Motives are seeds, From which at times spring deeds Not equal to the soul's outreaching hope. Strive for the stars! Count nought well done but best! Then, with brave patience, leave the rest To Him who knows. He'll judge you justly ere the record close. THE GOLDEN ROSE The Golden Rose is blowing still, Is growing still, is glowing still, In lonely vale, on lordly hill, The Golden Rose is glowing still;-- If only you can find it! The Golden Rose still breaks and blows, Still breaks and blows, still gleams and glows, 'Mid icy blasts, and wintry snows, The Golden Rose still breaks and blows;-- Search w ell and you may find it! The Golden Rose can never die, 'Tis grafted on Eternity; In hearts that Love doth glorify, The Golden Rose can never die,-- May it be yours to find it! GADARA, A.D. 31 Rabbi, begone! Thy powers Bring loss to us and ours. Our ways are not as Thine. Thou lovest men, we--swine. Oh, get you hence, Omnipotence, And take this fool of Thine! His soul? What care we for his soul? What good to us that Thou hast made him whole, Since we have lost our swine? And Christ went sadly. He had wrought for them a sign Of Love, and Hope, and Tenderness divine; They wanted--swine. Christ stands without _your_ door and gently knocks; But if your gold, or swine, the entrance blocks, He forces no man's hold--he will depart, And leave you to the treasures of your heart. No cumbered chamber will the Master share, But one swept bare By cleansing fires, then plenished fresh and fair With meekness, and humility, and prayer. There will He come, yet, coming, even there He stands and waits, and will no entrance win Until the latch be lifted from within. THE BELLS OF STEPAN ILINE (_Cradle Song from "The Long Road_.") Whisht, Baby! Whisht! Quick below the cover! Down into your nest, my bird! And--don't--you--dare--peep--over! For the grey wolves they are prowling, They are prowling, they are prowling. And the snow-wind it is howling, It is howling, it is howling. Hark!--Hark!-- Out there in the dark-- Ow--ooh! Ow--ooh! S-s-s-s-s-seee--oo--ooh! The wolves they are lean, So-o-o lean, so-o-o lean! And the wind it is keen, So-o-o keen, so-o-o keen! And they seek little babies who aren't sleeping! But lie you still, my Baby dear! Lie still, lie still, and maybe you'll hear-- Hark!--Hark!-- Out there in the dark,-- The silver bells and the golden bells, The swinging bells and the singing bells,-- The bells that are heard but never are seen, The wind and the wolves, and the bells in between,-- The bells of Iline, Good Stepan Iline,-- The bells of good Stepan Iline! BOLT THAT DOOR! Each sin has its door of entrance. Keep--that--door--closed! Bolt it tight! Just outside, the wild beast crouches In the night. Pin the bolt with a prayer, God will fix it there. GIANT CIRCUMSTANCE