A Ballad of Trees and the Master

A BALLAD OF TREES AND THE

MASTER

Sidney Lanier

NTO the woods my Master went,
Clean forspent, forspent

I

Into the woods my Master came,

Forspent with love and shame.

But the olives they were not blind to Him:
The little gray leaves were kind to Him

When into the woods He came.

Out of the woods my Master went,

And He was well content.

Out of the woods my Master came,

Content with death and shame.

When Death and Shame would woo Him last,

From under the trees they drew Him last;

'Twas on a tree they slew Him-last,

When out of the woods He came.

THY WILL BE DONE

John Greenleaf Whittier

W

E see not, know not; all our way
Is night, with Thee alone is day:
From out the torrent's troubled drift,
Above the storm our prayers we lift,
Thy will be done!

The flesh may fail, the heart may faint,
But who are we to make complaint,
Or dare to plead, in times like these,
The weakness of our love of ease?

Thy will be done!

We take with solemn thankfulness
Our burden up, nor ask it less,
And count it joy that even we

May suffer, serve, or wait for Thee,
Whose will be done!

Though dim as yet in tint and line,
We trace thy picture's wise design,
And thank Thee that our age supplies
Its dark relief of sacrifice.

Thy will be done!

Thy Will Be Done

And if, in our unworthiness,
Our sacrificial wine we press;

If from thy ordeal's heated bars

Our feet are seamed with crimson scars, Thy will be done!

If, for the age to come, this hour

Of trial hath vicarious power,

And, blest by Thee, our present pain,

Be Liberty's eternal gain,

Thy will be done!

Strike, Thou the Master, we the keys,

The anthem of the destinies!

The minor of Thy loftier strain,

Our hearts shall breathe the old refrain, Thy will be done!

EMIGRAVIT

Helen Hunt Jackson

ITH sails full set, the ship her anchor weighs.

W"

Strange names shine out beneath her figure head.

What glad farewells with eager eyes are said! Fair skies, rich lands, new homes and untried days Some go to seek: the rest but wait instead, Watching the way wherein their comrades led, Until the next stanch ship her flag doth raise. Who knows what myriad colonies there are Of fairest fields, and rich, undreamed-of gains Thick-planted in the distant shining plains Which we call sky because they lie so far? Oh, write of me, not, "Died in bitter pains," But, "Emigrated to another star!"

Good Morning

I

GOOD MORNING

Lydia Avery Coonley Ward

GREET you from the world's great heart,
And bear its message on.

Good morning!-We are ne'er apart,

Though earth and heaven were done.

I bring you all that life can give

Its store of joy and rest;

I give you peace of soul to live

Serene within your breast.

And when I crown all these with love-
God's sunshine for life's way—

"Good morning" are the only words
I ever need to say,