The wisdom which we most esteem, in this thing doth

consist,

With glorious talk to show in words our wisdom when we list:

Yet not in talk but seemly deeds our wisdom we should

place,

To speak so fair and do but ill doth wisdom quite disgrace.

To bargain well and shun the loss, a wisdom counted is, And thereby through the greedy coin no hope of grace to miss.

To seek by honour to advance his name to brittle praise, Is wisdom which we daily see increaseth in our days.

But heavenly wisdom sour seems, too hard for them to win,

But weary of the suit they seem, when they do once

begin:

It teacheth us to frame our life while vital breath we

have,

When it dissolveth earthly mass, the soul from death

to save.

By fear of God to rule our steps from sliding into vice A wisdom is, which we neglect, although of greater price:

A point of wisdom also this we commonly esteem, That every man should Be indeed that he desires to

Seem.

To bridle that desire of gain which forceth us to ill, Our haughty stomachs, Lord, repress to tame presuming

will:

This is the wisdom that we should above each thing desire.

O heavenly God, from sacred throne that grace in us inspire!

And print in our repugnant hearts the rules of wisdom

true,

That all our deeds in worldly life may like thereof

ensue:

Thou only art the living spring from whom this wisdom flows,

Oh, wash therewith our sinful hearts from vice that therein grows.

RICHARD EDWARDS

(Master of Queen Elizabeth's Chapel Royal).

183

JULY 1.

HYMN.

FROM my lips in their defilement,
From my heart in its beguilement,
From my tongue which speaks not fair,
From my soul, stained everywhere,
O my Jesus, take my prayer!

Spurn me not for all it

says,

Not for words and not for ways,
Not for shamelessness endued!
Make me brave to speak my mood,
O my Jesus, as I would!

Or teach me, which I rather seek,
What to do and what to speak.

I have sinnèd more than she,
Who, learning where to meet with Thee,
And bringing myrrh, the highest-priced,
Anointed bravely, from her knee,
Thy blessed feet accordingly.

My God, my Lord, my Christ!
As Thou saidest not "Depart,'
To that suppliant from her heart,
Scorn me not, O Word, that art
The gentlest one of all words said !
But give Thy feet to me instead,
That tenderly I may them kiss
And clasp them close, and never miss

With over-dropping tears as free
And precious as that myrrh could be,
T'anoint them bravely from my knee!
Wash me with Thy tears: draw nigh me,
That their salt may purify me.
THOU remit my sins who knowest
All the sinning to the lowest-
Knowest all my wounds, and seest
All the stripes Thyself decreest;
Yea, but knowest all my faith,
Seest all my force to death,
Hearest all my wailings low,
That mine evil should be so !
Nothing hidden but appears
In Thy knowledge, O Divine,
O Creator, Saviour mine-
Not a drop of falling tears,
Not a breath of inward moan,

Not a heart-beat-which is gone!

JOHN DAMASCENUS.

(Trs. Eliz. Barrett Browning.)

JULY 2.

THE LAW OF FAITH.

THE darts of anguish fix not where the seat
Of suffering hath been thoroughly fortified
By acquiescence in the will supreme
For time and for eternity; by faith,
Faith absolute in God, including hope,
And the defence that lies in boundless love
Of His perfections; with habitual dread
Of aught unworthily conceived, endured
Impatiently, ill done, or left undone,
To the dishonour of His holy name.

Soul of our souls, and safeguard of the world!
Sustain, Thou only canst, the sick of heart;
Restore their languid spirits, and recall
Their lost affections unto Thee and Thine!

WILLIAM Wordsworth.

JULY 3.

TO HEAVEN.

GOOD and great God! Can I not think of Thee, But it must straight my melancholy be?

Is it interpreted in me disease,

That, laden with my sins, I seek for ease?
O be Thou witness, that the reins dost know
And hearts of all, if I be sad for show;
And judge me after, if I dare pretend
To aught but grace or aim at other end.
As Thou art all, so be Thou all to me,

First, midst, and last, converted One and Three!
My faith, my hope, my love: and, in this state,
My judge, my witness, and my advocate!
Where have I been this while exiled from Thee,
And whither rapt, now Thou but stoop'st to me?
Dwell, dwell here still! O, being everywhere,
How can I doubt to find Thee ever here?

I know my state, both full of shame and scorn,
Conceived in sin and unto labour born,
Standing with fear, and must with horror fall,
And destined unto judgment, after all.

I feel my griefs too, and there scarce is ground
Upon my flesh to inflict another wound ;-