Keble is not in subtlety of thought or of
expression another George Herbert, or another Henry Vaughan. But
his voice is not the less in unison with theirs, for every note is
true, and wins us by its purity. His also are melodies of the
everlasting chime.
"And be ye sure that Love can bless
E'en in this crowded loneliness,
Where ever moving myriads seem to say,
Go--thou art nought to us, nor we to thee--away!"
"There are in this loud stunning tide
Of human care and crime,
With whom the melodies abide
Of the everlasting chime;
Who carry music in their heart
Through dusky lane and wrangling mart,
Plying their daily task with busier feet,
Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat."
With a peal, then, of such music let us ring in the New Year for our
Library; and for our lives.
January 1, 1887. H. M.
DEDICATION.
When in my silent solitary walk,
I sought a strain not all unworthy Thee,
My heart, still ringing with wild worldly talk,
Gave forth no note of holier minstrelsy.
Prayer is the secret, to myself I said,
Strong supplication must call down the charm,
And thus with untuned heart I feebly prayed,
Knocking at Heaven's gate with earth-palsied arm.
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