RABBI BEN EZRA.

GROW old along with me!

The best is yet to be,

1.

The last of life, for which the first was made:

Our times are in His hand

Who saith "A whole I planned,

Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be

Youth sighed "Which rose make ours,

Which lily leave and then as best recall?"

Not that, admiring stars,

It yearned "Nor Jove, nor Mars;

Mine be some figured flame which blends, transcends

them all!"

3.

Not for such hopes and fears,

Annulling youth's brief years,

Do I remonstrate,— folly wide the mark!

Rather I prize the doubt

Low kinds exist without,

Finished and finite clods, untroubled by a spark.

Poor vaunt of life indeed,

4.

Were man but formed to feed

On joy, to solely seek and find and feast:

Such feasting ended, then

As sure an end to men;

Irks care the crop-full bird? Frets doubt the maw

And not partake, effect and not receive!

A spark disturbs our clod;

Nearer we hold of God

Who gives, than of His tribes that take, I must believe.

Then, welcome each rebuff

6.

That turns earth's smoothness rough,

Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand, but go!

Be our joys three parts pain!

Strive, and hold cheap the strain;

Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the

Shall life succeed in that it seems to fail:

What I aspired to be,

And was not, comforts me:

A brute I might have been, but would not sink i' the

scale.

8.

What is he but a brute

Whose flesh hath soul to suit,

Whose spirit works lest arms and legs want play?

To man, propose this test

Thy body at its best,

How far can that project thy soul on its lone way?

9.

Yet gifts should prove their use:

I own the Past profuse

Of power each side, perfection every turn:

Eyes, ears took in their dole,

Brain treasured up the whole;

Should not the heart beat once "How good to live and

learn?"

10.

Not once beat "Praise be Thine!

I see the whole design,

→I, who saw Power, shall see Love perfect too:

Perfect I call Thy plan:

Thanks that I was a man!

Maker, remake, complete, I trust what Thou shalt do!"

For pleasant is this flesh;

Our soul, in its rose-mesh

11.

Pulled ever to the earth, still yearns for rest:

Would we some prize might hold

To match those manifold

Possessions of the brute, gain most, as we did best!

Let us not always say

"Spite of this flesh to-day

12.

I strove, made head, gained ground upon the whole!"

As the bird wings and sings,

Let us cry "All good things

Are ours, nor soul helps flesh more, now, than flesh helps

Life's struggle having so far reached its term:

Thence shall I pass, approved

From the developed brute; a God though in the germ.

And I shall thereupon

Take rest, ere I be gone

14.

Once more on my adventure brave and new:

Fearless and unperplexed,

When I wage battle next,

What weapons to select, what armor to indue.