Ah me! my penitence a fresh

offence,

Yet art Thou with us, Thou to Whom we run,

tho' Thou art just:

Yea, Lord, be mindful how out

each soul,

Its cry unutterable of ruth and

shame,

Its voicelessness of self-contempt

and blame :

Nor suffer harp and palm and aureole Of multitudes who praise Thee at the goal

To set aside Thy poor and blind and lame;

Nor blazing Seraphs utterly to outflame

The spark that flies up from each earthly coal.

My price Thy priceless Blood; and therefore I

Price of Thy priceless Blood am precious so

That good things love me in their love of Thee:

I comprehend not why Thou lovedst me

With Thy so mighty Love; but this I know,

No man hath greater love than thus to die.

Before 1893.

АH Lord, Lord, if my heart were right with Thine

As Thine with mine, then should
I rest resigned
Awaiting knowledge with a quiet
mind

that day

For Thee, beyond refreshment

of that rest

To which tired saints press on for its delight :

Or if not thus for Thee, yet Thee I pray

To make me long so till Thou make me blest.

Before 1893.

WEIGH all my faults and follies righteously,

Omissions and commissions, sin on sin;

Make deep the scale, O Lord, to weigh them in ;

Yea, set the Accuser vulture-eyed to

see

All loads ingathered which belong

to me:

That so in life the judgement may begin,

And Angels learn how hard it is
to win

One solitary sinful soul to Thee.
I have no merits for a counterpoise :
Oh vanity my work and hastening
day,

What can I answer to the accusing voice?

Lord, drop Thou in the counter

scale alone

One Drop from Thine own Heart,

and overweigh

My guilt, my folly, even my heart

of stone.

Before 1886.

Where all is day and is not any

in my pain,

Thro' all my disappointment love

For Patience shows a twilight face,
Like a half-lighted moon
When daylight dies apace.

But ye who love to-morrow,
Beg or borrow

To-day some bitterness of sorrow :
For Patience shows a lustrous face,
In depth of night her noon;
Then to her sun gives place.
Before 1893:

LIFE that was born to-day
Must make no stay

But tend to end
As blossom-bloom of May.
O Lord, confirm my root,
Train up my shoot,

To live and give
Harvest of wholesome fruit.

Life that was born to die
Sets heart on high,

And counts and mounts
Steep stages of the sky.
Two things, Lord, I desire
And I require ;

Love's name, and flame
To wrap my soul in fire.

Life that was born to love
Sends heart above

Both cloud and shroud,
And broods a peaceful dove.
Two things I ask of Thee;
Deny not me;

Eyesight and light
Thy Blessed Face to see.
Before 1893.

Perfect Love casteth out Fear.

LORD, give me blessed fear,

And much more blessed love,

That fearing I may love Thee here And be Thy harmless dove :

Until Thou cast out fear,

Until Thou perfect love,

Until Thou end mine exile here And fetch Thee home Thy dove. Before 1893.

HOPE is the counterpoise of fear While night enthralls us here.

Fear hath a startled eye that holds

a tear:

Hope hath an upward glance, for dawn draws near

With sunshine and with cheer.
Fear gazing earthwards spies a bier;
And sets herself to rear

A lamentable tomb where leaves drop sere,

Bleaching to congruous skeletons

austere :

Hope chants a funeral hymn most sweet and clear,

And seems true chanticleer Of resurrection and of all things dear

In the oncoming endless year.

Fear ballasts hope, hope buoys up fear,

And both befit us here.

Before 1893.

Subject to like Passions as we are.

WHOSO hath anguish is not dead in sin,

Whoso hath pangs of utterless desire.

Like as in smouldering flax which harbours fire,