And if my heart and flesh are weak The bruised reed He will not break WHITTIER. WHAT a his way with me. HAT a strange Being holds me in his might, Oh! what if fear should, after all, be right? I went my daily ways thus questioning, But lo! a marvel even greater yet, The timid creature, wildly beating first, Sank, on a sudden, close as it could get, And still,—as though its very heart had burst; While on my own such steadfast eyes were set As dared me, in their trust, to do my worst. Between the bars was thrust its ventured breast, A new and grateful joy ran through my heart, "I thank thee, Father, I have learned Thee so ! As I, to this frail thing, to me Thou art, And through my own, the heart of God I know! CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES. "Make the house where gods may dwell Beautiful, entire and clean." "Whatsoever road I take, joins the highway That leads to Thee!" "Rest is not quitting this busy career, Rest is the fitting of self to one's sphere." SONGS IN THE HOUSE OF MY PIL, GRIMAGE. "There's a song in the air, there's a star in the sky." O PEN the western gate, And let the daylight go, In pomp of royal state In rose and amber glow. It is so late, so late, The birds sing sweet and low, Open the western gate, And let the daylight go. Lay down thy daily toil, Glad of thy labor done, Glad of thy wages won; Pray at the western gate And let the daylight go. |