My Times are in thy Hand. Wherever in the world I am,

In whatsoe'er estate,

I have a fellowship with hearts
To keep and cultivate;

And a work of lowly love to do
For the Lord on whom I wait.

So I ask thee for the daily strength,
To none that ask denied,

And a mind to blend with outward life,

While keeping at thy side;

Content to fill a little space,

If Thou be glorified.

And if some things I do not ask
In my cup of blessing be,

I would have my spirit filled the more
With grateful love to thee;
And careful less to serve thee much,
Than to please thee perfectly.

There are briers besetting every path,
Which call for patient care;

There is a cross in every lot,

And a need for earnest prayer;

But a lowly heart that leans on thee
Is happy anywhere.

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My Times are in thy Hand.

In a service which thy love appoints
There are no bonds for me;

For my secret heart is taught the truth
That makes thy children free;
And a life of self-renouncing love
Is a life of liberty.

ᎢᎻᎬ ᏴᎬᎢᎢᎬᎡ ᏢᎪᎡᎢ,

TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY.

LADY, that in the prime of earliest youth Wisely hast shunn'd the broad way and the

green,

And with those few art eminently seen That labor up the hill of heavenly Truth, The better part, with Mary and with Ruth,

Chosen thou hast; and they that overween, And at thy growing virtues fret their spleen, No anger find in thee, but pity and ruth. Thy care is fixt, and zealously attends,

To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light, And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore

be sure

Thou, when the Bridegroom with his feastful friends

Passes to bliss at the mid hour of night,

Hast gain'd thy entrance, virgin wise and pure.

FAME.

What shall I do lest life in silence pass?

And never prompt the bray of noisy brass,
What need'st thou rue?

Remember, aye the ocean deeps are mute,
The shallows roar:

Worth is the ocean; Fame is but the bruit
Along the shore.

What shall I do to be forever known?

Thy duty ever.

This did full many who yet slept unknown.

Oh, never, never!

Think'st thou, perchance, that they remain unknown

Whom thou know'st not?

By angel-trumps in heaven their praise is

Fame.

What shall I do to gain eternal life?
Discharge aright

The simple dues with which each day is rife?
Yea, with thy might.

Ere perfect scheme of action thou devise,
Will life be shed;

While he who ever acts as conscience cries
Shall live, though dead.

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