3 Watch! 'tis your Lord's command; And while we speak, He's near: Mark the first signal of His hand, And ready all appear. 4 O happy servant he In such a posture found! He shall his Lord with rapture see, And be with honor crowned. 278. P. M. Whittier. Patience. 1 Shall we grow weary in our watch, And murmur at the long delay, Impatient of our Father's time And his appointed way? 2 O, oft a deeper test of faith Than prison-cell, or martyr's stake, The self-renouncing watchfulness Of silent prayer may make. 3 We gird us bravely to rebuke Our erring brother in the wrong; And in the ear of pride and power Our warning voice is strong. 4 Easier to smite with Peter's sword Than watch one hour in humbling prayer; Life's great things, like the Syrian lord, Our hearts can do and dare: 5 But, O, we shrink from Jordan's side, From waters which alone can save; And murmur for Abana's banks And Pharpar's brighter wave. 6 O Thou, who in the garden's shade Didst wake thy weary ones again, Who slumbered at that fearful hour, Forgetful of thy pain,-- 7 Bend o'er us now, as over them, And set our sleep-bound spirits free, Nor leave us slumbering in the watch Our souls should keep with thee! 279. L. M. Wotton. Independence. 1 How happy is he born or taught Who serveth not another's will; Whose armor is his honest thought, And simple truth his highest skill; 2 Whose passions not his masters are; Whose soul is still prepared for death; Not tied unto the world with care Of public fame or private breath; 3 Who God doth late and early pray More of His grace than goods to lend, And walks with man, from day to day, As with a brother and a friend! 4 This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise, or fear to fall; Lord of himself, though not of lands, And having nothing, yet hath all. 280. S.M. Johns. Purity. 1 O! know ye not that ye The temple are of God? Revere the earth-built shrine, where He Should find a meet abode! 2 Immortal man, keep pure Thyself, that mystic shrine; Let hate of all that's dark endure, And love of all divine. 3 Let saintly thoughts be shown In act by saintly things; Like glories through the temple thrown, From cherub's curtained wings. 4 Let life, a holy stream, Its fountain holy show; Reflecting, with a softened gleam, Heaven's purity below. 281. S. M. Keble. The Pure in Heart.