God! has Thy hand requirèd
The guerdon I was winning?
Yea! it comes to slit the thread
Of life that it was spinning!
See, for me the last sun riseth!
For I am hurried by Thy breath
From my happy home, the world,
And, like a lone leaf, witherèd,
That from the living stem is shed,
Plaything of the winds, am hurl'd.

Thus, with cries and coward fears
My sickness seems increasing,
And my eyes, that swim with tears,
To open now are ceasing.
And to the gloomy night I call,
"O Night, within thy sombre pall
Thou'lt envelope me always.'
And loud I cry unto the morn,
"This, the day that now is born,

Is the last day of my days!"

My senses are benumbed with fear,
My soul in darkness crying,
Answer, just God, hear, O hear!
I call upon Thee, dying!
Oh God! at last Thy hand it is
Has saved me from the precipice

Yawning sheer beneath my feet.
Thy succour gives me back my life,
And yields my soul, amid the strife
Fought with Death, a comfort sweet.

J.-B. ROUSSEAU (Trs. Editors).

FEBRUARY 28.

LORD, what am I?

What is my life? What is my flesh? What is my time? My time, my

A worm, dust, vapour, nothing!
A dream, a daily dying!

My soul's uneasie clothing!
A minute ever flying!
flesh, my life, and I :

What are we, Lord, but vanity?

Where am I, Lord?

What is my trade?

Downe in a vale of Death :
Sin my dear God offending :

My sport sin, too; my stay a puffe of breath :
What end of sin? Hell's horrour never ending:
My way, my trade, sport, stay and place
Help up to make my doleful case.

Lord, what art Thou? pure life, power, beauty, bliss : Where dwell'st Thou? up above in perfect light: What is Thy time? eternity it is:

What state? attendance of each glorious spirit: Thyself, Thy place, Thy dayes, Thy state Pass all the thoughts of powers create.

How shall I reach Thee, Lord? Oh, soar above, Ambitious soul ! But which

Thou, Lord, art way and end.

way should I flie?

What wings have I ?

Aspiring thoughts of faith, of hope, of love,
Oh, let these wings that way alone
Present me to Thy blissful throne.

BISHOP HALL.

FEBRUARY 29.

A HEBREW PRAYER.

O LORD, I call on Thee when sore dismayed,
And Thou wilt hear my voice and lend me aid,
Nor shall I be of myriads afraid,

For Thou wilt ever be

The portion of my lot,-Thou savest me.

In troubled times Thy mercy's plenteous store
Is full to overflowing evermore,

And when in straitness I my plaint outpour,
With words entreating Thee,

Then with enlargement Thou dost answer me.

Make known Thy love to those that trust and pray, To those who hold Thy name their keep and stay, Waiting for Thy salvation day by day.

Yea, who, O Lord, but Thee,

Shall make me glad, who else deliver me?

Do Thou from heavenly heights my pain behold,
And lead me back unto Thy sheltering fold,

That I

may answer scorners as of old:
Yea, though my dwelling be

In darkest night, God is a light to me.

ABRAHAM IBN EZRA. (Trs. Mrs Henry Lucas.)

62

MARCH 1.

[St David's Day.]

I ADORE the Supreme, Lord of all animation—
Him that supports the Heavens, Ruler of every extreme,
Him that made the water good for all,

Him that has bestowed each gift and blesses it ;—
May abundance of mead be given to Maelgwn of
Anglesey, who supplies us,

From his foaming meadhorns, with the choicest pure liquor.

Since bees collect and do not enjoy,

We have sparkling distilled mead, which is universally praised.

The multitude of creatures which the earth nourishes God made for man with a view to enrich him ;

Some are violent, some are mute: He enjoys them; Some are wild, some are tame the Lord makes

them ;

Part of their produce becomes clothing;

For food and beverage till doom will they continue.
I entreat the Supreme, Sovereign of the region of peace,
To liberate Elphin from banishment,

The man who gave me wine and ale and mead,
With large princely steeds, of beautiful appearance :
May he yet give me and at the end

May God of His good will grant me, in honour,

A succession of numberless ages, in the retreat of tranquillity.

Elphin, knight of mead, late be thy dissolution!

TALIESIN (Trs. from the Welsh by

Lady Charlotte Guest).

MARCH 2.

"FOR THOU ART WITH ME, I WILL NOT FEAR."

O MAY my constant feet not fail
Walking in paths of righteousness,
Sinless in word and deed-

True to those eternal laws

That scale forever the high steep

Of heaven's pure ether, whence they sprang :
For only in Olympus is their home,

Nor mortal wisdom gave them birth,
And, howsoe'er men may forget,

They will not sleep;

For the might of the God within them grows not old. Rooted in pride the tyrant grows :

But pride that with its own too-much

Is rashly surfeited,

Heeding not the prudent mean,

Down the inevitable gulf

From its high pinnacle is hurled,

Where use of feet or foothold there is none.

But, O kind gods, the noble strength,

That struggles for the state's behoof,

Unbend not yet:

In the gods have I put my trust-I will not fear.

SOPHOCLES. (Trs. R. Whitelaw.)