Teach my best reason, reason: my best will Teach rectitude; and fix my firm resolve Wisdom to wed and pay her long arrear. Nor let the phial of Thy vengeance, pour'd On this devoted head, be pour'd in vain.

EDWARD YOUNG.

JANUARY 10.

THE DYING PAGAN TO HIS SOUL.

My pretty soul, my fleeting soul,

Who guest and comrade wert to me,
To what dim, undiscover'd goal,
Pale little spectre, now wilt flee,
On timid wings of frigid fear,
Forgetting all thy wonted cheer?

EMPEROR HADRIAN.

(Trs. Editors.)

THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL.

VITAL Spark of heavenly flame!
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame!
Trembling: hoping, lingering, flying,
Oh, the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life!

Hark! they whisper; angels say,
Sister spirit, come away!

What is this absorbs me quite,
Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirit, draws my breath?
Tell me, my soul, can this be death?

The world recedes; it disappears!
Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears
With sounds seraphic ring:

Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O Grave! where is thy victory?
O Death! where is thy sting?

ALEXANDER POPE.

JANUARY 11.

THE HEBREW TO HIS SOUL.

O THOU, who springest gloriously
From thy Creator's fountain blest,
Arise, depart, for this is not thy rest!
The way is long, thou must prepared be,
Thy Maker bids thee seek thy goal-
Return then to thy rest, my soul,
For bountifully has God dealt with thee.

Behold! I am a stranger here,

My days like fleeting shadows seem.

When wilt thou, if not now, thy life redeem? And when thou seek'st thy Maker have no fear, For if thou have but purified

Thy heart from stain of sin and pride,
Thy righteous deeds to Him shall draw thee near.

O thou in strength who treadest, learn
To know thyself, cast dreams away!

The goal is distant far, and short the day.
What canst thou plead th' Almighty's grace to earn ?
Would thou the glory of the Lord

Behold, O soul? with prompt accord

Then to thy Father's house, return, return!

JEHUDAH HALEVI.

(Trs. Mrs Henry Lucas.)

JANUARY 12.

VENI CREATOR SPIRITUS.

CREATOR SPIRIT, by whose aid
The world's foundations first were laid,
Come visit every pious mind;

Come pour Thy joys on human kind,
From sin and sorrow set us free
And make Thy temples worthy Thee.
O source of uncreated light,
Thy Father's promis'd Paraclete!
Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire,
Our hearts with heavenly love inspire,
Come, and Thy sacred unction bring
To sanctify us while we sing.

Plenteous of grace, descend from high
Rich in Thy sevenfold energy!

Thou strength of His Almighty hand

Whose power does heaven and earth command,
Proceeding Spirit, our defence,

Who dost the gift of tongues dispense,
And crown'st Thy gifts with eloquence!
Refine and purge our earthly parts;
But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts!
Our frailties help, our vice control,
Submit the senses to the soul:

And when rebellious they are grown,
Then lay Thy hand and hold them down.
Chase from our minds the infernal foe,
And peace, the fruit of love, bestow.
And lest our feet should step astray,
Protect and guide us in the way.
Make us eternal truths receive,
And practise all that we believe.

Give us Thyself, that we may see
The Father and the Son by Thee.
Immortal honour, endless fame,
Attend the Almighty Father's name,
The Saviour Son be glorified

Who for lost man's redemption died;
And equal adoration be,

Eternal Paraclete, to Thee.

JOHN DRYDEN.

JANUARY 13.

IN MEMORIAM.

THE One remains, the many change and pass; Heaven's light forever shines, Earth's shadows fly; Life, like a dome of many coloured glass, Stains the white radiance of Eternity, Until Death tramples it to fragments. Die, If thou wouldst be with that which thou dost seek! Follow where all is fled! Rome's azure sky, Flowers, ruins, statues, music, words are weak The glory they transfuse with fitting truth to speak.

Why linger, why turn back, why shrink, my Heart?
Thy hopes are gone before: from all things here
They have departed: thou shouldst now depart !
A light is past from the revolving year,

And man and woman; and what still is dear
Attracts to crush, repels to make thee wither.
The soft sky smiles, the low wind whispers near;
'Tis Adonais calls! oh, hasten thither,

No more let Life divide what Death can join together.

That light whose smile kindles the Universe, That Beauty in which all things work and move, That Benediction which the eclipsing Curse Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love Which through the web of being blindly wove By man and beast and earth and air and sea, Burns bright or dim, as each are mirrors of The fire for which all thirst; now beams on me, Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality.

The breath whose might I have invoked in song
Descends on me; my spirit's bark is driven
Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng
Whose sails were never to the tempest given;
The massy earth and spherèd skies are riven !
I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar;

Whilst burning through the inmost veil of Heaven,
The soul of Adonais, like a star,

Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.

P. B. SHELLey.

JANUARY 14.

DE PROFUNDIS.

O THOU Great Being! what Thou art

Surpasses me to know:

Yet sure I am that known to Thee
Are all Thy works below.

Thy creature here before Thee stands
All wretched and distrest;

Yet sure those ills that wring my soul
Obey Thy high behest.