dge, for near
The bright wells shine; thou wilt be satisfied.

God doth suffice! O thou, the patient one,
Who puttest faith in him, and none beside,
Bear yet thy load; under the setting sun
The glad tents gleam; thou wilt be satisfied

By God's gold Afternoon! peace ye shall have;
Man is in loss except he live aright,
And help his fellow to be firm and brave,
Faithful and patient; then the restful night.

--Edwin Arnold, from the Arabian.

THE TRULY RICH

They're richer who diminish their desires,
Though their possessions be not amplified,
Than monarchs, who in owning large empires,
Have minds that never will be satisfied.
For he is poor who wants what he would have,
And rich who, having naught, doth nothing crave.

--T. Urchard.

THY ALLOTMENT

Thou cam'st not to thy place by accident,
It is the very place God meant for thee;
And shouldst thou there small scope for action see
Do not for this give room to discontent,
Nor let the time thou owest God be spent
In idle dreaming how thou mightest be,
In what concerns thy spiritual life, more free
From outward hindrance or impediment.
For presently this hindrance thou shalt find
That without which all goodness were a task
So slight that virtue never could grow strong;
And wouldst thou do one duty to His mind--
The Imposer's--over-burdened thou shalt ask,
And own thy need of, grace to help ere long.

--Richard Chenevix Trench.

THE HAPPIEST HEART

Who drives the horses of the sun
Shall lord it but a day;
Better the lowly deed were done,
And kept the humble way.

The rust will find the sword of fame,
The dust will hide the crown;
Aye, none shall nail so high his name
Time will not tear it down.

The happiest heart that ever beat
Was in some quiet breast
That found the common daylight sweet,
And left to Heaven the rest.

--John Vance Cheney.

WELCOME THE SHADOWS

Welcome the shadows; where they blackest are
Burns through the bright supernal hour;
From blindness of wide dark looks out the star,
From all death's night the April flower.

For beauty and for gladness of the days
Bring but the meed of trust;
The April grass looks up from barren ways,
The daisy from the dust.

When of this flur