When I lie within my bed,

Sick in heart and sick in head,
And with doubts discomforted,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the house doth sigh and weep,
And the world is drown'd in sleep,
Yet mine eyes their watch do keep,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the passing bell doth toll,

And the Furies in a shoal

Come to fright a parting soul,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the tapers now burn blue,
And the comforters are few,

And that number more than true,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the priest his last hath prayed, And I nod to what is said,

'Cause my speech is now decay'd,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When, God knows, I'm tossed about

Either with despair or doubt;
Yet before the glass be out,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the tempter me pursueth
With the sins of all my youth,
And half damns me with untruth,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the flames and hellish cries Fright mine ears and fright mine eyes, And all terrors me surprise,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the Judgment is reveal'd,
And that open'd which was seal'd,
When to Thee I have appeal'd,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

Easter

I

EASTER

George Herbert

GOT me flowers to strew Thy way,

I got me boughs off many a tree;

But Thou wast up by break of day, And brought'st Thy sweets along with Thee.

Yet, though my flowers be lost, they say A heart can never come too late; Teach it to sing Thy praise this day, And then this day my life shall date.

UP HILL

Christina Rossetti

D

OES the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.

Will the day's journey take the whole

long day?

From morn to night, my friend.

But is there for the night a resting place?

A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. May not the darkness hide it from my face? You cannot miss that inn.

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?

Those who have gone before.

Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you standing at that door.

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Of labor you shall find the sum.

Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.

Song from "Pippa Passes"

SONG FROM "PIPPA PASSES"

T

Robert Browning

HE year's at the spring,
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;

The hill-side's dew-pearl'd;

The lark's on the wing;

The snail's on the thorn:
God's in His Heaven-

All's right with the world.