GOOD FRIDAY.

AMI a stone, and not a sheep,

That I can stand, O Christ, beneath Thy cross, To number drop by drop Thy Blood's slow loss, And yet not weep?

Not so those women loved

Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee;

Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly:

Not so the thief was moved;

Not so the Sun and Moon

Which hid their faces in a starless sky,
A horror of great darkness at broad noon-
I, only I.

Yet give not o'er,

But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock; Greater than Moses, turn and look once more And smite a rock.

SWEET DEATH.

HE sweetest blossoms die.

THE

And so it was that, going day by day Unto the Church to praise and pray, And crossing the green churchyard thoughtfully, I saw how on the graves the flowers Shed their fresh leaves in showers, And how their perfume rose up to the sky Before it passed away.

The youngest blossoms die.

They die and fall and nourish the rich earth From which they lately had their birth; Sweet life, but sweeter death that passeth by And is as though it had not been :

All colours turn to green;

The bright hues vanish, and the odours fly,
The grass hath lasting worth.

And youth and beauty die.

So be it, O my God, Thou God of Truth:
Better than beauty and than youth
Are Saints and Angels, a glad company;
And Thou, O Lord, our Rest and Ease,
Art better far than these.

Why should we shrink from our full harvest? why
Prefer to glean with Ruth?

SYMBOLS.

I

WATCHED a rosebud very long

Brought on by dew and sun and shower, Waiting to see the perfect flower :

Then, when I thought it should be strong, It opened at the matin hour

And fell at evensong.

I watched a nest from day to day,
A green nest full of pleasant shade,
Wherein three speckled eggs were laid :
But when they should have hatched in May.
The two old birds had grown afraid
Or tired, and flew away.

Then in my wrath I broke the bough
That I had tended so with care,
Hoping its scent should fill the air;
I crushed the eggs, not heeding how
Their ancient promise had been fair :
I would have vengeance now.

But the dead branch spoke from the sod,
And the eggs answered me again :
Because we failed dost thou complain?
Is thy wrath just? And what if God,
Who waiteth for thy fruits in vain,
Should also take the rod?

CONSIDER THE LILIES OF THE FIELD."

FLOWERS preach to us if we will hear :

The rose saith in the dewy morn:

I am most fair;

Yet all my loveliness is born
Upon a thorn.

The poppy saith amid the corn
Let but my scarlet head appear
And I am held in scorn;
Yet juice of subtle virtue lies
Within my cup of curious dyes.
The lilies say: Behold how we
Preach without words of purity.
The violets whisper from the shade
Which their own leaves have made :
Men scent our fragrance on the air.
Yet take no heed

Of humble lessons we would read.

But not alone the fairest flowers:
The merest grass

Along the roadside where we pass,
Lichen and moss and sturdy weed,
. Tell of His love who sends the dew,
The rain and sunshine too,

To nourish one small seed.

THE WORLD.

SONNET.

BY day she woos me, soft, exceeding fair:

But all night as the moon so changeth she;
Loathsome and foul with hideous leprosy
And subtle serpents gliding in her hair.
By day she woos me to the outer air,

Ripe fruits, sweet flowers, and full satiety:
But through the night a beast she grins at me,
A very monster void of love and prayer.
By day she stands a lie: by night she stands.

In all the naked horror of the truth

With pushing horns and clawed and clutching hands Is this a friend indeed; that I should sell

My soul to her, give her my life and youth, Till my feet, cloven too, take hold on hell?

I

A TESTIMONY.

SAID of laughter: it is vain.

Of mirth I said: what profits it?
Therefore I found a book, and writ
Therein how ease and also pain,
How health and sickness, every one
Is vanity beneath the sun.