Volume Ii Part 25 (1/2)

THE KINGDOM OF G.o.d.

I say to thee, do thou repeat To the first man thou mayest meet In lane, highway, or open street--

That he and we and all men move Under a canopy of love, As broad as the blue sky above;

That doubt and trouble, fear and pain And anguish, all are shadows vain, That death itself shall not remain;

That weary deserts we may tread, A dreary labyrinth may thread, Through dark ways underground be led;

Yet, if we will one Guide obey, The dreariest path, the darkest way, Shall issue out in heavenly day;

And we, on divers sh.o.r.es now cast, Shall meet, our perilous voyage past, All in our Father's house at last.

RICHARD C. TRENCH.

THE n.o.bLE NATURE.

It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make man better be; Or standing long an oak three hundred year, To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere; A lily of a day Is fairer far in May, Although it fall and die that night-- It was the plant and flower of Light.

In small proportions we just beauty see; And in short measures life may perfect be.

BEN JONSON.

WINSTANLEY.

Winstanley's deed, you kindly folk, With it I fill my lay, And a n.o.bler man ne'er walked the world, Let his name be what it may.

The good s.h.i.+p Snowdrop tarried long; Up at the vane looked he; ”Belike,” he said, for the wind had dropped, ”She lieth becalmed at sea.”

The lovely ladies flocked within, And still would each one say, ”Good mercer, be the s.h.i.+ps come up?”-- But still he answered, ”Nay.”

Then stepped two mariners down the street, With looks of grief and fear: ”Now, if Winstanley be your name, We bring you evil cheer!

”For the good s.h.i.+p Snowdrop struck,--she struck On the rock,--the Eddystone, And down she went with threescore men, We two being left alone.

”Down in the deep with freight and crew, Past any help she lies, And never a bale has come to sh.o.r.e Of all thy merchandise.”

”For cloth o' gold and comely frieze,”

Winstanley said and sighed, ”For velvet coif, or costly coat, They fathoms deep may bide.

”O thou brave skipper, blithe and kind, O mariners, bold and true, Sorry at heart, right sorry am I, A-thinking of yours and you.

”Many long days Winstanley's breast Shall feel a weight within, For a waft of wind he shall be 'feared, And trading count but sin.

”To him no more it shall be joy To pace the cheerful town, And see the lovely ladies gay Step on in velvet gown.”