Nor moon, nor do I think of any stars;

Yet there was light, and there were cedar trees,
And there were sycamores. I lay at rest,

Or should have seemed at rest, within a trough
Between two giant roots. A weariness

Was on me, and I would have gone to sleep,
But I had not the courage. If I slept,

I feared that I should never wake again;
And if I did not sleep I should go mad,
And with my own dull tools, which I had used
With wretched skill so long, hack out my life.
And while I lay there, tortured out of death,
Faint waves of cold, as if the dead were breathing,
Came over me and through me; and I felt
Quick fearful tears of anguish on my face
And in my throat. But soon, and in the distance,
Concealed, importunate, there was a sound.
Of coming steps,—and I was not afraid;
No, I was not afraid then, I was glad;

For I could feel, with every thought, the Man,
The Mystery, the Child, a footfall nearer.
Then, when he stood before me, there was no
Surprise, there was no questioning, I knew him,
As I had known him always; and he smiled.
'Why are you here?' he asked; and reaching down,
He took up my dull blades and rubbed his thumb
Across the edges of them and then smiled
Once more. 'I was a carpenter,' I said,

'But there was nothing in the world to do.'-
'Nothing?' said he.-'No, nothing,' I replied.-

'But are you sure,' he asked, 'that you have skill? And are you sure that you have learned your trade? No, you are not.'-He looked at me and laughed As he said that; but I did not laugh then,

Although I might have laughed.—'They are dull,' said he;

'They were not very sharp if they were ground;
But they are what you have, and they will earn
What you have not. So take them as they are,
Grind them and clean them, put new handles to them,
And then go learn your trade in Nazareth.

Only be sure that you find Nazareth.'

'But if I starve-what then?' said I.—He smiled."

PSALM CXXI

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills,

From whence cometh my help.

My help cometh from the LORD, which made heaven

and earth.

He will not suffer thy foot to be moved:

He that keepeth thee will not slumber.

Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.

The LORD is thy keeper:

The LORD is thy shade upon thy right hand.

The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by

night.

The LORD shall preserve thee from all evil:

He shall preserve thy soul.

The LORD shall preserve thy going out and thy com

ing in

From this time forth, and even for evermore.

BEFORE ACTION

BY WILLIAM NOEL HODGSON

By all the glories of the day
And the cool evening's benison,
By that last sunset touch that lay
Upon the hills when day was done,
By beauty lavishly outpoured

And blessings carelessly received,
By all the days that I have lived,
Make me a soldier, Lord.

By all of all man's hopes and fears,
And all the wonders poets sing,
The laughter of unclouded years,
And every sad and lovely thing;
By the romantic ages stored

With high endeavour that was his,
By all his mad catastrophes,

Make me a man, O Lord.

I, that on my familiar hill

Saw with uncomprehending eyes
A hundred of Thy sunsets spil}

Their fresh and sanguine sacrifice

Ere the sun swings his noonday sword
Must say good-bye to all of this;-

By all delights that I shall miss,
Help me to die, O Lord.

1

A PRAYER FOR THE OLD COURAGE 1

BY CHARLES HANSON TOWNE

Still let us go the way of beauty; go

The way of loveliness; still let us know

Those paths that lead where Pan and Daphne run,
Where roses prosper in the summer sun.

The earth may rock with War. Still is there peace
In many a place to give the heart release

From this too-vibrant pain that drives men mad.
Let us go back to the old loves we had.

Let us go back, to keep alive the gleam,
To cherish the immortal, Godlike dream;
Not as poor cravens flying from the fight,
But as sad children seeking the clean light.

Oh, doubly precious now is solitude;
Thrice dear yon quiet star above the wood,
Since panic and the sundering shock of War
Have laid in ruins all we hungered for.

1 From A World of Windows by Charles Hanson Towne, copyright 1919, George H. Doran Co., publishers.

Brave soldiers of the spirit, guard ye well
Mountain and fort and massive citadel;
But keep ye white forever-keep ye whole
The battlements of dream within the soul!

THE PILLAR OF CLOUD

BY JOHN HENRY, CARDINAL NEWMAN

Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on!

The night is dark, and I am far from home-
Lead Thou me on!

Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene,-one step enough for me.

I was not ever thus, nor pray'd that Thou
Shouldst lead me on.

I loved to choose and see my path, but now
Lead Thou me on!

I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,
Pride ruled my will: remember not past years.

So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still Will lead me on,

O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till The night is gone;

And with the morn those angel faces smile

Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.