3 DECEMBER 1887, Page 14

POETRY.

CARMEN MYSTICUM.

Dzsa Lord, since thou didst make the earth, Thou mad'st it not for grief, but mirth ; Therefore will I be glad. And let who will be sad.

For if I load my life with care, What profits me the buxom air, And what the sweet birds' choir Or heaven's azure fire ?

But if I cannot choose but weep, Weeping I'll think I do but sleep, Till thou shalt bid me wake And triumph for thy sake.

Lord, as 'tis thine eternal state With joy undimmed to contemplate The world that thou haat wrought As mirror for thy thought, So every morning I would rise, And offer thee for sacrifice A spirit bright and clear As the wide atmosphere.

For, Lord, since all is well with thee, It cannot well be ill with me. D.