O the sweetness that dwells in a harp of many strings, While each, all vocal with love, in tuneful harmony rings!

But O, the wail and the discord, when one and another is rent

Tensionless, broken, or lost, from the cherished instrument.

For rapture of love is linked with the pain or fear of loss,

And the hand that takes the crown must ache with

many a cross;

Yet he who hath never a conflict hath never a victor's

palm,

And only the toilers know the sweetness of rest and calm.

Only between the storms can the Alpine traveller know

Transcendent glory of clearness, marvels of gleam and glow;

Had he the brightness unbroken of cloudless summer

days,

This had been dimmed by the dust and the veil of a brooding haze.

Who would dare the choice, neither or both to know, The finest quiver of joy or the agony-thrill of woe? Never the exquisite pain, then never the exquisite bliss,

For the heart that is dull to that can never be strung to this.

COMPENSATIONS.

215

Great is the peril or toil if the glory or gain be great; Never an earthly gift without responsible weight; Never a treasure without a following shade of care; Never a power without the lurk of a subtle snare.

For the swift is not the safe, and the sweet is not the strong;

The smooth is not the short, and the keen is not the

long;

The much is not the most, and the wide is not the

deep,

And the flow is never a spring, when the ebb is only

neap.

Then hush! oh, hush! for the Father knows what thou knowest not,

The need and the thorn and the shadow linked with the fairest lot;

Knows the wisest exemption from many an unseen

snare ;

Knows what will keep the nearest, knows what thou couldst not bear.

Hush! oh, hush! for the Father portioneth as He will,

To all His beloved children, and shall they not be

still?

Is not His will the wisest, is not His choice the best? And in perfect acquiescence is there not perfect

rest?

Hush! oh, hush! for the Father, whose ways are true

and just,

Knoweth and careth and loveth, and waits for Thy perfect trust;

The cup He is slowly filling shall soon be full to the brim,

And infinite compensation for ever be found in Him.

Hush! oh, hush! for the Father hath fulness of joy

in store

Treasures of power and wisdom, and pleasures for ever more,

Blessings and honor and glory, endless, infinite bliss; Child of His love, and His choice, oh, canst thou not wait for this?