Make ends meet

them often beyond his ken; Will the dog snarl at them like men?

But ah! Despite my will, it stands confessed, Contentment welleth up no

longer in my breast. Yet wherefore must the stream, alas, so soon be dry,

That we once more athirst should lie? Full oft this sad experience hath been

mine; Nathless the want admits of compensation; For things above the earth

we learn to pine, Our spirits yearn for revelation, Which nowhere burns with

purer beauty blent, Than here in the New Testament. To ope the ancient text

an impulse strong Impels me, and its sacred lore, With honest purpose to