Against Despondency.

Trust in that veiled hand, which leads
None by the path that he would go;

And always be for change prepared,
For the world's law is ebb and flow.

Stand fast in suffering, until He
Who called it, shall dismiss also;

And from the Lord all good expect,
Who many mercies strews below,

Who in life's narrow garden-strip
Has bid delights unnumbered blow.

163

AGAINST FOREBODING.

O THOU of dark forebodings drear,
O thou of such a faithless heart,
Hast thou forgotten what thou art,
That thou hast ventured so to fear?

No weed on Ocean's bosom cast,
Borne by its never-resting foam
This way and that, without an home,
Till flung on some bleak shore at last, -

But thou the Lotus, which, above, Swayed here and there by wind and tide, Yet still below doth fixed abide,

Fast rooted in eternal Love.

VAIN HOPES AND FEARS.

ONE time I was allowed to steer

Through realms of azure light;
Henceforth, I said, I need not fear
A lower, meaner flight;
But here shall evermore abide,
In light and splendor glorified.

My heart one time the rivers fed,
Large dews upon it lay;
A freshness it has won, I said,

Which shall not pass away,
But what it is, it shall remain,
Its freshness to the end retain.

But when I lay upon the shore,

Like some poor wounded thing, I deemed I should not ever more Refit my shattered wing, —

Nailed to the ground and fastened there : This was the thought of my despair.

166

Vain Hopes and Fears.

And when my very heart seemed dried,

And parched as summer dust, Such still I deemed it must abide; No hope had I, no trust

That any power again could bless With fountains that waste wilderness.

But if both hope and fear were vain,
And came alike to nought,
Two lessons we from this may gain,
If aught can teach us aught,

One lesson rather,

Between our fearfulness and pride.

THEY SERVE WHO STAND AND WAIT.

WHEN I consider how my light is spent,

Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent, which is death to hide, Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide, -
Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?
I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies,

need

- God doth not

Either man's work, or his own gifts: who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best: his

state

Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest: They also serve who only stand and wait.