'Twill pierce through every cloud, and bring, long in the past forgot,
On faithful memory's peerless wing, each bright and sunny spot.
ALONE I walked the ocean strand;
A pearly shell was in my hand;
I stopped and wrote upon the sand
My name, the year, the day.
As onward from the spot I passed,
One lingering look behind I cast,-
A wave came rolling, high and fast,
And washed my lines away.
And so, methought, 'twill shortly be
With every mark on earth from me!
A wave of dark oblivion's sea
Will sweep across the place
Where I have trod the sandy shore
Of time, and been, to be no more;
Of me, my name, the name I bore,
To leave no track nor trace.
And yet, with Him who counts the sands,
And holds the waters in His hands,
I know a lasting record stands
Inscribed against my name,
Of all this mortal part has wrought,
Of all this thinking soul has thought,
And from these fleeting moments caught,
For glory or for shame.
IN the courts of the temple, to numbers unknown, 'Mid circling beholders, the Saviour sat down;
With eye all serene on the multitude bent,
He marked where its throng to the treasury went.
The rich, with their gold and their silver, came up,
And cast in their tributes to charity's cup;
With look too complacent in gifts of much worth,
They sought for the praise of their brethren of
earth.
Then passed by a lone one, neglected and poor,
Mean, worn her apparel, as scanty her store;
All timid and trembling, she dropped in her mite,
And blushed at her offering, and hastened from
sight.
But He who sat by, marked that boon, as 'twas given,
And smiled on its donor approval from heaven; Then, what were to her the high looks of the proud,
Or her loneliness there in that cold, heedless crowd.
See, here is the giver whose offering is blest!
More precious by far than the gold of the rest;
For they, from their careless abundance cast in,
Their breasts coldly heaving with pride and with sin.
"But she this small pittance, her all, hath be
With heart full of love, as a tribute of God!
He blesses the effort; He notes it on high:
Her witness and record are both in the sky."
Oh like unto hers, be our dole freely given,
With motive unblemished, in offering to Heaven!
And still from our little, our slowly-earned store,
Let us lay by our mite, for His church and His
poor.
PRIDE, ugly pride, is sometimes seen
By haughty look and lofty mien,
But oftener it is found that pride
Loves deep within the heart to hide;
And while the looks are mild and fair,
It sits and does its mischief there.
Now, if you really wish to find
If pride is lurking in your mind,
Inquire if you can bear a slight,
Or patiently give up your right.
Can you submissively consent
To take reproof or punishment,
And feel no angry temper start
In any corner of your heart!
Can you in business, or in play,
Give up your wishes or your way,
And do a thing against your will
For somebody that's younger still?
Flat contradiction can you bear,
When you are right, and know you are?
Nor flatly contradict again,
But wait, and modestly explain,
And tell your reasons, one by one,
Nor think of triumph when you've done?
Put all these questions to your heart,
And make in act an honest part;
And when they've all been fairly tried,
I think you'll own that you have pride.
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