God! has Thy hand requirèd Thus, with cries and coward fears Is the last day of my days!" My senses are benumbed with fear, Yawning sheer beneath my feet. J.-B. ROUSSEAU (Trs. Editors). FEBRUARY 28. LORD, what am I? What is my life? What is my flesh? What is my time? My time, my A worm, dust, vapour, nothing! My soul's uneasie clothing! What are we, Lord, but vanity? Where am I, Lord? What is my trade? Downe in a vale of Death : My sport sin, too; my stay a puffe of breath : Lord, what art Thou? pure life, power, beauty, bliss : Where dwell'st Thou? up above in perfect light: What is Thy time? eternity it is: What state? attendance of each glorious spirit: Thyself, Thy place, Thy dayes, Thy state Pass all the thoughts of powers create. How shall I reach Thee, Lord? Oh, soar above, Ambitious soul ! But which Thou, Lord, art way and end. way should I flie? What wings have I ? Aspiring thoughts of faith, of hope, of love, BISHOP HALL. FEBRUARY 29. A HEBREW PRAYER. O LORD, I call on Thee when sore dismayed, For Thou wilt ever be The portion of my lot,-Thou savest me. In troubled times Thy mercy's plenteous store And when in straitness I my plaint outpour, Then with enlargement Thou dost answer me. Make known Thy love to those that trust and pray, To those who hold Thy name their keep and stay, Waiting for Thy salvation day by day. Yea, who, O Lord, but Thee, Shall make me glad, who else deliver me? Do Thou from heavenly heights my pain behold, That I may answer scorners as of old: In darkest night, God is a light to me. ABRAHAM IBN EZRA. (Trs. Mrs Henry Lucas.) 62 MARCH 1. [St David's Day.] I ADORE the Supreme, Lord of all animation— Him that has bestowed each gift and blesses it ;— From his foaming meadhorns, with the choicest pure liquor. Since bees collect and do not enjoy, We have sparkling distilled mead, which is universally praised. The multitude of creatures which the earth nourishes God made for man with a view to enrich him ; Some are violent, some are mute: He enjoys them; Some are wild, some are tame the Lord makes them ; Part of their produce becomes clothing; For food and beverage till doom will they continue. The man who gave me wine and ale and mead, May God of His good will grant me, in honour, A succession of numberless ages, in the retreat of tranquillity. Elphin, knight of mead, late be thy dissolution! TALIESIN (Trs. from the Welsh by Lady Charlotte Guest). MARCH 2. "FOR THOU ART WITH ME, I WILL NOT FEAR." O MAY my constant feet not fail True to those eternal laws That scale forever the high steep Of heaven's pure ether, whence they sprang : Nor mortal wisdom gave them birth, They will not sleep; For the might of the God within them grows not old. Rooted in pride the tyrant grows : But pride that with its own too-much Is rashly surfeited, Heeding not the prudent mean, Down the inevitable gulf From its high pinnacle is hurled, Where use of feet or foothold there is none. But, O kind gods, the noble strength, That struggles for the state's behoof, Unbend not yet: In the gods have I put my trust-I will not fear. SOPHOCLES. (Trs. R. Whitelaw.) |