That blessings on a thankless head May soon a curse become.

But see, the midday heat is past:
Speed onward: you must mount,
And perhaps a lesson that will last
You've learnt at this lone fount.
Now upon grass your footsteps fall;
Now on the soft sea-sand;
And now beneath the convent wall
On Carmel's height you stand.

But when night's heralds round you steal,

And shadows o'er you close,

In silence take your evening meal,
In silence seek repose.

For health of mind and body pray:
Then read one sacred page;

'Twill drive unhallowed dreams away Or wakeful hours engage.

Thus if you wander, on your track
Rich blessings He will shower,

And joyfully you will look back
On many a Syrian hour.

When eyes are dim with sudden grief,
When cheeks with fever burn,

From such reflections find relief:
Then back to Canaan turn.

ROBERT NEEDHAM CUST.