Who is bravest Of my four friends?

Thou that slavest, And self all spends; Thou that savest, And usest never; Thou that cravest, With no endeav-or, Thou that gavest, And hast forever?

XLI.

_Numen Lumen,_ I can do without praise, I can do without money: I have found other honey To sweeten my days; And the Kaiser may wear his gold crown While I on his splendor look down.

XLII.

G.o.d thy Light!

Then is Right Life's own polar star; All thy fortunes are Gifts that come from Him, Filling to the brim Life's great golden cup, And thy heart looks up!

XLIII.

A debtor to hate, A debtor to money, Forever may wait And never have honey.

A debtor to love And sweet benefaction, Hath treasures above, A heart's satisfaction.

XLIV.

G.o.d is a liberal lender To those who use, But not abuse, And daily statements render; And here's the beauty of it-- He lends again the profit!

XLV.

Days of heroic will Which G.o.d and duty fill, Are evermore sublime Memorials of Time.

That such thy days may be Is my best wish for thee.

XLVI.

Self-sacrifice Finds Paradise; Hearts that rebel Are gates of h.e.l.l.

Goals of all races Are these two places.

XLVII.

The blushes of roses And all that reposes Sublime in a hero Affixed by his zero-- Ah, _you_ will complete him, As soon as you meet him.

XLVIII.

Maidens pa.s.sing into naught, What a work by them is wrought!

Not prefixes, But affixes On the better side of men-- See! they multiply by ten.

XLIX.

The golden key of life, True maiden crowned a wife.

What then are toil and trouble, With strength to meet them, double?

L.

True Heaven begins on earth Around a common hearth, Or in a humble heart-- Thy faith means what thou art, And that which thou wouldst be; Thou makest it, it thee.

LI.

No Heaven in Truth and Love?

Then do not look above.

Yet Truth and Love have wings, Although the highest things; Therewith to mount, dear friend, Is life that has no end.

LII.

Art thou a mourner here?

But One can give thee cheer: Affliction turns to grace Before the Master's face.

LIII.

My friend, my troubled friend, If true, Love has not found you, Then I can comprehend That Duty has not bound you.

LIV.

Love is the source of duty, The parent of all life, Which Heaven p.r.o.nounces beauty, The crown of man and wife, Beginning and the end To hero, saint, and friend; An inspiration which Is so abundant, rich, That from the finger-tips And from the blooming lips, Yea, from the voiceful eyes, In questions and replies-- From every simple action And hourly benefaction It pours itself away, A gladness day by day, Exhaustless as the sun, Work done and never done.

And I have painted _you_, O maiden fair and true!

LV.