Let our unceasing, earnest prayer
Be, too, for light,-for strength to bear
Our portion of the weight of care,
That crushes into dumb despair

One half the human race.

The Goblet of Life

FEBRUARY TWENTY-THIRD

All through life there are way-side inns, where man may refresh his soul with love;

Even the lowest may quench his thirst at rivulets fed by springs from above.

The Golden Legend

FEBRUARY TWENTY-FOURTH

Lord, what am I, that, with unceasing care,
Thou didst seek after me,-that thou didst wait,
Wet with unhealthy dews, before my gate,
And pass the gloomy nights of winter there?
O strange delusion!—that I did not greet
Thy blest approach, and O, to Heaven how lost,
If my ingratitude's unkindly frost

Has chilled the bleeding wounds upon thy feet.

To-morrow

FEBRUARY TWENTY-FIFTH

How oft my guardian angel gently cried, "Soul, from thy casement look, and thou shalt see How he persists to knock and wait for thee!" And, O! how often to that voice of sorrow, "To-morrow we will open," I replied,

And when the morrow came I answered still, "To-morrow."

To-morrow

FEBRUARY TWENTY-SIXTH

My Redeemer and my Lord,
I beseech thee, I entreat thee,
Guide me in each act and word,
That hereafter I may meet thee,

Watching, waiting, hoping, yearning,

With my lamp well trimmed and burning!

The Golden Legend

FEBRUARY TWENTY-SEVENTH

Interceding

With these bleeding

Wounds upon thy hands and side,
For all who have lived and erred
Thou hast suffered, thou hast died,
Scourged, and mocked, and crucified,
And in the grave hast thou been buried!

The Golden Legend

If my feeble prayer can reach thee,
O my Saviour, I beseech thee,
Even as thou hast died for me,
More sincerely

Let me follow where thou leadest,
Let me, bleeding as thou bleedest,
Die, if dying I may give

Life to one who asks to live,

And more nearly,

Dying thus, resemble thee!

FEBRUARY TWENTY-NINTH

The Golden Legend

Where, twisted round the barren oak,
The summer vine in beauty clung,

And summer winds the stillness broke,
The crystal icicle is hung.

Woods in Winter

O

BLESSED Lord! how much I need
Thy light to guide me on my way!

So many hands, that, without heed,

Still touch thy wounds, and make them bleed!
So many feet, that, day by day,
Still wander from thy fold astray!
Unless thou fill me with thy light,
I cannot lead thy flock aright;
Nor, without thy support, can bear
The burden of so great a care,
But am myself a castaway!

The Golden Legend

MARCH SECOND

The day is drawing to its close;

And what good deeds, since first it rose,

Have I presented, Lord, to thee,

As offerings of my ministry?

What wrong repressed, what right maintained,

What struggle passed, what victory gained,

What good attempted and attained?

The Golden Legend

Feeble, at best, is my endeavor!
I see, but cannot reach, the height
That lies forever in the light,
And yet forever and forever,
When seeming just within my grasp,
I feel my feeble hands unclasp,
And sink discouraged into night!
For thine own purpose, thou hast sent
The strife and the discouragement !

The Golden Legend

MARCH FOURTH

O beauty of holiness,

Of self-forgetfulness, of lowliness!
O power of meekness,

Whose very gentleness and weakness

Are like the yielding, but irresistible air.

Evangeline

MARCH FIFTH

Feeling is deep and still; and the word that floats on the surface

Is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the anchor is hidden.

Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world calls illusions.

Evangeline