THE LORD'S PRAYER.

INQUIREST thou, O man, wherewithal may I come unto the Lord?
And with what wonder-working sounds may I move the majesty of

heaven?

There is a model to thy hand; upon that do thou frame thy supplication Wisdom hath measured its words, and redemption urgeth thee to use

them.

Call thy God thy Father, and yet not thine alone,

For thou art but one of many, thy brotherhood is with all:

Remember his high estate, that he dwelleth King of Heaven;

So shall thy thoughts be humbled, nor love be unmixed with reverence:
Be thy first petition unselfish, the honour of Him who made thee,
And that in the depths of thy heart his memory be shrined in holiness
Pray for that blessed time when good shall triumph over evil,
And one universal temple echo the perfections of Jehovah :

Bend thou to his good-will, and subserve his holy purposes,

Till in thee, and those around thee, grow a little heaven upon earth:
Humbly, as a grateful almsman, beg thy bread of God,—

Bread for thy triple estate, for thou hast a trinity of nature:
Humility smootheth the way, and gratitude softeneth the heart,

Be then thy prayer for pardon mingled with the tear of penitence;

Yea, and while, all unworthy, thou leanest on the hand that should

smite,

Thou canst not from thy fellows withhold thy less forgiveness.

To thy Father thy weaknesses are known, and thou hast not hid thy sin, Therefore ask him, in all trust, to lead thee from the dangers of temptation;

While the last petition of the soul that breatheth on the confines of

prayer

Is deliverance from sin and the evil one, the miseries of earth and hell. And wherefore, child of hope, should the rock of tny conndence be sure? Thou knowest that God heareth, and promiseth an answer of peace; Thou knowest that he is King, and none can stay his hand;

Thou knowest his power to be boundless, for there is none other:

And to Him thou givest glory. as a creature of nis workmansnio and favour,

For the never-ending term of thy saved and brignt existence.

OF DISCRETION.

FOR what then was I born?-to fill the circling year

With daily toil for daily bread, with sordid pains and pleasures?—

To walk this chequered world, alternate light and darkness,

The day-dreams of deep thought followed by the night-dreams of fancy?— To be one in a full procession '—to dig my kindred clay?

To decorate the gallery of art?—to clear a few acres of forest?
For more than these, my soul, thy God hath. lent thee life.
Is then that noble end to feed this mind with knowledge,
To mix for mine own thirst the sparkling wine of wisdom,
To light with many lamps the caverns of my heart,

reap,

Το in the furrows of my brain, good harvest of right reasons?—
For more than these, my soul, thy God hath lent thee life.

Is it to grow stronger in self-government, to check the chafing will,
To curb with tightening rein the mettled steeds of passion,
To welcome with calm heart, far in the voiceless desert,
The gracious visitings of heaven that bless my single self?-
For more than these, my soul, thy God hath lent thee life.
To aim at thine own happiness, is an end idolatrous and evil,

In earth, yea in heaven, if thou seek it for itself, seeking thou shalt not

find.

Happiness is a roadside flower, growing on the highways of Usefulness, Plucked, it shall wither in thy hand; passed by, it is fragrance to thy

spirit:

Love not thine own soul, regard not thine own weal,

Trample the thyme beneath thy feet; be useful, and be happy!

THUS unto fair conclusions argueth generous youth,

And quickly he starteth on his course, knight-errant to do good.
His sword is edged with arguments, his vizor terrible with censures;
He goeth full mailed in faith, and zeal is flaming at his heart.
Yet one thing he lacketh, the Mentor of the mind,

The quiet whisper of Discretion-Thy time is not yet come.
For he smiteth an oppressor; and vengeance for that smiting

Is dealt in double stripes on the faint body of the victim:

He is glad to give and to distribute; and clamorous pauperism feasteth, While honest labour, pining, hideth his sharp ribs:

He challengeth to a fair field that subtle giant Infidelity,

And worsted in the unequal fight, strengtheneth the hands of error:

He hasteth to teach and preach, as the war-horse rusheth to the battle,
And to pave a way for truth, would break up the Apennines of prejudice:
He wearieth by stale proofs, where none looked for a reason,
And to the listening ear will urge the false argument of feeling.
So hath it often been, that, judging by results,

The hottest friends of truth have done her deadliest wrong.

Alas! for there are enemies without, glad enough to parley with a traitor, And a zealot will let down the drawbridge, to prove his own prowess: Yea, from within will he break away a breach in the citadel of truth, That he may fill the gap, for fame, with his own weak body.

ZEAL without judgment is an evil, though it be zeal unto good:
Touch not the ark with unclean hand, yea, though it seem to totter.
There are evil who work good, and there are good who work evil,
And foolish backers of wisdom have brought on her many reproaches.
Truth hath more than enough to combat in the minds of all men,
For the mist of sense is a thick veil, and sin hath warped their wills;
Yet doth an officious helper awkwardly prevent her victory,—
These thy wounded hands were smitten in the house of friends:—

To point out a meaning in her words, he will blot those words with his finger;

And winnow chaff into the eyes, before he hath wheat to show:

He will heap sturdy logs on a faint expiring fire,

And with a room in flames, will cast the casement open;

By a shoulder to the wheel downhill harasseth the labouring beast,

And where obstruction were needed, will harm by an ill-judged thrusting

on.

A vessel foundereth at sea, if a storm have unshipped the rudder;

And a mind with much sail shall require heavy ballast.

Take a lever by the middle, thou shalt seem to prove it powerless,

Argue for truth indiscreetly, thou shalt toil for falsehood.

There is plenty of room for a peaceable man in the most thronged assembly;

But a quarrelsome spirit is straitened in the open field:

Many a teacher, lacking judgment, hindereth his own lessons;

And the savoury mess of pottage is spoiled by a bitter herb:

The garment woven of a piece is rashly torn by schism,
Because its unwise claimants will not cast lots for its possession.

DISCRETION guide thee on thy way, nobly-minded youth,
Help thee to humour infirmities, to wink at innocent errors,
To take small count of forms, to bear with prejudice and fancy:
Discretion guard thine asking, discretion aid thine answer,

Teach thee that well-timed silence hath more eloquence than speech,
Whisper thee, thou art Weakness, though thy cause be strength,

And tell thee, the keystone of an arch can be loosened with least labour from within.

The snows of Hecla lie around its troubled smoking Geysers;

Let the cool streams of prudence temper the hot spring of zeal :

So shalt thou gain thine honourable end, nor lose the midway prize,
So shall thy life be useful, and thy young heart happy.