Where does the wisdom and the power divine
In a more bright and sweet reflection shine?
Where do we finer strokes and colors see
Of the Creator's real poetry,

Than when we with attention look

Upon the third day's volume of the book? But we despise these His inferior ways, Though no less full of miracle and praise: Upon the flowers of heaven we gaze; The stars of earth no wonder in us raise. A. Cowley

LXIV

"W1

NAAMAN'S SERVANT

HO for the like of me will care?" So whispers many a mournful heart, When in the weary languid air,

For grief or scorn we pine apart.

So haply mused yon little maid,
From Israel's breezy mountain borne,
No more to rest in Sabbath shade,
Watching the free and waving corn.

A captive now, and sold, and bought,
In the proud Syrian's hall she waits,
Forgotten such her moody thought-
Even as the worm beneath the gates.

But One who ne'er forgets is here:
He hath a word for thee to speak :

-

O serve Him yet in duteous fear,
And to thy Gentile lord be meek.

So shall the healing Name be known
By thee on many a heathen shore,
And Naaman on his chariot throne
Wait humbly by Elisha's door,

By thee desponding lepers know

The sacred water's sevenfold might, Then wherefore sink in listless woe? Christ's poor and needy claim your right.

Your heavenly right to do and bear
All for His sake; nor yield one sigh
To pining doubt; nor ask "What care
In the wide world for such as I?"

J. Keble

LXV

THE DESTRUCTION OF THE ASSYRIANS

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold, And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Like the leaves of the forest, when summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen,
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.

For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed on the face of the foe as he passed.
And the eyes of the sleeper waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still.

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,

With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpets unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord.

Lord Byron

LXVI

HEAVENLY WISDOM

HAPPY is the man who hears
Instruction's warning voice,
And who celestial wisdom makes
His early, only choice.

For she has treasures, greater far
Than east or west unfold,
And her reward is more secure
Than is the gain of gold.

In her right hand, she holds to view
A length of happy years;
And in her left, the prize of fame,
And honor bright appears.

She guides the young with innocence,
In pleasure's path to tread ;
A crown of glory she bestows
Upon the hoary head.

According as her labors rise,

So her rewards increase;

Her

ways are ways of pleasantness, And all her paths are peace.

Michael Bruce

LXVII

HABAKKUK'S PRAYER

Chap. iii. 17, 18.

VET though the fig-tree should no burden bear, Though vines delude the promise of the year; Yet though the olive should not yield her oil, Nor the parched glebe reward the peasant's toil ; Though the tired ox beneath his labors fall, And herds in millions perish from the stall ! Yet shall my grateful strings

Forever praise Thy name,

Forever Thee proclaim

The everlasting God, the mighty King of kings.

Broome

LXVIII

JOB'S CONFESSION

HOU canst accomplish all things, Lord of might:

And every thought is naked to Thy sight.

But O, Thy ways are wonderful, and lie
Beyond the deepest reach of mortal eye.
Oft have I heard of Thine Almighty power,
But never saw Thee till this dreadful hour.
O'erwhelmed with shame, the Lord of life I see,
Abhor myself, and give my soul to Thee.
Nor shall my weakness tempt Thine anger more ;
Man is not made to question, but adore.

E. Young