On, eager, hungry, busy-seeking child, Rise up, turn round, run in, run up the stair. Far in a chamber from rude noise exiled, Thy father sits, pondering how thou dost fare. The mighty man will clasp thee to his breast: Will kiss thee, stroke the tangles of thy hair, And lap thee warm in fold on fold of lovely rest. 28. The prince of this world came, and nothing found In thee, O master; but, ah, woe is me! He cannot pass me, on other business bound, But, spying in me things familiar, he Casts over me the shadow of his flight, And straight I moan in darkness--and the fight Begins afresh betwixt the world and thee. 29. In my own heart, O master, in my thought, Betwixt the woolly sheep and hairy goat Not clearly I distinguish; but I think Thou knowest that I fight upon thy side. The how I am ashamed of; for I shrink From many a blow--am borne on the battle-tide, When I should rush to the front, and take thy foe by the throat. 30. The enemy still hath many things in me; Yea, many an evil nest with open hole Gapes out to him, at which he enters free. But, like the impact of a burning coal, His presence mere straight rouses the garrison, And all are up in arms, and down on knee, Fighting and praying till the foe is gone. OCTOBER. 1. REMEMBER, Lord, thou hast not made me good. Or if thou didst, it was so long ago I have forgotten--and never understood, I humbly think. At best it was a crude, A rough-hewn goodness, that did need this woe, This sin, these harms of all kinds fierce and rude, To shape it out, making it live and grow. 2. But thou art making me, I thank thee, sire. What thou hast done and doest thou know'st well, And I will help thee:--gently in thy fire I will lie burning; on thy potter's-wheel I will whirl patient, though my brain should reel; Thy grace shall be enough the grief to quell, And growing strength perfect through weakness dire. 3. I have not knowledge, wisdom, insight, thought, Nor understanding, fit to justify Thee in thy work, O Perfect. Thou hast brought Me up to this--and, lo! what thou hast wrought, I cannot call it good. But I can cry-- "O enemy, the maker hath not done; One day thou shalt behold, and from the sight wilt run." 4. The faith I will, aside is easily bent; But of thy love, my God, one glimpse alone Can make me absolutely confident-- With faith, hope, joy, in love responsive blent. My soul then, in the vision mighty grown, Its father and its fate securely known, Falls on thy bosom with exultant moan. 5.