From strife, that in a far-off future lies;

And angel glances (veiled now by life's sorrow)

Draw our hearts to some beloved eyes.

Life is only bright when it proceedeth Towards a truer, deeper life above; Human love is sweetest when it leadeth

To a more divine and perfect love.

Learn the mystery of progression duly:

Do not call each glorious change, decay;

But know we only hold our treasures truly,

When it seems as if they passed away.

Nor dare to blame God's gifts for incompleteness;

In that want their beauty lies: they roll

Towards some infinite depth of love and sweetness,

Bearing onward man's reluctant

soul.

STRIVE, WAIT, AND PRAY. STRIVE: yet I do not promise The prize you dream of to-day Will not fade when you think to grasp it,

And melt in your hand away; But another and holier treasure,

You would now perchance disdain, Will come when your toil is over, And pay you for all your pain.

Wait; yet I do not tell you
The hour you long for now
Will not come with its radiance van-

ished,

And a shadow upon its brow;

Touch us gently, Time!

Our ambition, our content,

Lies in simple things.

Now she pales and shrinks away, Earth, into thy gentle bosom!

She hath done her bidding here, Angels dear!