"When far behind the world's great tumult dieth, Thou shalt look back and wonder at its roar; But its far voice shall seem to thee a dream, Its power to vex thy holier life be o'er. "There shalt thou learn the secret of a power, Mine to bestow, which heals the ills of living; To overcome by love, to live by prayer, To conquer man's worst evils by forgiving." ABIDE IN ME, AND I IN YOU THE SOUL'S ANSWER That mystic word of thine, O sovereign Lord, Is all too pure, too high, too deep for me; Weary of striving, and with longing faint, I breathe it back again in _prayer_ to thee. Abide in me, I pray, and I in thee; From this good hour, O leave me nevermore; Then shall the discord cease, the wound be healed, The lifelong bleeding of the soul be o'er. Abide in me; o'ershadow by thy love Each half-formed purpose and dark thought of sin; Quench, e'er it rise, each selfish, low desire, And keep my soul as thine, calm and divine. As some rare perfume in a vase of clay Pervades it with a fragrance not its own, So, when thou dwellest in a mortal soul, All heaven's own sweetness seems around it thrown. Abide in me: there have been moments blest When I have heard thy voice and felt thy power; Then evil lost its grasp, and passion, hushed, Owned the divine enchantment of the hour. These were but seasons, beautiful and rare; Abide in me, and they shall ever be. Fulfill at once thy precept and my prayer,-- Come, and abide in me, and I in thee. THE SECRET "Thou shalt keep them in the secret of thy presence from the strife of tongues." When winds are raging o'er the upper ocean, And billows wild contend with angry roar, 'Tis said, far down beneath the wild commotion, That peaceful stillness reigneth evermore. Far, far beneath, the noise of tempest dieth, And silver waves chime ever peacefully; And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er he flieth, Disturbs the sabbath of that deeper sea. So to the soul that knows thy love, O Purest, There is a temple peaceful evermore! And all the babble of life's angry voices Die in hushed stillness at its sacred door. Far, far away the noise of passion dieth, And loving thoughts rise ever peacefully; And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er he flieth, Disturbs that deeper rest, O Lord, in thee. O rest of rests! O peace serene, eternal! Thou ever livest and thou changest never; And in the secret of thy presence dwelleth Fullness of joy, forever and forever. THINK NOT ALL IS OVER Think not, when the wailing winds of autumn Drive the shivering leaflets from the tree,-- Think not all is over: spring returneth, Buds and leaves and blossoms thou shalt see.