The smallest cloudlet wrecked in distant storms, That wanders homeless through the summer skies, Is reckoned in His purposes, and forms Where the perpetual mountains patient wait, Where the long-gathering waves of ocean break With ceaseless music o'er untrodden strands, From isles that day by day in silence wake, From earth's remotest lands. The anthem of His praise shall uttered be; LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT. J. H. NEWMAN. Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on; The night is dark, and I am far from home, Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou I loved to choose and see my path; but now I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still Will lead me on O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till The night is gone, And with the morn those angel faces smile Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile Meanwhile, along the narrow, rugged path Thyself hast trod, Lead, Savior, lead me home in childlike faith, To rest forever after earthly strife, 35 THE TWO AGES. H. S. LEIGH. Folks were happy as days were long, When life seemed only a dance and song Time went by in a sheepish way To live as one lived of old: So they couple the crook of the Golden Age With a hook in the Age of Gold. From Corydon's reed the mountains round And Tityrus made the woods resound GEMS OF PCETRY. And the Pandean pipe of the Golden Age Dwellers in huts and in marble hall But now simplicity's not the rage, Electric telegraphs, printing, gas, 37 WEARY, LONELY, RESTLESS, HOMELESS. FATHER RYAN. Weary hearts! weary hearts! by cares of life oppressed, rest; There is darkness in the heavens, and the earth is bleak below, And the joys we taste to-day may to-morrow turn to woe. Weary hearts! God is rest. Lonely hearts! lonely hearts! 'tis but a land of grief; Ye are pining for repose, ye are longing for relief; What the world hath never given, kneel and ask of God above, And your grief shall turn to gladness if you lean upon His love. Lonely hearts! God is love. Restless hearts! restless hearts! ye are toiling night and day, And the flowers of life, all withered, leave but thorns along your way; Ye are waiting, ye are waiting till your toilings here shall cease, And your ever-restless throbbing is a sad, sad prayer for peace. Restless hearts! God is peace. |