Why ever make man's good distinct from
God's,

Or finding they are one, why dare mistrust?

September Twenty-first.

M As

An end, a rest! Strange how the notion,

L

once

Encountered, gathers strength by moments!

G

Rest!

T

Where has it kept so long? This throbbing

brow

To cease, this beating heart to cease, all cruel

And gnawing thoughts to cease! To dare let down

My strength, so high-strung brain, to dare

unnerve

My harassed o'er-tasked frame, to know my place,

My portion, my reward, even my failure,
Assigned, made sure forever.

September Twenty-second.

Let our God's praise

Go bravely through the world at last! What

care

Through me or thee?

September Twenty-third.

Fortune is fickle

And even professors fall.

September Twenty-fourth.

This is the doctrine, simple, ancient, true; Such is life's trial, as old earth smiles and knows.

If you loved only what were worth your love,

Love were clear gain, and wholly well for

you:

Make the low nature better by your throes! Give earth yourself, go up for gain above!

September Twenty-fifth.

Can the soul, the will, die out of a man
Ere his body finds the grave that gapes?

THOUGHTS FIT TO TREASURE UP. 127

September Twenty-sixth.

Justinian's Pandects only make precise What simply sparkled in men's eyes before. Twitched in their brow or quivered on their lip,

Waited the speech they called but would

not come.

September Twenty-seventh.

The candid incline to surmise of late
That the Christian faith may be false, I find;
For our Essays and Reviews' debate
Begins to tell on the public mind,
And Colenso's words have weight;

I will, to suppose it true, for my part
See reasons and reasons; this to begin:

'Tis the faith that launched point-blank her

dart

At the head of a lie-taught original sin,
The corruption of man's heart.

September Twenty-eighth.

'Tis an awkward thing to play with souls, And matter enough to save one's own.

September Twenty-ninth.

Women hate a debt as men a gift.