Grasp not riches, seek not fame,
Shining dust, and sounding name:
Traveller, what are they to thee?
Leave them all, and follow me.

Wanderer from thy Father's throne,
Hasten back, thine errings own;
Turn, thy path leads not to heaven;
Turn, thy sins will be forgiven;
Turn, and let thy songs of praise
Mingle with angelic lays.
Wanderer, here is bliss for thee:
Leave them all to follow me.

Anon.

XLII.

THE BUILDERS.

LL are architects of Fate,

Α'

Working in these walls of Time;

Some with massive deeds and great,
Some with ornaments of rhyme.

Nothing useless is, or low:

Each thing in its place is best; And what seems but idle show Strengthens and supports the rest.

For the structure that we raise,

Time is with materials.filled:

Our to-days and yesterdays

Are the blocks with which we build.

Truly shape and fashion these;

Leave no yawning gaps between : Think not, because no man sees, Such things will remain unseen.

In the elder days of Art,

Builders wrought with greatest care
Each minute and unseen part;
For the Gods see everywhere.

Both the unseen and the seen;

Make the house where God may dwell
Beautiful, entire, and clean;

Else our lives are incomplete,

Standing in these walls of Time,Broken stairways, where the feet Stumble as they seek to climb.

Build to-day, then, strong and sure,
With a firm and ample base;
And ascending and secure
Shall to-morrow find its place.

Thus alone can we attain

To those turrets, where the eye Sees the world as one vast plain, And one boundless reach of sky.

Henry W. Longfellow.

*XLIII.

THE LADDER OF ST. AUGUSTINE.

AINT AUGUSTINE, well hast thou said
That of our vices we can frame

A ladder, if we will but tread

Beneath our feet each deed of shame.

All common things, each day's events
That with the hour begin and end,
Our pleasures and our discontents,
Are rounds by which we may ascend.

The low desire; the base design
That makes another's virtues less;
The revel of the ruddy wine,
And all occasions of excess ;

The longing for ignoble things;

The strife for triumph more than truth;
The hardening of the heart, that brings
Irreverence for the dreams of youth;

All thoughts of ill; all evil deeds,
That have their root in thoughts of ill;
Whatever hinders or impedes

The action of the nobler will,

All these must first be trampled down
Beneath our feet, if we would gain

In the bright fields of fair renown
The right of eminent domain.

We have not wings; we cannot soar:
But we have feet to scale and climb
By slow degrees, by more and more,
The cloudy summits of our time.

The mighty pyramids of stone

That wedge-like cleave the desert airs, When nearer seen, and better known, Are but gigantic flights of stairs.

The distant mountains, that uprear
Their solid bastions to the skies,
Are crossed by pathways, that appear
As we to higher levels rise.

The heights by great men reached and kept
Were not attained by sudden flight;
But they, while their companions slept,
Were toiling upward in the night.

Standing on what too long we bore
With shoulders bent, and downcast eyes,
We may discern, unseen before,
A path to higher destinies.

Nor deem the irrevocable past
As wholly wasted, wholly vain,

If, rising on its wrecks, at last
To something nobler we attain.

Henry W. Longfellow.

XLIV.

THE HOLY SPIRIT.

UR blest Redeemer, ere he breathed
His tender last farewell,

A Guide, a Comforter, bequeathed,
With us to dwell.

He came in tongues of living flame
To teach, convince, subdue :
All powerful as the wind he came,
As viewless too.

He came sweet influence to impart;
A gracious, willing guest

While he can find one humble heart
Wherein to rest.

And his that gentle voice we hear,
Soft as the breath of even,

That checks each fault, that calms each fear,
And speaks of heaven.

And every virtue we possess,

And every victory won,
And every thought of holiness,
Are his alone.

Spirit of Purity and Grace,

Our weakness pitying see:

Oh! make our hearts thy dwelling-place,
And worthier thee!