These are the gifts I ask
Of thee, Spirit serene: 
Strength for the daily task,
Courage to face the road,
Good cheer to help me bear the traveller’s load,
And, for the hours of rest that come between,
An inward joy in all things heard and seen. 
These are the sins I fain
Would have thee take away: 
Malice, and cold disdain,
Hot anger, sullen hate,
Scorn of the lowly, envy of the great,
And discontent that casts a shadow gray
On all the brightness of the common day. 
These are the things I prize
And hold of dearest worth: 
Light of the sapphire skies,
Peace of the silent hills,
Shelter of forests, comfort of the grass,
Music of birds, murmur of little rills,
Shadows of cloud that swiftly pass,
And, after showers,
The smell of flowers
And of the good brown earth,—­
And best of all, along the way, friendship and mirth. 
So let me keep
These treasures of the humble heart
In true possession, owning them by love;
And when at last I can no longer move
Among them freely, but must part
From the green fields and from the waters clear,
Let me not creep
Into some darkened room and hide
From all that makes the world so bright and dear;
But throw the windows wide
To welcome in the light;
And while I clasp a well-beloved hand,
Let me once more have sight
Of the deep sky and the far-smiling land,—­
Then gently fall on sleep,
And breathe my body back to Nature’s care,
My spirit out to thee, God of the open air.

1904.

NARRATIVE POEMS

THE TOILING OF FELIX

A LEGEND ON A NEW SAYING OF JESUS

In the rubbish heaps of the ancient city of Oxyrhynchus, near the River Nile, a party of English explorers, in the winter of 1897, discovered a fragment of a papyrus book, written in the second or third century, and hitherto unknown.  This single leaf contained parts of seven short sentences of Christ, each introduced by the words, “Jesus says.”  It is to the fifth of these Sayings of Jesus that the following poem refers.

THE TOILING OF FELIX

I

PRELUDE

        Hear a word that Jesus spake
          Nineteen hundred years ago,
          Where the crimson lilies blow
        Round the blue Tiberian lake: 
        There the bread of life He brake,
          Through the fields of harvest walking
          With His lowly comrades, talking
          Of the secret thoughts that feed
          Weary souls in time of need. 
        Art thou hungry?  Come and take;
        Hear the word that Jesus spake! 
  ’Tis the sacrament of labour, bread and wine divinely blest;
  Friendship’s food and sweet refreshment, strength and courage, joy and
            rest.