That holy cross, whence thy salvation came,
On which thy Saviour and thy sin did die!
For in that sacred object is much pleasure,
And in that Saviour is my life, my treasure.

To thee, O Jesus, I direct my eyes;
To thee my hands, to thee my humble knees,
To thee my heart shall offer sacrifice;
To thee my thoughts, who my thoughts only sees--
To thee myself,--myself and all I give;
To thee I die; to thee I only live!

See what an effect of stately composure quiet artistic care produces, and
how it leaves the ear of the mind in a satisfied peace!

There are a few fine lines in the poem. The last two lines of the first
stanza are admirable; the last two of the second very weak. The last
stanza is good throughout.

But it would be very unfair to judge Sir Walter by his verse. His prose
is infinitely better, and equally displays the devout tendency of his
mind--a tendency common to all the great men of that age. The worst I
know of him is the selfishly prudent advice he left behind for his son.
No doubt he had his faults, but we must not judge a man even by what he
says in an over-anxiety for the prosperity of his child.

Another remarkable fact in the history of those great men is that they
were all men of affairs. Raleigh was a soldier, a sailor, a discoverer, a
politician, as well as an author. His friend Spenser was first secretary
to Lord Grey when he was Governor of Ireland, and afterwards Sheriff of