PLATO AND CHRIST.

METHINKS, O Sage, a nobler lore than thine More steadfast comfort gives and holier peace; And I am fed by wisdom more divine

Than e'er inspired melodious tongues of Greece.

On other shores, beneath more eastern skies, Thy faith was once proclaimed from age to age,

Not sealed, a treasure for the proudly wise,
But spread, a people's common heritage.

In saint and prophet burnt with keener flame Than e'er illumed thy gracious soul's delight; In children's words, in songs of ancient fame Was known, ennobled many a festal rite.

And all that Athens breathed of high and true, With soaring thought and finely moulded speech,

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Plato and Christ.

In our dear Lord to act and being grew,

Whose life was more than words could ever

teach.

A heart that beat for every human woe,

A choice in holiest purpose pure and strong, A truth, sole morning-light of all below, A love triumphant over deadliest wrong.

In Him, thy God, O Plato, dwelt on earth,
An open presence, clear of earthly ill;
The life which drew from him its heavenly birth
In all who seek renews his perfect will.

So have we sufferings, so a trust like his,
So large repentance, born with many a throe,
So zeal untired to better all that is,

And

peace of spirit even here below.

Then be it mine the cross with him to bear,
And leave the flowery shades of Academe;
With him go mourning through the infected air
Of grief and sin, and drink his bitter stream.

So clearness, meekness, and unfaltering might, Ungained, though bravely sought, O Sage, by thee,

Shall be my starry chaplet in the night,

And in the coming dawn my crown shall be.

ON A LIFE MISSPENT IN VANITY AND

PASSION.

I' vo piangendo i miei passati tempi,
I quai posi in amar cosa mortale,
Senza levarmi a volo, avend io l' ale
Per dar forse di me non bassi esempi.

Tu, che vedi i miei mali indegni ed empi,
Rè del cielo, invisibile, immortale,
Soccorri all' alma disviata e frale,
E 'l suo difetto di tua grazia adempi!

Sì che, s' io vissi in guerra ed in tempesta, Mora in pace ed in porto; e se la stanza Fu vana, almen sia la partita onesta.

A quel poco di viver che m' avanza, Ed al morir, degni esser tua man presta: Tu sai ben che 'n altrui non ho speranza!

SIN.

LORD, with what care hast thou begirt us round!
Parents first season us; then schoolmasters
Deliver us to laws; they send us bound
To rules of reason, holy messengers;

Pulpits and Sundays, sorrow dogging sin,
Afflictions sorted, anguish of all sizes,
Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in,
Bibles laid open, millions of surprises;

Blessings beforehand, ties of gratefulness,
The sound of glory ringing in our ears;
Without, our shame; within, our consciences;
Angels and grace, eternal hopes and fears,-

Yet all these fences, and their whole array, One cunning bosom-sin blows quite away!

FOR FORGIVENESS.

WILT thou forgive that sin where I begun, Which was my sin, though it were done be

fore?

Wilt thou forgive that sin through which I run, And do run still, though still I do deplore? When thou hast done, thou hast not done, For I have more.

Wilt thou forgive that sin which I have won
Others to sin, and made my sin their door?
Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun
A year or two, but wallowed in a score?

When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
For I have more.

I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun
My last thread, I shall perish on the shore:
But swear by thyself, that at my death thy Sun
Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore,
And having done that, thou hast done,—
I fear no more.