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COMPASSION

Oh , not with outstretched hand and pitying glance, And lips that meet the tear-stained cheek with sighs, Not in soft words that fall but to enhance The floods of agony, our healing lies; But with the tender longing to restore Our wand'ring brother to his rightful home, We find the wings to rise from earth and soar Into Love's presence, where no ill can come. Ah, then, we know ! No better love than this, The love of him who saw and touched and healed; For though our Master spurned not Mary's kiss, He, through his works, the truer love revealed.

"THEY DESIRED A BETTER COUNTRY"

Beneath the summer evening's last late gleam, Who has not of a fair land dreamed a dream, And watched at sunset its bright doors of gold, And almost wept to see the darkness fold Them fast in shadows! Yea, or that country may Have lain much nearer to our common day, In mists enrolled, Even across the gray hills in the west, Where the swift birds flew homeward to their rest. They knew its ramparts and its gardens bright, And fled away there from the coming night.

"BE STILL, AND KNOW"

How often, when the storm was fierce, My path was dreary, and the thorns did pierce, I paused, and heeding this divine command, Beheld sweet roses blooming 'mid the sand. How often, when I long for rest, Borne down by toil and care, I wake to find myself most blest, God's happy child and heir; To find that good doth ceaseless flow To those who heed "Be still, and know.

IMMORTAL SONSHIP

"Beloved , now are we the sons of God. " O hope sublime, yea, surety passing sure! 'Tis ours on earth to rise above the sod, To dare the heights immortal, angel-trod, Till on the God-crowned peak we stand secure.

ABUNDANCE

Enough and to spare of the buttercups gold That wander the meadow over; Enough and to spare of the dandelion, The gay little vagabond rover. Enough and to spare in the robin's nest For the soft mother-wing to cover; Enough and to spare in the thrush's note, The shy, sweet woodland lover.

"DESIRE IS PRAYER"*

To persevere unto the very end, To leave no work unfinished, none untried That duty seems my willing hands to send; That my most earnest efforts be applied When wisdom sends me forth to fare alone T' uproot the tangle in life's garden grown— This, my desire. To laugh with those who leap along the way, To sorrow with the languishing who mourn, To sing His praises through the darkest day, Thus cheering the world-weary, the forlorn; And when the night shuts down, steadfast to stand Beside the drooping eye, the heavy hand— This, my desire.

LIFT UP THY HEART

How fair the roses and sweet waters lie In those far-nestling corners of the sky Where falls alway no weary foot or eye! How sad the faces that across my way Look forth from crowded windows on the gray Beginning and the ending of their day! It is not so that Love divine hath willed To leave the balm unfound, the pain unstilled, The empty heart, the longing sense unfilled; Nor is the work of goodness incomplete, For reaching hands and hidden flowers shall meet, And waters pass where pause the tired feet. Lift up thy heart to Him! The shades of night Shall fall like scales before thy 'wakened sight! Lift up thy heart, and it shall brim with light! Are not His treasures thine? Upon thy way Lift up thy empty heart, and Love will say, "Take all ye lacked and longed for yesterday!".

LOVE'S MINISTRY

The morning smiles across the sea, And night's dark frowns like shadows flee Before the golden glance of day; While through an open window floats A song of joy, whose silver notes Drive sorrow's mists away. A waiting hush—the song is done, A day of blessed toil begun; The singer bows in silent prayer; God's minister of love is he, To heal the sick and set men free And preach the gospel everywhere.

THE WATER-LILY

Out of the silence of the misty world, Beneath the rippled bosom of the lake, With every snow-tinged petal dew-empearled, The lilies by the sun are kissed awake. Up from the shadowy depths on slender stem, Each virgin blossom climbs into the light, Deeming it heaven—this, the sphere of men— After the prison of the watery night.

GOD'S MESSENGER

O days most beautiful, wherein I fare In sweet tranquillity, through lowly ways, Nor know, nor care, Whereto the journey tends, since evermore Mine angel goes before. Red-gold the sun, at dusk of morn and eve, Touches with fire Both common window-pane and distant spire.