October 14

Nasce per quello, a guisa di rampollo, Appiè del vero il dubbio.

THERE are, who darkling and alone, Would wish the weary night were gone,

Though dawning day should only show

The secret of their unknown woe;

Who pray for sharpest throbs of pain

To ease them of doubt's galling chain:

"Only disperse the cloud," they cry,

"And if our fate be death, give light and let us die."

Unwise I deem them, Lord, unmeet

To profit by Thy chastenings sweet,

For Thou wouldst have us linger still

Upon the verge of good or ill,

That on Thy guiding hand unseen

Our undivided hearts may lean,

And this our frail and foundering bark

Glide in the narrow wake of Thy beloved ark.

So be it, Lord; I know it best,

Though not as yet this wayward breast

Beat quite in answer to Thy choice;

I know not yet the promised bliss,

Know not if I shall win or miss;

So doubting rather let me die,

Than close with ought beside, to last eternally.

JOHN

KEBLE

A CHARACTER