So calm are we when passions are no to boast For then we know how vain it was Of fleeting things, too certain to be lost. Clouds of affection from our younger eyes Conceal that emptiness which age descries. The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, THE ROSE. Go, lovely rose! Tell her that wastes her time and me. When I resemble her to thee, Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Lets in new light through chinks Of beauty from the light retired; that time has made. Stronger by weakness, wiser men be- That stand upon the threshold of the new. Bid her come forth- Then die, that she The common fate of all things rare How small a part of time they share ON A GIRDLE. THAT which her slender waist confined Of a messenger from God. And then I come And in my study's quiet find again The callous actor who, because long since He had some feelings in him like the talk The book puts in his mouth, still warms his pit And even, in his lucky moods, him self, With the passion of his part, but lays aside His heroism with his satin suit And thinks "the part is good and well conceived Yes, I preach to others And am I know not what-a cast away? No, but a man who feels his heart asleep, As he might feel his hand or foot. To-night now I might triumph. Not a breath But shivered when I pictured the dead soul Awakening when the body dies, to know Itself has lived too late; and drew in With yearning when I showed how long Might make Earth's self be but an perfect love earlier Heaven. And I may say and not be over-bold, Judging from former fruits, "Some one to-night Has come more near to God, some one has felt What it may mean to love Him, some one learned A new great horror against death and sin, Some one at least it may be many." And yet, I know not why it is, this knack Of sermon-making seems to carry me Athwart the truth at times before I know In little things at least; thank God the greater Have not yet grown, by the familiar use, Such puppets of a phrase as to slip by Without clear recognition. Take tonight And very natural- no flaw to find "I preached a careful sermon, gravely And then forgets it. planned, CHARLES WESLEY. STANZAS FROM "THE TRUE USE | Visit, then, this soul of mine, OF MUSIC." LISTED into the cause of sin, Down to eternal ruin. Who on the part of God will rise, Innocent sound recover— Come, let us try if Jesus' love THE ONLY LIGHT. CHRIST, whose glory fills the skies, Dark and cheerless is the morn Till Thy mercy's beams I see; Pierce the gloom of sin and grief Fill me, Radiancy Divine, Scatter all my unbelief! |