How We Learn Sow truth, if thou the truth wouldst reap: Sow love, and taste its fruitage pure; 3471 Horatius Bonar [1808-1889] THE MASTER'S TOUCH In the still air the music lies unheard; The master's touch, the sculptor's chisel keen. Great Master, touch us with thy skilful hand; Spare not the stroke! do with us as thou wilt! Horatius Bonar [1808-1889] HOW WE LEARN GREAT truths are dearly bought. The common truth, Such as men give and take from day to day, Comes in the common walks of easy life, Blown by the careless wind across our way. Bought in the market, at the current price, It tells no tale of daring or of worth, Nor pierces even the surface of a soul. Great truths are greatly won. Not found by chance, But in the day of conflict, fear, and grief, When the strong hand of God, put forth in might, Plows up the subsoil of the stagnant heart, And brings the imprisoned truth-seed to the light. Wrung from the troubled spirit in hard hours Of weakness, solitude, perchance of pain, Truth springs, like harvest, from the well-plowed field, And the soul feels it has not wept in vain. Horatius Bonar [1808-1889] LOVE LOVE bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back, But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning If I lack anything. "A guest," I answered, "worthy to be here:" Love said, "You shall be he." "I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear, I cannot look on Thee." Love took my hand and, smiling, did reply, "Who made the eyes but I?" "Truth, Lord; but I have marred them: let my shame Go where it doth deserve." "And know you not," says Love, "Who bore the blame?" "My dear, then I will serve." "You must sit down," says Love, "and taste my meat." So I did sit and eat. George Herbert [1593-1633] The Collar 3473 THE COLLAR I STRUCK the board, and cried, "No more; What, shall I ever sigh and pine? My lines and life are free; free as the road, Shall I be still in suit? Have I no harvest but a thorn To let me blood and not restore Before my sighs did dry it; there was corn Is the year only lost to me? Have I no bays to crown it, No flowers, no garlands gay? all blasted, Not so, my heart; but there is fruit, Recover all thy sigh-blown age Which petty thoughts have made; and made to thee While thou didst wink and wouldst not see. I will abroad. Call in thy death's-head there, tie up thy fears; To suit and serve his need Deserves his load." But as I raved and grew more fierce and wild Methought I heard one calling, "Child!" And I replied, "My Lord!" George Herbert [1593-1633] VIRTUE SWEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright! Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave Bids the rash gazer wipe his Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. eye, Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul, But though the whole world turn to coal Then chiefly lives. George Herbert [1593-1633] DISCIPLINE THROW away Thy rod, O my God, For my heart's desire Unto Thine is bent: I aspire To a full consent. Not a word or look I affect to own, But by book, And Thy Book alone. |