness,
Into the sunshine of gladness,

Into the light of the Blest;
Out of a land very dreary,
Out of the world of the weary,
Into the rapture of Rest.

Out of to-day's sin and sorrow,
Into a blissful to-morrow,

Into a day without gloom;
Out of a land fill'd with sighing;
Land of the dead and the dying;
Into a land without tomb.

Out of a life of commotion,
Tempest-swept oft as the ocean,

Dark with the wrecks drifting o'er ;
Into a land calm and quiet,
Never a storm cometh nigh it—

Never a wreck on its shore.

Out of a land in whose bowers
Perish and fade all the flowers-

Out of the land of decay;
Into the Eden where fairest
Of flow'rets, and sweetest and rarest,
Never shall wither away.

Out of the world of the wailing,
Throng'd with the anguish'd and ailing,
Out of the world of the sad;
Into the world that rejoices;
World of bright visions and voices;
Into the world of the glad.

Out of a life ever lornful,

Out of a land very mournful,

Where in bleak exile we roam;

Into a joy-land above us,

Where there's a Father to love us;

Into Our Home, Sweet Home.'-Ryan.

668. DEATH. A Child's

FULL short his journey was; no dust
Of earth unto his sandals clave;
The weary weight that old man must,
He bore not to the grave.

He seem'd a cherub who had lost his way
And wander'd hither, so his stay
With us was short, and 'twas most meet

That he should be no delver in earth's clod,
Nor need to pause and cleanse his feet
To stand before his God :

O blest word-Evermore !-Lowell.

669. DEATH. A Christian's You tell me I am dying;

Is this to die?

In sweet composure lying,
No thought of pain or sighing:
Is Death so nigh?

I feel no fear in dying;

Is this to die?

On Jesus' grace relying,

No doubt my calm heart trying, Serene I lie.

Where is the sting of dying,

If thus I die?

My soul in peace replying, To love all-satisfying,

And Christ so nigh!

Why should I shrink from dying
When thus I die?

My Faith its watchword crying,
My Love with banner flying,
In victory.

From Earth to Heaven is dying?
I joy to die!

The blissful ramparts nighing,
Their light and glories spying,
I mount on high.

My Saviour comes in dying,
In Him I die!

With His soft call complying,
On His warm bosom lying,
To live I die.--Taylor.

670. DEATH: a departure described.

IN the June twilight, in the soft, grey twilight,
The yellow sun-glow trembling through the rainy

eve,

As my love lay quiet, came the solemn fiat,

'All these things for ever, for ever thou must leave.'

My love she sank down quivering, like a pine in tempest shivering,

'I have had so little happiness as yet beneath the

sun;

I have call'd the shadow sunshine, and the merest frosty moonshine

I have, weeping, bless'd the Lord for, as if daylight had begun.

'Till He sent a sudden angel, with a glorious sweet

evangel,

Who turn'd all my tears to pearl-gems, and crown'd me, so little worth ;