FOUR THINGS

FOUR things a man must learn to do
If he would make his record true:
To think without confusion clearly;
To love his fellow-men sincerely;
To act from honest motives purely;
To trust in God and Heaven securely.
Henry Van Dyke (1852-

LABOR AND LOVE

LABOR and love! there are no other laws

To rule the liberal action of that soul Which fate hath set beneath thy brief control, Or lull the empty fear that racks and gnaws; Labor! then like a rising moon, the cause

Of life shall light thine hour from pole to pole, Thou shalt taste health of purpose, and the ro Of simple joys unwind without a pause. Love! and thy heart shall cease to question why

Its beating pulse was set to rock and rave; Find but another heart this side the grave To soothe and cling to,-thou hast life's reply. Labor and love! then fade without a sigh, Submerged beneath the inexorable wave, Edmund Gosse [1849

WHAT IS GOOD

"WHAT is the real good?"
I asked in musing mood.

Order, said the law court;
Knowledge, said the school;
Truth, said the wise man;
Pleasure, said the fool;
Love, said the maiden;
Beauty, said the page;

TER trust all and be deceived,
weep that trust and that deceiving,
h doubt one heart that, if believed,
blessed one's life with true believing.

in this mocking world, too fast
doubting fiend o'ertakes our youth;
ter be cheated to the last

n lose the blessed hope of truth.

Frances Anne Kemble [1809-1893]

A CHARGE

ou hast squandered years to grave a gem mmissioned by thy absent Lord, and while 'Tis incomplete,

s would bribe thy needy skill to them— Dismiss them to the street!

d'st thou at last discover Beauty's grove, last be panting on the fragrant verge, But in the track,

k with divine possession, thou meet LoveTurn, at her bidding, back.

When round thy ship in tempest Hell appears,
And every specter mutters up more dire
To snatch control

And loose to madness thy deep-kenneled Fears-
Then to the helm, O Soul!

Last, if upon the cold, green-mantling sea,
Thou cling, alone with Truth, to the last spar,
Both castaway,

And one must perish-let it not be he

Whom thou art sworn to obey.

Herbert Trench [1865

"MY DAYS AMONG THE DEAD ARE PASSED"

My days among the Dead are passed,

Around me I behold,

Where'er these casual eyes are cast,

The mighty minds of old:

Opportunity

ever-failing friends are they,
whom I converse day by day.

them I take delight in weal,

d seek relief in woe;

while I understand and feel

w much to them I owe,

heeks have often been bedewed

tears of thoughtful gratitude.

houghts are with the Dead; with them

ve in long-past years,

virtues love, their faults condemn,

rtake their hopes and fears;

from their lessons seek and find
uction with an humble mind.

hopes are with the Dead; anon y place with them will be, I with them shall travel on hrough all Futurity; leaving here a name, I trust, t will not perish in the dust.

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Robert Southey [1774-1843]

OPPORTUNITY

R of human destinies am I!

love, and fortune on my footsteps wait.

and fields I walk; I penetrate

and seas remote, and passing by

soon or late

and mart and palace-soo

k unbidden once at every gate!

›ing, wake—if feasting, rise before
away. It is the hour of fate,
ey who follow me reach every state
s desire, and conquer every foe

Save death; but those who doubt or hesitate,
Condemned to failure, penury, and woe,
Seek me in vain and uselessly implore.

I answer not, and I return no more!

John James Ingalls [1833-1900]

OPPORTUNITY

THEY do me wrong who say I come no more
When once I knock and fail to find you in;
For every day I stand outside your door
And bid you wake, and rise to fight and win.

Wail not for precious chances passed away!
Weep not for golden ages on the wane!
Each night I burn the records of the day-
At sunrise every soul is born again!

Dost thou behold thy lost youth all aghast?
Dost reel from righteous Retribution's blow?
Then turn from blotted archives of the past
And find the future's pages white as snow.

Art thou a mourner? Rouse thee from thy spell;
Sins may be forgiven;
Art thou a sinner?
Each morning gives thee wings to flee from hell,
Each night a star to guide thy feet to heaven.

Laugh like a boy at splendors that have sped,

To vanished joys be blind and deaf and dumb;
My judgments seal the dead past with its dead,
But never bind a moment yet to come.

Though deep in mire, wring not your hands and weep;
I lend my arm to all who say “I can!”
No shame-faced outcast ever sank so deep
But yet might rise and be again a man!

Walter Malone [1866