O there is nothing in the world To weigh against thy will; Even the dark times I dread the most Thy covenant fulfill; And when the pleasant morning dawns I find thee with me still. Still in the solitary place I would awhile abide. Till with the solace of thy love My soul is satisfied, And all my hopes of happiness Stay calmly at thy side. On thy compassion I repose In weakness and distress; I will not ask for greater ease Lest I should love thee less, It is a blessed thing for me To need thy tenderness. --Anna Letitia Waring. RABIA There was of old a Moslem saint Named Rabia. On her bed she lay Pale, sick, but uttered no complaint. "Send for the holy men to pray." And two were sent. The first drew near: "The prayers of no man are sincere Who does not bow beneath the rod, And bear the chastening strokes of God." Whereto the second, more severe: "The prayers of no man are sincere Who does not in the rod rejoice And make the strokes he bears his choice." Then she, who felt that in such pain The love of self did still remain, Answered, "No prayers can be sincere When they from whose wrung hearts they fall Are not as I am, lying here, Who long since have forgotten all. Dear Lord of love! There is no pain." So Rabia, and was well again. --Edmund Clarence Stedman. THREE STAGES OF PIETY Rabia, sick upon her bed, By two saints was visited: Holy Malik, Hassan wise, Men of mark in Moslem eyes. Hassan said: "Whose prayer is pure Will God's chastisement _endure_." Malik, from a deeper sense, Uttered his experience: "He who loves his Master's choice Will in chastisement _rejoice_." Rabia saw some selfish will In their maxims lingering still, And replied: "O men of grace! He who sees his Master's face "Will not in his prayer recall That he is chastised at all." --Arabian, tr. by James Freeman Clarke, from the German of Tholuck. (Rabia was a very holy Arabian woman who lived in the second century of the Hegira, or the eighth century of our era.) PRAYER'S GRACE Round holy Rabia's suffering bed The wise men gathered, gazing gravely. "Daughter of God!" the youngest said, "Endure thy Father's chastening bravely; They who have steeped their souls in prayer Can any anguish calmly bear." She answered not, and turned aside, Though not reproachfully nor sadly. "Daughter of God!" the eldest cried, "Sustain thy Father's chastening gladly; They who have learned to pray aright From pain's dark well draw up delight."