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LXXI.

LIFE.

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UR birth is but a fleep and a forgetting:
The foul that rifes with us, our

life's ftar,

Hath had elsewhere its fetting,

And cometh from afar

Not in entire forgetfulness,

And not in utter nakedness,

But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home-
Heaven lies around us in our infancy;
Shades of the prifon-house begin to clofe
Upon the growing boy-

Yet he beholds the light, and whence it flows;
He fees it in his joy.

WORDSWORTH.

LXXII.

DEATH.

O me the thought of death is terrible,
Having fuch a hold on life. To thee

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it is not

So much even as the lifting of a latch;
Only a step into the open air

Out of a tent already luminous

With light that shines through its transparent walls.

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Where vanities are vain no more;

Where all pursuits their goal obtain,

And life is all retouched again.

LXXIV.

THE THREE GRACES.

H! give me Faith!

The fweet affurance that a Saviour died

That, for my fins, His flefh was cru

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Lafting till death!

Hope give me, too!

The glorious hope that Thou, O God! art mine; This beacon light in me for ever shine,

Joyful and true.

And give me Love!

Love for my neighbour and Jehovah's name ;
Unfailing, boundless love my heart inflame,
Sprung from above.

Oh, give me Thee!

When Faith and Hope are loft in perfect fight; And holy Love fhall fhed her heavenly light

Eternally.

R.

LXXV.

FAITH.

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HE child-like Faith that afks not fight,
Waits not for wonder or for fign,
Believes, because it loves, aright,
Shall fee things greater, things di-
vine.

KEBLE.

LXXVI.

FAITH AND WORKS.

The Papyfte.

F thou wilt take the Byble boke,
And upon Saint James 'pytle loke,
Ther you fhall, I trowe, fe

How fayth is ther trewly applyed,
And good workes with hym tyed;
Se how they do agre.

The Chriftiane.

Paul only of fayth,

Of workes Saynt James fayth,
God doth us iuftifye;

Before God fayth thanne,

And workes before manne,

Concludeth this controversye.*

LXXVII.

HOPE.

EFLECTED on the lake, I love

R

To see the stars of evening glow;
So tranquil in the heavens above,
So reftlefs in the wave below.

Thus heavenly hope is all ferene,
But earthly hope, how bright foe'er,
Still fluctuates o'er this changing scene,
As falfe and fleeting as 'tis fair.

BISHOP HEBER.

* From "An Answere to a papysty call exhortacyon, pretendynge to auoyde falfe doctrine, under that colour to maintayne the fame." No. 554, in the Lambeth Library. Lift of fome of the early printed books by Dr. S. R. Maitland.

250 Converted Heathen.—Indian's Prayer.

LXXVIII.

THE CONVERTED HEATHEN.

HAT are they now? Morality may fpare

Her grave concern, her kind fufpicion there;

The wretch, who once fang, wildly

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danced, and laughed,

And fucked in dizzy madness with his draught,
Has wept a filent flood, reversed his ways,
Is fober, meek, benevolent, and prays,
Feeds fparingly, communicates his store,
Abhors the craft he boafted of before,
And he that ftole has learnt to fteal no more.
Well spake the prophet, Let the desert fing,

Where sprang the thorn, the fpiry fir fhall fpring,
And where unfightly and rank thistles grew,

Shall

grow the myrtle and luxuriant yew.

Cowper.

LXXIX.

THE INDIAN'S PRAYER.

IN de dark woods, no Indian nigh,
Den me look Heb'n and fend up cry,
Upon my knee fo low;

Dat God on high, in fhiny place,

See me in night wid teary face,

My priest he tell me fo.

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