And next in value which thy kindness lends, That I may greatly disappoint my friends, Howe'er they think or hope that it may be, They may not dream how thou'st distinguished me. That my weak hand may equal my firm faith, And my life practise more than my tongue saith; That my low conduct may not show, Nor my relenting lines, That I thy purpose did not know, Or overrated thy designs. --Henry David Thoreau. A CRY OF THE SOUL O God of truth, for whom alone I sigh, Knit thou my heart by strong, sweet cords to thee. I tire of hearing; books my patience try; Untired to thee I cry; Thyself my all shalt be. Lord, be thou near and cheer my lonely way; With thy sweet peace my aching bosom fill; Scatter my cares and fears; my griefs allay; And be it mine each day To love and please thee still. My God! Thou hearest me; but clouds obscure Even yet thy perfect radiance, truth divine! O for the stainless skies, the splendors pure, The joys that aye endure When thine own glories shine! --Pierre Corneille. A PURPOSE TRUE Lord, make me quick to see Each task awaiting me, And quick to do; Oh, grant me strength, I pray, With lowly love each day And purpose true. To go as Jesus went, Spending and being spent, Myself forgot; Supplying human needs By loving words and deeds, Oh, happy lot! --Robert M. Offord. There are deep things of God. Push out from shore; Hast thou found much? Give thanks, and look for more. Dost fear the generous Giver to offend? Then know his store of bounty hath no end. He doth not need to be implored or teased; The more we take the better he is pleased. --Charles Gordon Ames. BREATHE ON ME Breathe on me, Breath of God, Fill me with life anew, That I may love what thou dost love, And do what thou wouldst do. Breathe on me, Breath of God, Until my heart is pure, Until with thee I will one will, To do or to endure. Breathe on me, Breath of God, Till I am wholly thine; Till all this earthly part of me Glows with thy fire divine. Breathe on me, Breath of God, So shall I never die, But live with thee the perfect life Of thine eternity. --Edwin Hatch. THE COMPARATIVE DEGREE What weight of woe we owe to thee, Accurst comparative degree! Thy paltry step can never give Access to the superlative; For he who would the wisest be, Strives to make others wise as he, And never yet was man judged best Who would be better than the rest; So does comparison unkind Dwarf and debase the haughty mind.