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PER PACEM AD LUCEM.
Per Pacem ad Lucem.
Do not ask, O Lord, that life may be
I do not ask that thou wouldst take from me
I do not ask that flowers should always spring
I know too well the poison and the sting
For one thing only, Lord, dear Lord, I plead,
Though strength should falter and though heart should
Through Peace to Light.
I do not ask, O Lord, that thou shouldst shed
Full radiance here;
Give but a ray
I do not ask my cross to understand,
Better in darkness just to feel thy hand,
Joy is like restless day; but peace divine
Lead me O Lord-till perfect day shall shine—
Through Peace to Light.
ADELAIDE A. PROCTER.
"Follow Thou Me."
WHERE shall we follow thee, Saviour beloved? To Kedron, where oft thou hast thoughtfully roved? Each rill of enjoyment that winds through our care, Is Kedron, if thou wilt but walk with us there.
O where shall we follow thee, Jesus our friend?
O where shall we follow thee, Master adored?
O where shall we follow thee, Leader divine?
O where shall we follow thee, tenderest Guide?
O where shall we follow thee, dear Lamb of God?
O where shall we follow thee, conquering Lord?
PRESUMPTION AND DESPAIR.
Presumption and Despair.
NE time I was allowed to steer
My heart one time the rivers fed,
Which shall not pass away; But what it is, it shall remain, Its freshness to the end retain.
But when I lay upon the shore,
Like some poor wounded thing,
Nailed to the ground and fastened there,
And when my very heart seemed dried,
No hope had I, no trust
But if both hope and fear were vain,
RICHARD CHEVENIX TRENCH.
'O! leave me, Priest; my soul would be Alone with the consoler, Death; Far sadder eyes than thine will see
This crumbling clay yield up its breath : These shriveled hands have deeper stains
Than holy oil can cleanse away—
Hands that have plucked the world's coarse gains, As erst they plucked the flowers of May.
Call, if thou canst, to these gray eyes
Some faith from youth's traditions wrung; This fruitless husk which dustward dries,
Has been a heart once, has been young; On this bowed head the awful Past
Once laid its consecrating hands; The Future in its purpose vast
Paused, waiting my supreme commands.
But look! whose shadows block the door?
Writes o'er again its crimson proof!
God bends from out the deep and says"I gave thee the great gift of life Wast thou not called in many ways?
Are not my earth and heaven at strife? I gave thee of my seed to sow,
Bringest thou me my hundred-fold ?" Can I look up with face aglow,
And answer, "Father, here is gold?"
I have been innocent; God knows
When this fast-ebbing breath shall part?
This being to the world's sad heart?
Christ still was wandering o'er the earth
He shared my cup and broke my bread;
That bring the other world to this, My snake-turned nature, sunk in slime, Starts sideways with defiant hiss.
Upon the hour when I was born,
God said, "Another man shall be;"
And Heaven's rich instincts in me grew,
Send violets up and paint them blue.
Yes, I who now, with angry tears,
Have borne unquenched for fourscore years
And to what end? How yield I back