English

God He rejects all Prayers that are sleight,
And want their Poise: words ought to have their weight.

God hath two wings, which He doth ever move,
The one is Mercy, and the next is Love:
Under the first the Sinners ever trust;
And with the last he still directs the Just.

Glasse, out of deepe, and out of desp'rate want,
Turn'd, from a Papist here, a Predicant.
A Vicarige at last Tom Glasse got here,
Just upon five and thirty pounds a yeare.
Adde to that thirty five, but five pounds more,
He'l turn a Papist, rancker then before.

Give way, and be ye ravisht by the Sun,
(And hang the head when as the Act is done)
Spread as He spreads; wax lesse as He do's wane;
And as He shuts, close up to Maids again.

The grass so little has to do,—
A sphere of simple green,
With only butterflies to brood,
And bees to entertain,

And stir all day to pretty tunes
The breezes fetch along,
And hold the sunshine in its lap
And bow to everything;

And thread the dews all night, like pearls,
And make itself so fine,—
A duchess were too common
For such a noticing.

And even when it dies, to pass
In odors so divine,
As lowly spices gone to sleep,
Or amulets of pine.

God made a little gentian;
It tried to be a rose
And failed, and all the summer laughed.
But just before the snows
There came a purple creature
That ravished all the hill;
And summer hid her forehead,
And mockery was still.
The frosts were her condition;
The Tyrian would not come
Until the North evoked it.
" Creator! shall I bloom? "

The grass fire swooped like a red wolf pack,
On the wings of a west wind dry.
Its red race left the scorched plains black
'Neath a sullen, smoky sky.

And the wagon boss of the Bar-Y-Cross
He rallied his roisterous crew.
" Boys, shoot some steers, and hang the loss,
An' split them smack in two! "

They split six steers, with the blood side down,
They dragged them to and fro.
But the grass fire laughed like a demon clown
At a devil's three-ringed show.

The flame draft drove like a wind from hell,

Grant, Lord, that through the printed page
Thy Word will yet be spread
To every nation, race, and tribe,
Which now in sin is dead.
Oh, let not Satan's lies be sown
Among the literate;
But let Thy Word to them be given
Who for the Truth await.
Arise, O Lord, and let Thy Church
Be victor in the field.
Teach every Christian warrior
His heavenly sword to wield.
Sound forth Thy trumpet loud and clear,
Thy sleeping church awake;
Teach us to sacrifice our best,
And every effort make.

A granite cliff on either shore:
A highway poised in air;
Above, the wheels of traffic roar;
Below, the fleets sail fair; —
And in and out, forevermore,
The surging tides of ocean pour,
And past the towers the white gulls soar,
And winds the sea-clouds bear.

O peerless this majestic street,
This road that leaps the brine!
Upon its heights twin cities meet,
And throng its grand incline, —
To east, to west, with swiftest feet,
Though ice may crash and billows beat,

This is a portrait. Here one can
Descry those purely human features
Whereby, since first the world began,
Man has with ease distinguished Man
From humbler fellow-creatures
And seldom, whatsoe'er his shape,
Mistaken him for Dog or Ape.

Inspect this subject well, and note
The whiskers centrally divided,
The silken stock about his throat,
The loose but elegant frock-coat,
The boots (elastic-sided),