A sea of lies art thou,—­our sin
  Only a drop that sea within.”

  “Not so,” said Satan, “I serve God,
  His angel now, and now his rod.

  In tempting I both bless and curse,
  Make good men better, bad men worse.

  Good coin is mixed with bad, my brother,
  I but distinguish one from the other.”

  “Granted,” the Caliph said, “but still
  You never tempt to good, but ill.

  Tell then the truth, for well I know
  You come as my most deadly foe.”

  Loud laughed the fiend.  “You know me well,
  Therefore my purpose I will tell.

  If you had missed your prayer, I knew
  A swift repentance would ensue;

  And such repentance would have been
  A good, outweighing far the sin.

  I chose this humbleness divine,
  Borne out of fault, should not be thine,

  Preferring prayers elate with pride
  To sin with penitence allied.”

JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE.

* * * * *

DARKNESS IS THINNING.

  Darkness is thinning; shadows are retreating;
  Morning and light are coming in their beauty;
  Suppliant seek we, with an earnest outcry. 
        God the Almighty!

  So that our Master, having mercy on us. 
  May repel languor, may bestow salvation. 
  Granting us, Father, of thy loving-kindness
        Glory hereafter!

  This, of his mercy, ever blessed Godhead,
  Father, and Son, and Holy Spirit, give us,—­
  Whom through the wide world celebrate forever
        Blessing and glory!

From the Latin of ST. GREGORY THE GREAT.

Translation of JOHN MASON NEALE.

* * * * *

PRAISE.

  To write a verse or two is all the praise
          That I can raise;
      Mend my estate in any wayes,
          Thou shalt have more.

  I go to church; help me to wings, and I
          Will thither flie;
      Or, if I mount unto the skie,
          I will do more.

  Man is all weaknesse:  there is no such thing
          As Prince or King: 
      His arm is short; yet with a sling
          He may do more.

  A herb destilled, and drunk, may dwell next doore,
          On the same floore,
      To a brave soul:  Exalt the poore,
          They can do more.

  O, raise me then! poore bees, that work all day,
          Sting my delay,
      Who have a work, as well as they,
          And much, much more.

GEORGE HERBERT.

* * * * *

PRAYER.

  O God! though sorrow be my fate,
  And the world’s hate
    For my heart’s faith pursue me. 
  My peace they cannot take away;
  Prom day to day
    Thou dost anew imbue me;
  Thou art not far; a little while
  Thou hid’st thy face, with brighter smile
    Thy father-love to show me.