Only between the storms can the Alpine traveler know Transcendent glory of clearness, marvels of gleam and glow; Had he the brightness unbroken of cloudless summer days, This had been dimmed by the dust and veil of a brooding haze. Who would dare the choice, _neither_ or _both_ to know, The finest quiver of joy or the agony-thrill of woe? Never the exquisite pain, then never the exquisite bliss, For the heart that is dull to that can never be strung to this. Great is the peril or toil if the glory or gain be great; Never an earthly gift without responsible weight; Never a treasure without a following shade of care; Never a power without the lurk of a subtle snare. For the swift is not the safe, and the sweet is not the strong; The smooth is not the short, and the keen is not the long; The much is not the most, and the wide is not the deep, And the flow is never a spring, when the ebb is only neap. Then, hush! oh, hush! for the Father knows what thou knowest not, The weed and the thorn and the shadow lurked with the fairest lot; Knows the wisest exemption from many an unseen snare, Knows what will keep thee nearest, knows what thou couldst not bear. Hush! oh, hush! for the Father portioneth as He will, To all His beloved children, and shall they not be still? Is not His will the wisest, is not His choice the best? And in perfect acquiescence is there not perfect rest? Hush! oh, hush! for the Father, whose ways are true and just, Knoweth and careth and loveth, and waits for thy perfect trust; The cup He is slowly filling shall soon be full to the brim, And infinite compensations forever be found in Him. Hush! oh, hush! for the Father hath fullness of joy in store, Treasures of power and wisdom, and pleasures for evermore; Blessing and honor and glory, endless, infinite bliss;-- Child of His love and His choice, oh, canst thou not wait for this? --_Francis Ridley Havergal._ VALIANT FOR THE TRUTH. Fight the good fight; lay hold Upon eternal life; Keep but thy shield, be bold, Stand through the hottest strife; Invincible while in the field, Thou canst not fail, unless thou yield. No force of earth or hell, Though fiends with men unite, Truth's champion can compel, However pressed, to flight; Invincible upon the field, He cannot fall, unless he yield. Apollyon's arm may shower Darts thick as hail, and hide Heaven's face, as in the hour, When Christ on Calvary died; No power of darkness in the field Can tread thee down, unless thou yield. Trust in thy Saviour's might; Yea, till thy latest breath, Fight, and like Him in fight, By dying conquer death; And all-victorious in the field, Then with thy sword, thy spirit yield. Great words are these, and strong; Yet Lord, I look to thee, To whom alone belong Valor and victory. With thee, my Captain in the field, I must prevail, I cannot yield.