Democratic Sentinel, Volume 17, Number 18, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 May 1893 — POETICAL SELECTIONS FROM BISHOP SPALDING. [ARTICLE]

POETICAL SELECTIONS FROM BISHOP SPALDING.

To give delight is blessedness; The joy we give we feel, And when our lives our brothers bless They bring 1 1 ns best weal; For they and we Are company In gri-f and gle“. And chime or clash together like a peal. No happy man lives for himself Or for a private end, Sad misers only love their pelf, Nor know the joy to spend,— New joy to add To make hearts glad, And cheerthe sad. And with onr own content of others blend A generous heart asks no reward; It is, like conscience clear, A feast wh-re all best gifts are stored, And guests have all good cheer, And with glad song In bap. y throng T o hours prolong, tVith loving friends whose presence makes life dear. O holy age, come nearer still. When each sha 1 work f r all, And love and peace the ear h shall fill. And all men disenthrall, And on the earth There to no dearth Hut a new birth Of happy souls, and God be all in all! —o — Ah, could I sing some lulling song, Whose music, soft and low As murmuring stream, would bear along My sorrow and my woe, And leave me light of heart Without a paiu or smart, As when a boy I leaped for joy To see the flowers springing. And hear the sweet birds singing; And all the days were tilled with light, And angels hovored through the night. Ah, conld I touch the secret spring Of heavenly harmony, And let glal melodios ontring To flit the soul with glee, And drive all care away, Nor let dull sadness stay, But give each heart Its own sweet part— In the deep joys of earth Upbrimming cups of mirth, Till the greit earth, iu gladness crowned, With songs of merriment resound. Ah, for a note so sweet and clear, That weary workers all The high and heavenly stra'u might hear, And think it angel's call To lift the fainting heart, And new life to impark, Inspiring hope i In all who grope ’Mid auxions cares and doubt, Until for joy they shout, And look to God who all controls, And all who trust in Him consoles. In youth we long to make our thought The thought of all the world, But when sad Time his work has wrought We march with banuers furled. No more there floats before our eves The fi esh heroic dream— That our weak, single energies Can stem the torrent’s stream. Enongb if we ourselvei may now Ride on the raging wave, Or catch some overhanging hough With hope our life to save. But still the dewy, blooming dawn Throws on onr soul its li.ht, Though all its glories now are gone, And wo sweep intonight.