Through soul and limbs.  I looked to see.... 
  O tender lordly Face! 
  It was Himself,—­the Way, the Truth, the Life!

OLIVER HUCKEL.

* * * * *

THE AIM.

  O thou who lovest not alone
  The swift success, the instant goal,
  But hast a lenient eye to mark
  The failures of th’ inconstant soul,

  Consider not my little worth,—­
  The mean achievement, scamped in act,
  The high resolve and low result,
  The dream that durst not face the fact.

  But count the reach of my desire. 
  Let this be something in Thy sight:—­
  I have not, in the slothful dark,
  Forgot the Vision and the Height.

  Neither my body nor my soul
  To earth’s low ease will yield consent. 
  I praise Thee for my will to strive. 
  I bless Thy goad of discontent.

CHARLES G.D.  ROBERTS.

* * * * *

THE LOVE OF GOD SUPREME.

  Thou hidden love of God, whose height,
    Whose depth unfathomed no man knows,
  I see from far thy beauteous light,
    Inly I sigh for thy repose. 
  My heart is pained, nor can it be
  At rest till it finds rest in thee.

  Thy secret voice invites me still
    The sweetness of thy yoke to prove,
  And fain I would; but though my will
    Be fixed, yet wide my passions rove. 
  Yet hindrances strew all the way;
  I aim at thee, yet from thee stray.

  ’T is mercy all that thou hast brought
    My mind to seek her peace in thee. 
  Yet while I seek but find thee not
    No peace my wand’ring soul shall see. 
  Oh! when shall all my wand’rings end,
  And all my steps to-thee-ward tend?

  Is there a thing beneath the sun
    That strives with thee my heart to share? 
  Ah! tear it thence and reign alone,
    The Lord of every motion there. 
  Then shall my heart from earth be free,
  When it has found repose in thee.

  Oh! hide this self from me, that I
    No more, but Christ in me, may live. 
  My vile affections crucify,
    Nor let one darling lust survive. 
  In all things nothing may I see,
  Nothing desire or seek but thee.

  O Love, thy sovereign aid impart,
    To save me from low-thoughted care;
  Chase this self-will through all my heart,
    Through all its latent mazes there. 
  Make me thy duteous child, that I
  Ceaseless may Abba, Father, cry.

  Ah! no; ne’er will I backward turn: 
    Thine wholly, thine alone I am. 
  Thrice happy he who views with scorn
    Earth’s toys, for thee his constant flame. 
  Oh! help, that I may never move
  From the blest footsteps of thy love.

  Each moment draw from earth away
    My heart, that lowly waits thy call. 
  Speak to my inmost soul, and say,
    “I am thy Love, thy God, thy All.” 
  To feel thy power, to hear thy voice,
  To taste thy love is all my choice.