THANKFULNESS

Adelaide Procter

Y GOD, I thank Thee who hast made
The earth so bright;

M

So full of splendor and of joy,
Beauty and light;

So many glorious things are here,
Noble and right!

I thank Thee, too, that Thou hast made

Joy to abound;

So many gentle thoughts and deeds

Circling us round,

That in the darkest spot of Earth

Some love is found.

I thank Thee more that all our joy

Is touched with pain;

That shadows fall on brightest hours;

That thorns remain;

So that Earth's bliss may be our guide,

And not our chain.

For Thou who knowest, Lord, how soon

Our weak heart clings,

Thankfulness

Hast given us joys, tender and true,

Yet all with wings,

So that we see, gleaming on high,
Diviner things!

I thank Thee, Lord, that Thou hast kept

The best in store;

We have enough, yet not too much

To long for more;

A yearning for a deeper peace,

Not known before.

I thank Thee, Lord, that here our souls

Though amply blest,

Can never find, although they seek,

A perfect rest

Nor ever shall, until they lean

On Jesus' breast!

The world is so full of a number of things,

That I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.

-Robert Louis Stevenson.

BY COOL SILOAM'S SHADY RILL

B

Bishop R. Heber

Y COOL Siloam's shady rill
How fair the lily grows!

How sweet the breath, beneath the hill,

Of Sharon's dewy rose!

Lo! such the child whose early feet

The paths of peace have trod,
Whose secret heart, with influence sweet,
Is upward drawn to God.

By cool Siloam's shady rill

The lily must decay;

The rose that blooms beneath the hill

Must shortly fade away.

And soon, too soon, the wintry hour

Of man's maturer age

Will shake the soul with sorrow's power,

And stormy passion's rage.

O Thou, Whose infant feet were found
Within Thy Father's shrine,

By Cool Siloam's Shady Rill

Whose years, with changeless virtue crowned,

Were all alike divine:

Dependent on Thy bounteous breath,

We seek Thy grace alone,

In childhood, manhood, age and death,
To keep us still Thine own.

S

GIVE

Adelaide Procter

EE the rivers flowing

Downward to the sea,

Pouring all their treasures

Bountiful and free:

Yet to help their giving
Hidden springs arise;

Or, if need be, showers

Feed them from the skies.

Watch the princely flowers

Their rich fragrance spread,
Load the air with perfumes,
From their beauty shed:
Yet their lavish spending
Leaves them not in dearth,
With fresh life replenished
By their mother earth!

Give thy heart's best treasures,—
From fair Nature learn:

Give thy love—and ask not,

Wait not a return!

And the more thou spendest

From thy little store,

With a double bounty

God will give thee more.