All nature is Thy gift: earth, air, and sea; Extends Thy uncontroll'd and boundless reign. Since, then, the race of every living thing Obeys Thy power; since nothing new can spring Be Thou my aid, my tuneful song inspire, Meantime on land and sea let barbarous discord cease, While with Thy heavenly form he feeds his famish'd eyes, Sucks in with open lips Thy balmy breath, By turns restored to life and plunged in pleasing Death. LUCRETIUS. (Trs. John Dryden.) JULY 18. DEATH ANSWERS PRAYER. THE dew is on the summer's greenest grass, A waving shadow on the corn-field keeps ; The sun shines sweetly-sweeter may it shine!— These words have shaken mighty human souls— Are there not aspirations in each heart After a better, brighter world than this? Longings for beings nobler in each part Things more exalted-steeped in deeper bliss? Who gave us these? what are they? Soul, in thee The bud is budding now for immortality. Death comes to take me where I long to be; One pang, and bright blooms the immortal flower; Death comes to lead me from mortality To lands which know not one unhappy hour; I have a hope, a faith-from sorrow here I'm led by Death away-why should I start and fear? If I have loved the forest and the field, Can I not love them deeper, better there? If all that Power hath made to me doth yield Something of good and beauty—something fair— Freed from the grossness of mortality, May I not love them all, and better all enjoy? A change from woe to joy-from earth to heaven, May meet again! Death answers many a prayer. ROBERT NICOLL. JULY 19. GUIDE me, O Thou great Jehovah ! Feed me till I want no more. Open Thou the crystal fountain, Let the fiery, cloudy pillar Lead me all the journey through. Be Thou still my strength and shield. When I tread the verge of Jordan, I will ever give to Thee. W. WILLIAMS. (Originally written in Welsh.) JULY 20. JOHN THE PILGRIM. BENEATH the sand-storm John the Pilgrim prays; Claspt in a silvery river's winding maze : 66 Water, water! blessed be God!" he says, And totters, gasping, toward those happy isles. Then all is fled! over the sandy piles The bald-eyed vultures come and stand at gaze. "God heard me not," says he, "blessed be God," And dies. But as he nears the pearly strand, Heav'n's outer coast, where waiting angels stand, He looks below: "Farewell, thou hooded clod, Brown corpse the vultures tear on bloody sand, God heard my prayer for life-blessèd be God!" THEODORE WATTS-DUNTON. JULY 21. [Robert Burns died, 1796.] THROUGH busiest street and loneliest glen He rules 'mid winter snows, and when Deep in the general heart of men What need of fields in some far clime Shall dwell together till old Time Sweet Mercy! to the gates of heaven And memory of Earth's bitter leaven But why to him confine the prayer, With all that live? The best of what we do and are, Just God, forgive! WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. |