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Such talk when Angels watching near
Haply in heart they say, “ These are half-truths. Who deeply scan The mystery of the tears of man,
To nurse them or allay,
“Demands, they know, a mightier skill : He only may the task fulfil,
Who hath the springs in hand Of Ocean, saying to this wave, • Retire :'_to that 'unbridled rave
High on the thirsty sand.'
“ He in His wisdom hath decreed
Should here the proud waves stay,
His waters know their way.
“ His Power the inward storm unchains At will, His Power and Love refrains.
Ask ye, by what high law ?
Go not to sage or seer, but trace
Half passion and half awe.
“ Whom He hath blessed and called His own, He tries them early, look and tone,
Bent brow and throbbing heart ; Tries them with pain, dread seal of Love. Oft when their ready patience strove
With keen o’ermastering smart,
“ And mortals deemed it gentle blood,
Invisibly applied :
And babes for others sighed,
“ A tear, we knew, from Lazarus' grave,
In their baptismal hour :
A world-embalming shower.
“ Thou art stern courage, Heavenly Child, Thou to Thy babes art mourning mild ;
Even as Thy Saints of old From weeping now forbore, now prayed Their
eyes might endless showers be made Over Thy fallen fold.
“ One law is theirs, and Thine : to stay
For grief that only grieves.
He gave them, He receives.”
“ And He said unto them, Why are ye troubled ? and why do thoughts arise in your hearts ? Behold my hands and my feet, that it is I Myself : handle Me, and see ; for a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see Me have."
ALONE, apart from mother dear
And father's gracious eye,
Nor babe nor playmate by!
A place where others are at home,
But all is strange to me!
And the clear shadows flee.
Scarce dare I lay me down and sleep,
Lest in half-waking dream
The forms around me seem.
Help me with reading, help to pray,
That I with spirit free
Upon my bended knee.
But look, your lore be true and wise,
The lamp ye light burn clear, No flash to pass o'er strained eyes,
Leaving all dark and drear.
O kindly and in happy hour
Ye bring the Volume blest : There all is Truth, all Love, all Power : Now sweet will be
Now at thy pleasure roam, wild heart,
In dreams o'er sea and land :
I bid thee at no shadows start :
The Upholder is at hand.
The lurid hues, the deep sea-gleams,
That blend in hour of storm, Till every hurrying night-wind seems
To waft a phantom form,