NEVER RAIL AT THE WORLD.

252

TWO WAYS.

THERE are two ways to live on earth,

Two ways to judge, to act, to view;
For all things here have double birth,—
A right and wrong, a false and true!

Some beings, wheresoe'er they go,
Find naught to please or to exalt,-
Their constant study but to show
Perpetual modes of finding fault.

While others, in the ceaseless round
Of daily wants, and daily care,

Can yet cull flowers from common ground,
And twice enjoy the joy they share!

O, happy they who happy make,

Who, blessing, still themselves are blest!
Who something spare for others' sake,
And strive, in all things, for the best!

CHARLES SWAIN.

NEVER RAIL AT THE WORLD.

NEVER rail at the world — it is just as we make it:
We see not the flower, if we set not the seed;
And as for ill-luck, why, it's just as we take it,

The heart that's in earnest no bars can impede.

254

IN SICKNESS.

You question the justice which governs man's breast, And say that the search for true friendship is vain; But remember, this world, though it be not the best, Is the next to the best we shall ever attain.

IN SICKNESS.

WHEN upon the bed of languor
Weak and feverish we toss;
Should something like impatient anger
Come the weary mind across,
The only remedy that's found
To drive away the sin,

Is gentle words to those around,
And holy thoughts within.

Thus, in prison hours full often,

Saints their rugged beds could smooth;
Thus their stern jailer's heart could soften,
And their own sad bosoms soothe.
How did Joseph, dungeon-bound,
Release and honor win?

By gentle words to those around,
And holy thoughts within.

Then, although a prisoner lying
Chained in weariness and pain,

IBID.

THE CRIPPLE.

My soul through tedious hours is sighing
For sunshine, and for health again;

Yet in my chamber ne'er be found

A dream of selfish sin,

But gentle words to those around,

And holy thoughts within.

255

REV. W. CALVERT.

THE CRIPPLE.

I'm a helpless, crippled child;
Gentle Christians, pity me;
Once in rosy health I smiled,
Blythe and gay as you can be,
And, upon the village green
First in every sport was seen.

Now, alas! I'm weak and low,
Cannot either work or play;
Tottering on my crutches slow,

Drag along my weary way;
Now no longer dance or sing
Gayly in the merry ring.

Many sleepless nights I live,
Turning on my weary bed:
Softest pillows cannot give

Slumber to my aching head;

256

THE CRIPPLE.

Constant anguish makes it fly
From my wakeful, heavy eye.

And when morning beams return,
Still no comfort beams for me;
Still my limbs with fever burn,
Painful shoots my crippled knee,
And another tedious day
Passes slow and sad away.

From my chamber-windows high,
Lifted to my easy-chair,

I the village green can spy -
Once I used to follow there,
March, or beat my new-bought drum:
Happy times! no more to come.

There I see my fellows gay
Sporting on the daisied turf,
And, amidst their cheerful play,
Stopped by many a merry laugh;
But the sight I cannot bear,
Leaning in my easy-chair.

Let not then the scoffing eye
Laugh my twisted leg to see;
Gentle Christian, passing by,
Stop awhile, and pity me,
And for you I'll breathe a prayer,
Leaning on my easy-chair.

THE BOY AND THE FLOWER.

257

THE BOY AND THE FLOWER.

FROM THE DANISH OF HANS ANDERSEN.

An angel is bearing to heaven the spirit of a girl, and carries with him a rose. The newly cleansed soul asks the meaning of it. The angel answers:

"IN the city we are leaving

There lay a dying boy;

The bud I bear to heaven
It was his only joy.

"His days were long and dreary,
In the dismal, dismal street,
And at night 't was very dreary
To count the passing feet.

"For he lay from morn to midnight
Watching the shadows pass,
And never saw the sunlight,

Nor the pleasant country grass.

"But when his flower opened

He knew the fields were green,
And its falling leaves betokened
That all the flowers had been.

"He saw it ere he slumbered,
He watched it as it grew;