PART III.

NATURE.

THERE is a book, who runs may read, Which heavenly truth imparts, And all the lore its scholars need,

Pure eyes and Christian hearts.

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THE BEGGAR.

The works of God above, below,
Within us, and around,

Are pages in that book to show
How God himself is found.

The glorious sky, embracing all,
Is like the Maker's love,
Wherewith encompassed, great and small
In peace and order move.

The dew of heaven is like His grace,

It steals in silence down;

But where it lights, the favored place
By richest fruits is known.

Thou, who hast given me eyes to see
And love this sight so fair,

Give me a heart to find out Thee,

And read Thee everywhere.

THE BEGGAR.

A BEGGAR through the world am I, -
From place to place I wander by.
Fill up my pilgrim's scrip for me,
For Christ's sweet sake and charity!

KEBLE.

THE BEGGAR.

A little of thy steadfastness,
Rounded with leafy gracefulness,

Old oak, give me,

That the world's blasts may round me blow,
And I yield gently to and fro,

While my stout-hearted trunk below

And firm-set roots unshaken be.

Some of thy stern, unyielding might,

Enduring still through day and night
Rude tempest-shock and withering blight, -
That I may keep at bay

The changeful April sky of chance
And the strong tide of circumstance,-

Give me, old granite gray.

Some of thy pensiveness serene,

Some of thy never-dying green,

Put in this scrip of mine,

That griefs may fall like snow-flakes light,

And deck me in a robe of white,

Ready to be an angel bright,

O sweetly-mournful pine.

A little of thy merriment,
Of thy sparkling, light content,
Give me, my cheerful brook,
That I may still be full of glee
And gladsomeness, where'er I be,
Though fickle fate hath prisoned me
In some neglected nook.

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