Leaning on Him, make with reverent meekness His own thy will.

The laws of changeless justice bind oppressor and oppressed; and, close as sin and suffering joined we march to fate abreast.

This is truth the poet sings . . .

If thou of fortune be bereft, and in thy store there be but left two loaves, sell one, and with the dole, buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.

Peace hath higher tests of manhood, than battle ever knew.

He is wisest, who only gives, True to himself, the best he can: Who drifting on the winds of praise, The inward monitor obeys. And with the boldness that confuses fear Takes in the crowded sail, and lets his conscience steer.

Round the boles of the pine-wood the ground-laurel creeps, Unkissed of the sunshine, unbaptized of showers, With buds scarcely swelled, which should burst into flowers!