“Rock of Ages, cleft for me,”
    Sung above a coffin lid;
  Underneath, all restfully,
    All life’s joys and sorrows hid. 
  Nevermore, O storm-tossed soul! 
    Nevermore from wind or tide,
  Nevermore from billow’s roll,
    Wilt thou need thyself to hide. 
  Could the sightless, sunken eyes,
    Closed beneath the soft gray hair,
  Could the mute and stiffened lips
    Move again in pleading prayer,
  Still, aye still, the words would be,—­
    “Let me hide myself in Thee.”

EDWARD H. RICH.

* * * * *

ART THOU WEARY?

  Art thou weary, art thou languid,
    Art thou sore distressed? 
  “Come to Me,” saith One, “and coming,
    Be at rest.”

  Hath He marks to lead me to Him,
    If He be my Guide? 
  “In His feet and hands are wound-prints,
    And His side.”

  Is there diadem, as Monarch,
    That His brow adorns? 
  “Yea, a crown, in very surety,
    But of thorns.”

  If I find Him, if I follow,
    What His guerdon here? 
  “Many a sorrow, many a labor,
    Many a tear.”

  If I still hold closely to Him,
    What hath He at last? 
  “Sorrow vanquished, labor ended,
    Jordan passed.”

  If I ask Him to receive me,
    Will He say me nay? 
  “Not till earth, and not till heaven
    Pass away.”

  Finding, following, keeping, struggling,
    Is He sure to bless? 
  “Saints, apostles, prophets, martyrs,
    Answer, Yes.”

From the Latin of SAINT STEPHEN THE SABAITE.

Translation of JOHN MASON NEALE.

* * * * *

WHEN GATHERING CLOUDS AROUND I VIEW.

  When gathering clouds around I view,
  And days are dark, and friends are few,
  On Him I lean, who, not in vain,
  Experienced every human pain;
  He sees my wants, allays my fears. 
  And counts and treasures up my tears. 
  If aught should tempt my soul to stray
  From heavenly wisdom’s narrow way,
  To fly the good I would pursue,
  Or do the sin I would not do,—­
  Still He who felt temptation’s power
  Shall guard me in that dangerous hour.

  If wounded love my bosom swell,
  Deceived by those I prized too well,
  He shall His pitying aid bestow
  Who felt on earth severer woe,
  At once betrayed, denied, or fled,
  By those who shared His daily bread.

  If vexing thoughts within me rise,
  And sore dismayed my spirit dies,
  Still He who once vouchsafed to bear
  The sickening anguish of despair
  Shall sweetly soothe, shall gently dry,
  The throbbing heart, the streaming eye.

  When sorrowing o’er some stone I bend,
  Which covers what was once a friend,
  And from his voice, his hand, his smile,
  Divides me for a little while;
  Thou, Saviour, mark’st the tears I shed,
  For Thou didst weep o’er Lazarus dead.