From God's all bounteous hand descend Rare gifts in rich effusion, And with those gifts no poisons blend, Nor is their end delusion; So do not spurn if He bestow Those forms arrayed in beauty; If thus His gifts with radiance glow, Enjoyment is a duty. Come, deck your brows with leaves and flowers, Ye fair ones, nothing fearing; Adorn your homes and train your bowers Nor deem this sin's appearing; We do not fit ourselves for bliss By scorning all adorning; We may enjoy the good of this And share heaven's brighter morning. A garment plain may have its stain, And saintly brows lack sweetness; But he who would heaven's glory gain Must here acquire a meetness; So eat and drink, rejoice and sing, But don't forget the ending; The bells of earth more sweetly ring If we are heavenward tending. The world we use, but not abuse, If we enjoy its beauty; And they who all its joys refuse Miss privilege and duty. Then prize earth's joys, but prize much more The bloom beyond the river; God's gifts enjoy, but e'er adore The ever blessed Giver. THE HIGHEST GOAL The highest goal is not success, If that be made the aim; But faithfulness, tho' counted less, Is what God promises to bless: These goals are not the same. And if I am to do my best In every line of life, My effort will be surely blest, And I will find in toil sweet rest, Tho' in a world of strife. And when before the throne I stand To answer for the use Of gifts received from God's own hand, He will not then, in wrath, demand From me some strong excuse, To show why I had not attained The goal of grand success, Such as some noted men have gained, For if my work is not sin-stained God will my failures bless. And I will hear Him say, "My son, A throne thou hast attained; Without applause thy race was run, 'Midst failures oft thy work was done, _Life's highest goal is gained_." JOY IN THE MORNING The night of affliction, with its long hours of sadness, Will soon pass away to be remembered no more; And the weeping will end in a morning of gladness; For no sorrow is known on the evergreen shore. In this world we shall have tribulation and sorrow; 'Tis enough for the subject to be as his king; But if we are faithful, joy will come with the morrow, And with the blood-washed a new song shall we sing. "HE SHALL DWELL ON HIGH" (Isaiah 33:16) Tossed about in strange commotion Like the surface of the ocean When the wind, its waters lashing, Sends great billows, roaring, dashing O'er the breakers, which for ages Have withstood the storms it wages, See those clouds, so like this ocean, How they whirl in strange commotion. Dust and vapor now are meeting, Each the other wildly greeting; As one hand another grasping, So are these each other clasping; Now they whirl in form fantastic And great trees with boughs elastic With loud moans are lowly bending, Leaves and fruit to earth descending.