224 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. IX. 



Fiercest winds, and rude blasts blowing, 



Could not stop his bold careering, 

 Higher still and higher going 



He kept ever upwards steering, 

 Till I lost him in the zenith, 



Far above the mid-day sun, 

 Where he seemed like one that winneth 



Rest in heaven when work is done. 



"Judge thou, then," the voice said, "whether 



This or that's the better thing 

 Rainbow-tinted dove's soft feather, 



Or the eagle's ruffled wing?" 

 "That's the better !" " Rest then still ! 



In thy heart of hearts abase thee ; 

 Lose thy will in God's great will. 



By and by He will upraise thee, 

 In His own good time and season, 



When 'tis meet that thou shouldst go, 

 And will show thee fullest reason 



Why he kept thee here below. 

 Wings of doves shall not be given ; 

 But to lift thee up to heaven 

 Thou shalt have entire dominion 

 O'er the eagle's soaring pinion, 

 Thou shalt mount to God's own eyrie 



And become a crowned saint, 

 Thou shalt run and not be weary, 



Walk, and never faint ; 

 Therefore utter no complaint." 



Now I lie upon my bed, 



Saying, " Be it even so, 

 I will wait in faith and hope 



Till the eagle's wings shall grow. 



The subjects of his verses are very varied, some being 

 sacred, and expressive of his deeper feelings ; others brim- 

 ming over with fun, as in the youthful days, in the form of 

 Valentines, prefaces to books for autographs, and rhyming 



