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How soon that tall and deep-voiced man
Will gravely call us "Mother";

Or we be stretching empty hands
From this world to the other,

More gently we should chide the noise,
And when night quells the racket,
Stitch in but loving thoughts and prayers
While mending pants and jacket!

THE aged Christian stands upon the shore
Of time, a storehouse of experience,

Filled with the treasures of rich heavenly lore.
I love to sit and hear him draw from thence
Sweet recollections of his journey past,

A journey crowned with blessings to the last.

WORDSWORTH.

THE OLDEST STORY.

213

THE OLDEST STORY.

UNDER the coverlet's snowy fold

The tiniest stir that ever was seen, And the tiniest sound, as if fairy folk Were cuddling under a leaf, I ween.

That is the Baby; he came to town
Only a day or two ago;

But he looks as wise as if he knew

All that a baby can ever know.

There he lies in a little heap,

As soft as velvet, as warm as toast;

As rosy-red as the harvest-moon

Which I saw so big on the hazy coast.

Hear him gurgle and sputter, and sigh,
As if his dear little heart would break,
And scold away as if all the world

Were only meant for his littleness' sake.

Blink, little eyes, at the strange new light;
Hark, little ears, at the strange new sound;

214

THE OLDEST STORY.

Wonderful things shall you see and hear,

As the days and the months and the years go

Hardly you seem a Life at all;

Only a Something with hands and feet; Only a Feeling that things are warm; Only a Longing for something to eat.

Have you a thought in your downy head?
Can you say to yourself so much as “I”?
Have you found out yet that you are yourself?
Has God what you will be by-and-by?

It's only a little that we can guess,

But it's quite as much as we care to know; The rest will come with the fleeting years, Little by little, and better so.

round.

Enough for the day is the good thereof;
The speck of a thing that is lying there,
And the presence that fills the silent house
With the tender hush of a voiceless prayer.
J. W. CHADWICK.

THE UNITY OF THE SPIRIT.

215

THE UNITY OF THE SPIRIT.

I HAVE one creed, and that is ever duty;
I have one law, and that is always love;
I seek one grace, and that, the fadeless beauty
Of holiness, and trust that looks above.

I have one faith, and that I hold with meekness,
In simple truth, whose might, O Lord, is thine;
I have one hope, that what I do in weakness

May be confirmed with God's own strength divine.

I find one joy, and that in serving others;

I know one peace, and that a conscience pure; I love one fellowship, and that with brothers Whose life doth mine to nobler tasks allure.

I worship one, Him, only God, adoring,

To whom heaven's hosts their endless homage pay;

I follow one, His guidance safe imploring,
Who said to all who seek, "I am the way."

Thus worshipping, believing, loving, hoping,

Though oft in devious paths alone I've trod,
I find that still, with all true souls, I'm groping
Towards one bright centre in the love of God.

C. A. HUMPHREYS.

216

TEACH US TO WAIT!

TEACH US TO WAIT!

WHY are we so impatient of delay,
Longing forever for the time to be?
For thus we live to-morrow in to-day,
Yea, sad to-morrows we may never see..

We are too hasty; are not reconciled

To let kind nature do her work alone; We plant our seed, and like a foolish child' We dig it up to see if it has grown.

The good that is to be we covet now,

We cannot wait for the appointed hour; Before the fruit is ripe we shake the bough,

And seize the bud that folds away the flower.

When midnight darkness reigns we do not see
That the sad night is mother of the morn;

We cannot think our own sharp agony

May be the birth-pang of a joy unborn.

Into the dust we see our idols cast,

And cry, that death has triumphed, life is void! We do not trust the promise, that the last

Of all our enemies shall be destroyed!

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