Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit; so shall ye be my disciples.—JOHN xv. 8.
O Breath from out the Eternal Silence! blow
Softly upon our spirits' barren ground;
The precious fulness of our God bestow,
That fruits of faith, love, reverence may abound.
G. TERSTEEGEN.
Is it possible we should be ignorant whether we feel tempers contrary to love or no?—whether we rejoice always, or are burdened and bowed down with sorrow?—whether we have a praying, or a dead, lifeless spirit?—whether we can praise God, and be resigned in all trials, or feel murmurings, fretfulness, and impatience under them?—is it not easy to know if we feel anger at provocations, or whether we feel our tempers mild, gentle, peaceable, and easy to be entreated, or feel stubbornness, self-will, and pride? whether we have slavish fears, or are possessed of that perfect love which casteth out all fear that hath torment?
HESTER ANN ROGERS.
December 18
We trust in the living God.—I TIM. iv. 10.
Thy secret judgment's depths profound
Still sings the silent night;
The day, upon his golden round,
Thy pity infinite.
I. WILLIAMS. Tr. from Latin.
Now that I have no longer any sense for the transitory and perishable, the universe appears before my eyes under a transformed aspect. The dead, heavy mass which did but stop up space has vanished, and in its place there flows onward, with the rushing music of mighty waves, an eternal stream of life, and power, and action, which issues from the original source of all life,—from Thy life, O Infinite One! for all life is Thy life, and only the religious eye penetrates to the realm of true Beauty.