John Keble

Sweet is the infant's waking smile,
And sweet the old man's rest--
But middle age by no read more

Sweet is the infant's waking smile,
And sweet the old man's rest--
But middle age by no fond wile,
No soothing calm is blest.

In silence, . . .
Steals on soft-handed Charity,
Tempering her gifts, that seem so free,
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In silence, . . .
Steals on soft-handed Charity,
Tempering her gifts, that seem so free,
By time and place,
Till not a woe the bleak world see,
But finds her grace.

Soft as Memnon's harp at morning,
To the inward ear devout,
Touched by light, with heavenly warning
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Soft as Memnon's harp at morning,
To the inward ear devout,
Touched by light, with heavenly warning
Your transporting chords ring out.
Every leaf in every nook,
Every wave in every brook,
Chanting with a solemn voice
Minds us of our better choice.

Look in, and see Christ's chosen saint
In triumph wear his Christ-like chain;
No fear lest he read more

Look in, and see Christ's chosen saint
In triumph wear his Christ-like chain;
No fear lest he should swerve or faint;
"His life is Christ, his death is gain."

EPIPHANY If on our daily course our mind Be set to hallow all we find, New treasures still of countless read more

EPIPHANY If on our daily course our mind Be set to hallow all we find, New treasures still of countless price God will provide for sacrifice. The trivial round, the common task Will furnish all we ought to ask; Room to deny ourselves -- a road To bring us daily nearer God.