But, by Thy grace, I'll cast them all aside, And never let that cell deserted be, Where I may dwell alone, my God, with Thee! The war may rage!-keep thou the citadel, And when I learn the fullness of Thy love, When every heart oppressed with hidden grief When every weary soul shall find its rest Then all my heart from sin and sorrow free, G IT IS MORE BLESSED. IVE! as the morning that flows out of heaven, Give! as the waves when their channel is riven; Give! as the free air and sunshine are given; Lavishly, utterly, joyfully give. Not the waste drops of thy cup overflowing, Give, as He gave Thee, who gave thee to live. Pcur out thy love, like the rush of a river Through the burnt sands that reward not the giver; Scatter thy life as the summer showers pouring! Look to the Life that was lavished for thee! So the wild wind strews its perfumed caresses, What if the hard heart gives thee thorns for thy roses? What if on hard rocks thy tired bosom reposes? Sweetest is music with minor-keyed closes, Fairest the vines that on ruin will cling. Almost the day of thy giving is over; Ere from the grass dies the bee-haunted clover, Give, as the heart gives, whose fetters are breaking, Like the dewdrops on the way, Wherefore should our sorrows stay? Let them pass! If for good you've taken ill, Let them pass Let it pass! Let it pass! O! be kind and gentle still; Time at last makes all things straight; Let us not resent, but wait, And our triumph shall be great; Let it pass! Let it pass! Bid your anger to depart; Let it pass! Lay these homely words to heart, Let it pass! Follow not the giddy throng; Better to be wronged than wrong; Therefore sing this cheery song, Let it pass! Let it pass! ALWAYS LEARNING. WASTE not your precious hours in play, Nought can recall life's morning; The seed now sown will cheer your way- Nor think when all school days are o'er, Life's deepest lessons are in store- When strong in hope, you first launch forth, A name intent on earning, Scorn not the voice of age or worth The great are always learning. When right and wrong within you strive, Oh, then you'll know, how, while you live, THE BEST THAT I CAN. CANNOT do much," said a little star, "To make the dark world bright! My silvery beams cannot struggle far Through the folding gloom of night, But I'm only a part of God's great plan, And I'll cheerfully do the best I can." "What is the use," said a fleecy cloud, Though caught in her cup of gold; A child went merrily forth to play, Through the happy, golden head: She knew no more than the glancing star, How, why, and what for, all strange things were But she thought, "It is part of God's great plan That even I should do all I can." She helped a younger child along When the road was rough to the feet, And she sang from her heart a little song |