TOO MUCH.

I should have been too glad, I see, Too lifted for the scant degree Of life's penurious round; My little circuit would have shamed

This new circumference, have blamed The homelier time behind. I should have been too saved, I see, Too rescued; fear too dim to me

That I could spell the prayer I knew so perfect yesterday, — That scalding one, “Sabachthani,” Recited fluent here.

Earth would have been too much, I see, And heaven not enough for me; I should have had the joy Without the fear to justify, —

The palm without the Calvary; So, Saviour, crucify. Defeat whets victory, they say; The reefs in old Gethsemane

Endear the shore beyond. ‘ T is beggars banquets best define; ‘ T is thirsting vitalizes wine, — Faith faints to understand.