XXIV.

A gentleness that grows of steady faith; A joy that sheds its sunshine everywhere; A humble strength and readiness to bear Those burthens which strict duty ever lay'th Upon our souls;--which unto sorrow saith, "Here is no soil for thee to strike thy roots, Here only grow those sweet and precious fruits; Which ripen for the soul that well obey'th; A patience which the world can neither give Nor take away; a courage strong and high, That dares in simple usefulness to live, And without one sad look behind to die When that day comes;--these tell me that our love Is building for itself a home above."