In fairy pinnace gaily flashing, Through the white foam proudly dashing, Thou the light sail boldly spreadest, Small marinere ; For though the tides with restless motion Far as the ocean stretches to the sky Lame is art, and his endeavour Follows nature's course but slowly,— Little Nautilus, thou showest Deeper wisdom than thou knowest, Lore which man should follow lowly : Small marinere, Are thine within thy pearly dwelling.— Obedience, perfect, simple, glad, and free, HARTLEY COLERIDGE. W The Sandal Tree. HEN on the fragrant sandal tree And she who bloomed so beautously Beneath the keen stroke bends,— E'en on the edge that wrought her death, Peace to her foes and love to all. How hardly man this lesson learns,— This spirit not to earth is given ; One had it, but He came from Heaven! No curse He breathed, no plaint He made, Trusting to the Uttermost. Hab. iii. 17. LTHOUGH the vine its fruit deny, Yet will I trust still in my God,— Yea, bend rejoicing to His rod, Though fields in verdure once arrayed, Or parched by scorching beam; My joy, for though His frown is just, Though from the fold the flock decay, My soul above the wreck shall rise: There God is all in all. In God, my strength, howe'er distrest, Nay, triumph in His love: My ling'ring soul, my tardy feet, Free as the hind he makes, and fleet, To speed my course above. BISHOP ONDERDONK. Teachers of Trust. HE child leans on its parent's breast, His trust in God, and then is blest He has no store, he sows no seed; The heart that trusts for ever sings, Whate'er to-day-to-morrow brings,— It is His will. ISAAC WILLIAMS. "Ever with the Lord." BY A MISSIONARY'S WIDOW. Do not think of thee, beloved, As in thy lonely quiet grave, Although the place is calm and fair, With bloom of flowers and sound of wave. My heart goes after thee above, Rejoicing in God's light and love. I never think of thee, beloved, As lying still in dreamless sleep, While over thee the narrow tomb A constant silent watch does keep. Thou art "for ever with the Lord," And I take comfort in that word. I never think of thee, beloved, With anxious heart or loving pain, Fearing the work will ever tire Or overtask thy heart or brain. All that is passed with earthly life: I never think of thee, beloved, Save as a pure and perfect saint : |