Speak THOU but words of praise.

MORTAL

On every hand is wretchedness and grief,
Despondency and fear.
Lord, I would give my fellow men relief.

SPIRIT

Be, then, all hope, all cheer.

MORTAL

Lord, I look outward and grow sick at heart,
Such need of change I see.

SPIRIT

Mortal, look IN. Do thy allotted part,
And leave the rest to ME.



THE WEED



A weed is but an unloved flower!
Go dig, and prune, and guide, and wait,