<h2><SPAN name="page117"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>POEMS OF THE WEEK</h2>
<h3>SUNDAY</h3>
<p class="poetry">Lie still and rest, in that serene repose<br/>
That on this holy morning comes to those<br/>
Who have been burdened with the cares which make<br/>
The sad heart weary and the tired head ache.<br/>
Lie still and rest—<br/>
God’s day of all is best.</p>
<h3>MONDAY</h3>
<p class="poetry">Awake! arise! Cast off thy drowsy
dreams!<br/>
Red in the East, behold the Morning gleams.<br/>
“As Monday goes, so goes the week,” dames say.<br/>
Refreshed, renewed, use well the initial day.<br/>
And see! thy neighbour<br/>
Already seeks his labour.</p>
<h3><SPAN name="page118"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>TUESDAY</h3>
<p class="poetry">Another morning’s banners are
unfurled—<br/>
Another day looks smiling on the world.<br/>
It holds new laurels for thy soul to win;<br/>
Mar not its grace by slothfulness or sin,<br/>
Nor sad, away,<br/>
Send it to yesterday.</p>
<h3>WEDNESDAY</h3>
<p class="poetry">Half-way unto the end—the week’s
high noon.<br/>
The morning hours do speed away so soon!<br/>
And, when the noon is reached, however bright,<br/>
Instinctively we look toward the night.<br/>
The glow is lost<br/>
Once the meridian cross’d.</p>
<h3>THURSDAY</h3>
<p class="poetry">So well the week has sped, hast thou a
friend,<br/>
Go spend an hour in converse. It will lend<br/>
New beauty to thy labours and thy life<br/>
To pause a little sometimes in the strife.<br/>
Toil soon seems rude<br/>
That has no interlude.</p>
<h3><SPAN name="page119"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>FRIDAY</h3>
<p class="poetry">From feasts abstain; be temperate, and pray;<br/>
Fast if thou wilt; and yet, throughout the day,<br/>
Neglect no labour and no duty shirk:<br/>
Not many hours are left thee for thy work—<br/>
And it were meet<br/>
That all should be complete.</p>
<h3>SATURDAY</h3>
<p class="poetry">Now with the almost finished task make
haste.<br/>
So near the night thou hast no time to waste.<br/>
Post up accounts, and let thy Soul’s eyes look<br/>
For flaws and errors in Life’s ledger-book.<br/>
When labours cease,<br/>
How sweet the sense of peace!</p>
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