I.
Though lilies on their graceful stalk
Droop, fade, and die,
Earth's still renewing forces mock
Death's cruelty.
II.
For roots and seeds within the mould
Will thrust again
Their sheathed beauties manifold
Up to the plain.
III.
Though flowery hopes of dazzling gleam
Wither and die,
New hopes in the soul's garden teem
Unceasingly.
V.
O Lord of light, disperse my baffling fears,
Give me a look but for a moment's space
Upon the tranquil glory of Thy face,
To serve as force to fight the chilling years.
Clouds hide Thee from me, and the bitter tears
Run down my cheek in floods. Out of Thy grace
Let my heart's chamber be a dwelling-place
For Thee. Come for a little space. Mine ears
Strain for the hearing of a word divine
Straight from Thy holy lips. No single task
Can I at all accomplish or design
Without the full assurance that I ask
This, namely, that my soul is one with Thee,
And Thou dost work Thy purposes by me.
THE CHRISTIAN BRETHREN.
It would be well-spent labour if some sympathetic historian could find time to write a short account of the Plymouth Brethren, giving details of the origin, tenets, divisions, and influence of the sect. I am surprised that Mr. Barrie in his notable excursions into Scotch life and religion, has never portrayed such a fine specimen of the working-man turned theologian.