"Ah, once more," I cried, "ye stars, ye waters, On my heart your mighty charm renew; Still, still let me, as I gaze upon you, Feel my soul becoming vast like you!" From the intense, clear, star-sown vault of heaven, Over the lit sea's unquiet way, In the rustling night-air came the answer,-- "Wouldst thou _be_ as these are? _Live_ as they. "Unaffrighted by the silence round them, Undistracted by the sights they see, These demand not that the things without them Yield them love, amusement, sympathy. "And with joy the stars perform their shining, And the sea its long moon-silvered roll; For self-poised they live, nor pine with noting All the fever of some differing soul. "Bounded by themselves, and unregardful In what state God's other works may be, In their own tasks all their powers pouring, These attain the mighty life you see." O air-born voice! long since severely clear, A cry like thine in mine own heart I hear,-- "Resolve to be thyself; and know, that he Who finds himself loses his misery!" --_Matthew Arnold._ WHAT IS PRAYER? Prayer is the soul's sincere desire, Unuttered or expressed; The motion of a hidden fire That trembles in the breast. Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear, The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near. Prayer is the simplest form of speech That infant lips can try; Prayer the sublimest strains that reach The majesty on high. Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice, Returning from his ways; While angels in their songs rejoice, And cry--"Behold he prays!" Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, The Christian's native air: His watchword at the gates of death-- He enters heaven with prayer. The saints in prayer appear as one In word, and deed, and mind, While with the Father and the Son Sweet fellowship they find. Nor prayer is made by man alone The Holy Spirit pleads And Jesus, on the eternal throne For sinners intercedes. O Thou, by whom we come to God-- The Life, the Truth, the Way; The path of prayer Thyself hast trod; Lord! teach us how to pray. --_James Montgomery._ THE VIRGIN MARY TO THE CHILD JESUS. But see, the Virgin blest Hath laid her babe to rest. MILTON'S _Hymn on the Nativity_. Sleep, sleep, mine Holy One! My flesh, my Lord!--what name? I do not know A name that seemeth not too high or low, Too far from me or Heaven. My Jesus, _that_ is best! that word being given By the majestic angel whose command Was softly as a man's beseeching said, When I and all the earth appeared to stand In the great overflow Of light celestial from his wings and head. Sleep, sleep, my saving One!