Patience; the False.

BUT this dead level,-Patience; what a change
From Passion's craggy glens and crested heights!
What a dull ebb,-stagnation sad and strange
From Feeling's tide of boundless ocean range

With flooding hopes and terrors and delights!

O Patience, yet thou hast a baser name

Cut in the flint of man's enduring heart,

Callous contempt alike of scorn and fame,

Self, well resign'd to play the Stoic part,

Or truer, as an Epicure, to stand

Balancing present comforts in the hand

With cold philosophy: see, that thou disown

This evil fruit of worldly trouble sown

Which Man calls Patience, GOD, the heart of stone.

Patience; the True.

THE martyr'd spirit that can shrink and feel,
Gently enduring long; the generous mind
After ill-usage waiting to be kind;

The man, who for his enemy can kneel

And beg from Heav'n forgiveness to his sin; The outraged heart, all tenderness within, Though like a hero plated up in steel;

These be the Patient ones whom GoD approves :

He wills no feeling quench'd, no hope destroy'd; HE claims affection's life, the warmth of zeal, All noblest active impulses and loves Energized and encouraged and enjoy'd,— Then counsels Patience; with her oily balm

Lulling life's roughening surface to a calm, 4

A Maxim of Peace.

NEVER have regrets, brother,

But for sake of sin;

The treacherous heart within

All too soon forgets, brother,
How it felt, and was, in thought,

Acting out the thing it ought.

All thy will was well, brother,
Well didst thou deserve;

Circumstance might swerve,

But, the truth to tell, brother,

Consequences none foresee

Never need be cares to thee.

Always for the best, brother,

Hourly hast thou striven;

Though to be forgiven,

This shall be thy test, brother,—

Did not honest zeal obey

Duty's impulse every day?

What seem'd then so right, brother,

Let no censure now,

No unkindly brow,

Damage in thy sight, brother;

Yesterday did what it could;

Scorn not thou its humbler good!

To thyself be true, brother;

Yield not to regret ;

Nor thy spirit fret

To do, or to undo, brother,

What is now beyond thy skill;

Facts are facts, do what we will.

Every Present seems, brother,

Girt about with friends;

Every Future sends

Glory to thy dreams, brother;

But we all condemn too fast

The friendless and the hopeless Past.

Scorn not what thou wast, brother,

Trust not what thou art;

Watch thy coward heart;

Look to that thou hast, brother;

Nothing is within thy power,

But the swiftly passing hour.

Therefore do not set, brother,

Sorrow on the past;

When the die is cast

Never nurse regret, brother:

Only for thy sin be sad,

For all beside be wisely glad!