So long as life's hope-sparkle glows, 'tis good; When death delivers from life's woes, 'tis good. Oh praise the Lord who makes all good, and will; Whether he life or death bestows, 'tis good. THE WIND THAT BLOWS, THAT WIND IS BEST Whichever way the wind doth blow, Some heart is glad to have it so; Then blow it east or blow it west, The wind that blows, that wind is best. My little craft sails not alone; A thousand fleet from every zone Are out upon a thousand seas; And what for me were favoring breeze Might dash another with the shock Of doom upon some hidden rock. And so I do not dare to pray For winds to waft me on my way; But leave it to a Higher Will To stay or speed me, trusting still That ill is well, and sure that He Who launched my bark will sail with me Through storm and calm, and will not fail, Whatever breezes may prevail, To land me, every peril past, Within his sheltering heaven at last. Then, whatsoever wind doth blow, My heart is glad to have it so; And, blow it east or blow it west, The wind that blows, that wind is best. --Caroline Atherton Mason. THE DIFFERENCE Some murmur, when their sky is clear And wholly bright to view, If one small speck of dark appear In their great heaven of blue. And some with thankful love are filled If but one streak of light, One ray of God's good mercy, gild The darkness of their night. In palaces are hearts that ask, In discontent and pride, Why life is such a dreary task And all things good denied. Yet hearts in poorest huts admire How love has in their aid (Love that not ever seems to tire) Such rich provision made. --Richard Chenevix Trench. Give what Thou canst; without thee we are poor; And with thee rich, take what thou wilt away. --William Cowper. RICHES AND POWER Cleon has a million acres, Ne'er a one have I; Cleon dwelleth in a palace, In a cottage I. Cleon hath a dozen fortunes, Not a penny I; Yet the poorer of the twain is Cleon, and not I. Cleon, true, possesseth acres, But the landscape I; Half the charms to me it yieldeth, Money cannot buy. Cleon harbors sloth and dullness, Freshening vigor I; He in velvet, I in fustian, Richer man am I. Cleon is a slave to grandeur, Free as thought am I; Cleon fees a score of doctors, Need of none have I. Wealth-surrounded, care-environed, Cleon fears to die. Death may come, he'll find me ready. Happier man am I. Cleon sees no charm in nature, In a daisy I; Cleon hears no anthem ringing In the sea and sky; Nature sings to me forever, Earnest listener I! State for state, with all attendants, Who would change? Not I. --Charles Mackay. ENOUGH