ASPIRATION
DESIRE, SUPPLICATION, GROWTH
GRADATIM
Heaven is not reached by a single bound;
But we build the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,
And we mount to its summit round by round.
I count this thing to be grandly true:
That the noble deed is a step toward God,
Lifting the soul from the common clod
To a purer air and a broader view.
We rise by the things that are under feet;
By what we have mastered of good and gain,
By the pride deposed and the passion slain,
And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet.
We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust,
When the morning calls us to life and light;
But our hearts grow weary, and ere the night
Our lives are treading the sordid dust.
We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray,
And we think that we mount the air on wings,
Beyond the recall of sensual things,
While our feet still cling to the heavy clay.
Wings for the angels, but feet for men!
We may borrow the wings to find the way;
We may hope, and resolve, and aspire, and pray;
But our feet must rise, or we fall again.
Only in dreams is a ladder thrown
From the weary earth to the sapphire walls,
But the dreams depart, and the vision falls,
And the sleeper wakes on his pillow of stone.
Heaven is not reached at a single bound;
But we build the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,
And we mount to its summit round by round.
—Josiah Gilbert Holland.
———
MORE AND MORE
Purer yet and purer
I would be in mind,
Dearer yet and dearer
Every duty find;
Hoping still and trusting
God without a fear,
Patiently believing
He will make it clear.
Calmer yet and calmer
Trials bear and pain,
Surer yet and surer
Peace at last to gain;
Suffering still and doing,
To his will resigned,
And to God subduing
Heart and will and mind.
Higher yet and higher
Out of clouds and night,
Nearer yet and nearer
Rising to the light—
Light serene and holy—
Where my soul may rest,
Purified and lowly,
Sanctified and blest.
—Johann W. von Goethe.
———
THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS
This is the ship of pearl which, poets feign,
Sails the unshadowed main,—
The venturous bark that flings
On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings
In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings
And coral reefs lie bare,
Where the cold sea maids rise to sun their streaming hair.
Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl;
Wrecked is the ship of pearl!
And every chambered cell,
Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell,
As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell,
Before thee lies revealed—
Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed.
Year after year beheld the silent toil
That spread his lustrous coil;
Still, as the spiral grew,
He left the last year's dwelling for the new,
Stole with soft step its shining archway through,
Built up its idle door,
Stretched in its last-found home, and knew the old no more.
Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee,
Child of the wandering sea,
Cast from her lap, forlorn!
From thy dead lips a clearer note is born
Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn;
While on my ear it rings,
Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:
Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul!
As the swift seasons roll!
Leave thy low-vaulted past!
Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast
Till thou at length art free,
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!
—Oliver Wendell Holmes.
———
WALKING WITH JESUS
My Saviour, on the Word of Truth
In earnest hope I live,
I ask for all the precious things
Thy boundless love can give.
I look for many a lesser light
About my path to shine;
But chiefly long to walk with thee,
And only trust in thine.
Thou knowest that I am not blest
As Thou would'st have me be
Till all the peace and joy of faith
Possess my soul in thee;
And still I seek 'mid many fears,
With yearnings unexpressed,
The comfort of thy strengthening love,
Thy soothing, settling rest.
It is not as Thou wilt with me
Till, humbled in the dust,
I know no place in all my heart
Wherein to put my trust:
Until I find, O Lord! in thee—
The lowly and the meek—
That fullness which thy own redeemed
Go nowhere else to seek.
Then, O my Saviour! on my soul,
Cast down but not dismayed,
Still be thy chastening healing hand
In tender mercy laid:
And while I wait for all thy joys
My yearning heart to fill,
Teach me to walk and work with thee,
And at thy feet sit still.
—Anna Letitia Waring.
———
A PRAYER TO THE GOD OF NATURE
God of the roadside weed,
Grant I may humbly serve the humblest need.
God of the scarlet rose,
Give me the beauty that Thy love bestows.
God of the hairy bee,
Help me to suck deep joys from all I see.
God of the spider's lace,
Let me, from mine own heart, unwind such grace.
God of the lily's cup,
Fill me! I hold this empty chalice up.
God of the sea-gull's wing,
Bear me above each dark and turbulent thing.
God of the watchful owl,
Help me to see at midnight, like this fowl.
God of the antelope,
Teach me to scale the highest crags of Hope.
God of the eagle's nest,
Oh, let me make my eyrie near thy breast!
God of the burrowing mole,
Let cold earth have no terrors for my soul.
God of the chrysalis,
Grant that my grave may be a cell of bliss.
God of the butterfly,
Help me to vanquish Death, although I die.
—Frederic Lawrence Knowles.
———
O JESUS CHRIST, GROW THOU IN ME
O Jesus Christ, grow thou in me,
And all things else recede!
My heart be daily nearer thee,
From sin be daily freed.
Each day let Thy supporting might
My weakness still embrace;
My darkness vanish in thy light,
Thy life my death efface.
In thy bright beams which on me fall
Fade every evil thought;
That I am nothing, Thou art all,
I would be daily taught.
More of thy glory let me see,
Thou holy, wise and true,
I would thy living image be,
In joy and sorrow too.
Fill me with gladness from above,
Hold me by strength divine;
Lord, let the glow of thy great love
Through my whole being shine.
Make this poor self grow less and less;
Be Thou my life and aim;
Oh, make me daily through thy grace
More meet to bear thy name!
Let faith in Thee and in thy might
My every motive move;
Be thou alone my soul's delight,
My passion and my love.
—Henry B. Smith.
———
DAY BY DAY
Looking upward every day,
Sunshine on our faces,
Pressing onward every day
Toward the heavenly places;
Growing every day in awe,
For thy name is holy;
Learning every day to love
With a love more lowly.
Walking every day more close
To our Elder Brother;
Growing every day more true
Unto one another;
Every day more gratefully
Kindnesses receiving,
Every day more readily
Injuries forgiving.
Leaving every day behind
Something which might hinder;
Running swifter every day,
Growing purer, kinder—
Lord, so pray we every day;
Hear us in thy pity,
That we enter in at last
To the holy city.
—Mary Butler.
———
Better to have the poet's heart than brain,
Feeling than song; but, better far than both,
To be a song, a music of God's making.
Or but a table on which God's finger of flame,
In words harmonious of triumphant verse,
That mingles joy and sorrow, sets down clear
That out of darkness he hath called the light.
It may be voice to such is after given
To tell the mighty tale to other worlds.
—George Macdonald.
———
FREE FROM SIN
The bird let loose in eastern skies,
When hastening fondly home,
Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies
Where idle warblers roam;
But high she shoots through air and light
Above all low delay,
Where nothing earthly bounds her flight,
Nor shadow dims her way.
So grant me, God, from every care
And stain of passion free,
Aloft, through Virtue's purer air,
To hold my course to thee!
No sin to cloud, no lure to stay
My soul, as home she springs;
Thy sunshine on her joyful way,
Thy freedom in her wings!
—Thomas Moore.
———
A PRAYER
O that mine eyes might closèd be
To what concerns me not to see;
That deafness might possess mine ear
To what concerns me not to hear;
That truth my tongue might always tie
From ever speaking foolishly;
That no vain thought might ever rest
Or be conceived within my breast;
That by each deed and word and thought
Glory may to my God be brought.
But what are wishes! Lord, mine eye
On Thee is fixed; to Thee I cry!
Wash, Lord, and purify my heart,
And make it clean in every part;
And when 'tis clean, Lord, keep it, too,
For that is more than I can do.
—Thomas Elwood, A.D. 1639.
———
THE ALTERED MOTTO
O the bitter shame and sorrow,
That a time could ever be
When I let the Saviour's pity
Plead in vain, and proudly answered,
"All of self, and none of Thee!"
Yet He found me; I beheld him
Bleeding on the accursèd tree,
Heard him pray, "Forgive them, Father!"
And my wistful heart said faintly,
"Some of self and some of Thee."
Day by day his tender mercy,
Healing, helping, full and free,
Sweet and strong, and, ah! so patient,
Brought me lower, while I whispered,
"Less of self, and more of Thee."
Higher than the highest heaven,
Deeper than the deepest sea,
Lord, thy love at last hath conquered;
Grant me now my supplication—
"None of self, and all of Thee."
—Theodore Monod.
———
INDWELLING
O dwell in me, my Lord,
That I in thee may dwell;
Fulfill thy tender word,
That thy evangels tell;
In me Thou, I in thee,
By thy sweet courtesy.
But wilt thou my guest be,
In this poor heart of mine?
Thy guest? Is this for me
In that pure heart of thine?
In me thou, I in thee,
By thy sweet courtesy.
My chamber, Lord, prepare
Whither thou deignest come;
I may not seek to share
The making of thy home;
In me thou, I in thee,
By thy sweet courtesy.
Thy gracious gifts bestow,
Humility and love;
O cause my heart to glow
By fire sent from above.
In me thou, I in thee,
By thy sweet courtesy.
—Alexander B. Grosart.
———
Thy name to me, thy nature grant;
This, only this be given;
Nothing besides my God I want,
Nothing in earth or heaven.
Come, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
And seal me thine abode;
Let all I am in thee be lost,
Let all I am be God.
—Charles Wesley.
———
PERFECTION
O how the thought of God attracts,
And draws the heart from earth,
And sickens it of passing shows
And dissipating mirth!
'Tis not enough to save our souls,
To shun the eternal fires;
The thought of God will rouse the heart
To more sublime desires.
God only is the creature's home,
Though rough and strait the road;
Yet nothing less can satisfy
The love that longs for God.
Oh, utter but the name of God
Down in your heart of hearts,
And see how from the world at once
All tempting light departs.
A trusting heart, a yearning eye
Can win their way above;
If mountains can be moved by faith
Is there less power in love?
How little of that road, my soul,
How little hast thou gone!
Take heart, and let the thought of God
Allure thee further on.
Dole not thy duties out to God,
But let thy hand be free;
Look long at Jesus; his sweet blood—
How was it dealt to thee?
The perfect way is hard to flesh;
It is not hard to love;
If thou wert sick for want of God
How swiftly wouldst thou move.
Be docile to thine unseen Guide;
Love him as he loves thee;
Time and obedience are enough,
And thou a saint shalt be.
—Frederick William Faber.
———
Thou broadenest out with every year
Each breadth of life to meet;
I scarce can think thou art the same,
Thou art so much more sweet.
With gentle swiftness lead me on,
Dear God, to see thy face;
And meanwhile in my narrow heart
O make thyself more space!
—Frederick William Faber.
———
LONGING
Of all the myriad moods of mind
That through the soul come thronging,
Which one was e'er so dear, so kind,
So beautiful, as Longing?
The thing we long for, that we are
For one transcendent moment,
Before the Present poor and bare
Can make its sneering comment.
Still, through our paltry stir and strife,
Glows down the wished ideal,
And longing molds in clay what life
Carves on the marble real;
To let the new life in, we know,
Desire must ope the portal;
Perhaps the longing to be so
Helps make the soul immortal.
Longing is God's fresh heavenward will
With our poor earthward striving;
We quench it that we may be still
Content with merely living;
But, would we learn that heart's full scope
Which we are hourly wronging,
Our lives must climb from hope to hope,
And realize our longing.
Ah! let us hope that to our praise
Good God not only reckons
The moments when we tread his ways,
But when the spirit beckons;
That some slight good is also wrought,
Beyond self-satisfaction,
When we are simply good in thought
Howe'er we fail in action.
—James Russell Lowell.
———
MORE HOLINESS
More holiness give me;
More strivings within.
More patience in suffering,
More sorrow for sin.
More faith in my Saviour,
More sense of his care,
More joy in his service,
More purpose in prayer.
More gratitude give me,
More trust in the Lord,
More pride in his glory,
More hope in his word.
More tears for his sorrows,
More pain at his grief,
More meekness in trial,
More purity give me,
More strength to o'ercome,
More freedom from earth-stains,
More longings for home;
More fit for the kingdom,
More used I would be,
More blessed and holy—
More, Saviour, like thee.
—Philip Paul Bliss.
———
"MY SOUL DOTH MAGNIFY THE LORD"
My soul shall be a telescope,
Searching the distant bounds of time and space,
That somehow I may image, as I grope,
Jehovah's power and grace.
My soul a microscope shall be,
In all minutest providences keen
Jehovah's patient thoughtfulness to see,
And read his love between.
My soul shall be a burning-glass
That diligence to worship may succeed,
That I may catch God's glories as they pass,
And focus to a deed.
So, even so,
A mote in his creation, even I
Seeking alone to do, to feel, to know,
The Lord must magnify.
—Amos R. Wells.
———
Lord, let me not be too content
With life in trifling service spent—
Make me aspire!
When days with petty cares are filled
Let me with fleeting thoughts be thrilled
Of something higher!
Help me to long for mental grace
To struggle with the commonplace
I daily find.
May little deeds not bring to fruit
A crop of little thought to suit
A shriveled mind.
———
I know this earth is not my sphere,
For I cannot so narrow me but that
I still exceed it.
—Robert Browning.
———
A SHRINKING PRAYER
Give me, O Lord, a heart of grace,
A voice of joy, a smiling face,
That I may show, where'er I turn,
Thy love within my soul doth burn!
Then life be sweet, and joy be dear,
Be in my mind a quiet fear;
A patient love of pain and care,
An enmity to dark despair.
A tenderness for all that stray,
With strength to help them on their way;
A cheerfulness, a heavenly mirth,
Brightening my steps along the earth.
I ask and shrink, yet shrink and ask;
I know thou wilt not set a task
Too hard for hands that thou hast made,
Too hard for hands that thou canst aid.
So let me dwell all peacefully,
Content to live, content to die;
Rejoicing now, rejoicing then,
Rejoicing evermore. Amen.
—Rosa Mulholland.
———
THAT I MAY SOAR
Great God, I ask thee for no meaner pelf
Than that I may not disappoint myself;
That in my action I may soar as high
As I can now discern with this clear eye.
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.
Make not a man your measuring-rod
If you would span the way to God;
Heed not our petty "worse" or "less,"
But fix your eyes on perfectness.
Make for the loftiest point in view,
And draw your friends along with you.
—Amos R. Wells.
———
Thy nature be my law,
Thy spotless sanctity,
And sweetly every moment draw
My happy soul to thee.
Soul of my soul remain;
Who didst for me fulfill,
In me, O Lord, fulfill again
Thy heavenly Father's will.
—Charles Wesley.
———
LEAD ON, O LORD
Jesus still lead on
Till our rest be won;
And although the way be cheerless,
We will follow, calm and fearless;
Guide us by thy hand
To our Fatherland.
If the way be drear,
If the foe be near,
Let not faithless fears o'ertake us,
Let not faith and hope forsake us;
For, through many a foe
To our home we go.
When we seek relief
From a long-felt grief:
When oppressed by new temptations,
Lord, increase and perfect patience;
Show us that bright shore
Where we weep no more.
Jesus, still lead on
Till our rest be won;
Heavenly Leader, still direct us,
Still support, control, protect us,
Till we safely stand
In our Fatherland.
—Nicolaus Ludwig Zinzendorf.
———
Give me this day
A little work to occupy my mind;
A little suffering to sanctify
My spirit; and, dear Lord, if thou canst find
Some little good that I may do for thee,
I shall be glad, for that will comfort me.
Mind, spirit, hand—I lift them all to thee.
———
O make me patient, Lord,
Patient in daily cares;
Keep me from thoughtless words,
That slip out unawares.
And help me, Lord, I pray,
Still nearer thee to live,
And as I journey on,
More of thy presence give.
———
O square thyself for use. A stone that may
Fit in the wall is not left in the way.
—From the Persian.
———
Think, and be careful what thou art within,
For there is sin in the desire of sin:
Think and be thankful in a different case;
For there is grace in the desire of grace.
—George Gordon Byron.
———
A man's higher being is knowing and seeing;
Not having or toiling for more;
In the senses and soul is the joy of control,
Not in pride and luxurious store.
—John Boyle O'Reilly.
———
Be with me, Lord, where'er my path may lead;
Fulfill thy word, supply my every need;
Help me to live each day more close to thee.
And O, dear Lord, I pray abide with me.
———
In all I think or speak or do,
Whatever way my steps are bent,
God shape and keep me strong and true,
Courageous, cheerful, and content.
—W. D. Russell.
———
Make my mortal dreams come true
With the work I fain would do:
Clothe with life the weak intent,
Let me be the thing I meant.
—John Greenleaf Whittier.
———
This be my prayer, from dawn to eve,
Working between the suns;
Lord, make my arm as firm as a knight's
My soul as white as a nun's.
———
Every hour that fleets so slowly has its task to do or bear;
Luminous the crown and holy, if we set each gem with care.
———
O for a man to rise in me,
That the man that I am
May cease to be.
—Alfred Tennyson.