WMy 



^^ -^ 



,0^ ^^'0, --^. 






.s^%. 



>,* .^^' 



% 




• .<V' 



.v\>' 



> /^^ 



,/-.S 












-y 'f' 



■^, .V 



■x'^-^ 



:\c^ 



/v:^^^' 



v^"^ ^>. 



.■y 






0' 






^V^'.'\:^^'^o^ 



^- -^ e^• 









V 



.%^ 



i 




A^-': \- The •Qu'SCTL . 



SONGS 



THE SOUL, 



DERIVED mOM THE 



WRITINGS OF BRITISH, CONTINENTAL, 
AND TRANSATLANTIC AUTHORS, 

%ntmxi aiitr ||l0bi^ru. 

COLLECTED AND ARRANGED BY THE COMPILERS 

OF 

'' TRUTHS ILLUSTRATED BY GREAT AUTHORS;' 

AXD THE 

''BEAUTY OF HOLINESSr 



*' THE ORE OF TRUTH FROM MINES OF THOUGHT." 




LONDON : 

WILLIAM WHITE, 

34, ]S^ORTH AUDLEY STREET, GROSYENOR SQUARE. 

MDCCCLTIII. 




^ntereti at .Stationers' J^alL 



London : 
J. & W. Rider, Printers, 14, Bartholomew Close. 



RIGHT HONORABLE 

AXD 

MOST REYEREND 

THOMAS MUSGKAVE, D.D. 

LORD 

AECHBISHOP OF YORK 

AND 

PEIMATE OF ENGLAND, 

(with permission) 
DEDICATED, 

AS A TRIBUTE OF SINCERE RESPECT 

FOR HIS EXALTED POSITION 



CHRISTIAN VIRTUES. 




T~^HOU art the source and centre of all minds, 
Their only point of rest, Eteii::s'al Wosd 1 
From Thee departing they are lost, and rove 
At random, without honour, hope, or peace. 
From Thee is all that soothes the life of man ; 
I His high endeavom^, and his glad success, 
His strength to suffer, and his will to serve. 
But, oh ! thou bounteous Griver of all good. 
Thou art of all thy gifts thyself the Crown ! 
Grive what thou canst, without Thee we are poor ; 
And with Thee rich, take what thou wilt away. 

COWPES. 



®0 t)^t §lmkr. 



The following Anthology of Sacred Verse 
has heen collected and arranged, with the 
view of including many beautiful specimens 
by Continental and American Writers, that 
have not before been placed in any British 
Collection. 

The great and increasing interest now 
taken in whatever relates to and illustrates 
Sacred Song and Music, has also been one 
of the principal motives which have actuated 
the Compilers in sending forth this volume. 

Neither the treasures of past British Writers, 
nor those of the ancient or present Continental 
and American Authors, have been near ex- 
hausted in the extraction of this Collection 
of '^sweetly uttered knowledge'' from their 
pure well-springs. A few specimens of our 
own Writers of the present day have been 
included, wdth a view of causing their ex- 



viii FBEFACJE, 

quisite beauty to shine, side by side, ^dth 
our elder Poets, and their Foreign and 
American compeers ; and also as an incite- 
ment to those who do not possess the works 
quoted, to be led to a further acquaintance 
with them. 

Critical and biographical notices have been 
omitted, as matter more suitable for the usual 
channels of such information. A list, how- 
ever, of the Authors' names, with the date 
of their births and deaths, has been placed 
at the end of the volume, chiefly on account 
of many of the Foreign and American Writers 
being comparatively new to this country. 

The formality of regular and systematic 
arrangement has not been observed, such 
' compilations having not unfrequently been 
called Wreaths and Bouquets, where the 
Beauty and Fragrance of the Flowers are 
more pleasing when carelessly mingled with 
all the ease and wildness of natural variety. 



FIIEFACE. ix \\ 



Like the t\YO previous Volumes of Selec- 
tions by the same Compilers, the labour 
connected with this has also been one of 
love for the True, the Good, and the Beauti- 
ful. They have every hope of its being 
received with equal favour; and tliis confi- 
dence does not arise from any cause but 
the impression that such a display of the 
power of language, embodying the holiest 
thoughts, must command the interest of the 
Good and the Great of all classes of society. 

Such Collections, from time to time, of the 
wide spread Thoughts emanating from those 
Stars that have lit the Earth for the short 
period allowed to human existence, have an 
unquestionably good tendency, as showing 
that the aspirations of the best of our fellow- 
sojoumers here are one and the same. The 
unity displayed in the Thought of the present 
Volume will strike the reader as illustratino- 

o 

this simple yet great and sublime fact. 



X FBEFACE. 

It is not in the hours of husiness, pleasure, 
or worldly anxiety which heset all men, 
that such thoughts and aspirations can find 
much place. There are times, however, 
when their solace is beyond price; and the 
reader is referred to those seasons, fully 
indicated in the lines of almost every Writer 
quoted in the present Volume. 

This garland has been culled without 
reference to class or country. The Aris- 
tocracy of Genius can only be found in 
the Peerage of Nature; and as Nature is 
ever changing, yet always the same, so the 
thoughts of the best and purest of all 
lands are simply the old shadows clad in 
new veils. There is, however, one subject 
illustrated in the present Volume which 
claims our attention above all others. It 
need hardly be mentioned, that our Blessed 
Lord and his simple yet profound teachings 
are here alluded to. 



FRJEFACJE. 



The reader will do well to become ac- 
quainted with the w^orks of the principal 
Writers quoted. Of some there are copious 
remains left to bless the earth with their 
pure halo. Of others, claimed for service 
in a higher and better world, we have but 
an expression or two left, to remind us and 
future ages, that the sweetest flowers oft die 
the soonest. Neither should we repine at 
this ; always hoping that our faith in seeing 
them again is firm and unfading. It is such 
a behef that carries us through this life with 
resignation and cheerfulness, causing us to 
value the time employed here simply as a 
short voyage towards the happy haven of 
eternal rest. 



London, 
July, 1856. 



1 

! 

CONTENTS. 

1 

1 » 




1 


PAGE 


AND is there care in lieaven ? and is there 




love? 


1 


Awake, sweet harp of Judah, wake ! 


2 


As withereth the primrose by the river 


3 


Abraham ...... 


6 


Aspirations of the soul 


4 


Around Eethesda's healing Avave . 


4 1 


Abide with prayer .... 


. 9 i 


A voice is on mine ear .... 


7 I 


A noonday hymn .... 


15 i; 


A pledge for the pure in heart 


10 \ 


Abide with me ..... 


12 1; 


A freshly-gathered lily .... 


14 : 


Autumn Sabbath walk 


16 


A psalm of life ..... 


23 


A mother's prayer in illness 


18 1 


A virtuous woman is a crown of glory . 


20 j 


A life of prayer is the life of heaven . 


21 


Adoration ...... 


28 


A picture 


27 


All, all on earth is shadoAv . 


25 i 


Acquaint thyself with G-od 


30 \ 


And the new^ creature walks in light 


33 1: 


A portrait 


34 ; 


A visit to Bethlehem in the spirit . 


35 j 

i 



xiv CONTEXTS. 



PAGE 

BLEST is his life, wlio to himself is true . 36 

Bright lamp of Grod 88 

Be glad, my soul, and sing amidst thy joy . 54 
Blest that home where Grod is felt . . 38 

Believe, thou dark lost pilgrim, still ! . ,40 
Both worlds at once they view . . . 47 

Beauty of Holiness 47 

Be thou my light, be thou my way . . 45 

Begin, my soul, th' exalted lay . . .42 
Bright pledge of peace and sunshine . . 46 
Babes were his heralds, and his friends the 

poor 48 

Bereavement 48 

Burial of the dead . . , . .52 
Brother, thou art gone before us . . . 50 

COIME back to me, my child ... 59 
Come, Lord ! when grace has made me meet 67 
Christmas beams shall cheer my heart . 58 
Contrasts, necessary for happiness . . 6Q 

Come, while the morning of thy life is 
glowing . . . . . .57 

Come up unto the hills . . . . . 63 

Christ the Purifier . . . . .62 

Consecration of the House of Prayer . . 64 
Charity ^^ 

DAYS of joy ensue sad nights of sorrow . 68 
Deathless principle, arise ! ... 73 

Devotion breathes aloud from every chord 70 



CONTENTS, 


1 

XV 




1 , 

PAGK 


Death of the Eighteous . 


. 69 


Death 


. 72 


ENTRANCE into bliss . 


. 79 , 


Earth and Heaven .... 


. 79 ' 


Ere long it will be day . 


. 84 1 


Evening 


. 75 ! 


Evelyn Hope 


. 77 


Even her foes wept .... 


. 87 


Excelsior! 


• 86 ji 


Easter 


80 1^ 


Each hath his fortune in his breast . 


■ 83 I 


Earth not the sphere of souls 


. 83 !■ 


Easter 


. 82 1 


Early Calling 


. 85 j 


EATHEE ! thou must lead . 


89 ■ 


Eaith 


90 ' 


Eaith, the evidence of things unseen 


91 ^ 


Eaint not, poor traveller 


93 i 


Ear from the world, Lord, I flee . 


90 i 


Eootsteps of Angels .... 


94 1 


Eair is the star of Eve . 


98 i 


Eorgive, while I presume to praise ! 


97 ; 


Eair Sun of Eighteousness ! 


96 


Elowers of the earth and the Stars ol 




heaven 


99 ; 


Eather ! not my will, but thine be done 


109 ; 


Eear not, for I am with thee . . . 


102 


Firm as the rocks thy promise stands 


106 

■ i 
1 



xvi G0NTi:2rTS. 

Page 

Faith 102 

Father AH Merciful ! 112 

Father, hallowed be thy name . . . 108 

Forgive, blest shade, the tributary tear . 112 

GOD of my fathers ! . . , . 113 

Grod's operations by day and by night . . 115 

Gently the parting spirit fled . . . 119 

Glorying in the Cross . . . . 154 

God's Acre 118 

Golden Precepts . . . ... 120 

Goodness and Truth require no decoration 122 

God's lano^uao^e ..... 128 

Grace drops from above . . . . 126 

Give our poor hearts this spirit strong and 

holy 125 

God's Providence o'er us . . . . 127 

HALLELUJAH! Christ in God . . 141 

Hymn on the Seasons 130 

Hymn of the "Waldenses .... 134 

Hail! to the day 130 

Hail ! source of uncreated light . . 149 

Heaven watches o'er their sleeping dust . 138 

Happiness ! where is thy seat ? . . . 139 
Hymn before Sunrise in the Vale of Cha- 

mouni 135 

Hail ! gladdening light . . . . 146 

Having nothing, yet hath all . . . 140 

Hope, and be undismayed . . . . 143 



CONTENTS. xvii 



PAGE 



Hope in Grod 155 

He yearns to forgive 153 

Hymn to the Sabbath. .... 148 

Hannah's Thanksgiving . . . . 146 
Heaven calls and I must go . . .151 

Hymn for the Morning . . . . 142 

His heart beats high .... 144 

Hymn to the Night 150 

Hymn of the City 154 

He is the freeman whom the Truth makes 

free 156 

Hail, Holy Love ! 152 

I SOUaHT thee round, thou, my God! 156 

Invocation to Sleep 161 

I the good fight have fought . . . 167 

Immortality ...... 160 

I see them walking in an air of Grlory . . 168 
If the Lord build not the house, the labour 

is vain ....... 162 

I wake to know my better self . . . 165 

Indestructibility of Love . . . 166 

Infinite Spirit ! who art round us ever . . 170 

JEHOVAH, the Provider , , . 171 

LIGHT and Darkness . . . . 172 

" Let there be peace ! " he said, and aU was 

calm 175 

Leaves have their time to fall . . . 176 
h 



xviii C0]S'TI:NTS. 

. 


Let there be light . , , , , 




PAGE 

179 


Labyrintli of Life . . . , . 


186 


Life's Guiding Star . o . , . 


178 : 


Litany to the Holy Spirit . , . . 


182 


Love, the last, divinest image , 


188 


Lift your heart and voice in Prayer . . 


191 


Lead, kindly light 


191 


Lord, I would fear thee . . . . 


186 


Lord of the Sabbath, hear us pray . 


180 


Let me live to thee ..... 


179 


Let us not lose thee yet .... 


183 


Love led them on . . . . . 


185 


Lift the heart and bend the knee 


181 


Land for the broken-hearted . . . 


194 


Luther's Psalm ..... 


193 


" Lord ! why is this ?" I trembling cried , 


195 


MY wounded spirit longs to fly 


197 


Mine is an unchanging love . . . 


196 


My life's a preparation but to leave thee . 


201 


My Lord hath need of these flow'rets gay 


207 


My life, my joy, my strength, my all ! 


200 


Man, thou shalt never die ! . . . . 


203 


Morning Hymn in Paradise 


205 


Man's breathing miniature . . . . 


209 


Men call it death when mortals soar 


210 


Ministering Spirits ..... 


212 


Mother ! oh, where is that radiant shore ? 


216 


Ministering Angels ..... 


214 


Morning ....... 


217 

1 



CONTENTS. 


xix 


NEVEE sleep the sun up .' 


. 220 


JN'ot one prayer is breathed in vain . 


. 221 


OlS" my front I shew my mighty Maker's 


5 


seal 


. 226 


let us seize on what is stable 


. 222 


"0 life, how fair!" .... 


. 223 


On the death of her Brother, Erancis the 




Eirst 


. 224 


0, how blest are ye whose toils are ended 


. 225 


thou, who art the Source and Spring 


227 


Ordination Hymn .... 


228 


Only to man thou hast made known th} 




way ...... 


229 


Grod unseen, but not unknown 


235 


Oh ! come it first, or come it last 


237 


Oh Absalom my son ! . . . 


239 


make me pure, with pure ones e'er tc 


X i 


dwell 


243 


Oh ! what is life ! . 


251 i 


Oh, cling not, Trembler, to Life's fragile 




bark ...... 


253 i 


Onward ! for the Truths of God 


248 ■ 


Grod, thou great Intelligence Supreme 


257 i 


thou Great Being ! in whom I move anc 




live , . . . , 


246 i 


On him I lean 


257 ; 


God, Good beyond compare ! , 


259 } 


Omnipresence of God .... 


259 ! 


Love-destroying Bigotry 


. 244 1 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

254 



O Thou, whom still I hold, but cannot see 

One glance of thine creates a day . . 249 

O that I may keep thy word . . . 264 

O come, let us go to the Valley of Peace ! 265 



\^iiii tu jLi.ua veil .... 

1 

1 

\ PALM Sunday 


. 269 


i Prayer for E^esignation . 


. 280 


Prayer for the Holy Spirit . 


. 281 


Prayer for Time .... 


. ,282 


Public AYorship 


. 271 


Prayer for Even Temper . 


. 273 


Prayer 


. 274 


Picture of a Lady's Mind 


. 274 


Pleasure, Bewitching Syren ! 


. 283 


Prayer for an Absent Husband 


. 285 


Prune thou thy words 


. 278 


Peace ! be still .... 


. 284 


Pass we blithely, then, the time . 


. 279 


EAISIJS'G of Jairus' Daughter 


. 286 


Eeligion, thou the soul of Happiness . 


. 287 


Eeception of the Spirit . 


. 289 


Eaise then the Hymn to Death . 


. 289 


" Eoom for the Leper ! Eoom ! " 


. 295 


Eeturn, thou day of Holiness ! . 


. 301 


Eeligion 


. 303 


Eeception of Grace .... 


. 304 


Eight method of Prayer . 


. 307 


Eegeneration ..... 


. 305 



CONTENTS, 


i 
xxi 1 


Eetrospection 


PAGE 
. 306 ; 


SHE is not dead, but sleepetli 


. 809 


Song to the Eternal Wisdom . 


. 312 


Star of the Dawning . . . . 


. 313 


Search after Grod . 


. 316 : 


Self-purifying, unpolluted Sea 


. 317 


Song of the Stars .... 


. 319 


Spring Sabbath Walk . 


. 321 


Song of Praise for the Evening 


. 322 


Search after God 


. 322 


Song of Praise for the Morning 


. 329 


Song to a Nightingale 


. 323 


Song of Praise for the Gospel Ministry 


J . 346 


Sire, Maker, Spirit 


. 335 


Song of Praise for Grace 


. 344 


Sing forth the triumph of his IN'ame 


. 333 : 


Sin of the Thoughtless . 


. 343 ; 


She comes to me 


. 336 


Speak, for thy Servant heareth 


. 327 


Summer Sabbath Walk 


. . 324 


Song of Praise .... 


. 330 


Search well another world . 


. . 338 


Search after God .... 


. 340 


Smiles and Tears 


. .345 


Sphere-born, harmonious sisters, Voice 


and 


Verse 


. 348 


Sweet Spirit Mother . 


. . 350 


Soon to meet thee face to face . 


. 349 


Sound the timbrel, harp, and lute 


. . 354 i 



xxii CONTENTS. 


1 Songs of Praise awoke tlie Morn 


PAGE 

352 


I She led me first to God . . . . 


354 


Spiritual Light ..... 


353 


: THE Soul's Eetnrn 


366 


The Man who had no name on earth 


377 


The Death of a Grood Eishop . . . 


367 


The lowly gift was witnessed . 


368 


Touch me not . . . . . . 


859 


Transcendent Power ! sole Arbiter of Fate 


361 


The Eow of Promise ..... 


362 


The Bible 


364 


The Christian yields an angel to his Grod . 


366 


The Good Shepherd .... 


365 


The Union of Love . . . . . 


399 


'Tis infamy to die, and not be missed 


355 


The Star of Bethlehem .... 


358 


Thou art gone to the grave 


411 


The motto of the perfect man . . . 


378 


The Son of Dayid comes .... 


383 


1 The EeaHty of Paith 


442 1 


The Skylark sang his matin chime . 


393 


Thou who art enthroned above . . . 


373 


The followers of Christ .... 


374 


The Life of the Blessed .... 


369 


Thou knowest I love thee, dearest Lord . 


371 


The World 


382 


The heart's holy temple .... 


385 


The Orphan's Stay 


394 


Thou speakest in the secret heart 


396 



CONTENTS. xxiii 



PAGE 



The Nosegay of Life 408 

The Anchor of Hope .... 372 

The Search for Peace 406 

The fool hath said, " There is no God" . 412 
The Lord of all, Himself through all dif- 
fused 380 

The Friend in need 381 

The Christian Patriarch . . . . 377 

Thoughts on a Summer's Evening . . 386 

The CaU 390 

The Good Morrow 401 

The Good AYoman ..... 415 

They are not dead, they do but sleep . 409 

The Good Life, long Life . . . . 409 
The Pauper Child's burial . . .414 

The Glories of Spring Time . . . 416 

Thy bark right on-vvard steer . . . 418 

The Christian's Death . . . . 475 

The Stranger and his Friend . . . 439 

Tread still the thorny path . . . . 403 

To-Morrow 405 

The Evening Star 399 

The first Sabbath 434 

The Voice of God 441 

The Ee sting day of Creation . . .426 

Thy God thus speaketh within thee . . 405 

The Angels are waiting, my mother, for me 423 

The Genius of Worship . . . . 476 
The Eock of Humanity . . . .436 

Thoughts of my soul, how quick ye go . 420 



XXIV 



CONTENTS. 



Thee will I love, my strength, my tower 

The Seryants of Grod 

The Spirit of the Pilgrim Fathers 

The Sabbath morn in sunlight comes 

Thoughts in Spring Time 

The Philosopher's Devotion 

The Sinner's Petition for Time . 

The Children of the Lord's Supper . 

The Saviour Hves ! and aU is well 

The Saviour offering himself to his heavenly 

Father . . . . 

The HoHow "World .... 
The Spirit of the Holy Eve 
The Grospel of Peace .... 
The Grood Part, that shall not be taken 



The Soul has gone to Him, who gives it 
rest ...... 

The Path of Sorrow .... 

Centre of Light and Energy 

Thy Will be done . \ 

The repentant Sinner 

The good old Man is gone . 

Thy call I follow .... 

The Holy City 

Teach me to underprize this life 
Thy mercy. Lord, is Kke the Morning Sun 
There is joy over one Sinner that repenteth 
The Voyage of Life ..... 
The Widow of Xain .... 



CONTENTS. 


XXV 


The breath of Heaven must swell the Sai 


PAGE 

. 515 ; 


The jo J of social Worship 


514 


The true Vine ..... 


520 


There is a world above where parting is 


1 


unknown ..... 


526 1 


The Christian 


497 


The pure in heart shall meet again . 


497 


The poor man's day .... 


498 i 


Turning to Grod 


499 1 


The Hebrew Mother .... 


547 ; 


The Future Life .... 


518 :| 


The Snowdrop ..... 


521 


Thou, Grreat Euler, Lord of AH! . 


521 


The tune to which the Planets roll 


525 


The light of Stars .... 


535 


There is a day of sunny rest 


541 


The hours are viewless angels . 


501 ;; 


This shall my employment be 


558 H 


Thou Griver of all earthly good 


516 


The "Winged Worshippers . 


517 ': 


The Dewdrops .... 


523 ii 


The future Life 


, 538 


The WeU of Jacob .... 


537 


The Ore of Truth, from Mines of Thought 


533 I 


The possession of the true felicities 


539 Ii 


The blessing of Early Easing . 


542 |l 


The Transfiguration .... 


555 i; 


The Physician dies, to make his patient live 


553 ' 


j The Eoyal Offspring of a second birth 


560 ;! 


The Angel on Earth 


556 1; 



sxri CONTENTS. 

i 


' The lieavens declare thy Grlory . . . 


PAGE 

531 


The Summer Shower .... 


543 


The Spirit of Truth 


544 


The Holy Scriptures .... 


552 


1 Then why, my soul, dost thou complain r . 


546 i 


1 The Lighting of the Lamps. 


559 


^1 The Entreaty 


562 


The Stream of Time .... 


551 


rXIYEESAL Beauty .... 

1 


563 


VOYAGE of the Soul .... 


567 


Virtue . . . . . . . 


564 


Vesper Thoughts ..... 


565 



WHO is the King of Glory ? . . . 577 
"Without thy presence, heaven's no heaven 

for me ....... 585 

"Watching for the Son of Man . . > 590 
Where art thou, mighty one ? . . .589 

"Wisdom, Power, and Love of God . . 583 

Who is this mighty Hero, who ? . . 600 

Winter Sabbath Walk . . . . 575 

Watch and Pray 593 

What he wills, we know is pure and good 597 

What is that, Mother r . . . . 603 

AVhen kindred minds their God pursue . 599 

Walk in the light 596 

We are as barks afloat upon the sea . . 571 

What is Prayer ? 572 



CONTENTS. 



XXVll 



"What in thy love possess I not: . 
"We are spirits clad in veils 
When Spring unlocks the flowers 
Wisdom ...... 

AVait in hope, the morning dawneth . 

AVhen streams of living water run . 

Wliere two or three are gathered together 588 



PAGE 

569 
569 
574 

587 
582 
592 




SONGS 



or 



THE SOUL. 



anlr is tfjere Care in ^tdHaml antr is 
tfjere ILo&e? 

A KD is there care in heaven ? and is tliere 
■^-^ love 

In heavenly spirits to these creatures base, 
That may compassion of their evils move ? 
There is ; — else much more wretched v^ere 

the case 
Of men than beasts. But oh ! the exceeding 

grace 
Of highest Grod ! that loves his creatures so, 
And all his works with mercy doth embrace. 
That blessed angels he sends to and fro, 
To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe. 

How oft do they their silver bowers leave 
To come to succour us that succour want ! 
How oft do they with golden pinions cleave 
The flitting skies, like flying pursuivant, 
Against foiil fiends to aid us militant ! 
They for us fight, they watch and duly ward, 

B 



SO]}^GS OF TSE SOUL; 



And tlieir briglit squadrons round about us 

plant ; 
And all for love, and nothing for reAvard : 
Oh! why should heavenly Grod to man have 

such regard ? Edmund Speksee. 



abjafe, sbjert l^arp of 3utra!j, SEafo! 

A "WAKE, sweet harp of Judah, wake, 
Ee-tune thy strings for Jesu's sake ; 
"We sing the Saviour of our race. 
The Lamb, our shield and hiding-place. 

"When Grod's right arm is bared for war, 
And thunders clothe his cloudy car, 
Where, where, oh ! where, shall man retire, 
T' escape the horrors of his ire ? 

'Tis He, the Lamb, to Him we fly, 
While the dread tempest passes by ; 
Grod sees his Well-beloved's face, 
And spares us in our hiding-place. 

Thus, while we dwell in this low scene. 
The Lamb is our unfailing screen ; 
To Him, though guilty, still we run. 
And God still spares us for his Son. 

While yet we sojourn here below. 
Pollutions still our hearts overflow ; 
Eallen, abject, mean, a sentenced race. 
We deeply need a hiding-place. 



FROM MINES OF TROTTGHT. 

Yet, courage ! — days and years will glide, 
And we shall lay these clods aside ; 
Shall be baptized in Jordan's flood, 
And washed in Jesu's cleansing blood. 

Then pure, immortal, sinless, freed, 
"We through the Lamb shall be decreed ; 
Shall meet the Pather face to face. 
And need no more a hiding-place. 

Henbt Kieke White. 



^s iwttfjeretlj t!je primrose fig tfje Et&tr. 

A S withereth the primrose by the river, 
■^ As fadeth summer's sun from gliding foun- 
tains. 
As vanisheth the light blown bubble ever, 
As melteth snow upon the mossy mountains : 
So melts, so vanishes, so fades, so withers 
The rose, the shine, the bubble, and the snow, 
Of praise, pomp, glory, joy (which short life 

gathers), 
Pair praise, vain pomp, sweet glory, brittle joy ! 
The vdthered primrose by the mourning river. 
The faded summer's sun, from weeping fountains, 
The light blown, vanished for ever, 
The molten snow upon the naked mountains, 
Are emblems that the treasures we uplay, 
Soon vdther, vanish,* fade, and melt away. 

Henbt Kiis^a. 



SONGS OF THJE SOUL; 



Aspirations of tfje cSouL 

i H ! wlien did wisdom covet length of days, 
"^ Or seek its bliss in pleasure, wealth or praise ? 
No : — ^wisdom views with an indifferent eye, 
All finite joys, all blessings born to die. 
The soul on earth is an immortal guest, 
Compelled to starve at an unreal feast : 
A spark that upward tends by nature's force ; 
A stream diverted from its parent source ; 
A drop dissever' d from the boundless sea ; 
A moment parted from eternity ! 
A pilgrim, panting for a rest to come ; 
An exile, anxious for his native home. 

Bishop Hebeb. 



Arountr l^t^t%W% l^ealing SEa&e. 

A EOUIN'D Bethesda's healing wave 
^^ "Waiting to hear the rustling wing 
Which spoke the angel nigh, who gave 

Its virtue to that holy spring, 
"With patience and with hope endued. 
Were seen the gathered multitude. 

Among them there was one whose eye 
Had often seen the waters stirred ; 

Wliose heart had often heaved the sigh, 
The bitter sigh of hope deferred ; 

Beholding, while he suffered on. 

The healing virtue given, — and gone I 



FROM MlJSruS OF THOUGHT. 

j^o power had lie ; no friendly aid 
To him its timely succour brought ; 

But, while his coming he delayed, 
Another won the boon he sought ; — 

Until the Saviour's love was shown, 

"Which healed him by a word alone ! 

Had they who watched and waited there 
Been conscious who was passing by, 

"With what unceasing, anxious care. 

Would they have sought his pitying eye, 

And craved, with fervency of soul, 

His power divine to make them whole ! 

But habit and tradition swayed 

Their minds to trust to sense alone ; 

They only hoped the angel's aid ; 

WTiile in their presence stood unknown 

A greater, mightier far than he. 

With power from every pain to free, 

Bethesda's pool has lost its power I 
JS'o angel, by his glad descent, 

Dispenses that diviner dower 

"^Hiich with its healing waters went, 

But He, whose word surpassed its wave, 

Is still omnipotent to save. 

And what that fountain once was found, 
Beligion's outward forms remain — 

With living virtue only crowned 

While their first freshness they retain ; 

Only replete Avith power to cui-e 

When, spirit-stirred, their soui'ce is pure ! 



SOJVGS OF TSE SOUL; 



Yet are there who this truth confess, 
"Who know how little forms avail, 

Eut whose protracted helplessness 
Confirms the impotent' s sad tale ; 

Who, day by day, and year by year, 

As emblems of his lot appear. 

They hear the sounds of life and love, 

Which tell the visitant is nigh ; 
They see the troubled waters move, 

Whose touch alone might health supply ; 
But weak of faith, infirm of will. 
Are powerless, helpless, hopeless still. 

Saviour ! thy love is still the same 

As when that healing word was spoke ; 

Still in thine all-redeeming name 

Dwells power to burst the strongest yoke. 

Oh ! be that power, that love displayed ! 

Help those, whom Thou alone canst aid ! 

Bee^s^aed Baeto:n'. 



'T^HE better portion didst thou choose, Great 
-L Heart, 

Thy Grod's first choice, and pledge of Grentile- 
grace ! 

Faith's truest type, he with unruffled face 
Bore the world's smile, and bade her slaves depart; 
Whether, a trader, with no trader's art. 



FBOM MINES OF TROTIGHT, 7 

He buys in Canaan his first resting-place, — 
Or freely yields ricli Siddim's ample space, — 
Or braves the rescue and the battle's smart, 
Yet scorns the heathen gifts of those he saved. 
happy in their soul's high solitude, 
Who commune thus with G-od and not mth earth ! 
Amid the scoffings of the wealth-enslaved, 
A ready prey, as though in absent mood 
They calmly move, nor hear the unmannered 
mirth. 

Anois". 



^ Foice is on ilEine lEar. 

A VOICE is on mine ear — a solemn voice : 
'^ I come, I come, it calls me to my rest ; 
Faint not my yearning heart, rejoice, rejoice. 

Soon shalt thou reach the gardens of the blest : 
On the bright waters there, the living streams, 

Soon shalt thou launch in peace thy weary bark, 
"Waked by rude waves no more from gentle 
dreams. 

Sadly to feel that earth to thee is dark — 
IN'ot bright as once ; oh vain, vain memories, cease, 
I cast your burden down — I strive for peace. 

A voice is on mine ear — a welcome tone : 
I hear its summons in a stranger land. 

It calls me hence, to die amid mine own, 

Where first my forehead, by the wild breeze 
fanned, 



SOJSTGS OF THE SOUL; 



Lost tlie fair tracery of youth, and wore 

A deeper signet, in my manhood's prime — 

To lay me doAvn with those who wake no more, 
It calls me — ^those I loved, their couch be mine : 

I hear sweet voices from my childhood's home, 

And from my father's grave — I come, I come ! 

Blest he the warning sound - my mother's eyes 

Dwell on my memory yet, her parting tears. 
And from the grave where my young sister lies, 

"Who perished in the glory of her years, 
I hear a gentle call, " B^eturn, return !" 

So be it : let me greet the village spires 
Once more. I come — 'tis wilding youth may 
spurn. 

When far, the burial-places of his sires ; 
But oh, when streng-th is gone, and hope is past. 
There turns the wearied man his thoughts at last. 

So do we change ! I hear a warning tone — 

Tea, I, whose thoughts were all of bypast times. 
Of ancient glories, and from visions lone, 

I come to list once more the sabbath chimes 
Of my own home — to feel the gentle air 

Steal o'er my brow again — to greet the sun 
In the old places where he shone so fair, 

The while each wandering brook in music ran. 
Answering to Youth's sweet thoughts, but all 

are fled — 
I come, my home, I come to join thy dead ! 

I heed the warning voice : oh, spurn me not. 
My early friends ; let the bruised heart go free : 



FROM MINES OF THOTTGHT. 9 

Mine were high fancies, but a wayward lot 
Hath made my youthful dreams in sadness flee ; 

Then chide not, I would linger yet awhile, 
Thinking o'er wasted hours, a weary train. 

Cheered by the moon's soft light, the sun's glad 
smile, 
"Watching the blue sky o'er my path of pain, 

Waiting my summons : whose shall be the eye 

To glance unkindly ? — I have come to die ! 

Sweet words — to die! oh pleasant, pleasant sounds, 

What bright revealings to my heart they bring! 
WTiat melody, unheard in earth's dull rounds, 

And floating from the land of glorious Spring — 
The eternal home ! My weary thoughts revive, 

Presh flowers my mind puts forth, and buds of 
love, 
Grentle and kindly thoughts for all that live. 

Fanned by soft breezes from the world above : 
And passing not, I hasten to my rest — 
Again, oh, gentle summons, thou art blest ! 

Lucy Hoopee. 



0' 



\E what an easy quick access, 

My blessed Lord, art thou ! how suddenly 

May our requests thine ear invade 1 

To show that state dislikes not easiness, 

If I but lift mine eyes, my suit is made : 

Thou canst no more not hear, than thou canst die. 



10 SOI^GS OF THU SOUL; 

Of what supreme almighty power 
Is thy great arm, which spans the east and west, 

And tacks the centre to the sphere ! 
Ey it do all things live their measnr'd hour : 
We cannot ask the thing which is not there, 
Blaming the shallowness of our request. 

Of what nnmeasurable love 
Art thou possess' d, who when thou couldst not 
die, 

"VYert fain to take our flesh and curse. 
And for our sakes in person sin reprove ! 
That by destroying that which tied thy purse, 
Thou mightst make way for liberahty. 

Since then these three wait on thy throne. 
Ease, Power, and Love ; I value prayer so. 

That were I to leave all but one. 
Wealth, fame, endowments, virtues, all should go : 
I, and dear prayer, would together dwell. 
And quickly gain, for each inch lost, an ell. 

GrEORaE Herbeet. 



3[ Pletrge for tfje ^uxt in l^tuxt. 

TT7HEEE art thou ? — Thou ! source and sup- 
^^ port of aU 

That is or seen or felt ; thyself unseen, 
TJnfelt, unknown — alas ! unknowable. 
I look abroad among thy Avorks — the sky. 
Vast, distant, glorious with its world of suns — 



FBOM MINES OF THOUGHT. 11 

Life-giving earth, and ever-moving main, 

And speaking vmids — and ask if these are thee ! 

The stars that twinkle on, the eternal hills, 

The restless tide's outgoing and return. 

The omnipresent and deep-breathing air — 

Though hailed as gods of old, and only less, 

Are not the Pov^er I seek ; are thine, not thee ! 

I ask thee from the past : if, in the years. 

Since first intelligence could search its source. 

Or in some former unremembered being, 

(If such, perchance, were mine), did they behold 

thee? 
And next interrogate Futurity, 
So fondly tenanted with better things 
Than e'er experience owned — but both are mute : 
And Past and Puture, vocal on all else. 
So full of memories and phantasies. 
Are deaf and speechless here ! Patigued, I turn 
Prom all vain parley with the elements. 
And close mine eyes, and bid the thought turn 

inward 
Prom each material thing its anxious guest, 
If, in the stilbiess of the waiting soul. 
He may vouchsafe himself — Spirit to spirit ! 
O Thou, at once most dreaded and desired. 
Pavilioned stiU in darkness, wilt thou hide thee ? 
What though the rash request be fraught with 

fate, 
Nor human eye may look on thine and live ? 
Welcome the penalty ! let that come now, 
Which soon or late must come. Por light like 

this 



12 SOJSTGS OF TRF SOUL; 

AVlio would not dare to die ? 

Peace ! my proud aim, 
And liusli tlie "wisli tTiat knows not what it asks. 
Await His will, who hath appointed this, 
"With every other trial. Be that will 
Done now, as ever. Eor thy curious search. 
And unprepared solicitude to gaze 
On Him — ^the Unreyealed — learn hence, instead, 
To temper highest hope with humbleness. 
Pass thy novitiate in these outer courts. 
Till rent the veil, no longer separating 
The Holiest of all — as erst, disclosing 
A brighter dispensation ; whose results 
Ineffable, interminable, tend 
Even to the perfecting thyself — ^thy kind — 
Till meet for that sublime beatitude, 
Ey the firm promise of a voice from heaven 
Pledged to the pure in heart ! 

Eliza Towis^seis^i). 



A BIDE mth me ! East falls the eventide ; 
■^ The darkness deepens : Lord, with me abide ! 
"When other helpers fail, and comforts flee. 
Help of the helpless, O abide with me ! 

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day! 
Earth's joys grow dim ; its glories pass away : 
Change and decay in all around I see ; 
O Thou, who changest not, abide with me ! 



FROM MIJS'ES OF TROVGRT. 13 

Xot a brief glance I beg, a passing word ; 
But as Thon dwell' st with thy disciples, Lord, 
Familiar, condescending, patient, free. 
Come, not to sojourn, but abide with me. 

Come, not in terrors, as the King of kings ; 
But kind, and good, with healing in thy wings : 
Tears for all woes, a heart for eyery plea, 
Come, Friend of sinners, and thus bide ^yith me ! 

Thou on my head, in early youth didst smile, 
And, though rebellious and perverse meanwhile. 
Thou hast not left me, oft as I left Thee. 
On to the close, Lord, abide with me ! 

I need thy presence eyery passing hour : 
What but thy grace can foil the tempter's power? 
Who like thyself my guide and stay can be ? 
Through cloud and sunshine, abide with me ! 

I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless : 
Ills haye no weight, and tears no bitterness. 
TMiere is death's sting ? where, gTaye, thy 

yictory ? 
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me. 

Hold then thy cross before my closing eyes ; 
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the 



Heayen's morning breaks, and earth's yain sha- 
dows flee ; 
In hfe and death, Lord, abide with me ! 

Ltte. 



14 sojsras of tre soul; 

TTE was our father's darling, 

-^ A bright and happy boy — 
His life was like a summer's day 

Of innocence and joy ; 
His voice, like singing waters, 

Fell softly on the ear, 
So sweet, that hurrying echo 

Might linger long to hear. 

He was our mother's cherub. 

Her life's untarnished light — • 
Her blessed joy by morning. 

Her visioned hope by night : 
His eyes were like the daybeams 

That brighten all below ; 
His ringlets like the gathered gold 

Of sunset's gorgeous glow. 

He was our sister's plaything, 

A very child of glee. 
That frolicked on the parlor floor, 

Scarce higher than our knee ; 
His joyous bursts of pleasure 

Were wild as mountain ^vind ; 
His laugh, the free unfettered laugh 

Of childhood's chainless mind. 

He was our brothers' treasure. 
Their bosom's only pride — 

A fair depending blossom 
By their protecting side : 



FROM MINES OF THOVGHT. 15 

A thing to watch and cherish, 
With varying hopes and fears — 

To make the slender, trembling reed 
Their staff for future years. 

He is — a blessed angel, 

His home is in the sky ; 
He shines anong those living lights, 

Beneath his Maker's eye : 
A freshly gathered lily, 

A bud of early doom, 
Hath been transplanted from the earth. 

To bloom beyond the tomb. 

Catherine Esling. 



TTP to the throne of Grod is borne 
^ The voice of praise at early morn ; 
And He accepts the punctual hymn. 
Sung as the light of day grows dim. 

ISTor will He turn his ear aside 
From holy offerings at noontide ; 
Then, here reposing, let us raise 
A song of gratitude and praise. 

"What though our burden be not light. 
We need not toil from morn to night ; 
The respite of the mid-day hour 
Is in the thankful creature's power. 



16 SOI^GS OF THE SOUL; 

Blest are the moments, doubly blest, 
That, drawn from this our hour of rest, 
Are with a ready heart bestowed 
Upon the service of our Grod ! 

"Why should we crave a hallowed spot ? 
An altar is in each man's cot, 
A church in every grove that spreads 
Its living roof above our h^ads. 

Look up to heaven ! the industrious sun 
Already half his race hath run : 
He cannot halt nor go astray, 
But our immortal spirits may. 

Lord ! since his rising in the east, 
If we have faltered or transgressed, 
Gruide from thy love's abundant source 
What yet remains of this day's course. 

Help with thy grace through life's short day, 
Our upward and our downward way ; 
And glorify for us the west, 
When we shall sink to final rest. 

William Wordsworth. 



Autumn Sa6&at!j MM. 

TT7HEN homeward bands their several ways 

disperse, 
I love to liager in the narrow field 
Of rest ; to wander round from tomb to tomb, 
And think of some who silent sleep below. 



FBOM MINES OF TROTIGHT. 17 

Sad sighs the wind, that from those ancient elms 
Shakes showers of leaves upon the withered 

grass : 
The sere and yellow wreaths with eddying sweep 
Fill up the furrows 'tween the hillocked graves. 
But list that moan ! 'tis the poor blind man's dog, 
His guide for many a day,, now come to mourn 
The master and the friend, conjunction rare ! 
A man he was indeed of gentle soul. 
Though bred to brave the deep ; the lightning's 

flash 
Had dimmed, not closed, his mild but sightless 

eyes. 
He was a welcome guest through all his range ; 
(It was not wide,) no dog would bay at him : 
Children would' run to meet him on his way, 
And lead him to a sunny seat, and climb 
His knees, and wonder at his oft-told tales ; 
Then would he teach the elfins how to plait 
The rushy cap and crown, or sedgy ship ; 
And I have seen him lay his tremulous hand 
Upon their heads, while silent moved his lips. 
Peace to thy spirit ! that now looks on me 
Perhaps with greater pity than I felt 
To see thee wandering darkling on thy way. 
But let me quit this melancholy spot. 
And roam where nature gives a parting smile. 
As yet the blue-bells linger on the sod 
That copes the sheep-fold ring ; and in the woods 
A second blow of many flowers appears ; 
Plowers faintly tinged and breathing no perfume. 



18 SOJSTGS OF THE SOUL; 

But fruits, not blossoms, form the woodland 

wreath 
That circles autumn's brow : the ruddy haws 
JSToAv clothe the half-leaved thorn; the bramble 

bends 
Eeneath its jetty load ; the hazel hangs 
With aubuiTQ branches, dipping in the stream 
That sweeps along, and threatens to o'erflow 
The leaf-strewn banks : oft, statue-like, I gaze 
In vacancy of thought upon that stream, 
ibid chase with dreaming eye the eddying foam : 
Or rowan's clustered branch, or harvest-sheaf 
Borne rapidly adown the dizzying flood. 

James G-eahame. 



® iI5lot!)cr's ^rager in Illness. 

T/^ES, take them first, my father! Let my doves 
Fold their white wings in heaven, safe on 
thy breast, 
Ere I am called away : I dare not leave 
Their young hearts here, their innocent, thought- 
less hearts ! 
Ah, how the shadowy train of future ills 
Comes sweeping down life's vista as I gaze ! 

My May ! my careless, ardent-tempered May — 
My frank and frolic child, in whose blue eyes 
Wild joy and passionate woe alternate rise ; 
Whose cheek the morning in her soul illumes ; 
Whose little, loving heart a word, a glance. 



FBOM MINES OF THOUGHT. 19 

Can sway to grief or glee ; who leaves her play, 
And puts up her sweet mouth and dimpled anns 
Each moment for a kiss, and softly asks, 
With her clear, flute-like voice, "Do you love 

me?" 
Ah, let me stay ! ah, let me still be by. 
To answer her and meet her warm caress ! 
Tor I away, how oft in this rough world 
That earnest question -will be asked in vain ! 
How oft that eager, passionate, petted heart. 
Will shrink abashed and chilled, to learn at length 
The hateful, withering lesson of distrust ! 
Ah ! let her nestle still upon this breast, 
In which each shade that dims her darling face 
Is felt and answered, as the lake reflects 
The clouds that cross yon smiling heaven ! and 

thou, 
My modest Ellen — tender, thoughtful, true ; 
Thy soul attuned to all sweet harmonies : 
My pure, proud, noble Ellen ! with thy gifts 
Of genius, grace, and loveliness, half hidden 
'Neath the soft veil of innate modesty. 
How will the world's wild discord reach thy heart 
To startle and appal ! Thy generous scorn 
Of all things base and mean — ^thy quick, keen 

taste. 
Dainty and delicate — ^thy instinctive fear 
Of those unworthy of a soul so pure. 
Thy rare, unchildlike dignity of mien, 
All — they will all bring pain to thee, my child ! 
And oh, if even their grace and goodness meet 
Cold looks and careless greetings, how will all 



20 SOJSTGS OF TRE SO VL ; 

The latent evil yet undisciplined 
In tlieir yonng timid souls, forgiveness find ? 
Forgiveness, and forbearance, and soft cliidings, 
"WTiicli I, tlieir mother, learned of Love to give ! 
Ah, let me stay ! — albeit my heart is weary, 
Weary and worn, tired of its own sad beat. 
That finds no echo in this busy world. 
Which cannot pause to answer — tired alike 
Of joy and sorrow, of the day and night ; 
Ah, take them first, my Father, and then me ! 
And for their sakes, for their sweet sakes, my 

Father, 
Let me find rest beside them, at thy feet. 

Feakcis S, Osgood. 



^ Uirtuous SEoman is a Croton of 

'T^HOU askest what hath changed my heart, 
-^ And where hath fled my youthful folly ? 
I tell thee, Tamar's virtuous art 
Hath made my spirit holy. 

Her eye — as soft and blue as even, 

When day and night are calmly meeting — 

Beams on my heart like light from heaven, 
And purifies its beating. 

The accents fall from Tamar's lip. 

Like dewdrops from the rose-leaf dripping, 

When honey-bees all crowd to sip, 
And cannot cease their sipping. 



FBOM MlJSrUS OF THOUGHT. 21 

The shadowy blush that tints her cheek, 

For ever coming, ever going, 
May well the spotless fount bespeak 

That sets the stream a-flowing. 

Her song comes o'er my thrilling breast, 
E'en like the harp-string's holiest measures, 

When dreams the soul of lands of rest 
And everlasting pleasures. 

Then ask not what hath changed my heart. 
Or where hath fled my youthful folly ! 

I tell thee, Tamar's virtuous art 
Hath made my spirit holy. 

William K:n^ox. 



^ Me of ^rager is t!)e %ift of ^mbm. 

nn prayer, to prayer ; — for the morning breaks, 

And earth in her Maker's smile awakes. 
His light is on all below and above, 
The light of gladness, and life, and love. 
0, then, on the breath of this early air, 
Send up the incense of grateful prayer. 

To prayer ; — for the glorious sun is gone, 
And the gathering darkness of night comes on. 
Like a curtain from Grod's kind hand it flows, 
To shade the couch where his children repose. 
Then kneel while the watching stars are bright. 
And give your last thoughts to the Gruardian of 
night. 



22 soyas OF tru sottl; 

To prayer ; — for tlie day that Grod lias bless' d 
Comes tranquilly on witli its welcome rest. 
It speaks of creation's early bloom ; 
It speaks of tbe Prince who burst tbe tomb. 
Then summon the spirit's exalted powers, 
And devote to heaven the hallow' d hours. 

There are smiles and tears in the mother's eyes, 

For her new-born infant beside her lies. 

O, hour of bliss ! when the heart o'eriiows 

With rapture a mother only knows. 

Let it gush forth in words of fervent prayer ; 

Let it swell up to heaven for her precious care. 

There are smiles and tears in that gathering band, 
"Where the heart is pledged with the trembling 

hand. 
What trying thoughts in her bosom swell, 
As the bride bids parents and home farewell ! 
Kneel doT\Ti by the side of the tearfid. fair. 
And strengthen the perilous hour with prayer. 

Kneel down by the dying sinner's side. 
And pray for his soul through Him who died. 
Large drops of anguish are thick on his brow — 
O, what is earth and its pleasures now ! 
And what shall assuage his dark despair, 
But the penitent cry of humble prayer ? 

Kneel down at the couch of departing faith. 
And hear the last words the believer saith. 
He has bidden adieu to his earthly friends ; 
There is peace in his eye that upward bends ; 



FEOM MINES OF THOTIQHT. 23 

There is peace in his calm, confiding air ; 
Por his last thoughts are Grod's, his last words 
prayer. 

The voice of prayer at the sable bier ! 

A voice to sustain, to soothe, and to cheer. 

It commends the spirit to Grod who gave ; 

It Lifts the thoughts from the cold, dark grave ; 

It points to the glory where He shall reign, 

AVho whisper' d, " Thy brother shaU rise again." 

The voice of prayer in the world of bliss ! 
But gladder, purer, than rose from this. 
The ransom' d shout to their glorious King, 
Where no sorroAV shades the soul as they sing ; 
But a sinless and joyous song they raise ; 
And their voice of prayer is eternal praise. 

Awake, awake, and gird up thy strength 

To join that holy band at length. 

To Him who unceasing love displays, 

"Whom the powers of nature unceasingly praise. 

To Him thy heart and thy hours be given ; 

Eor a life of prayer is the life of heaven. 

Henbt "Ware. 



% ^salm of Uiu 

THELL me not, in mournful numbers, 

'• Life is but an empty dream 1 " 
Eor the soul is dead that slumbers, 
And things are not Avhat they seem. 



24 SOXGS OF TRE SOUL; 

Life is real ! Life is earnest 1 
And the grave is not its goal ; 

" Dust thou art, to dust returnest," 
"Was not spoken of the soul. 

Not enjo}Tnent, and not sorrow, 

Is our destined end or way ; 
But to act, that each to-morrow 

Find us farther than to-day. 

Art is long, and Time is fleeting, 

And our hearts, though stout and brave, 

Still, like muffled drums, are beating 
Funeral marches to the gTave. 

In the world's broad field of battle, 

In the bivouac of Life, 
Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! 

Be a hero in the strife ! 

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ! 

Let the dead Past bury its dead ! 
Act, — act in the living Present ! 

Heart within, and Grod o'erhead ! 

Lives of great men all remind us 
We can make our lives sublime, 

And, departing, leave behind us 
Footprints on the sands of time ; — 

Footprints, that perhaps another, 
Sailing o'er Hfe's solemn main, 

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, 
Seeing, shall take heart again. 



FBOM MINES OF THOVGRT. 25 

Let us, then, be up and doing, 

AVith a heart for any fate ; 
Still achieving, still pursuing. 

Learn to labour and to wait. 

Hexet W. Longfellow. 



gill, all on lEartlj, is cSljaUoiM. 

TTTHT then tTieir loss deplore, that are not lost ? 
^ ^ Why wanders wretched thought their tombs 
around, 
In infidel distress ? Are angels there ? 
Slumbers, rak'd up in dust, ethereal ^e ? 

They live ! they greatly live a life on Earth 
Unkindled, unconceived ; and from an eye 
Of tenderness let heavenly pity fall 
On me, more justly number' d with the dead. 
This is the desert, this the solitude : 
How populous, how vital, is the grave ! 
This is creation's melancholy vault, 
The vale funereal, the sad cypress gloom ; 
The land of apparitions, empty shades ! 
All, all on Earth, is shadow, all beyond 
Is sitbstance ; the reverse is folly's creed. 
How solid all, where change shall be no more ! 

This is the bud of being, the dim dawn, 
The twilight of our day, the vestibule : 
Life's theatre as yet is shut, and Death, 
Strong Death, alone can heave the massy bar, 
This gross impediment of clay remove, 



26 SOJ\^GS OF THE SOUL; 

And make us embryos of existence free. 

From real life, but little more remote 

Is he, not yet a candidate for light, 

T\iQ fidwe embryo, slumbering in bis sire. 

Embryos we must be, till we burst the shell. 

Ton ambient azure shell, and spring to life, 

Tlie life of gods, transport ! and of man. 

Yet man, fool man! here buries all his thoughts ; 
Inters celestial hopes without one sigh. 
Prisoner of Earth, and pent beneath the Moon, 
Here pinions all his \\ishes ; wing'd by Heaven 
To fly at infinite ; and reach it there, 
TVTiere seraplis gather immortality. 
On life's fair tree, fast by the throne of God. 
"Wliat golden joys ambrosial clustering glow, 
In his fuU beam, and ripen for the just, 
AVhere momentary ages are no more ! 
TVTiere Time, and Pain, and Chance, and Death 

expire ! 
And is it in the flight of threescore years. 
To push eternity from human thought. 
And smother souls immortal in the dust ? 
A soul immortal, spending all her fires, 
AVasting her strength in strenuous idleness, 
Thrown into tumult, raptur'd or alarm' d, 
At aught this scene can threaten or indulge, 
Eesembles ocean into tempest wrought. 
To waft a feather, or to drown a fly. 

AVhere falls this censure? It overwhelms 
myself; 
How was my heart incrusted by the world ! 
how self- fetter' d was my grovelling soul ! 



FROM MI^FS OF THOUGHT. 27 

How, like a worm, was I rapt roimd and round 
In silken thought, A^ith reptile Fancij spun, 
Till darken' d 'Reason lay quite clouded o'er 
"With soft conceit of endless comfort here^ 
Nor yet put forth her wings to reach the skies ! 
Night-visions may befriend (as sung above) : 
Our leaking dreams are fatal. How I dreamt 
Of things impossible ! (Could sleep do more ?) 
Of joys perpetual in perpetual change ! 
Of stable pleasures on the tossing wave ! 
Eternal sunshine in the storms of life ! 
How richly were my noon-tide trances hung 
With gorgeous tapestries of pictur'd joys ! 
Joy behind joy, in endless perspective ! 
Till at Death's toll, whose restless iron tongue 
Calls daily for his millions at a meal, 
Starting I woke, and found myself undone. 
Where now my phrenzy's pompous furniture ? 
The cohweVd cottage, Tvith its ragged wall 
Of mouldering mud, is royalty to me ! 
The spider's most attenuated thread 
Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie 
On earthly bliss ! it breaks at every breeze. 

EnwAED Youis'a. 



^ picture. 

"DEHOLD'ST thou yonder on the crystal sea, 
-^^ Beneath the throne of Grod, an image fair, 
And in its hand a mirror large and bright ? 
'Tis Truth, immutable, eternal Truth, 



28 SOJ^GS OF THE SOUL; 

In figure emblematical expressed. 
Before it Virtue stands, and smiling sees, 
"Well pleased, in her reflected soul no spot. 
The sons of heaven, archangel, seraph, saint. 
There daily read their own essential worth ; 
And, as they read, take place among the just ; 
Or high, or low, each as his value seems. 
There each his certain interest learns, his true 
Capacity ; and going thence, pursues. 
Unerringly, through all the tracts of thought. 
As Grod ordains, best ends by wisest means. 

EOBEET POLLOK. 



A LL nature, hear the sacred song ! 
"^^ Attend, O earth, the solemn strain ! 
Ye whirlwinds wild that sweep along, 

Ye darkening storms of beating rain, 
Umbrageous glooms, and forests drear, 
And solitary deserts, hear ! 
Be still, ye winds, whilst to the Maker's praise 
The creature of his power aspires his voice to 
raise ! 

O, may the solemn-breathing sound 
Like incense rise before the throne, 

Where he, whose glory knows no bound. 
Great Cause of all things, dwells alone ! 

'Tis he I sing, whose powerful hand 

Balanced the sides, outspread the land : 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 29 

Wlio spoke, — from ocean's stores sweet waters 

came, 
And burst resplendent forth the heaven-aspiring 

flame. 

One general song of praise arise 

To him whose goodness ceaseless flows ; 
Who dwells enthroned beyond the skies, 

And life and breath on all bestows ! 
Great Source of intellect, his ear 
Benign receives our vows sincere : 
Rise, then, my active powers, your task fulfil. 
And give to him your praise, responsive to my 
^viU! 

Partaker of that living stream 

Of light, that pours an endless blaze, 
0, let thy strong reflected beam. 

My understanding, speak his praise ! 
My soul, in stedfast love secure. 
Praise him whose word is ever sure : 
To him, sole just, my sense of right incline : 
Join, every prostrate limb ; my ardent spirit 
join! 

Let all of good this bosom fires, 

To him, sole good, give praises due : 
Let all the truth himself inspires 

Unite to sing him only true : 
To him my every thought ascend. 
To him my hopes, my wishes, bend : 
Prom earth's wide bounds let louder hymns arise, 
And his own word convey the pious sacrifice ! 



30 SOJ^fGS OF THU SOUL; 

In ardent adoration joined, 

Obedient to thy holy will, 
Let all my faculties combined, 

Thy just desires, Grod, fuliil ! 
From tbee derived. Eternal King, 
To thee, our noblest powers we bring : 
0, may thy hand direct our wandering way ! 
O, bid thy light arise, and chase the clouds away ! 

Eternal Spirit, whose command 

Light, life, and being gave to all, 
O, hear the creature of thy hand, 

Man, constant on thy goodness call ! 
By fire, by water, air and earth. 
That soul to thee that owes its birth, — 
By these, he supplicates thy blest repose : 
Absent from thee, no rest his wandering spii'it 
knows. 

LoEEXZO DE IMedici, Trans. hy BoscoE. 



Acquaint tfjpself bjttfj ffioU. 

A CQFAIiS'T thyself with God, if thou wouldst 
^^ taste 

His works. Admitted once to his embrace. 
Thou shalt perceive that thou wast blind before ; 
Thine eye shall be instructed ; and thine heart. 
Made pure, shall relish, with divine delight 
Till then unfelt, what hands di^dne have wrought. 
Brutes graze the mountain-top, Avith faces prone, 



FROM MINES OF THOVGHT, 31 

And eyes intent upon tlie scanty herb 

It yields them ; or, recumbent on its brow, 

E/uminate heedless of the scene outspread 

Beneath, beyond, and stretching far away 

From inland regions to the distant main. 

Man views it, and admires ; but rests content 

"With what he views. The landscape has his praise, 

Eut not its Author. Unconcerned who formed 

The paradise he sees, he finds it such, 

And, such Avell-pleased to find it, asks no more. 

JN'ot so the mind that has been touched from 

heaven. 
And in the school of sacred wisdom taught 
To read his wonders, in whose thought the world, 
Eair as it is, existed ere it was. 
Not for its o^n sake merely, but for his 
Much more, who fashioned it, he gives it praise ; 
Praise, that from earth resulting, as it ought, 
To earth's acknowledged Sovereign, finds at once 
Its only just proprietor in him. 
The soul that sees him or receives sublimed 
I^ew faculties, or learns at least t' employ 
More worthily the powers she owned before. 
Discerns in all things what, with stupid gaze 
Of ignorance, till then she overlooked ; 
A ray of heavenly light gilding all forms 
Terrestrial, in the vast and the minute ; 
The unambiguous footsteps of the Grod, 
Who gives its lustre to an insect's wing. 
And wheels his throne upon the rolling worlds. 
Much conversant with heaven, she often holds 
With those fair ministers of light to man. 



32 SOjSTGS of TKJE SOUL ; 

That fill the skies nightly with silent pomp, 
Sweet conference. Inquires what strains were 

they 
With which heaven rang, when every star in haste 
To gTatnlate the new-created earth, 
Sent forth a voice, and aU the sons of God 
Shouted for joy. " TeH me, ye shining hosts 
That navigate a sea that knows no storms, 
Eeneath a vault unsullied with a cloud. 
If from your elevation, whence ye view 
Distinctly scenes invisible to man, 
And systems of whose birth no tidings yet 
Have reached this nether world, ye spy a race 
Favoured as ours, transgressors from the womb, 
And hasting to a grave, yet doomed to rise, 
And to possess a brighter heaven than yours ? 
As one who, long detained on foreign shores, 
Pants to return, and when he sees afar 
His country's weather-bleached and battered 

rocks 
From the green wave emerging, darts an eye 
Eadiant with joy towards the happy land ; 
So I, with animated hopes behold, 
And many an aching wish, your beamy fires, 
That show hke beacons in the blue abyss, 
Ordained to guide th' embodied spirit home 
From toilsome life to never-ending rest. 
Love kindles as I gaze. I feel desires 
That give assurance of their own success, 
And that, infused from heaven, must thither 

tend." 

William Cowpee. 



FROM MINi:S OF TROTIGRT, 33 

anlr tl)e 0eto (JTreature SEalfes in iLtgfjt. 

TTrHEjSr man to god-like being sprung, 

How sweet tlie glorious gift he found ! 
"WTiile lieaven with notes of gladness rung, 

See Eden's beauty smiles around: 
Where'er the stranger bends his yiew, 
'Tis woncbous all, divinely new. 

By hands unseen the virgin soil 

Is with unlaboured plenty crowned ; 

But soon must Adam bow to toil, 

And dress the late spontaneous ground : 

Eor, oh ! too soon the thorn appears — 

Too soon he blends his bread with tears ! 

E'en thus when man is born anew. 
And being's perfect bliss is given — 

Lo, a new Eden starts to view, 

While angel harps rejoice in heaven — 

'Tis wondrous all, divinely bright, 

And the new creature walks in light. 

Then, too, the heart's unlaboured soil 
Is with mysterious plenty crowned ; 

But soon he finds 'tis meet to toil. 

And dress with tears the wayward ground : 

Eor, oh ! too soon the thorn appears, 

And heaven's own bread is mixed with tears ! 

Yet onward is no scene displayed 

Whose bright beginnings ne'er decay ? 

Must still the prospect ope to fade. 

Still clouds o'er cast the new-born day ? 
n 



34 SO^^GS OF TSU SOUL; 

ISo : see the last creation burst — 

All clouds, all clianges there dispersed ! 

JN"© thorns that Paradise infest — ■ 
Ko hitter tears its harvest leaven — 

IN'o toils disturb its hallowed rest ; 
Unlaboured plenty lasts in heaven : 

Then, oh ! let Eaith, let Patience, here, 

With Hope unmurmuring persevere. 

Thomas GrEi^^riELD, 



^ portrait. 

'T^HE happy soul hath left its fiiir abode : 

^ How pale the cheek where warmth and 

beauty giow'd! 
AVhere now those charms that held th' admiring 

sight ? 
The bloom as heav'n's unclouded azure bright ; 
Th' attractive smile, by nature taught to please ; 
The mien that temper' d dignity with ease ? 
Ah where ! yon solemn silent vault survey, 
Where writhes the reptile o'er its kindred clay ; 
There read on pride's stain' d cheek the gen'ral 

doom; 
Then pause : — while memory bleeds upon the 

tomb. 
Perhaps while we th' untimely stroke bemoan. 
She bends adoring at th' Eternal's throne ; 
While from our eye-balls burst the streams of 

woe, 



FEOM MU;rJES OF TROUGRT, 35 

Her happier soul can wonder why the}^ flow ; 
Or smile, and pitying our mistaken sighs, 
Can bless the hoiu* that eaU'd her to the skies. 
Yet must our sorrows stain thy mournful bier ; 
Such sweetness lost demands a tender tear. 
Thine was the breast by conscious virtue warm'd, 
The heart that pitied, and the look that charm' d ; 
The beam of ^^it from sparMing genius brought, 
Its fire chastis'd by cool directing thought ; 
Superior sense, by passion ne'er betray' d. 
The kindling transport, and the judging head ; 
The thought Avhich art and candid taste refine ; 
The gen'rous wish ; the feeling soul was thine. 



^ Fisit to 2Setf)le!)em in tfje Spirit. 

nPHE scene around me disappears. 

And, borne to ancient regions, 
While Time recalls the flight of years, 

I see angelic legions 
Descending in an orb of light. 
Amidst the dark and silent night ; 

I hear celestial voices. 

" Tidings, glad tidings from above, 

To every age and nation ; 
Tidings, glad tidings, — Grod is love, 

To man He sent salvation : 
His Son beloved, his only Son, 
The work of mercy hath begun, 

Grive to his name the glory." 



36 SOJ^^GS OF TKU SOUL ; 

TliroTigli David's city I am led; 

Here all aroirnd are sleeping ; 
A light directs to yon poor slied, 

"Where lonely watch is keeping : 
I enter ; — ah ! what glories shine ! 
Is this Inunanuel's earthly shrine ? 

Messiah's infant temple ? 

It is ; it is ; — and I adore 

This Stranger meek and lowly, 

As saints and seraphs how hefore 
The throne of Grod thrice holy ; 

Faith through the vail of flesh can see 

The face of thy Divinity, 

My Lord, my God, my Saviour ! 

James Mo:j«rTaoMERT. 



Blest is i^t0 Hife, tofjo to fjtmself is 

pEACE to the True Man's ashes ! Weep for 
those 

Whose days in old delusions have groTSTi dim ; 
Such lives as his are triumphs, and their close 

An immortality : weep not for him. 

As feathers wafted from the eagle's Avings 

Lie bright among the rocks they can not warm, 

So lie the j&owery lays that Grenius brings, 
In the cold turf that T\Taps his honoured form. 



FROM MINJES OF TROUGRT. 37 

A practical rebuker of vain strife, 

Bolder in deeds than words, from beardless 
youth 
To the white hairs of age, he made his life 

A beautifnl consecration to the Truth. 

Virtue, neglected long, and trampled down, 
Grrew stronger in the echo of his name ; 

And, shrinking self-condemned beneath his frown, 
The cheek of harlotry grew red with shame. 

Serene with conscious peace, he strewed his way 
With sweet humanities, the growth of love ; 

Shaping to right his actions, day by day, 
Faithful to this world and to that above. 

The ghosts of blind belief and hideous crime. 
Of spirit-broken loves, and hopes betrayed. 

That flit among the broken walls of Time, 
Are by the True Man's exorcisms laid. 

Blest is his life, who to himself is true, 

And blest his death — for memory, when he 
dies, . 

Comes, vdth a lover's eloquence, to renew 
Our faith in manhood's upward tendencies. 

Weep for the self-abased, and for the slave. 
And for Grod's children darkened mth the 
smoke 
Of the red altar — not for him whose grave 
Is greener than the mistletoe of the oak. 

Alice Caret. 



38 SOJTGS OF THE SOUL; 

i3rtsi[)t iLamjj of (Sotr. 

/^ AX wars and jars, and fierce contention, 
^^ Swoln hatred, and consiuning enyy spring 
From pietA' r — Xo, 'tis opinion 
That makes the riven heaven with tin.impets 

ring, 
And thundering engine mnrderons balls out- 

slmg. 
And send men's groaning ghosts to lower 

shade 
Of horrid hell. This the wide world doth bring 
To devastation, makes manldnd to fade : 
Such dii^eful things doth false religion persuade. 

But true religion, sprung from God above, 
Is like her fountain — ^full of charity : 
Embracing all things with a tender love, 
Full of good will and meek expectancy ; 
Fidl of true justice and sure verity, 
In heart and voice ; free, large, even infinite ; 
jSTot wedged in straight particularity, 
But grasping all in her vast active sprite — 
Bright lamp of Grod, that men would joy in thy 
piu^e light! Hexrt 3Iore. 



Blest tf)at ^omt toJjcre (SotJ is felt 

^T^AN^AS early day — and sun-light streamed 

-^ Soft through a quiet room, 
That hushed, but not forsaken, seemed — 
Still, but ^dth nought but gloom : 



FBOM MINES OF THOTiaST. 39 

Por there, secure in ttappj age, 

AVhose hope is from above, 
A father communed with the page 

Of Heaven's recorded love. 

Pure fell the beam, and meekly bright, 

On his grey holy hair, 
And touched the book with tenderest light. 

As if its shrine were there ; 
But oh ! that patriarch's aspect shone 

With something lovelier far — 
A radiance all the spirits ovni, 

Caught not from sun or star. 

Some word of life e'en then had met 

His calm benignant eye ; 
Some ancient promise breathing yet 

Of immortality ; 
Some heart's deep language, where the glow 

Of quenchless faith survives ; 
Eor every feature said, " I know 

That my Eedeemer lives." 

And silent stood his children by. 

Hushing their very breath 
Before the solemn sanctity 

Of thoughts o'ersweeping death: 
Silent — ^yet did not each young breast, 

AVith love and reverence melt ? 
O ! blest be those fair girls — and blest 

That home where God is felt. 

Eelicia Hema:n^s. 



40 so^^as of the soul; 
Btltebe, ti)ou tiarfe lost l^ilgrim, still! 

>npiS not too hard, too Mgli an aim, 

Secure, thy part in Christ to claim ; 
The sensual instinct to control. 
And warm with purer fires the soul. 
Nature will raise up all her strife, 
Foe to the flesh-abasing life. 
Loth in a Saviour's death to share, 
Her daily cross compelled to hear ; 
But grace omnipotent at length 
Shall arm the saint with saving strength ; 
Through the sharp war mth aids attend. 
And his long conflict sweetly end. 

Act but the infant's gentle part, 
Grive up to love thy willing heart ; 
No fondest parent's tender breast 
Yearns like thy Grod's to make thee blest ; 
Taught its dear mother soon to know. 
The simplest babe its love can show : 
Bid bashful, servile fear retire. 
The task no labour will require. 

The sovereign Eather, good and kind, 
"Wants but to have his child resigned ; 
Wants but thy yielding heart, no more, — - 
With his rich gifts of grace to store. 
He to my soul no anguish brings, 
From thy own stubborn will it springs ; 
That foe but crucify, the bane, — 
Nought shalt thou know of frowns or pain. 



FROM MINES OF TROTIQRT. 41 

Shake from tliy soul, o'erwhelmed, deprest, 
Th' encumbering load that galls its rest, 
That wastes its strength with bondage vain, 
With courage break th' enslaving chain ! 
Let faith exert its conquering power, 
Say, in thy fearing, trembling hour, 
" Father, thy pitying aid impart !" 
'Tis done ! a sigh can reach his heart. 

Yet if, more earnest plaints to raise, 
Awhile his succours he delays ; 
Though his kind hand thou canst not feel, 
The smart let lenient patience heal : 
Or if corruption's strength prevail, 
And oft thy pilgrim footsteps fail. 
Lift for his grace thy louder cries. 
So shalt thou cleansed and stronger rise. 

If haply still thy mental shade 
Deep as the midnight's gloom be made. 
On the sure faithful arm divine 
Firm let thy fastening trust recline. 
The gentlest Sire, the best of friends. 
To thee, nor loss nor harm intends ; 
Though tost on the most boisterous main, 
1^0 v^eck thy vessel shall sustain. 
Should there remain of rescuing grace 
No gUmpse, no shadow left to trace. 
Hear thy Lord's voice, " 'Tis Jesus' wiU " 
Believe, thou dark lost pilgrim, still I 

Then, thy sad night of terrors past, 
Though the dread season long may last. 



42 SO^''GS OF THJE SOUL; 

Sweet peace sliall from the smiling skies, 
Like a new dawn before thee rise ; 
Then shall thy faith's firm grounds appear, 
Its ejes shall view salvation clear. 

Be hence encouraged more, when tried, 

On thy best Father to confide. 

Oh ! my too blind but nobler part, 

Be moved ! Be won by these, my heart ; — 

See of how rich a lot, how blest, 

The true believer stands possest. 

Come, backward soul, to Grod resign ; 
Peace, his best blessing, shall be thine ; 
Boldly recumbent on his care. 
Cast thy full burden only there. 

From the Geema^'. 



H^t^in, mg Soul, t!)' Exaltttr ILag ! 

T) EGrIX, my soul, th' exalted lay ! 
Let each enraptur'd thought obey, 
And praise the Almighty's name : 

Lo ! heaven and earth, and seas and skies. 

In one melodious concert rise, 
To swell th' inspiring theme. 

Te fields of light, celestial plains, 
AV^here gay transporting beauty reigns, 

Te scenes divinely fair ! 
Your Maker's wondrous pow'r proclaim, 
Tell how he form'd your shining frame. 

And breath' d the fluid air. 



FROM III^FS OF TROUGHT. 43 

Ye angels, catch the thrilling sound ! 
"While all th' adoring thrones around 

His boundless mercv sino^ : 
Let ev'ry list'ning saint above 
Wake all the tuneful soul of love, 

And touch the sweetest string. 

Join, ye loud spheres, the vocal choir ; 
Thou dazzling orb of liquid fire, 

The mighty chorus aid : 
Soon as grey ev'ning gilds the plain. 
Thou, moon, protract the melting strain, 

And praise him in the shade. 

Thou heav'n of heav'ns, his vast abode, 
Te clouds, proclaim your forming God, 

WTio call'd yon worlds from night : 
"Te shades, dispel!" — ^th' Eternal said: 
At once th' involving darkness fled, 

And nature sprung to light. 

Whate'er a blooming world contains. 
That wings the air, that skims the plains, 

United praise bestow : 
Te dragons, sound his a^s^ful name 
To heav'n aloud : and roar acclaim, 

Te swelling deeps below : 

Let every element rejoice : 

Te thunders, burst Tvdth awful voice 

To him who bids you roll ; 
His praise in softer notes declare, 
Each whispering breeze of yielding air, 

And breathe it to the soul. 



44 SOXGS OF THE SOUL; 

To him, ye graceful cedars, bo^v ; 
Ye tow'ring mountains, bending low, 

Tonr great Creator own ; 
Tell, when affrighted nature shook, 
How Sinai kindled at his look, 

And trembled at his froAvn. 

Ye flocks that haunt the humble vale, 
Ye insects flutt'ring on the gale, 

In mutual concourse rise ; 
Crop the gay rose's vermeil bloom, 
And waft its spoils, a sweet perfume. 

In incense to the skies. 

Wake, all re mounting tribes, and sing ; 
Ye plumy warblers of the spring, 

Harmonious anthems raise 
To him who shap'd your finer mould. 
Who tipp'd your glitt'ring wings with gold, 

And tun'd your yoice to praise. 

Let man, by nobler passions swaj'd. 
The feeling heart, the judging head, 

In heay'nly praise employ ; 
Spread his tremendous name around : 
Till heav'n's broad arch rings back the sound, 

The gen'ral burst of joy. 

Ye whom the charms of grandeur please, 
Nurs'd on the doAvny lap of ease, 

Tall prostrate at his throne : 
Ye princes, rulers, all adore ; 
Praise him, ye kings, who makes your pow'r 

An image of his own. 



FROM ^niSTES OF THOUGHT. 45 

Te fair, by nature form'd to move, 
O praise th' eternal Source of love, 

Witli youth's enlivening fire : 
Let age take up the tuneful lay, 
Sigh his bless' d name — then soar away, 

And ask an angel's lyre. 

OG'ILTIE. 



Be Efjou mg Htgljt, &e ^!jou mg SEag. 

r\ THOU, to whose all-searching sight 

The darkness shineth as the light, 
Search, prove my heart ; it pants for Thee : 
burst these bands, and set it free. 

"Wash out its stains, refine its dross, 
IS'ail my affections to the cross ! 
Hallow each thought, let all within 
Be clean, as Thou, my Lord, art clean. 

If in this darksome vsild I stray. 

Be Thou my light, be Thou my way : 

JSTo foes, no violence I fear, 

jSTo fraud, while Thou, my Grod, art near. 

AYhen rising floods my soul o'erflow, 
When sinks my heart in waves of woe, 
Jesu, Thy timely aid impart. 
And raise my head and cheer my heart. 

Saviour, \\^ere'er Thy steps I see. 
Dauntless, untir'd I follow Thee ; 
O let Thy hand support me still, 
And lead me to Thy holy hill. 



46 SOJSraS of TSJS SOUL; 

If rough and thorny be the way, 
Mj strength proportion to my day : 
'Till toil, and gTief. and pain shall cease, 
Where all is calm, and joy, and peace. 

JoH]s^ "Wesley. 



OTILL young and fine ! but what is still in view 
We slight as old and soiled, though fresh 

and new : 
How bright wert thou when Shem's admiring eye 
Thy burning flaming arch did first descry ; 
When Xahor, Terah, Haran, Abram, Lot, 
The youthful world's gray fathers in one knot, 
Did with intentive looks watch every hour 
For thy new light, and trembled at each shower. 
When thou dost shine darkness looks white and 

fair, 
Forms turn to music, clouds to smiles and air ; 
Kain gently spends his honey drops, and pours 
Ealm on the cleft earth, milk on grass and flowers. 
Bright pledge of peace and sunshine ! the sure 

tie 
Of thy Lord's hand, the object of his eye ! 
When I behold thee, though my light be dim. 
Distant and low, I can in thine see Him, 
Who looks upon thee from his glorious throne. 
And minds the covenant betwixt all and one. 

HeIS^RY VArGHA2f. 



FBOM IflJVJES OF TIIOUGRT. 47 

Botij SEorltis at once ttjeg Uteto. 

^HE seas are quiet when the winds are o'er ; 
-^ So calm are we when passions are no more ! 
Por then we know how vain it was to boast 
Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost. 

Clouds of affection from our younger eyes 
Conceal that emptiness which age descries : 
The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, 
Lets in new lights thro^ chinks that time has made. 

Stronger by weakness, Aviser, men become, 
As they draw near to their eternal home ; 
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view. 
That stand upon the threshold of the new. 

"Wallee. 



Beautg of l^oliness. 

"Vr OT all the pomp and pageantry of vrorlds 

-^^ Eeflect such glory on the eye supreme, 

As the meek virtues of one holy man : 

For ever doth his Angel, from the face 

Divine, beatitude and wisdom draw : 

And in his prayer, what privilege adored ! — 

Mounting the heavens and claiming audience 

there : 
Yes ! there, amid a high immortal host 
Of seraphs hymning in eternal choir, 
A lip of clay its orisons can send, 
In temple or in solitude outbreathed. 

Egbert MoiifTGOMEiiY. 



48 S02s^GS OF THE SOUL; 

Ba&es toere l^ts Iterates, antr ^is 

T^ conquer and to save, tlie Son of God 

Came to His own in great humility, 
"ViTio TTont to ride on cherub-wings abroad, 
And round Him wrap tbe mantle of tbe sky. 
The mountains bent their necks to form His road; 
The clouds dropt do^vn their fatness from on high ; 
Beneath His feet the wild waves softly flowed, 
And the wind kissed His garment tremblingly. 

The gTave unbolted half his gTisly door, 
(Por darkness and the deep had heard His fame, 
iSor longer might their ancient rule endure ;) 
The mightiest of mankind stood hush'd and tame: 
And, trooping on strong wing, His angels came 
To work His will, and kingdom to secure : 
^0 strength He needed save His Father's name ; 
Eabes were His heralds, and His friends the poor. 

Bishop Hebee. 



Bertabraitnt 

T MAEK'D when vernal meads were bright, 

And many a primrose smil'd, 
I mark'd her, bhthe as morning light, 
A dimpled three years' child. 

A basket on one tender arm 

Contain' d her precious store 
Of spring-flowers in their freshest charm, 

Told proudly o'er and o'er. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 49 

The other wound with earnest hold 

About her blooming guide, 
A maid who scarce twelve years had told : 

So walk'd they side by side. 

One a bright bud, and one might seem 

A sister flower half blown. 
Full joyous on their loving dream 

The sky of April shone. 

The summer months swept by : again 

That loving pair I met. 
On russet heath, and bowery lane, 

Th' autumnal sun had set : 

And chill and damp that Sunday eve 
Breath' d on the mourners' road 

That bright-eyed little one to leave 
Safe in the saints' abode. 

Behind, the guardian sister came, 

Her bright brow dim and pale — 

O cheer thee, maiden ! in His Xame, 
AVho stiH'd Jairus' wail! 

Thou mourn' st to miss the fingers soft 

That held by thine so fast, 
The fond appealing eye, full oft 

Tow'rd thee for refuge cast. 

Sweet toils, sweet cares, for ever gone 1 

No more from stranger's face 
Or startling sound, the timid one 

Shall hide in thine embrace. 

E 



50 SOJSTGS OF TSJE SOUL; 

Thy first glad earthly task is o'er, 
And dreary seems tliy way ; 

But what if nearer than before 
She watch thee even to-day ? 

^Hiat if henceforth by Heaven's decree 

She leave thee not alone, 
But in her turn prove guide to thee 

In ways to Angels known ? 

O yield thee to her whisperings sweet : 
Away with thoughts of gloom ! 

In love the loving spirits greet, 
"WIio wait to bless her tomb. 

In loving hope with her unseen 

"Walk as in hallow' d air, 
"WTien foes are strong and trials keen, 

Think "What if she be there ?" 

Anok". 



Brotfjer, tfjou art gone iefore us. 

IDEOTHEE, thou art gone before us, 

And thy saintly soul is flo^Ti 
Where tears are T^dped from every eye 

And sorrow is unknown : 
From the burthen of the flesh. 

And from care and fear released, 
Where the wicked cease from troubling, 

And the weary are at rest. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 51 

The toilsome way thou'st travelled o'er, 

And borne the heavy load, 
But Christ hath taught thy languid feet 

To reach his blest abode. 
Thou'rt sleeping now, like Lazarus 

Upon his father's breast, 
"WHiere the wicked cease from troubling, 

And the weary are at rest. 

Sin can never taint thee now, 

Xor doubt thy faith assail, 
Xor thy meek trust in Jesus Christ 

And the Holy Spirit fail. 
And there thou'rt sure to meet the good, 

Whom on earth thou lovedst best, 
"W^ere the ^\dcked cease from troubling, 

And the weary are at rest. 

'^ Earth to earth," and "Dust to dust," 

The solemn priest hath said, 
So we lay the turf above thee now, 

And we seal thy narrow bed : 
Eut thy spirit, brother, soars away 

Among the faithful blest, 
Where the wicked cease from troubling, 

And the weary are at rest. 

And when the Lord shall summon us, 

Whom thou hast left behind, 
May we, untainted by the world, 

As sure a welcome find ; 



52 SO^^GS OF THE SOUL; 

May eacli, like thee, depart in peace, 

To be a glorious guest, 
"Where the wicked cease from troubling, 

And the wearj are at rest. 

Hez^ry Hart Milma:?^. 



Burial of t|je Jiealr. 

TT7II0 says, the wan autumnal sun 

Beams with too faint a smile 
To light up nature's face again. 
And, though the year be on the wane, 

AVith thoughts of spring the heart beguile. 

"Waft him, thou soft September breeze. 

And gently lay him down 
Within some circHng woodland wall, 
WHiere bright leaves, reddening ere they fall. 

Wave gaily o'er the waters brov^n. 

And let some graceful arch be there 

With wreathed muUions proud. 
With burnish' d ivy for its screen. 
And moss, that glows as fresh and green 

As though beneath an April cloud. — 

Who says the widow's heart must break, 

The childless mother sink ? — 
A kinder, truer voice I hear, 
"Which even beside that mournful bier 

WHience parents' eyes would hopeless shrink 



FEOM MlJSrUS OF THOUGHT. 53 

Bids weep no more — O heart bereft, 
How strange, to thee, that sound! 

A widow o'er her only son, 

Feeling more bitterly alone 

Eor friends that press officious round. 

Yet is the voice of comfort heard, 
For Christ hath touch' d the bier — 

The bearers wait with wondering eye, 

The swelling bosom dares not sigh, 
But all is still, twixt hope and fear. 

Even such an awful soothing calm 

"We sometimes see alight 
On Christian mourners, while they wait 
In silence, by some church-yard gate, 

Their summons to the holy rite. 

And such the tones of love, which break 

The stillness of that hour, 
Quelling th' embitter' d spirit's strife — 
" The E/esurrection and the Life 

"Am I : believe, and die no more." — 

Unchang'd that voice — and though not yet 

The dead sit up and speak, 
Answering its call ; we gladlier rest 
Our darlings on earth's quiet breast, 

And our hearts feel they must not break. 

Ear better they should sleep awhile 

"Within the Church's shade, 
Nor wake, until new heaven, new earth, 
Meet for their new immortal birth, 

Eor their abiding-place be made, 



54 sojsras of the soul; 

Than wander back to life, and lean 

On our frail love once more. 
'Tis sweet, as year by year we lose 
Friends out of sigbt, in faith to muse 

How grows our Paradise in store. 

Then pass, ye mourners, cheerly on, 

Through prayer unto the tomb ; 
Still, as ye watch life's falling leaf, 
G-athering from every loss and grief 
Hope of new spring and endless home. 

Then cheerly to your work again, 
With hearts new-brac'd and set 
To run, untir'd, love's blessed race. 
As meet for those, who face to face 
Over the grave their Lord have met. 

Keble. 



t!)2 pleasure. 

T7E/0M eastern quarters now 
The sun 's up-wandering. 
His rays on the rock's brow 

And hill's side squandering ; 
Be glad, my soul ! and sing amidst thy pleasure. 

Ply from the house of dust. 

Up, with thy thanks, and trust 
To heaven's azure ! 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 55 

O, countless as the grains 

Of sand so tinj, 
Measureless as the main's 

Deep waters briny, 
Grod's mercy is, which he upon me showereth ! 

Each morning, in my shell, 

A grace immeasureable 
To me down-poureth. 

Thou best dost understand, 

Lord Grod ! my needing. 
And placed is in thy hand 

My fortune's speeding, 
And thou foreseest what is for me most fitting ; 

Be still, then, O my soul ! 

To manage in the whole 
Thy Grod permitting ! 

May fruit the land array, 

And corn for eating ! 
May truth e'er make its way, 

"With justice meeting ! 
Griye thou to me my share mth every other, 

TiR down my staff I lay. 

And from this world away 
Wend to another ! 

Thomas Kij^go, Trans. Anon. 



56 SOJ^GS OF THE SOUL; 



Contrasts necessarg for j^appmess. 

"TT7HEN all tlie year our fields are fresh and 
green, 

And while sweet showers and sunshine, every 
day. 
As oft as need requireth, come between 

The heavens and earth, they heedless pass away. 
The fullness and continuance of a blessing 

Doth make us to be senseless of the good ; 
And if sometimes it fly not our possessing, 

The sweetness of it is not understood ; 
Had we no "winter, summer would be thought 

Not half so pleasing ; and if tempests were not. 
Such comforts by a calm could not be brought ; 

Eor things, save by their opposites, appear not. 
Both health and wealth are tasteless unto some. 

And so is ease and every other pleasure, 
Till poor, or sick, or grieved, they become. 

And then they relish these in ampler measure. 
Grod, therefore, full of kind, as He is wise. 

So tempereth all the favours He Avill do us, 
That we his bounties may the better prize. 

And make his chastisements less bitter to us. 
One while a scorching indignation burns 

The flowers and blossoms of our hopes away, 
"Which into scarcity our plenty turns. 

And changeth new moA^Ti grass to parched hay; 
Anon his fruitful shoAvers and pleasing dews, 

Commixed with cheerful rays, He sendeth 
down, 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 67 

And then tlie barren earth her crops renews, 
Which with rich harvests hills and vallejs 
crown; 
Por, as to relish joys, He sorroAV sends ; 
So comfort on temptation still attends. 

GrEOB&E WiTHEB. 



Come, b)!)tle tfje IHornins of tfjg Hife 
is (©lotorng. 

/^0]\£E, while the blossoms of thy years are 
^ brightest, 

Thou youthful wanderer in a flowery maze. 
Come, while the restless heart is bounding lightest, 

And joy's pure sunbeams tremble in thy ways ; 
Come, while sweet thoughts like summer-buds 
unfolding, 

"Waken rich feelings in the careless breast. 
While yet thy hand the ephemeral wreath is hold- 
ing, 

Come — and secure interminable rest ! 

Soon will the freshness of thy days be over, 

And thy free buoyancy of soul be flown ; 
Pleasure will fold her wing, and friend and lover 

Will to the embraces of the worm have gone ; 
Those who now love thee will have pass'd for ever, 

Their looks of kindness will be lost to thee ; 
Thou wilt need balm to heal thy spirit's fever, 

As thy sick heart broods over years to be ! 



58 SOJ^GS OF THU SOUL; 

Come, while the morning of thy. life is glowing, 

Ere the dim phantoms thou art chasing die ; 
Ere the gay spell which earth is round thee 
throwing 

Eades, like the crimson from a sunset sky ; 
Life hath but shadows, save a promise given, 

Which lights the future with a fadeless ray ; 
0, touch the sceptre ! — ^win a hope in Heaven. 

Come, turn thy spirit from the world away ! 

Then will the crosses of this brief existence 
Seem airy nothings to thine ardent soul ; — ■ 

And, shining brightly in the forward distance. 
Will of thy patient race appear the goal : 

Home of the weary ! — where, in peace reposing. 
The spirit lingers in unclouded bliss. 

Though o'er its dust the curtain' d grave is clos- 
ing, 

^VTio would not, earZy, choose a lot like this ? 
Willis G. Clark. 



Cljrtstmas Beams s!)all ffl;|)eer mg ^eart. 

nPHE shepherds sing, and shall I silent be ? 

-^ My G-od, no hymn for thee ? 

My soul's a shepherd too ; a flock it feeds 

Of thoughts, and words, and deeds. 
The pasture is thy word ; the streams thy grace. 

Enriching all the place. 
Shepherd and flock shall sing, and all my powers 

Out-sing the day -light hours. 



FROM MINES OF THOVORT. 59 

Then we will chide the sun, for letting night 

Take up his place and right : 
"We sing one common Lord; wherefore he 
should 

Himself the candle hold. 
I will go searching, till I find a sun 

Shall stay till we have done ; 
A willing shiner, that shall shine as gladly, 

As frost-nipt suns look sadly. 
Then we will sing, and shine all our own day. 

And one another pay : 
His beams shall cheer my breast, and both so 

twine. 
Till ev'n his beams sing, and my music shine. 
G-EORaE Hebbeet. 



Come 6acft to §Sit, mg Cijtllr, 

n^HE foot of Spring is on yon blue-topped 
mountain, 
Leaving its green prints 'neath each spreading 
tree; 
Her voice is heard beside the swelling fountain, 

Griving sweet tones to its wild melody. 
From the warm south she brings unnumbered 
roses. 
To greet with smiles the eye of grief and care : 
Her balmy breath on the worn brow reposes. 
And her rich gifts are scattered everywhere ; — 
I heed them not, my child. 



60 SOJSTGS OF THE SOUL; 

In tTie low vale tlie snow-white daisy springetli, 

The golden dandelion b j its side ; 
The eglantine a dewj fragrance flingeth 

To the soft breeze that wanders far and wide. 
The hyacinth and polyanthus render, 

Erom their deep hearts, an offering of love ; 
And fresh May-pinks and half-bloT^n lilacs tender 

Their grateful homage to the skies above ; — 
I heed them not, my child. 

In the clear brook are springing water-cresses, 

And pale green rushes, and fair, nameless 
flowers ; 
While o'er them dip the willow's verdant tresses, 

Dimpling the surface with their mimic showers. 
The honeysuckle stealthily is creeping 

Eound the low porch and mossy cottage-eaves ; 
Oh ! Spring hath fairy treasures in her keeping, 

And lovely are thelandscapes that she weaves ; — 
'Tis naught to me, my child- 
Down the green lane come peals of heartfelt 
laughter ! 

The school hath sent its eldest inmates forth : 
And now a smaller band comes dancing after, 

Filling the air with shouts of infant mirth. 
At the rude gate the anxious dame is bending. 

To clasp her rosy darlings to her breast ; 
Joy, pride, and hope, are in her bosom blending ; 

Ah ! peace with her is no unusual guest ; — 
Not so with me, my child. 



FB03I MINES OF THOUGHT. 61 

All the day long I listen to tlie singing 

Of the gay birds and winds among the trees ; 
But a sad under-strain is ever ringing, 

A tale of death and its dread mysteries. 
Nature to me the letter is, that killeth — 

The spirit of her charms has passed away ; 
A fount of bliss no more my bosom filleth — 

Slumbers its idol in unconscious clay ; — 

Thou'rt in the grave, my child. 

Por thy glad voice my spirit inly pineth, 

I languish for thy blue eyes' holy light : 
Vainly for me the glorious sunbeam shineth ; 

Vainly the blessed stars come forth at night. 
I live in darkness, with the tomb before me, 

Longing to lay my dust beside thine own ; 
Oh, cast the mantle of thy presence o'er me ! 

Beloved, leave me not so deeply lone ; — 

Come back to me, my child ! 

Upon that breast of pitying love thou leanest, 

AVhich oft on earth did pillow such as thou, 
jSTor turned away petitioner the meanest : 

Pray to Him, sinless — ^he vdll hear thee now. 
Plead for thy weak and broken-hearted mother ; 

Pray that thy voice may whisper words of peace ; 
Her ear is deaf, and can discern no other ; 

Speak, and her bitter sorrowings shall cease ; — 
Come back to me, my child ! 

Come but in dreams — ^let me once more behold 
thee. 
As in thy hours of buoyancy and glee, 



62 SOJ^GS OF THJE SOUL; 

And one "brief moment in my arms enfold tliee- 

Beloved, I will not ask thy stay witli me. 
Leave but tlie impress of thy dove-like beauty, 

Wbich Memory strives so vainly to recaU, 
And I will onward in the patb of duty, 

E/estraining tears that ever fain would fall ;— 
Come but in dreams, my child ! 
Julia H. Scott. 



Cfjrtst tfje purifier. 

TTE that from dross would win the precious ore, 
-*-*- Bends o'er the crucible an earnest eye. 
The subtle searching process to explore, 

Lest the one brilliant moment should pass by, 
"When in the molten silver's virgin mass 
He meets his pictured face as in a glass. 

Thus in Grod's furnace are his people tried; 

Thrice happy they who to the end endure : 
But who the fiery trial may abide ? 

Who from the crucible come forth so pure ? 
That He whose eyes of flame look through the whole, 
May see his image perfect in the soul ? 

Nor with an evanescent glimpse alone. 
As in that mirror the refiner's face ; 
But, stamp t with Heaven's broad signet, there be 
shown 
Immanuel's features full of truth and grace. 
And round that seal of love this motto be, 
"Not for a moment, but — eternity !" 

James MoNTaoMEEY. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 63 

Come up unto t|je Ml\%. 

f^ OME up unto the hills — thy strength is there. 

^^ Oh, thou hast tarried long, 

Too long, amid the bowers and blossoms fair, 

"With notes of summer song. 
"Why dost thou tarry there ? what though the bird 

Pipes matin in the vale — 
The plough-boy whistles to the loitering herd, 

As the red daylights fail — 

Yet come unto the hills, the old strong hills, 

And leave the stagnant plain ; 
Come to the gushing of the new-born rills. 

As sing they to the main ; 
And thou Avith denizens of power shalt dwell, 

Eeyond demeaning care ; 
Composed upon his rock, mid storm and fell, 

The eagle shall be there. 

Come up unto the hills : the shattered tree 

Still clings unto the rock, 
And flingeth out his branches wild and free. 

To dare again the shock. 
Come where no fear is known : the sea-bird's nest 

On the old hemlock swings. 
And thou shalt taste the gladness of unrest, 

And mount upon thy wings. 

Come up unto the hills. The men of old. 

They of undaunted wills, 
Grew jubilant of heart, and strong, and bold, 

On the enduring hills — 



64 SONGS OF THE SOUL; 

AVliere came the soundings of the sea afar, 

Borne upward to the ear, 
And nearer grew the moon and midnight star, 

And Grod himself more near. 

Elizabeth Oakes Smith. 



Consecration of tlje ^onst of ^rager. 

r^ OD of wisdom, God of might, 
Eather ! dearest name of all, 
Bow thy throne and bless out rite ; 

'Tis thy children on thee call. 
Grlorious Oi^E ! look down from heaven, 

Warm each heart and wake each vow ; 
Unto Thee this house is given ; 

With thy presence fill it now. 

Fill it now ! on every soul 

Shed the incense of thy grace, 
"While our anthem-echoes roU 

Round the consecrated place ; 
While thy holy page we read, 

AYhile the prayers Thou lovest ascend, 
While thy cause thy servants plead, — 

Fill this house, our GrOD, our Eriend. 

rill it now— O, fiU it long ! 

So, when death shall call us home. 
Still to Thee, in many a throng. 

May our children's children come. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 65 

Bless them, Father, long and late. 
Blot their sins, their sorrows dr j ; 

Make this place to them the gate 
Leading to thj courts on high. 

There, when time shall be no more. 

When the feuds of earth are past. 
May the tribes of every shore 

Congregate in peace at last ! 
Then to Thee, thou O^^e all- wise. 

Shall the gather' d millions sing, 
Till the arches of the skies 

"With their hallelujahs ring. 

Chaeles SpEAarE. 



/^HAEITY! decent, modest, easj, kind, 
^^ Softens the high, and rears the abject mind ; 
Knows with just reins and gentle hand to guide 
Betwixt vile shame and arbitrary pride ; 
Xot soon provoked, she easily forgives, 
And much she suffers, as she much believes. 
Soft peace she brings wherever she arrives ; 
She builds our quiet as she forms our lives ; 
Lays the rough paths of peevish nature even. 
And opens in each heart a little heaven. 
Each other gift which God on man bestows, 
Its proper bounds and due restriction knoAvs ; 
To one fixed purpose dedicates its power, 
And finishing its act, exists no more. 

E 



66 SO^'^GS OF TSE SOUL ; 

Thus, in obedience to wliat Heaven decrees, 

Knowledge shall fail, and prophecy shall cease ; 

Ent lasting Charity's more ample sway, 

ISTor bound by time, nor subject to decay, 

In happy triumph shall for ever live. 

And endless good diffuse, andendless praisereceiye. 

As through the artist's intervening glass. 
Our eye observes the distant planets pass, 
A little we discover, but allow , 

That more remains unseen than art can show ; 
So whilst oiu' mind its knowledge would improve 
(Its feeble eye intent on things above,) 
High as we may lift our reason up. 
By Paith directed, and coiifirmed by Hope ; 
Yet are we able only to survey 
Dawnings of beams and promises of day. 
Heaven's fuller effluence mocks our dazzled sight ; 
Too great its swiftness, and too strong its light. 

Eut soon the mediate clouds shall be dispelled, 
The Sun shall soon be face to face beheld, 
In all his robes, with all his glory on. 
Seated, sublime, on his meridian throne. 

Then constant Faith and holy Hope shall die, 
One lost in certainty, and one in joy ; 
Whilst thou, more happy power, fair Charity, 
Triumphant sister, greatest of the three, 
Thy office and thy nature still the same, 
Lasting thy lamp, and unconsumed thy flame, 

Shalt still survive 

Shalt stand before the host of heaven confest, 
For ever blessing, and for ever blest. 

Matthew Peioe. 



FROM MINES OF TROTJGRT. 67 

Come, ILorlil ixi!)m ffirace |)as maUe 
me meet. 

T OED, it belongs not to mj care, 

-^ Whether I die or live ; 

To live and serve Tliee is my share, 

And this Thj gra-ce must give. 
K life be long, I will be glad, 

That I may long obey ; 
If short, yet why should I be sad. 

That shall have the same pay ? 

Christ leads me through no darker rooms 

Than He went through before ; 
He that unto God's kingdom comes 

Must enter by this door. 
Come, Lord ! when grace has made me meet 

Thy blessed face to see ; 
For if Thy work on earth be sweet, 

"What must Thy glory be ? 

Then shall I end my sad complaints. 

And weary, sinful days, 
And join ^ith the triumphant saints. 

That sing Jehovah's praise. 
My knowledge of that life is small, 

The eye of faith is dim ; 
But 'tis enough that Christ knows all, 

And I shall be with Him. 

Eaxtee. 



68 SOI^aS OF THJE SOUL ; 

Bags of 3o2 tnmt saU #ig!)ts of 
Sorroixr. 

TT7IIAT joyful harvester did e'er obtain 

The sweet J&'uition of his hopeful gain, 
Till he in hardy labours first had pass'd 
The summer's heat, and stormy winter's blast ? 
A sable night returns a shining morrow, 
And days of joy ensue sad nights of sorrow ; 
The way to bliss lies not on beds of down, , 
And he that had no cross deserves no crown. 
There's but one heaven, one place of perfect ease. 
In man it lies, to take it where he please, 
Above, or here below i and few men do 
Enjoy the one, and taste the other too : 
Sweating, and constant labour wins the goal 
Of rest ; afflictions clarify the soul. 
And like hard masters, give more hard directions, 
Tutoring the nonage of uncurb 'd affections » 
Wisdom, the antidote of sad despair, 
Makes sharp afflictions seem not as they are. 
Through patient sufferance ; and doth apprehend, 
Not as they seeming are, but as they end. 
To bear affliction with a bended brow, 
Or stubborn heart, is but to disallow 
The speedy means to health ; salve heals no sore. 
If misapplied, but makes the grief the more. 
Who sends affliction, sends an end, and he 
Best knows what's best for him, what's best for 

me: 
'Tis not for me to carve me where I like ; 
Him pleases when he list to stroke or strike. 



FROM 3fIJSrUS OF THOUGHT. 69 

I'll neither wish nor yet avoid temptation, 
But still expect it, and make preparation : 
If he think best, my faith shaU not be tried, 
Lord, keep me spotless from presumptuous pride: 
If otherwise with his trial, give me care, 
By thankful patience to prevent despair : 
rit me to bear whatever thou shalt assign ; 
I kiss the rod, because the rod is thine. 

Howe'er, let me not boast, nor yet repine ; 

With trial, or without. Lord, make me thine. 

rRANCIS QUARLES. 



©eat!) of tlje Etgljteous. 

fyS. ! beautiful beyond depicting words 

^^ To paint the hour that wafts a soul to heaven ! 

The world grows dim, the scenes of time depart, 

The hour of peace, the walk of social joy. 

The mild companion, and the deep-souled friend. 

The loved and lovely — see his face no more. 

The mingling spell of sun, of sea and air, 

Is broken : voice and gaze, and smiles that speak 

Must perish ; parents take their hushed adieu ; 

A wife, a child, a daughter half divine, 

Or son that never drew a father's tear, — 

Approach him, and his dying tones receive. 

Like Grod's own language ! 'tis an hour of awe, 

Yet terrorless, when revelations flow 

From faith immortal ; view that pale worn brow. 

It gleams with glory ! — in his eyes there dawns 

A dazzling earnest of unuttered joy. 



70 sojsras of the soul; 

Each pang subdued, his longing soul respires 
The gales of glorified eternity ; 
And round him, hues ethereal, harps of light, 
And lineaments of earthless beauty, throng, 
As, winged on melody, the saint departs, 
"While heaven in miniature before him shines. 

EOBEET MONTaOMEBY. 



©e&otton Breatfjes illoutr from e&erg 
Cfjorti. 

TT7HE]N' first, in ancient time, from Jubal's 

tongue. 
The tuneful anthem filled the morning air. 
To sacred hymn in gs and Elysian song 
His music-breathing shell the minstrel woke. 
Devotion breathed aloud from every chord ; — 
The voice of praise was heard in every tone. 
And prayer, and thanks to Him, the Eternal 

One, — 
To Him, that, mth bright inspiration, touched 
The high and gifted l}T:'e of heavenly song, 
And warmed the soul with new vitality. 
A stirring energy through j^s^ature breathed ! — 
The voice of adoration from her broke, 
Swelling aloud in every breeze, and heard 
Long in the sullen waterfall, — what time 
Soft Spring or hoary Autumn threw on earth 
Its bloom or blighting, — when the Summer smiled. 
Or Winter o'er the year's sepulchre mourned. 
The Deity was there ! — a nameless spirit 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 71 

Moved in the hearts of men to do H!im homage ; 
Or when the Morning smiled, or Evening, pale, 
Hung weeping o'er the melancholy sun. 
They came beneath the broad o'erarching trees, 
And in their tremulous shadow worshipped oft, 
Where the pale vine clung round their simple 

altars, 
And gray moss mantling hung. Above was heard 
The melody of winds, breathed out as the green 

trees 
Bowed to their quivering touch in living beauty, 
And birds sang forth their cheerful hymns . Below, 
Struggled and gushed amongst the tangled roots. 
That choked its weedy fountain — and dark rocks, 
Worn smooth by the constant cuirent, even there 
The listless wave, that stole with mellow voice. 
Where weeds grew rank upon the rushy brink. 
And to the wandering ^\dnd the green sedge bent, 
Sang a sweet song of fixed tranquillity. 
Men felt the heavenly influence ; and it stole 
Like balm into their hearts, till all was peace ; 
And even the air they breathed, — the light they 

saw, — 
Became religion ; — for the ethereal spirit. 
That to soft music wakes the chords of feeling. 
And mellows everything to beauty, moved 
With cheering energy within their breasts. 
And made all holy there — ^for all was love. 
The morning stars that sweetly sang together — 
The moon that hung at night in the mid- sky — 
Day-spring — and eventide — and all the fair 
And beautiful forms of nature, had a voice 



72 SOJSTGS OF THE SOUL; 

Of eloquent worship. Ocean, witli its tide, 
Swelling and deep, wliere low tlie infant storm 
Hung on his dun, dark cloud, and heavily beat 
The pulses of the sea, sent forth a voice 
Of awful adoration of the Spirit, 
That, wrapped in darkness, moved upon its face. 
And when the how of evening arched the east, 
Or, in the moon-light pale, the gentle wave 
Kissed, with a sweet embrace, the sea-worn beach, 
And the wild song of winds came o'er the waters, 
The mingled melody of wind and wave 
Touched like a heavenly anthem on the ear ; 
For it arose a tuneful hymn of worship. 
And have our hearts grown cold ? Are there on 

earth 
No pure reflections caught from heavenly love ? 
Have our mute lips no hymn — our souls no song ? 
Let him that in the summer-day of youth, 
Keeps pure the holy fount of youthful feeling, 
And him, that in the night-fall of his years. 
Lies down in his last sleep, and shuts in peace 
His weary eyes on life's short wayfaring. 
Praise Him that rules the destiny of man. 

Hejs'ry W. Longfellow. 



©eatfj. 



LIKE to the damask rose you see, 
Or like the blossom on the tree, 
Or like the dainty flow'r of May, 
Or like the morning of the day. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 73 

Or like the sun, or like the shade, 
Or like the gourd which Jokas had, — 
Even so is man, whose thread is spun. 
Drawn out, and cut, and so is done : 
The rose withers, the blossom blasteth, 
The flower fades, the morning hasteth, 
The sun sets, the shadow flies. 
The gourd consumes, and man he dies. 

Ais^ois". 

50eat!)less principle, ^rtse! 

"TVEATHLESS principle, arise ! 
-*-^^ Soar, thou native of the skies ! 
Pearl of price, by Jesus bought. 
To his glorious likeness v^rrought ! 
Gro to shine before his throne ; 
Deck his mediatorial crown ; 
Gro, His triumph to adorn, — 
Made for Grod, to Grod return. 

Lo ! He beckons from on high, — 
Eearless to His presence fly : 
Thine the merit of his blood ; 
Thine the righteousness of Grod ! 
Angels, joyful to attend. 
Hovering, round thy pillow bend ; 
Wait to catch the signal given. 
And escort thee quick to heaven. 
Is thy earthly house distress' d, 
Willing to retain her guest ? 
'Tis not thou, but she, must die. 
Ely, celestial tenant, fly ! 



74 SOJ^aS OF THE SOUL; 

Burst thy shackles, drop thj clay ; 
Sweetly breathe thyself away : 
Singing, to thy crown remove, 
S^vift of wing, and fired with love. 

Shudder not to pass the stream ; 
Venture all thy care on Him ; 
Him, whose dying love and power 
Still' d its tossing, hush'd its roar. 
Safe is the expanded wave ; 
Grentle as a summer's eve ; 
JSTot one object of His care 
Ever suffer' d shipwreck there. 

See the haven full in view ! 

Love divine shall bear thee through. 

Trust to that propitious gale ; 

AVeigh thy anchor, spread thy sail. 

Saints in glory perfect made, 

"Wait thy passage through the shade ; 

Ardent for thy coming o'er. 

See ! they throng the blissful shore. 

Mount, their transports to improve ; 
Join the longing choir above ; 
Swiftly to their vrish be given ; 
Kindle higher joy in heaven. — 
Such the prospects that arise 
To the dying Christian's eyes ; 
Such the glorious vista, Faith 
Opens through the shades of death. 

TOPLADY. 



FEOM MIJSTES OF TROVGHT, 75 

'T^IS gone, tliat briglit and orbed blaze, 

East fading from onr wistful gaze ; 
Ton mantling cloud bas bid from sigbt 
Tbe last faint pulse of quivering ligbt. 

In darkness and in weariness 
Tbe traveller on bis way must press^ 
No gleam to watcb on tree or tower, 
"Wbiling away tbe lonesome bour. 

Sun of my soul ! Tbou Saviour dear, 
It is not nigbt if Tbou be near : 
Ob ! may no eartb-born cloud arise 
To bide Tbee from Tby servant's eyes. 

Wben round Tby wondrous works below 
My searcbing rapturous glance I tbrow, 
Tracing out Wisdom, Power, and Love, 
In eartb or sky, in stream or grove ; — 

Or by tbe ligbt Tby words disclose 
"Watcb Time's full river as it flows, 
Scanning Tby gracious Providence, 
WTiere not too deep for mortal sense ;— 

Wben witb dear friends sweet talk I bold, 
And all tbe flowers of life unfold ; 
Let not my beart witbin me burn, 
Except in all I Tbee discern. 

Wben tbe soft dews of kindly sleep 
My wearied eyelids gently steep. 
Be my last tbougbt, bow sweet to rest 
Eor ever on my Saviour's breast ! 



76 SOJS'GS OF THE SOUL; 

Abide with me from morn till eve, 
Eor mthout Tliee I cannot live : 
Abide with me when night is nigh, 
For without Thee I dare not die. 

Thou Eramer of the light and dark, 
Steer through the tempest Thine own ark : 
Amid the howling wintry sea 
We are in port if we have Thee. 

The E-ulers of this Christian land, 
'Twixt Thee and us ordained to stand, — 
Gruide Thou their course, Lord, aright. 
Let all do all as in Thy sight. 

Oh ! by Thine own sad burthen, borne 
So meekly up the hill of scorn. 
Teach Thou Thy Priests their daily cross 
To bear as Thine, nor count it loss ! 

If some poor wandering child of Thine 
Have spurn' d, to-day, the voice divine, 
ISTow, Lord, the gracious work begin ; 
Let him no more lie down in sin. 

Watch by the sick : enrich the poor 
With blessings from Thy boundless store : 
Be every mourner's sleep to-night 
Like infant's slumbers, pure and light. 

Come near and bless us when we wake. 
Ere through the world our way we take ; 
Till in the ocean of Thy love 
We lose ourselves in Heaven above. 

JoHT^ Keble. 



FROM MINES OF TROTIGHT. 77 

(!H&el2n Hope. 

"jDEAITTirUL Evelyn Hope is dead! 
Sit and watch by her side an hour. 
That is her book-shelf, this her bed ; 

She plucked that piece of geranium-flower, 
Beginning to die too, in the glass. 

Little has yet been changed, I think — 
The shutters are shut, no light may pass 

Save two long rays thro' the hinge's chink. 

Sixteen years old when she died ! 

Perhaps she had scarcely heard my name — 
It was not her time to love : beside. 

Her life had many a hope and aim, 
Duties enough and little cares, 

And now was quiet, now astir — 
Till Grod's hand beckoned unawares, 

And the sweet white brow is all of her. 

Is it too late then, Evel}Ti Hope ? 

"What, your soul was pure and true. 
The good stars met in your horoscope. 

Made you of spirit, fire and dew — 
An.d just because I was thrice as old, 

And our paths in the world diverged so vride. 
Each was nought to each, must I be told ? 

"We were fellow mortals, nought beside ? 

1^0, indeed ! for Grod above 

Is great to grant, as mighty to make, 

And creates the love to reward the love, — 
I claim you stiU, for my o^m love's sake ! 



78 sojsras of the soul; 

Delayed it may be for more lives yet, 

Througli worlds I shall traverse, not a feAV — 

Much is to learn and much to forget 
Ere the time be come for taking you. 

But the time will come, — at last it will, 

"WTien, Evelyn Hope, what meant, I shall say, 
In the lower earth, in the years long still, 

That body and soul so pure and gay r 
Why your hair was amber, I shall divine. 

And your mouth of your own geranium's red — 
And what you would do vrith me, in fine, 

In the new life come in the old one's stead. 

I have lived, I shall say, so much since then, 

Griven up myself so many times. 
Grained me the gains of various men, 

Eansacked the ages, spoiled the climes ; 
Yet one thing, one, in my soul's full scope, 

Either I missed or itself missed me — 
And I want and find you, Evelyn Hope ! 

What is the issue ? let us see ! 

I loved you, Evelyn, all the while ; 

My heart seemed full as it could hold — 
There was place and to spare for the frank young 
smile 

And the red young mouth and the hair's young 
gold. 
So, hush, — I will give you this leaf to keep — 

See, I shut it inside the sweet cold hand. 
There, that is our secret ! go to sleep : 

Tou wiU wake, and remember, and understand. 

EOEERT BrOWN^ING. 



FROM MINES OF TROUaHT. 79 

lEartfj antr ?^ea&m. 

TlSr liell no life, in heaven no deatli there is ; 
In eartli both life and death, both bale and 
bliss : 
In heaven's all life, no end, nor new supplying ; 
In hell's all death, and jet there is no dying. 
Earth (like a partial ambidexter) doth 
Prepare for death, or life, prepares for both : 
AVho lives to sin in hell his portion's given, 
AVho dies to sin, shall after live in heaven. 
Though earth my nurse be, heaven, be thou 
my father ; 
Ten thousand deaths let me endiu^e rather 
Within my nurse's arms, than one to thee ; 
Earth's honour, with thy fro^vns, is death to me : 
I hve on earth, upon a stage of sorrow ; 
Lord, if thou pleasest, end the play to-morrow. 
I Hve on earth, as in a dream of pleasure ; 
Awake me when thou wilt, I wait thy leisiu^e : 
I live on earth, but as of life bereaven ; 
My life's "with thee, for, Lord, thou art in heaven. 
Eea2s'cis Quaeles. 



ISntrance into BItss. 

r\ SACEED star of evening, teH 

In what unseen, celestial sphere, 
Those spirits of the perfect dwell. 
Too pure to rest in sadness here. 



80 SOJ^^GS OF THE SOTTL ; 

Koam they tlie crystal fields of light, 

O'er paths by holy angels trod, 
Their robes with heavenly lustre bright, 

Their home, the Paradise of Grod ? 

Soul of the just ! and canst thou soar 
Amidst those radiant spheres sublime, 

"Where countless hosts of heaven adore. 
Beyond the bounds of space or time ? 

And canst thou join the sacred choir. 

Through heaven's high dome the song to raise, 

Where seraphs strike the golden lyre 
In ever-during notes of praise ? 

Oh ! who would heed the chilling blast 
That blows o'er time's eventful sea. 

If bid to hail, its perils past. 
The bright wave of eternity ! 

And who the sorrows would not bear 

Of such a transient world as this. 
When hope displays, beyond its care. 

So bright an entrance into bliss ! 

W. O. Peabody. 



lEaster. 



A GAIN the Lord of life and light 
•^ Awakes the kindling ray ; 
Unseals the eyelids of the morn, 
And pours increasing day. 



FROM MINJES OF TROTTGRT. 81 

Oh ! what a mght was that which wrapt 

The heathen world in gloom : 
Oh ! what a Snn which broke this day 

Triumphant from the tomb ! 

This day be grateftd homage paid, 

And loud hosannas sung ; 
Let gladness dwell in every heart, 

And praise on every tongue. 

Ten thousand differing lips shall join 

To hail this welcome morn, 
"Which scatters blessings from its wings. 

To nations yet unborn. 

Jesus, the friend of human kind, 

With strong compassion moved, 
Descended, like a pitying Grod, 

To save the souls He loved. 

The powers of darkness leagued in vain 

To bind his soul in death ; 
He shook their kingdom, when He fell. 

With his expiring breath. 

Not long the toils of hell could keep 

The hope of Jiidah's line ; 
Corruption never could take hold 

On aught so much divine. 

And now his conquering chariot wheels 

Ascend the lofty skies ; 
While broke, beneath his powerful cross. 

Death's iron sceptre lies. 
a 



82 SOJSTGS OF TSJE SOUL ; 

Exalted high at Grod's right hand, 

And Lord of all below ; 
Through Him is pardoning loye dispensed, 

And boundless blessings flow. 

And still for erring, guilty man 

A brother's pity flows ; 
And still his bleeding heart is touched 

With memory of our woes. 

To Thee, my Saviour and my Kiag, 

Grlad homage let me give ; 
And stand prepared Hke Thee to die, 

With Thee that I may live. 

A]S'ZS'A LeTITIA BAEBArLD. 



ISaster. 

T GOT me flowers to strew thy way ; 

I got me boughs ofi* many a tree : 
But thou wast up by break of day. 
And brought' st thy sweets along with thee. 

The sun arising in the east, — 

Though he give light, and the east perfume ; 

If they should ofi'er to contest 

With thy arising, they presume. 

Can there be any day but this. 
Though many suns to shine endeavour ? 
We comit three hundred, but we miss : 
There is but one, and that one ever. 

G-EOKaE Hebbeet. 



FEOM MINES OF THOUGHT. 83 

lEartlj not t!je <S}j|jere of <Souls. 

^^ T) AEEISTT of good ! since all thy laws are just, 
■^ Say, why permits thy judging providence 
Oppression's hand to bow meek innocence. 
And gives prevailing strength to fraud and lust ? 
Who steels with stubborn force the arm unjust. 
That proudly wars against Omnipotence ? 
Who bids thy faithful sons, that reverence 
Thine holy wiU, be humbled in the dust ? 
Amid the din of joy fair Virtue sighs, 
While the fierce conqueror binds his impious head 
With laurel, and the car of triumph rolls." 
Thus I ; — ^when radiant 'fore my wondering eyes 
A heavenly spirit stood, and smiling said : 
" BHnd moralist ! is Earth the sphere of souls ? " 
B. L. Aegensola, Trans, hy Herbert. 



€ac|j fjatfj Jjis fortune in ijis Breast. 

In vain do men 
The heavens of their fortune's fault accuse, 

Sith they know best what is the best for them ; 
Eor they to each such fortune do diffuse 
As they do know each can most aptly use. 

Eor not that which men covet most is best, 
ISTor that thing worst which men do most refuse ; 

But fittest is, that aU contented rest 

With that they hold : each hath his fortune in 
his breast. 



84 SOJSTGS OF TSU SOUL ; 

It is the mind that maketh good or ill, 

That maketh i;\Tetch or happy, rich or poor ; 
Por some that hath abundance at his will, 

Hath not enough, hut wants in greater store ; 

And other, that hath little, asks no more, 
Eut in that little is both rich and wise ; 

Por wisdom is most riches ; fools therefore 
They are which fortune do by vows devise, 
Sith each unto himself his life may fortunize. 
EDMTJiirD Spe:n'see. 



Ere Ions it Mill it ©ag. 

T WILL take refuge in my God 

From man, and sin, and woe. 
Pain would I drop this mortal clod, 

To know as angels know ; 
And love as angels love, 

And be as angels pure. 
It is all light, pure light above, — 

Bliss unalloyed and sure. 

But shall I shun the sacred fight 

^Hiich good maintains with ill ? 
'No ; strong in my Kedeemer's might, 

Be mine to TSTCstle still. 
Here only, in this strife. 

Can I his soldier be : 
Here only spend or lose a life 

Eor Him who died for me. 



FEOM MINES OF THOTJGHT. 85 

Nor would I too impatient pry 

The awful veil withiti ; 
Or scan tli' appalling mystery 

Of Grod-resisting sin. 
Oh, let me be content 

Tor Heaven's own light to stay. 
The night, the night, is weU-nigh spent : 

Ere long it will be day. 

COKDEB. 



€arl2 Calling. 

A T, thou art for the grave ; thy glances shine 
-^ Too brightly to shine long ; another Spring 
Shall deck her for men's eyes — but not for 
thine — 
Sealed in a sleep which knows no wakening. 
The fields for thee have no medicinal leaf. 
And the vexed ore no mineral of power ; 
And they who love thee wait in anxious gTief 

Till the slow plague shall bring the fatal hour : 
Glide softly to thy rest then ; Death should come 

Gently, to one of gentle mould Hke thee, 
As light winds wandering through groves of 
bloom 
Detach thy delicate blossom from the tree. 
Close thy SAveet eyes, calmly, and vrithout pain ; 
And we will trust in God to see thee yet again. 
"William C. Betais^t. 



86 SOJSraS OF the SOUL; 

lExcelsior ! 

n^HE shades of night were falling fast, 
As through an Alpine village passed 
A youth, who bore, mid snow and ice, 
A banner with the strange device, 

Excelsior ! 
His brow was sad ; his eje beneath 
Elash'd like a faulchion from its sheath, 
And like a silver clarion rung 
The accents of that unknown tongue. 

Excelsior I 

In happy homes he saw the light 
Of household fires gleam warm and bright : 
Above, the spectral glaciers shone, 
And from his lips escaped a groan, 

Excelsior I 
" Try not the pass !" the old man said ; 
"Dark lowers the tempest overhead, 
The roaring torrent is deep and wide !" 
And loud that clarion voice replied. 

Excelsior ! 

" O stay," the maiden said, "and rest 
Thy weary head upon this breast 1" 
A tear stood in his bright blue eye. 
But still he answer' d, with a sigh. 
Excelsior ! 

" Beware the pine tree's wither' d branch ! 
Beware the awftd avalanche ! ' ' 
This was the peasant's last good-night ; 
A voice replied, far up the height, 
Excelsior ! 



FROM MIJSTJES OF THOUGHT. 87 

At break of day, as heavenward 
The pious monks of Saint Beris'abd 
Utter' d the oft-repeated prayer, 
A voice cried through the startled air, 
Excelsior ! 

A traveller, by the faithful hound, 
Half-buried in the snow was found, 
Still grasping in his hand of ice 
That banner with the strange device, 
Excelsior ! 

There, in the twilight cold and gray, 
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay ; 
And from the sky, serene and far, 
A voice fell, like a falling star ! 
Excelsior ! 

Henry LoNaFELLOw. 



(!H&en \}tx Joes Mtp. 

f^ OD of the thunder ! from whose cloudy seat 

The fiery winds of desolation flow : 
Eather of vengeance 1 that with purple feet. 

Like a full wine-press treadst the world below ; 
The embattled armies wait thy sign to slay, 
'Nor springs the beast of havoc on his prey, 
Nor vdthering Eamine walks his blasted way, 

TiU Thou the guilty land hast sealed for woe. 

Grod of the rainbow ! at whose gracious sign 
The billows of the proud their rage suppress ; 

Eather of mercies ! at one word of thine 
An Eden blooms in the waste wilderness ! 



SOJSTGS OF THE SOUL; 



And fountains sparkle in the arid sands. 
And timbrels ring in maidens' glancing hands, 
And marble cities crown the laughing lands, 
And pillared temples rise Thy name to bless. 

O'er Judah's land Thj thunders broke, O Lord! 

The chariots rattled o'er her sunken gate. 
Her sons were wasted by the Assyrian sword, 

E'en her foes wept to see her fallen state : 
And heaps her ivory palaces became. 
Her princes wore the captive's garb of shame. 
Her temple sank amid the smouldering flame, 

For Thou didst ride the tempest-cloud of fate. 

O'er Judah's land Thy rainbow. Lord, shall beam. 

And the sad city lift her crownless head ; 
And songs shall wake, and dancing footsteps 
gleam, 
Where broods o'er fallen streets the silence of 
the dead. 
The sun shall shine on Salem's gilded towers, 
On Carmel's side our maidens cull the flowers. 
To deck, at blushing eve, their bridal bowers. 
And angel-feet the glittering Sion tread. 

Thy vengeance gave us to the stranger's hand, 
And Abraham's children were led forth for 
slaves ; 
"With fettered steps we left our pleasant land. 

Envying our fathers in their peaceful graves. 
The stranger's bread mth bitter tears we steep. 
And when our Aveary eyes should sink to sleep, 
'Neath the mute midnight we steal forth to weep. 
Where the pale A\illows shade Euphrates' waves. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 89 

The born in sorrow shall bring forth in joy ; 

Thy mercy, Lord, shall lead Thy children home; 
He that went forth a tender yearling boy, 

Yet, ere he die, to Salem's streets shall come. 
And Canaan's vines for us their fruits shall bear. 
And Hermon's bees their honied stores prepare ; 
And we shaU kneel again in thankful prayer, 

Where, o'er the cherub-seated Grod, fuU blazed 
the irradiate dome. 

He:n^et Haet Milma:n'. 



Jatijer ! Wc^m must 5Lea3j* 

^HE prayers I make wiU then be sweet indeed, 
•^ If thou the Spirit give by which I pray : 

My unassisted heart is barren clay. 
That of its native self can nothing feed : 
Of good and pious Avorks Thou art the seed, 

That quickens only where Thou sayest it may. 

Unless Thou show to us thy own true way, 
]S"o man can find it : Eather ! Thou must lead : 

Do Thou then breathe these thoughts into my 
mind, 
By which such virtue may in me be bred, 
That in thy holy footsteps I may tread ; 

The fetters of my tongue do Thou unbind. 
That I may have the power to sing of Thee ! 
And sound thy praises everlastingly. 

Michel ANaELO Buoi^aeotti, 
Trans, hy Wordsworth. 



90 sojsras of the soul; 

"VrOT seldom, clad in radiant vest, 
^ Deceitfally goes forth the mom ; 
'Not seldom, evening in the west 
Sinks smilingly forsworn. 

The smoothest seas vdll sometimes prove, 

To the confiding bark, untrue ; 
And if she trust the stars above. 

They can be treacherous too. 

The umbrageous oak in pomp outspread, 
Eull oft, when storms the welkin rend, 

Draws lightning down upon the head 
It promised to defend. 

Eut Thou art true, incarnate Lord ! 

Who didst vouchsafe for man to die ; 
Thy smile is sure, thy plighted word 

JN'o change can falsify ! 

I bent before thy gracious throne. 

And asked for peace with suppliant knee ; 

And peace was given, — nor peace alone. 
But faith, and hope, and ecstasy ! 

William "Wokdswokth. 



Jar from tfje SEorlti, © ILorlr, 3 Mtt. 

Tj^AJR from the world, Lord, I flee. 

From strife and tumult far ; 
Prom scenes where Satan wages still 
His most successful war. 



FROM MINES OF THOTIGHT. 91 

The calm retreat, the silent shade, 

"With prayer and praise agree ; 
And seem by thy sweet bounty made 

!For those who follow Thee. 

There, if thy Spirit touch the soul, 

And grace her mean abode. 
Oh ! with what peace, and joy, and love, 

She communes with her Grod. 

There, like the nightingale, she pours 

Her solitary lays ; 
JN'or asks a witness of her song, 

JN^or thirsts for human praise. 

Author and Gruardian of my life. 

Sweet source of light divine. 
And (all harmonious names in one,) 

My Saviour, Thou art mine ! 

"What thanks I owe Thee, and what love, 

A boundless, endless store. 
Shall echo through the realms above, 

When time shall be no more. 

William Cowper. 



T ORD, how couldst thou so much appease 
"^ Thy wrath for sin, as, when man's sight was 

dim 
And could see little, to regard his ease. 
And bring by faith all things to him ? 



92 SOJ^'^GS OF TRE SOUL; 

Hungry I was, and had no meat, 
I did conceit a most delicious feast ; 
I had it straight, and did as truly eat, 

As ever did a welcome guest. 

There is a rare outlandish root, 
"Which when I could not get, I thought it here r 
That apprehension cur'd so well my foot. 

That I can walk to heav'n well near. 

I owed thousands, and much more : 
I did believe that I did nothing owe. 
And liv'd accordingly ; my creditor 

Believes so too, and lets me go. 

Faith makes me any thing, or all. 
That I believe is in the sacred story : 
And when sin placeth me in Adam's fall, 

Paith sets me higher in his glory. 

If I go lower in the book. 
What can be lower than the common manger ? 
Faith puts me there with him, who sweetly took 

Our flesh and frailty, death and danger. 

If bliss had lien in art or strength. 
None but the Avise and strong had gained it : 
Where now, by faith, all arms are of a length ; 

One size doth all conditions fit. 

A. peasant may believe as much 
As a great clerk, and reach the highest stature. 
Thus dost thou make proud knowledge bend and 
crouch. 

While grace fills up uneven nature. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 93 

"When creatures had. no real light 
Inherent in them, thou didst make the sun 
Impute a lustre, and allow them bright ; 

And in this show what Christ hath done. 

That which before was darken' d clean, 
"With bushy groves, pricking the looker's eye. 
Vanish' d away, when faith did change the scene ; 

And then appear' d a glorious sky. 

What though my body run to dust ? 
Paith cleaves unto it, counting ev'ry grain, 
"With an exact and most particular trust, 

E/Cserving all for flesh again. 

GrEORGE HeEEEET. 



SmX not, ^oor Era&eller. 

Tj^AINT not, poor traveller, though thy way 
-^ Be rough, like that thy Sayiotjb trod ; 
Though cold and stormy lower the day, 
This path of suffering leads to GrOD. 

Nay, sink not ; though from every limb 
Are starting drops of toil and pain ; 

Thou dost but share the lot of Him 
With whom his followers are to reign. 

Thy friends are gone, and thou, alone, 
Must bear the sorrows that assail ; 

Look upward to the eternal throne, 
And know a Friend who cannot fail. 



94 SOI^GS OF TSJE SOUL; 

Eear firmly ; yet a few more days, 
And tliy hard trial will be past ; 

Tlien, wrapt in glory's opening blaze, 
Tby feet will rest on heaven at last. 

Christian! thy Friend, thy Master pray'd. 
When dread and anguish shook his frame ; 

Then met his sufferings undismay'd ; 
"Wilt thou not strive to do the same ? 

O ! think' st thou that his Father's love 
Shone round him then with fainter rays 

Than now, when, throned all height above, 
Unceasing voices hymn his praise ? 

Gro, sufferer ! calmly meet the woes 

Which Gron's own mercy bids thee bear ; 

Then, rising as thy Saviour rose, 
Go ! his eternal victory share. 

AfdEEWS NOETOIS'. 



jFootstejJS of Angels. 

TTTHEN the hours of day are number' d, 
^ And the voices of the Night 

AVake the better soul that slumber' d 
To a holy, calm delight ; 

Ere the evening lamps are lighted. 
And, like phantoms grim and tall, 

Shadows from the fitful fire-light 
Dance upon the parlour-wall ; 



FEOM MINES OF THOTIGHT. 95 

Then the forms of the departed 

Enter at the open door ; 
The beloved ones, the true-hearted, 

Come to visit me once more ; 

He, the young and strong, who cherish' d 

Noble longings for the strife, — 
By the road-side fell and perish' d, 

"Weary with the march of life ! 

They, the holy ones and weakly. 
Who the cross of suffering bore, — 

Folded their pale hands so meekly, — 
Spake with us on earth no more ! 

And with them the Being Beauteous, 

Who unto my youth was given. 
More than all things else to love me. 

And is noAv a saint in heaven. 

With a slow and noiseless footstep, 

Comes that messenger divine. 
Takes the vacant chair beside me, 

Lays her gentle hand in mine. 

And she sits and gazes at me. 

With those deep and tender eyes. 

Like the stars, so still and saintlike. 
Looking dovmward from the skies. 

Titter' d not, yet comprehended. 

Is the spirit's voiceless prayer. 
Soft rebukes, in blessings ended, 

Breathing from her lips of air. 



96 SOJVGS OF THJE SOUL; 

O, thougli oft depress' d and lonely, 

All my fears are laid aside, 
If I but remember only 

Sncli as these have lived and died ! 

Heis^rt W. Lo:N^arELLOvr. 



JFair <Sun of 3^tg!)teousness t 

r\ BLEST Eedeemer ! from thy sacred throne, 
Where saints and angels sing thy triumphs 

won : 
Trom that exalted height of bliss supreme, 
Look down on those who bear thy sacred name : 
E^estore their ways, inspire them, by thy gTace, 
Thy laws to follow, and thy steps to trace. 
Thy bright example to thy doctrine join, 
And, by their morals, prove their faith divine. 
Nor only to thy church confine thy ray ; 
O'er the glad world thy healing light display. 
Pair Suis" of righteousness ! in beauty rise. 
And clear the mists that cloud the mental skies ; 
To Judah's remnant, now a scatter' d train, 
O great Messiah ! show thy promis'd reign ; 
O'er earth as wide thy saving warmth diffuse 
As spreads the ambient air, or falling dews ; 
And haste the time when, vanquish' d by thy 

power. 
Death shall expire, and sin defile no more. 

EOTCE. 



FROM MINES OF THOVGHT, 97 



jForsi&e, iwljile 3 presume to praise! 

T IFE of the world ! immortal Mind ! 
"^ Pather of all the human kind ! 
Whose boundless eye, that knows no rest, 
Intent on nature's ample breast, 
Explores the space of earth and skies, 
And sees eternal incense rise. 
To Thee my humble voice I raise ; 
Eorgive, while I presume to praise ! 

Though thou this transient being gave, 
That shortly sinks into the grave, 
Tet 'twas thy goodness still to give 
A being that can think and live ; 
In all thy works thy wisdom see, 
And stretch its towering mind to Thee. 
To Thee my humble voice I raise ; 
Eorgive, while I presume to praise ! 

And still this poor, contracted span. 
This life, that bears the name of Man, 
From thee derives its vital ray. 
Eternal Source of life and day ! 
Thy bounty still the sunshine pours, 
That gilds its morn and evening hours : 
To Thee my humble voice I raise ; 
Eorgive, while I presume to praise ! 

Thro' error's maze, through folly's night, 
The lamp of reason lends me Hght. 
"When stern affliction waves her rod. 
My heart confides in thee, my God : 

H 



98 SOJSFGS OF THE SOUL; 

When nature slirinks, oppress' d witli woes, 
E'en then she finds in thee repose. 
To Thee my humble voice I raise ; 
Porgive, while I presume to praise ! 

Affliction flies, and hope returns ; 
The lamp with brighter splendour bums ; 
Gay Love, with all his smiling train, 
And Peace and Joy are here again. 
These, these, I know, 'twas thine to give ; 
I trusted, and, behold, I live ; 
To Thee my humble voice I raise ; 
Forgive, while I presume to praise ! 

Oh, may I still thy favour prove ! 
Still grant me gratitude and love ; 
Let truth and virtue guide my heart, 
IN'or peace, nor hope, nor joy depart : 
But yet, whate'er my life may be. 
My heart shall still repose on thee. 
To Thee my humble voice I raise ; 
Forgive, while I presume to praise 1 

LAKaH0K:s"E. 



Sm is tf)e Star of &Qt. 

T) EIGHT with the golden shine of heaven plays 

On tender blades the dew ; 
And the spring-landscape's trembling likeness 
sways 
Clear in the streamlet's blue. 



FROM 3IIJVJES OF THOUGHT, 99 

Fair is tlie rocky fount, the blossomed hedge, 

Groves stained with golden light ; 
Pair is the star of eve, that on the edge 

Of purple clouds shines bright. 

Fair is the meadow's green, — the valley's copse, — 

The hillock's dress of flowers, — 
The alder-brook, — the reed-encircled pond, 
O'er-snowed with blossom-showers. 

This manifold world of life is held in one 

By Love's eternal band : 
The glowworm and the fire-sea of the sun 

Sprang from one Father's hand. 

Thou beckonest, Almighty ! from the tree 

The blossom's leaf doth fall ; — 
Thou beckonest, — and in immensity 

Is quenched a solar ball ! 

Feiedeic tgjs" Matthisso', Trans. Anon. 



jRobjers of ^t Eart|j ani tfie Stars of 
l^caben. 

CPATCE full weU, in language quaint and olden, 
^ One who dwelleth by the castled Ehine, 
"When he called the flowers, so blue and golden. 
Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine ; — 

Stars they are, wherein we read our history, 

As astrologers and seers of eld ; 
Yet not vrrapped about with awful mystery. 

Like the burning stars, which they beheld. 



100 SOJVGS OF THE SOUL; 

"VYondrous truths, and manifold as wondrous, 
Grod hath written in those stars above : 

But not less in the bright flowrets under us 
Stands the revelation of his love. 

Bright and glorious is that revelation, 
"Written all over this great world of ours ; 

Making evident our own creation, 

In these stars of earth, — these golden flowers. 

And the Poet, faithful and far-seeing 
Sees, alike in stars and flowers, a part 

Of the self-same, universal being, 

"Which is throbbing in his brain and heart. 

Gorgeous flowrets in the sunlight shining, 
Blossoms flaunting in the eye of day, 

Tremulous leaves, with soft and silver Hning, 
Buds that open only to decay ; 

Brilliant hopes, all woven in gorgeous tissues, 
Flaunting gayly in the golden light ; 

Large desires, with most uncertain issues, 
Tender wishes, blossoming at night ! 

These in floAvers and men are more than seeming. 
Workings are they of the self-same powers, 

AViiich the Poet, in no idle dreaming, 
Seeth in himself and in the flowers. 

Everywhere about us are they glomng, 
Some Hke stars, to tell us Spring is born ; 

Others, their blue eyes with tears o'erflowing, 
Stand like E^uth amid the golden corn ; 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 101 

Not alone in Spring's armorial bearing, 
And in Summer's green-emblazoned field, 

But in arms of brave old Autumn's wearing, 
In the centre of Ms brazen shield ; 

Not alone in meadows and green alleys, 
On the mou.ntain-top, and by the brink 

Of sequestered pools in woodland valleys, 
Where the slaves of Nature stoop to drink ; 

Not alone in her vast dome of glory, 
Not on graves of bird and beast alone, 

But in old cathedrals, high and hoary. 
On the tombs of heroes, carved in stone ; 

In the cottage of the rudest peasant. 

In ancestral homes, whose crumbling towers, 

Speaking of the Past unto the Present, 
Tell us of the ancient Games of Flowers ; 

In all places, then, and in all seasons, 

Elowers expand their light and soul-like wings. 

Teaching us, by most persuasive reasons, 
How akin they are to human things. 

And with childlike, credulous affection 
We behold their tender buds expand ; 

Emblems of our own great resurrection. 
Emblems of the bright and better land. 

Henet W. LoNarELLOw. 



102 SOJS^GS OF THE SOUL; 

JFear not, for 3 am SEitfj E\\tt. 

T7^ YEN as the sun (whicli every day surrouiids 
The sublune globe, and pries into the bounds 
Of this dark centre,) lets his beams reflect 
Upon a mole-hill, with as mnch respect 
As on a mountain — for his glorious beams 
Shine always with equivalent extremes,— 
Even so the great and powerful Three in One, 
That sits upon his all-enlightening throne, 
Does not deny to let his mercies crown 
The poorest peasant with as much renown 
As the most stateliest emperor : though he 
Invests his body with more dignity, 
Tet he's but earth, and must at last decay ; 
Eor prince and peasant go the self-same way ; 
There's no distinction — one infused breath 
Made them ahke, and both must live in death 
Or everlasting life ; both must commence 
Divines in heaven ; there's no pre-eminence, 
But all equality ; all must express 
"With equal joy their equal happiness. 

Rouse up, dull man, and let thy wakened soul 
Be vigilate ! oh, let thy thoughts enrol 
The love of God ; engrave it in thy breast, 
That his resounding tongue may read thee blest ! 
Oh ! let thy sighs like pens, and let thy tears 
Like ink, inscribe the love, th' mdulgent cares 
Of thy Creator ; that Himself may find, 
Within th' unblotted volume of thy mind, 
Himself recorded ; so will He embrace 
Thy spotless soul, and fill thee with his grace. 



FROM MINES OF THOTTGRT. 103 

Incline thine ears, and let thy heart rejoice 
To hear the strains of his harmonious voice. 
Hearken, and thou shalt hear his prophets sing 
The admired mercies of the glorious King : 
Thus saith the great and everlasting One, 
That rules the heavens, and governs earth alone; 
Thus saith the Lord, that takes delight to dwell 
Among his saints, that formed Israel, 
Created Jacob, " Let thy sorrows flee 
Out of thy breast : I have redeemed thee. 
'Twas I that made thy clouded vision shine. 
And called thee by my name, for thou wert mine ; 
I will be with thee : when thy feet shall wade 
Through the waters, I will be thy aid : 
I'U. make thee walk through rivers, and the waves 
Shall prove ambitious to become thy slaves ; 
And when thou walkest through the raging fire, 
The unruly flames shall not presume t' aspire, 
Or kindle on thy garments. I alone. 
The Lord thy Grod, and Israel's Holy One, 
And thy dear Saviour, that was always true, 
Gave Egypt, Seba, Ethiopia, too. 
To ransom thee ; for thou wert my delight, 
Ajid always precious in my favouring sight. 
Honours were heaped upon thee, and thou wert 
The tender love of my aflecting heart ; 
Therefore e'en I, well pleased with thee, will give 
People for thy dear sake, that thou mayst live. 
Fear not, for I am with thee, and will stand 
In thy defence ; and my all-grasping hand 
Shall bring thy seed from the remotest places, 
And fill thee with my satisfying graces. 



104 SOJVaS OF TSU SOITL; 



My tongue shall call unto tlie north, and say 

Unto the south, Grive ; and they shall obey ; 

Ering from afar my sons and daughters all, 

Hear my loud voice, be active when I call. 

I have created them, and I proclaim 

They shall be called and honoured by my name. 

I'll usher forth the blind, and make them see 

The splendent glories of my Majesty : 

I'll cure the deaf, and make their hearts rejoice 

To hear the echoes of my warbling voice." 

Thus hath our Grod untied the tongues, and 

broke 
His prophets' lips — thus have his prophets spoke ; 
And wilt thou be, O man, so much obdure. 
As not to credit Him that will assure 
Perpetual happiness ? Thou canst not ask 
GThat which He cannot give : do but unmask 
Thy shame-faced soul, that so thou mayst descry 
Jehovah's mercies with a faithful eye ; 
Descant upon his promises ; advise 
"With thine own thoughts ; let wisdom make thee 

wise. 
# ^ * # Gro rally all 
Thy thoughts together, and discreetly fall 
Into a serious study. Let thy mind 
Be absolute and really inclined 
To meditation. Contradict the rage 
Of thine own passions. Labour to assuage 
The fire of lust, that so thou mayst behold, 
With more serenity, how manifold 
His mercies are. Think what he did endure 
Before his wounds had perfected thy cure. 



FROM MINES OF TROUGRT. 105 

E^emember liow undauntedly He stood, 
And sweat Himself into a crimson flood, 
To ransom thee ; remember how his woes 
Were asperated by his raging foes ; 
Remember how his sacred temples wore 
A spiny crown ; remember how it tore 
His sublim^e front ; remember how they broached 
His breast with spears, and shamefully reproached 
His spotless fame ; remember how they nailed 
His spreading hands ; remember how they scaled 
His ivory waUs ; remember how they spawled 
Upon his face ; remember how they bawled 
And banded at his agony, whilst He 
Proved patient martyr to their tyranny ; 
Eemember, when He came unto the brink 
Of death, they gave Him vinegar to drink. 
Here's love, O man, that does as far transcend 
Thy thoughts as thy deserts, that Heaven should 

send 
His Son and Heir to be incarnated 
And sufl'er death for thee : thou wert as dead 
As sin could make thee ; 'twas for thy offence 
He died, ah ! how, how canst thou recompense 
Such high-bred favours ? After thou art fed, 
Wilt thou contemn the hand that gave thee bread? 
Wouldst thou not love that friend that should 

bestow 
A superannuated crust, and show 
Eespect unto thee when the ebbing tide 
Of fortune runs so low, that thou mayst ride 
Upon the sands of poverty ? Tend man, 
Strive to be grateful ; study how to scan 



106 SOJSrOS OF TRIE SOUL; 

The mercies of thy Grod ; remember how 
He feeds thy soul mth manna ; learn to bow 
The unruly thoughts ; with admiration think 
How often and how much embittered drink 
Thy Saviour drank, with what a doleful cry 
He begged of Grod to let that cup pass by ; 
But knowing that his pleasure must be done, 
He proved Himself a most obedient Son. 
Ajid wilt thou not, coy wretch ! drink one poor 

sup 
Of bitter drink for Him that drank a cup 
To sweeten thine ? 

John Quaeles. 



<Stantis. 

TN every object here I see 

Something, Lord, that leads to Thee : 
Pirm as the rocks Thy promise stands, 
Thy mercies countless as the sands ; 
Thy love, a sea immensely wide, 
Thy grace, an ever-flowing tide. 

In every object here I see 

Something, my heart, that points at thee : 
Hard as the rocks that bound the strand, 
Unfruitful as the barren sand. 
Deep and deceitful as the ocean, 
And, hke the tides, in constant motion. 

Newtok. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 107 

TTTHElSr my breast labours witli oppressive care, 
And o' er my cheek descends the falling tear, 
While all my warring passions are at strife, 
Oh, let me listen to the word of life ! 
Eaptures deep felt his doctrine did impart. 
And thus He raised from earth the drooping heart : 
" Think not, when all your scanty stores afford 
Is spread at once upon the sparing board ; 
Think not, when worn the homely robe appears, 
"While on the roof the howling tempest bears ; 
What farther shaU this feeble life sustain. 
And what shall clothe these shivering limbs again. 
Say, does not life its nourishment exceed ? 
And the fair body its investing weed ? 
Behold, and look away your low despair — 
See the light tenants of the barren air : 
To them not stores nor granaries belong ; 
Nought but the woodland and the pleasing song ; 
Yet your kind heavenly Eather bends his eye 
On the least wing that flits along the sky. 
To Him they sing when spring renews the plain, 
To Him they cry in winter's pinching reign ; 
Nor is their music nor their plaint in vain ; 
He hears the gay and the distressful call, 
And with unsparing bounty fiUs them all. 
Observe the rising lily's snowy grace ; 
Observe the various vegetable race ; 
They neither toil nor spin ; but careless grow ; 
Yet see how warm they blush, how bright they 
glow! 



108 SOJSTGS OF THE SOUL; 

"What regal vestments can with them compare ? 
What king so shining, or what queen so fair ? 
If ceaseless, then, the fowls of heaven He feeds ; 
If o'er the fields such lucid robes He spreads ; 
Will He not care for you, ye faithless, say ? 
Is He unwise ? or, are ye less than they ?" 

Ja:mes Thomson. 



jFatfjer, l^allobielr 6e ©fjg Name. 

TTOLT, holy, holy, Lord, 
"^-^ In the highest heavens adored, 
Author of aU nature's frame : 
Father, hallowed be Thy name ! 

Though estranged from Thee in heart, 
Doubtless Thou our Father art •. 
From Thy hand our spirits came : 
Father, hallowed be Thy name. 

Nor by nature's tie alone 
Thou art as our Father kno^Mi : 
Nearer now, in Christ our claim : 
Father, hallowed be Thy name. 

Born anew. Oh, may we feel 

Filial love, the Spirit's seal ; 

Cleansed from guilt, redeemed from shame : 

Father, hallowed be Thy name. 



FROM JillNJES OF THOUGHT. 109 

"Whether, then, in want or wealth, 
Joj or sorrow, pain or health, 
Still our prayer shall be the same : 
Father, hallowed be Thy name. 

CONDEB. 



jFattjer! not mg SHtll, ftut W^m &e 
©one. 

OLOED my God, do Thou Thy holy will— 
I will lie stm— 
I will not stir, lest I forsake Thine arm. 

And break the charm, 
"VThich lulls me, clinging to my Father's breast. 
In perfect rest. 

Wild Fancy, peace ! thou must not me beguile 

With thy false smile : 
I know thy flatteries and thy cheating ways. 

Be silent. Praise, 
Blind guide with siren voice, and blinding all 

That hear thy call. 

Come, Self-devotion, high and pure. 
Thoughts that in thankfulness endure. 
Though dearest hopes are faithless found. 
And dearest hearts are bursting round. 
Come, Besignation, spirit meek. 
And let me kiss thy placid cheek. 
And read in thy pale eye serene 
Their blessing, who by faith can wean 
Their hearts from sense, and learn to love 
Grod only, and the joys above. 



110 S02i^GS OF THE SOUL; 

They say, who know the life diviiie, 

And upward gaze with eagle eyne, 

That by each golden crown on high, 

Eich with celestial jewelry, 

"Which for our Lord's redeem' d is set, 

There hangs a radiant coronet, 

All gemm'd with pure and living light, 

Too dazzling for a sinner's sight, 

Prepar'd for virgin souls, and them 

"Who seek the martyr's diadem. 

Isor deem, who to that bliss aspire. 

Must win their way through blood and fire. 

The writhings of a wounded heart 

Are fiercer than a foeman's dart. 

Oft in Life's stillest shade reclining, 

In Desolation unrepining, 

AYithout a hope on earth to find 

A mirror in an answering mind, 

Meek souls there are, who little dream 

Their daily strife an Angel's theme, 

Or that the rod they take so calm 

Shall prove in Heaven a martyr's palm. 

And there are souls that seem to dwell 
Above this earth — so rich a spell 
Floats round their steps, where'er they move. 
From hopes fulfill' d and mutual love. 
Such, if on high their thoughts are set, 
Nor in the stream the source forget. 
If prompt to quit the bliss they know. 
Following the Lamb where'er He go, 



FBOM MINES OF THOUGHT, 111 

By purest pleasures unbeguil'd 

To idolize or wife or child ; 

Such wedded souls our Grod shall own 

For faultless virgins round His throne. 

Thus every where we find our suJQfering Grod, 

And where He trod 
May set our steps : the Cross on Calvary 

Uplifted high 
Beams on the martyr host, a beacon light 

In open fight. 

To the stiU wrestlings of the lonely heart 

He doth impart 
The virtue of His midnight agony, 

When none was nigh, 
Save Q-od and one good angel, to assuage 

The tempest's rage. 

Mortal 1 if life smile on thee, and thou find 

All to thy mind, 
Think, who did once Jfrom Heaven to Hell descend 

Thee to befriend : 
So shalt thou dare forego, at His dear call. 

Thy best, thine al . 

" O Father ! not My wiU, but Thme be done "— 

So spake the Son. 
Be this our charm, mellowing Earth's ruder noise 

Of griefs and joys : 
That we may chng for ever to Thy breast 

In perfect rest ! 

JoHiH^ Keble. 



112 SONGS OF THE SOUL; 

j^orgtbc, BIrst Sfjalie, i^t Eri&utarg 
Ccar. 

■pOEaiYE, blest shade, the tributary tear 
"^ That mourns thy exit from a world like this ; 
Forgive the wish that would have kept thee here, 
And staved thy progress to the seats of bliss. 

Xo more confined to grovelling scenes of night, 
jSTo more a tenant pent in mortal clay : 
jSTow should we rather hail thy glorious flight, 
And track thy journey to the realms of day. 

Steele. 



Jat][)rr 311 iBcrriful ! 

Fat HE K Almighty I 
From thy high seat thou watchest and conti'ollest 

The insects that upon thy footstool creep, 
"While, with a never-wearied hand, thou rollest 

Millions of worlds along the boimdless deep. 
Father; now the clouds hang blackening o'er us. 

And the dark, boiling deeps beneath us ya^vn : 
Scatter the tempests, quell the waves before us ; 

To the wild, fearful night send thou a blessed 
da^TL. 

Father All Holy ! 
"When thou shalt sit upon thy throne of glory, 
The steadfast earth, the strong, untiring sea. 
Their verdant isles, their mountains liigh and 
hoary, 
With awe and fear shall from thy presence flee. 



FROM MIJS-ES OF TROVGRT, 113 

Then shalt thou sit a Judge, the guilty dooming 
To adamantine chains and endless fire : 

Oh, Father ! how may we abide thy coming ? 
Where find a shelter from the pure Jehovah's 
ire? 

Father AH Merciful ! 
Still may the guilty come in peace before thee, 
Bathing thy feet with tears of love and woe ; 
And while for pardon only we implore thee, 

Blessings divine, unnumbered, o'er us flow, 
Pather, her heart from all her idols tearing. 

Thine erring child again would turn to thee ; 
To thee she bends, trembling, yet not despairing : 
Prom fear, remorse, and sin, Pather! set 
her free. 

Mabtha Day. 



ffiotr of mg JFatljers ! 

r^ OD of my fathers ! holy, just, and good ! 
^^ My Grod ! my Pather ! my unfailing hope ! 
Jehovah ! let the incense of my praise, 
Accepted, burn before thy mercy-seat. 
And in thy presence burn, both day and night. 
Maker ! Preserver ! my Eedeemer, Grod ! 
Whom have I in the heavens but Thee alone ? 
On earth, but Thee, whom should I praise, whom 

love? 
For Thou hast brought me hitherto, upheld 



114 SOJSTGS OF THE SOUL; 

By thy omnipotence ; and from thy grace — 
TJnbought, unmerited, though not unsought — 
The wells of thy salvation, hast refreshed 
My spirit, watering it, at morn and even ; 
And by thy Spirit, which thou freely giv'st 
To whom thou wilt, hast led my venturous song 
Over the vale and mountain track, the light 
And shade of man ; into the burning deep 
Descending now, and now circling the mount 
Where highest sits Divinity enthroned ; 
[Rolling along the tide of fluent thought, 
The tide of moral, natural, di^dne ; 
Grazing on past and present : and again. 
On rapid pinion borne, outstripping Time, 
In long excursion, wandering through the groves 
Unfading, and the endless avenues 
That shade the landscape of Eternity ; 
And talking there with holy angels met, 
And future men, in glorious vision seen \ 
ISTor unrewarded have I watched at night, 
And heard the drowsy sound of neighbouring 

sleep. 
New thought, new imagery, new scenes of bliss 
And glory, unrehearsed by mortal tongue, 
"Which, unrevealed, I trembling turned and left. 
Bursting at once upon my ravished eye. 
With joy unspeakable have filled my soul. 
And made my cup run over with delight ; 
Though in my face the blast of adverse winds, 
While boldly circumnavigating Man, 
(Winds seeming adverse, though perhaps not so,) 
Have beat severely — disregarded beat. 



FROM MINES OF TROTIGHT. 115 

When I behind me heard the voice of Grod, 
And His propitious Spirit, say, Pear not ! 

G-od of my fathers ! ever present God ! 
This offering more inspire, sustain, accept ; 
Highest, if numbers answer to the theme ; 
Best answering, if thy Spirit dictate most. 
Jehovah ! breathe upon my soul ; my heart 
Enlarge ! my faith increase ; increase my hope ; 
My thoughts exalt ; my fancy sanctify. 
And an my passions, that I near thy throne 
May venture, unreproved : and sing the day. 
Which none unholy ought to name — -the Day 
Of Judgment ! greatest day past or to come ! 
Day which — deny me what thou wilt, deny 
Me home, or friend, or honourable name — 
Thy mercy grant, I thoroughly prepared, 
With comely garment of redeeming love. 
May meet, and have my Judge for Advocate. 

EOBEET POLLOK. 



ffl^oU's ©perations ftg ©ag anU fig 

■jl/TT soul, adore the Lord of might, 
-i-'-l- With uncreated glory crowned ; 
And clad in royalty of Hght, 

He draws the curtained heavens around. 
Dark waters his pavilion form, 
Clouds are his car, his wheels the storm : 



116 SOJ^-QS OF THU SOUL ; 

Lightning before Him and behind, 
Thunder rebounding to and &o ; 

He walks upon the winged wind, 
And reins the blast, or lets it go : 

This goodly globe his wisdom planned ; 

He fixed the bounds of sea and land. 

"When o'er a guilty world of old 
He summoned the ayenging main, 

At his rebuke the billows rolled 
Back to their parent gulf again ; 

The mountains raised their joyful heads, 

Like new creations from their beds. 

Thenceforth the self-revolving tide 
Its daily fall and flow maintains ; 

Through winding vales fresh fountains glide, 
Leap from the hills, or course the plains ; 

Their thirsty cattle throng the brink, 

And the wild asses bend to drink. 

Fed by the currents, fruitful groves 

Expand their leaves, their fragrance fling 

"Where the cool breeze at noon-tide roves. 
And birds among the branches sing ; 

Soft fall the showers when day declines. 

And sweet the peaceful rainbow shines. 

Grass through the meadows, rich with flowers, 
God's bounty spreads for herds and flocks ; 

On Lebanon his cedar towers ; 

The wild goats bound upon his rocks ; 

Fowls in his forest build their nests ; 

The stork amid the pine-tree rests. 



FROM MINES OF TROUGRT, 117 

To strengtlien man, condemned to toil, 
He fills with grain the golden ear ; 

Bids the ripe olive melt with oil, 

And swells the grape, man's heart to cheer. 

The moon her tide of changing knows, 

Her orb with lustre ebbs and flows. 

The sun goes down, the stars come out ; 

He maketh darkness, and 'tis night ; 
Then roam the beasts of prey about ; 

The desert rings with chase and flight : 
The lion and the lion's brood 
Look up, — and Grod provides their food. 

Morn dawns far east ; ere long the sun 
Warms the glad nations with his beams ; 

Daj, in their dens, the spoilers shun, 
And night returns to them in dreams : 

Man from his couch to labour goes, 

Till evening brings again repose. 

How manifold thy works, Lord, 

In wisdom, power, and goodness wrought ! 

The earth is with thy riches stored, 
And ocean with thy wonders fraught ; 

Unfathomed caves beneath the deep 

Tor Thee their hidden treasures keep. 

There go the ships, with sails unfurled, 

By Thee directed on their way ; 
There, in his own mysterious world, 

Leviathan delights to play ; 
And tribes that range immensity, 
Unknown to man, are known to Thee. 



118 SONGS OF TSE SOUL; 

By Thee alone the Hying live ; 

Hide but thy face, their comforts fly ; 
They gather what thy seasons give ; 

Take Thou away their breath, they die : 
Send forth thy Spirit from aboYO, 
And all is life again, and love. 

Joy in his works Jehovah takes, 
Yet to destruction they return ; 

He looks upon the earth, it quakes ; 

Touches the mountains, and they bum : 

Thou, Grod, for ever art the same ; 

I A]\i, is thine unchanging name. 

James Montgomeey. 



T LIKE that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls 
-^ The burial-ground Grod's-Acre ! It is just ; 
It consecrates each grave within its walls. 
And breathes a benison o'er the sleeptQg dust. 

Grod's-Acre 1 Yes, that blessed name imparts 
Comfort to those who in the grave have sown 

The seed that they have garnered in their hearts, 
Their bread of life, alas ! no more their o^vn. 

Into its furrows shall we all be cast, 

In the sure faith, that we shall rise again 

At the great harvest, when the archangel's blast 
ShaU winnow, Hke a fan, the chaff and grain. 



FBOM IIINES OF TROVGHT. 119 

Then shall the good stand in immortal bloom, 
In the fair gardens of that second birth ; 

And each bright blossom, mingle its perfume 
With that of flowers, which never bloomed on 
earth. 

With thjrude ploughshare, Death, turn up the sod. 
And spread the furrow for the seed we sow ; 

This is the field and acre of our Grod, 

This is the place, where human harvests grow ! 
He^-rt W. Longfellow. 



ffimtlg tfje Martins Spirit fletr. 

"P^EAE as thou wert, and justly dear, 

-^ We will not weep for thee ; 

One thought shall check the starting tear, 

It is — that thou art free. 
And thus shall Eaith's consoling power 

The tears of love restrain ; 
Oh ! who that saw thy parting hour. 

Could wish thee here again ? 

Triumphant in thy closing eye 

The hope of glory shone, 
Joy breathed in thine expiring sigh, 

To think the fight was won. 
Gently the passing spirit fled, 

Sustained by grace divine : 
Oh ! may such grace on me be shed. 

And make my end like thine ! 

Dale. 



120 SONGS OF THU SOUL; 

ffioltren precepts. 

T?IEST worsliip Grod ; — ^he tliat forgets to pray 
Bids not himself good-morrow, nor good-day ; 
Let tliy first labour be to purge thy sin, 
And serve him first, whence all things did begin. 

Honour thy parents to prolong thine end ; 
"With them, though for a truth, do not contend ; 
"Whoever makes his father's heart to bleed 
Shall have a child that will avenge the deed. 

Think that is just ; 'tis not enough to do, 
Unless thy very thoughts are upright too. 

Defend the truth ; for that, who will not die, 
A coward is, and gives himself the lie. 

Honour the king, as sons their parents do, 
For he's thy father, and thy country's too. 

Take well whate'er shall chance, though bad it be, 
Take it for good, and 'twill be good to thee. 

Swear not ; an oath is like a dangerous dart 
Which, shot, rebounds to strike the shooter' sheart. 

Fly drunkenness, whose vile incontinence 
Takes both away thy reason and thy sense, 
Till with Circsean cups thy mind possest 
Leaves to be man, and wholly turns to beast : 
Think, while thou swallowest the capacious bowl, 
Thou let'st in seas, to ^Teck and drown thy soul ; 
That hell is open, to remembrance call, 
And think how subject drimkards are to fall. 



FEOM MIXES OF THOUGHT, 121 

To doubtful matters do not headlong run, 
What's well left off were better not begun. 

First think 4 and if thy thoughts approve thy will, 
Then speak, and, after, that thou speak' st fulfil. 

So lire with men, as if Grod's ciu-ious eye 
Did every^vhere into thine actions pry ; 
For never yet was sin so void of sense. 
So fully faced with brazen impudence, 
As that it durst, before men's eyes commit 
Their brutal lusts, lest they should witness it ; 
How dare they then offend, when God shall see, 
That must alone both judge and jury be ? 

Take thou no care how to defer thy death, 
And give more respite to this mortal breath. 
Would' st thou live long? the only means are 

these, 
'Bove Gralen's diet or Hippocrates' : 
Strive to Uve well ; tread in the upright ways, 
And rather count thy actions than thy days : 
Then thou hast liv'd enough amongst us here, 
For every day well spent I count a year. 
Live weU, and then how soon soe'er thou die 
Thou art of age to claim eternity. 
But he that outlives JS'estor, and appears 
To have pass'd the date of gray Methusalem's 

years, 
If he his life to sloth and sin doth give, 
I say — he only was, he did not live, 

Thomas EAi^-noLpn. 



122 SO^^aS OF THJE SOUL; 

ffiootrness antr 2Drutfj require no 
JBecoration. 

/^ OODJS'ESS and trutli require no decoration; 
They, in and througli themselves, are great 
and fair : 
All ornament is supererogation, 

Griving false coloring and fictitious air. 

Beauty is virtue's image, truth's best light, — 
Virtue and truth its representatives : 

'Tis the grand girdle, that, with radiance bright, 
To both, — in all that are, — ^their lustre gives. 

To its sublime control all evil bows, 
Or sneaks away, subjected to its reign ; 

O'er each defect a garb of mystery throws, 
Or seeks her midnight nakedness again. 

Error must be the lot of mortal kind, 

But virtue, in life's night, man's guide may be ; 

For man's dim eye, so weak, — 'tis almost blind, — 
Scarce looks through mist-damps of mortality. 

Vain is endeavour ! — true ; but that endeavour, 
It goodness, truth, and virtue testifies ; 

Struggles and fails, but fails through weakness 
ever, 
Tet, failing, pours out light on darkened eyes. 

Te vainly dream, obscurers of the earth, 
That all is tending downwards to its fall ; 

Vain are yourscoff*s on manhood, and m'an'sworth, 
And that great tendency which governs all. 



I 



FROM MIJSrJES OF THOUGHT. 123 

In vain, with fading and offensive flowers, 
Te hide the chains of mental tyranny : 

The unhealthy spirit, lured to treacherous bowers. 
May joy in its free-chosen slavery ; 

Call what is incomplete, degenerate ; 

Grod's children, bastards ; and its curses 
throw 
At all who bend not at its temple-gate, 

Nor to night's image kneel in worship low. 

"We see in the unfinished, tottering, frail, 
A slowly, surely, sweetly working leaven. 

And in the childish dreams of life's low vale. 
The faint, but lovely, shadowings-forth of 
heaven. 

"We sink not, sacred ones ! but fluttering tend, — 
Though weak, we tend towards Grod ; the word 
we hear. 

Audibly bidding us uprise, and wend 

Our way above man's feebleness and fear. 

An idle toil is slumbering man's poor fate, 
And duty neither lovely looks, nor true ; 

Grod's mandate seems despotic, — desolate 
His doings, — and his voice terrific too. 

Yet duty is but deeds of loveliness, 

And truth is power to make the prisoner free ; 
And him, whose self-forged chains his spirit 
press, 

No effort shall arouse from slavery. 



124 SOWGS OF THE SOUL ; 

"What's true and good demands no decoration; 

It, in and througli itself, is great and fair : 
All ornament is supererogation, 

Griving false coloring and fictitious air. 

KiJS'KER, Trans. Anon, 



ffilorams in tfje Cross. 

r^KS nothing settle my uncertain breast, 
^^ And fix my rambling love ? 

Can my affections find out nothing best, 

But still and still remove ? 
Has earth no mercy ? Will no ark of rest 

Eeceive my restless dove ? 
Is there no good than which there's nothing 
higher 

To bless my full desire, 
With joys that never change ; with joys that 
ne'er expire ? 

I wanted wealth, and at my dear request, 

Earth lent a quick supply ; 
I wanted mirth to charm my sullen breast ; 

And who more brisk than I ? 
I wanted fame to glorify the rest ; 

My fame flew eagle-high : 
My joy not fully ripe, but all decayed, 

Wealth vanished like a shade ; 
My mirth began to flag, my fame began to fade. 



FBOM MINES OF THOUGHT, 125 

My trust is in the Cross ; there lies my rest, 

My fast, my sole delight. 
Let cold-mouthed Boreas, or the hot-mouthed east. 

Blow till they burst with spite : 
Let earth and hell conspire their worst, their best, 

And join their twisted might ; 
Let showers of thunderbolts dart round and 
wound me : 

And troops of fiends surround me : 
All this may well confront ; all this shall ne'er 
confound me. 

Peancis Qtjaeles. 



®ibe our ^oor ?learts t!jis <SiJtrit 
<Stron3 mCa II0I2. 

npHEEE was a little lowly upper room 
-^ Within the walls of proud Jerusalem, 
Where met a few poor men in grief and gloom 
Talking of Him who once had walked with them. 

There came a sound as of a rushing wind. 

And filled up all the place where they were met. 

And flaming figures of unwonted kind, 

Like tongues of fire, upon each brow were set. 

That was the promise of the Pather, come 

To those who waited, mourning for their Lord ; 

And the closed lips, that were so dead and dumb, 
Are loosed at once to speak His precious Word. 



126 SOJSTGS OF THE SOUL; 

Then all the strangers from afar, who came 
From Asian shores, from Europe's fairer 
strands, 

Prom Afric's deserts, wondering heard His name 
In the dear language of their native lands. 

Not now in form distinct of flaming Hght 

Comes that great Spirit on our earth to dwell ; 

But, like the strong wind whispering at night, 
Its mighty impulse is invisible. 

Yet, to the lowly and obedient heart. 

In gentleness and might its breath shall come. 

Bidding the Christian choose the better part. 
Stirring with thought of his eternal home. 

Lord, ascended! fi-om Thy glory's throne, 
On Thy baptized children kneeling lowly. 

Look down in mercy ! we were made Thine own ; 
Grive our poor hearts Thy Spirit strong and holy. 

Akois-. 



©race ©tops from ^6o&e. 

ll/TY stock lies dead, and no increase 

Doth my dull husbandry improve : 
O let thy graces without cease 

Drop from above. 

If still the sun should hide his face, 
Thy house would but a dungeon prove ; 
Thy works, night's captives : O let grace 
Drop from above. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 127 

The dew doth ev'ry morning fall : 
And shall the dew out-strip thy Dove ? 
The dew, for which grass cannot call, 
Drop from above. 

Death is still working like a mole, 
And digs my grave at each remove : 
Let grace work too, and on my soul 
Drop from above. 

Sin is still hammering my heart, 
Unto a hardness void of love : 
Let suppling grace to cross his art, 
Drop from above. 

O come ; for thou dost know the way : 
Or if to me thou wilt not move, 
Remove me where I need not say, 
' Drop from above.' 

GrEOBaE Herbert. 



^otJ's ^robttienc0 o'er tts. 

r^ OD of my life, how good, how wise, 
^^ Thy judgments to my soul have been ! 
They were but mercies in disguise, 

The painful remedies of sin : 
How different now Thy ways appear, — 
Most merciful, when most severe I 

Since first the maze of life I trod. 

Hast Thou not hedged about my way ; 

My worldly, vain designs withstood, 

And robbed my passions of their prey, — 



128 SO^^GS OF THE SOUL; 

"Withlield the fuel from the fire. 
And crossed each foolish, fond desire ? 

How oft didst -Chon my soul withhold, 
And baffle my pursidt of fame, 

Ajid mortify my lust of gold, 
And blast me iii my surest aim ; 

Withdraw my animal delight, 

And starve my grovel 1i rig appetite ! 

Thou wouldst not let Thy captive go, 
Or leave me to my carnal Tvdll ; 

Thy love forbad my rest below. 
Thy patient love pursued me still ; 

And forced me from my sin to part, 

And tore the idol from my heart. 

But can I now the loss lament, 
Or murmur at Thy friendly blow ? 

Thy fi'iendly blow my heart hath rent 
From every seeming good below : 

Thrice happy loss ! which makes me see 

My happiness alone in Thee. 

"Wesley. 



ll/rAXT are the thoughts that come to me 

^^ In my lonely musing ; 

And they drift so strange and swift, 

There's no time for choosing 
Which to follow, for to leave 

Any, seems a losing. 



FROM MINES OF TROTTGRT, 129 

When they come, they come in flocks, 

As, on glancing feather, 
Startled birds rise one by one, 

In autumnal weather, 
"Waking one another up 

Prom the sheltering heather. 

Some so merry that I laugh. 

Some are grave and serious. 
Some so trite, their least approach 

Is enough to weary us : 
Others flit like midnight ghosts. 

Shrouded and mysterious. 

There are thoughts that o'er me steal. 

Like the day when dawning ; 
G-reat thoughts wing'd with melody, 

Common utterance scorning. 
Moving in an inward tune, 

And an inward morning. 

Some have dark and drooping wings, 

Children aU of sorrow ; 
Some are as gay, as if to-day 

Could see no cloudy morrow. 
And yet like light and shade they each 

Must from the other borrow. 

One by one they come to me 

On their destined mission ; 
One by one I see them fade 

"With no hopeless vision ; 
For they've led me on a step 

To their home Elysian. C. P. Cbakch. 

K 



130 SOJVGS OF THE SOUL; 

^m\\ to tfje ©ag. 

TTAIL to the day, wHcli He, who made the 
heaven, 

Earth, and their armies, sanctified and blest, 

Perpetual memory of the Maker's rest ! 
Hail to the day, when He, by whom was given 
New life to man, the tomb asunder riven. 

Arose ! That day his Church doth still confess. 

At once Creation's and Eedemption's feast. 
Sign of a world called forth, a world forgiven. 
"Welcome that day, the day of holy peace. 

The Lord's own day ! to man's Creator owed. 
And man's Eedeemer ; for the soul's increase 

In sanctity, and sweet repose bestowed ; 
T}3)e of the rest when sin and care shall cease. 

The rest remaining for the loved of Grod ! 

Bishop Mant. 



?^gmn on tfje cSeasons. 

nPHESE, as they change, Almighty Eather, these, 

Are but the varied Grod. The rolling year 
Is full of Thee. Eorth in the pleasing Spring 
Thy beauty walks. Thy tenderness and love. 
Wide flush the fields : the softening air is balm 5 
Echo the mountains round ; the forest smiles ; 
Aaid every sense and every heart is joy. 
Then comes thy glory in the Summer months, 
AYith light and heat refulgent. Then thy sun 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 131 

Shoots full perfection tlirougli tlie swelUng year : 
And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks, 
And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, 
By brooks and groves, and hollow whisp'ring 

gales. 
Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfin'd, 
And spreads a common feast for all that lives. 
In Winter awful Thou ! with clouds and storms 
Around Thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest roll'd, 
Majestic darkness ! On the whirlwind's wing, 
Eiding sublime, Thou bidds't the world adore, 
And humblest nature vrith thy northern blast. 

Mysterious round ! what skill, what force divine. 
Deep-felt, in these appear ! a simple train, 
Tet so delightful mixed, with such kind art. 
Such beauty and beneficence combin'd ; 
And all so forming an harmonious whole ; 
Shade, unperceiv'd, so softening into shade. 
That, as they still succeed, they ravish still. 
But wandering oft, with brute unconscious gaze, 
Man marks not Thee, marks not the mighty hand 
That, ever busy, wheels the silent spheres ; 
"Works in the secret deep ; shoots, steaming, thence 
The fair profusion that o'erspreads the Spring ; 
Elings from the sun direct the flaming day ; 
Eeeds ev'ry creature ; hurls the tempest forth ; 
And, as on earth this grateful change revolves. 
With transport touches all the springs of life. 
JSTature attend! join every living soul 
Beneath the spacious temple of the sky, 
In adoration join ; and ardent raise 
One general song ! To Him ye vocal gales 



132 SOJVGS OF THE SOUL; 

Breathe soft, whose Spirit in yoiir freshness 

breathes : 
O talk of Him in solitary glooms, 
Where o'er the rock the scarcely waving pine 
Pills the brown shade with a religious awe ! 
And ye, whose bolder note is heard afar, 
Who shake th' astonish' d world, lift high to heav'n 
Th' impetuous song, and say from whom you rage. 
His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills ; 
And let me catch it as I muse along. 
Ye headlong torrents, rapid and profound ; 
Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze 
Along the vale ; and thou majestic main, 
A secret world of wonders in thyself, 
Sound his stupendous praise, whose greater voice 
Or bids you roar, or bids your roaring fall. 
So roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers, 
In mingled clouds to Him, whose sun exalts. 
Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil 

paints. 
Ye forests bend, ye harvests wave to Him ; 
Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart, 
As home he goes beneath the joyous moon. 
Ye that keep watch in heav'n, as earth asleep 
Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams. 
Ye constellations, while your angels strike, 
Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre. 
Great source of day ! best image here below 
Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide, 
From world to world, the vital ocean round. 
On nature write with every beam his praise. 
The thunder rolls : be hushed the prostrate world; 



FROM MIJS'ES OF THOUGHT, 133 

Wliile cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn. 
Bleat out afresh, ye hills ; ye mossy rocks, 
Eetain the sound : the broad responsive low, 
Ye valleys, raise ; for the Great Shepherd reigns ; 
And his unsuffering kingdom yet will come. 
Te woodlands, all awake : a boundless song 
Burst from the groves ! and when the restless day, 
Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep, 
Sweetest of birds ! sweet Philomela, charm 
The listening shades, and teach the night his praise. 
Ye chief, for whom the whole creation smiles ; 
At once the head, the heart, the tongue of all. 
Crown the great hymn ! In swarming cities vast. 
Assembled men to the deep organ join 
The long resounding voice, oft breaking clear, 
At solemn pauses, through the swelling bass ; 
And as each mingling flame increases each, 
In one united ardor rise to heav'n. 
Or if you rather choose the rural shade, 
And find a fane in every sacred grove ; 
There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay, 
The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre, 
Still sing the Grod of Seasons as they roll. 
For me, when I forget the darling theme, 
AVhether the blossom blows ; the Summer ray 
E/Ussets the plain ; inspiring Autumn gleams ; 
Or Winter rises in the blackening east : 
Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more. 
And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat. 

Should fate command me to the farthest verge 
Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes, 
E/ivers unknown to song ; where first the sun 



134 SOJV^GS OF THE SOUL; 

Gilds Indian mountains, or Ms setting beam 
Plames on th' Atlantic isles, 'tis nought to me : 
Since Grod is ever present, ever felt. 
In the void waste as in the city fuU ; 
And where He vital spreads, there must be joy. 
When even at last the solemn hour shall come, 
And wing my mystic flight to future worlds, 
I cheerful will obey ; there, with new powers, 
"Will rising wonders sing : I cannot go 
Where universal love not smiles around, 
Sustaining all yon orbs, and aU their suns ; 
From seeming evil stiU adducing good, 
And letter thence again, and letter still. 
In infinite progression. — But I lose 
Myself in Him, in hght ineffable ! 
Come then, expressive silence, muse his praise. 

James Thomsoit. 



ilgmn of ^t SEaltJWSes. 

TTEAE, Father, hear thy faint afflicted flock 

Cry to thee, jfrom the desert and the rock ; 
While those, who seek to slay thy children, hold 
Blasphemous worship under roofs of gold ; 
And the broad goodly lands, with pleasant airs 
That nurse the grape and wave the grain are theirs. 

Tet better were this mountain wilderness, 
And this wild life of danger and distress — 
Watchings by night and perilous flight by day, 
And meetings in the depths of earth to pray, 



FBOM MINES OF TROTTGHT, 135 

Better, far better, than to kneel with them. 
And pay the impious rite thy laws condemn. 

Thou, Lord, dost hold the thunder ; the firm land 
Tosses in billows when it feels thy hand ; 
Thou dasheth nation against nation, then 
Stillest the angry world to peace again. 
O, touch their stony hearts who hunt thy sons — 
The murderers of our wives and little ones. 

Yet, mighty Grod, yet shall thy frown look forth 
Unveiled, and terribly shall shake the earth. 
Then the foul power of priestly sin and all 
Its long-upheld idolatries shall fall. 
Thou shalt raise up the trampled and oppressed, 
And thy delivered saints shall dwell in rest. 

W. C. Beta:n^t. 



Hgmn More Sunrise in tlje Fale of 
Cljamouni. 

TTAST thou a charm to stay the Morning-star 
-*■-*- In hi^ steep course ? So long he seems to 

pause 
On thy bald, awful head, sovran Blanc ! 
The Arve and Arveiron at thy base 
Eave ceaselessly ; but thou, most awful form ! 
Eisest from forth the silent Sea of Pines, 
How silently 1 Around thee and above 
Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black. 
An ebon mass : methinks thou piercest it. 



136 SONGS OF THJE SOUL; 

As with a wedge ! But when I look again, 
It is thine own cahn home, thy crystal shrine, 
Thy habitation from eternity ! 

dread and silent mount ! I gazed upon thee, 
Till thou, still present to the bodily sense. 
Didst vanish from my thought ; entraced in prayer, 

1 worshipped the invisible alone. 

Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody. 
So sweet, we know not we are listening to it, 
Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending vrith my 

thought, 
Yea, with my life and life's own secret joy : 
Till the dilating soul, enrapt, transfused 
Into the mighty vision passing — then. 
As in her natural form, swelled vast to heaven ! 

Awake, my soul ! not only passive praise 
Thou owest ! not alone these swelling tears, 
Mute thanks and secret ecstasy ! Awake, 
Voice of sweet song ! Awake, my heart, awake ! 
G-reen vales and icy cliffs, all join my hymn ! 

Thou first and chief, sole sovereign of the vale ! 
O struggling with the darkness all the night, 
And visited all night by troops of stars. 
Or when they climb the sky, or when they sink : 
Companion of the Morning- star at dawn. 
Thyself earth's rosy star, and of the dawn 
Co-herald : wake, wake, and utter praise ! 
"Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth ? 

And you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad ! 
Who called you forth from night and utter death, 
From dark and icy caverns called you forth, 
Do^n those precipitous, black, jagged rocks, 



FROM MINES OF TROVGHT. 137 

For ever shattered, and the same for ever ? 

Who gave you yoiir invuLierable life, 

Tour strength, your speed, yourfury, and your joy, 

Unceasing thunder and eternal foam ? 

And who commanded (and the silence came), 

Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest ? 

Te ice-falls ! ye that from the mountain's brow 
Adown enormous ravines slope amain — 
Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty Voice, 
And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge ; 
Motionless torrents ! Silent cataracts ! 
Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven 
Beneath the keen, full-moon ? Who bade the sun 
Clothe you with rainbows ? Who, with living 

flowers 
Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet ? 
Grod ! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, 
Answer ! and let the ice-plains echo, God ! 
God ! sing, ye meadow-streams, with gladsome 

voice ! 
Tepine-groves,withyoursoftandsoul-likesounds! 
And they, too, have a voice, yon piles of snow, 
And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God ! 

Te living flowers that skirt the eternal frost ! 
Te wild goats sporting round the eagle's nest ! 
Te eagles, play-mates of the mountain storm ! 
Te lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds ; 
Te signs and wonders of the element ! 
Utter forth God, and fill the hills with praise ! 

Thou too, hoar mount ! with thy sky-pointing 



Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard, 



138 SOJSTGS OF THJE SOUL; 

Shoots downward, glittering through the pure 

serene 
Into the depth of clouds, that veil thy breast — 
Thou, too, again, stupendous mountain ! thou 
That, as I raise my head, awhile bowed low 
In adoration, upward from thy base 
Slow travelling, with dim eyes suffused with tears, 
Solemnly seemest, like a vapoury cloud. 
To rise before me. — Rise, O ever rise, 
Eise like a cloud of incense from the earth ! 
Thou kingly Spirit, throned among the hills, 
Thou dread Ambassador from earth to heaven, 
G-reat Hierarch ! teU. thou the silent sky. 
And tell the stars, and tell yon rising sun, 
Earth, with her thousand voices, praises Grod. 
S. T. CoLERinaE. 



l^ea&en SEatcfjes o'er tfjetr Sleeping 
Bust. 

TTTHEISr he, who, from the scourge of wrong, 

Aroused the Hebrew tribes to fly. 
Saw the fair region, promised long. 
And bowed him on the hills to die ; 

Grod made his grave, to man unknown, 
Where Moab's rocks a vale infold. 

And laid the aged seer alone 

To slumber while the world grows old. 



FE03I IIINES OF THOUGHT. 139 

Thus still, whene'er the good and just 
Close the dim eye on life and pain, 

Heaven watches o'er their sleeping dust 
Till the pure spirit comes again. 

Though nameless, trampled, and forgot. 

His servant's humble ashes lie. 
Yet Grod has marked and sealed the spot, 

To call its inmate to the sky. 

W. C. Beyant. 



I^appiness! iwijere is ti^s Seat? 

TTAPPINESS ! thou lovely name, 

-*-^ "Where's thy seat ? O tell me where ! 

Learning, pleasure, wealth, and fame, 

AR cry out, " It is not here." 
Not the wisdom of the wise. 
Can inform me where it lies ; 
Not the grandeur of the great 
Can the bliss I seek create. 

Object of my first desire, 

Jesus ! crucified for me, 
All to happiness aspire. 

Only to be found in Thee ! 
Thee to praise and Thee to know, 
Constitute our bliss below ; 
Thee to see, and Thee to love, 
Constitute our bliss above. 



140 SOJSraS OF THE SOUL; 

Lord ! it is not life to live, 

If thy presence Thou deny. 
Lord ! if Thou thy presence give, 

'Tis no longer death to die. 
Source and Griver of repose, 
Singly from thy smile it flows ; 
Peace and happiness are Thine, 
Mine they are, if thou art mine. 

"Whilst I feel Thy love to me, 
Every object teems with joy : 

Here, O may I walk with Thee, 
Then into Thy presence die ! 

Let me but Thyself possess, 

Total sum of happiness ! 

Eeal bliss I then shall prove, 

Heaven below, and heaven above. 

TOPLADT. 



I^a&ms Wotfjms, get fjatfi ^IL 

TTOW happy is he born and taught, 
-^"*- That serveth not another's will; 
Whose armour is his honest thought. 
And simple truth his utmost skill ! 

Whose passions not his masters are, 
WTiose soul is still prepared for death, 
Untied unto the worldly care 
Of pubUc fame, or private breath ; 



FBOM MIJS'ES OF THOUGHT, 141 

'Who envies none that chance doth raise, 
Or vice ; who never understood 
How deepest wounds are given by praise ; 
Nor rules of state, but rules of good ; 

Who hath his hfe from rumours freed, 
AATiose conscience is his strong retreat ; 
Whose state can neither flatterers feed, 
Nor ruin make oppressors great ; 

Who Grod doth late and early pray, 
More of his grace than gifts to lend ; 
And entertains the harmless day 
With a religious book or friend ; — 

This man is freed from servile bands 
Of hope to rise, or fear to fall ; 
Lord of himself, though not of lands \ 
And having nothing, yet hath all. 

SlE W. WOTTON. 



?^alMuja!) I (Cfjrtst in 0oti. 

TTAEK ! the song of Jubilee ! 

"^ Loud as mighty thunders roar, 
Or the frilness of the sea 

When it breaks upon the shore : 
Hallelujah ! for the Lord 

Grod omnipotent shall reign ; 
Hallelujah ; let the word 

Echo round the earth and main. 



142 SOJ^^GS OF TSU SOUL; 

HaUelujah ! — ^hark ! the sound 

From the centre to the skies, 
Wakes above, beneath, around, 

All creation's harmonies : 
See Jehovah's banner's furled, 

Sheathed his sword : He speaks — 'tis done, 
And the kingdoms of the -world 

Are the kingdoms of his Son. 

He shall reign from pole to pole, 

"With illimitable sway ; 
He shall reign when like a scroll 

Yonder heavens have passed away : 
Then the end ! — beneath his rod 

Man's last enemy shall fall ; 
Hallelujah ! Christ in God, 

Grod in Christ, is all in all. 

James MoNTaoMEET. 



H^tttn for t|j0 fHornins. 

A WAKE, my soul ! awake, mine eyes ! 
Awake, my drowsy faculties ! 
Awake, and see the new-born light 
Spring from the darksome womb of night ! 
Look up and see the unwearied sun. 
Already has his race begun. 
The pretty lark is mounted high, 
And sings her matins in the sky. 
Arise, my soul ! and thou, my voice, 
In songs of praise early rejoice! 



FROM IIINES OF THOUGHT. 143 

O great Creator ! heavenly King ! 

Thy praises ever let me sing ! 

Thy power has made, thy goodness kept, 

This fenceless body while I slept ; 

Tet one day more has given me 

Prom all the powers of darkness free. 

Oh ! keep my heart from sin secure, 

My life unblameable and pure ; 
That when the last of all my days is come 
Cheerful and fearless I may wait my doom. 
Thomas FLATMAi^r. 



I^ope, antr be ^nitsmag'tr. 

r^ lYE to the winds thy fears ; 

Hope, and be undismay'd ; 
God hears thy sighs, and counts thy tears, 

Grod shaU lift up thy head. 
Through waves, through clouds and storms, 

He gently clears thy way ; 
"Wait thou His time ; so shall the night 

Soon end in joyous day. 

He everywhere hath sway, 

And all things serve His might ; 
His every act pure blessing is, 

His path unsullied light, 
"When He makes bare His arm, 

"What shall his work withstand ? 
When He His people's cause defends, 

"Who, who shall stay His hand ? 



IM SOIfGS OF THE SOUL; 

Leave to Hs sovereign sway, 

To choose, and to command ; 
"Witli wonder fill'd, thou then shalt own, 

How wise, how strong his hand ; 
Thou comprehend' st Him not. 

Yet earth and heaven tell, 
God sits as sovereign on the throne, 

He ruleth all things well. 

Thou seest our weakness. Lord ; 

Our hearts are kno^^Ti to Thee : 
O lift thou up the sinking hand, 

Confirm the feeble knee ! 
Let us, in life and death. 

Boldly Thy truth declare ; 
And publish with our latest breath. 

Thy love, and guardian care. 

'F:rom the Gtebmai^. 



^i& ^tKxt Beats Msjj. 

TT7HE1N' heart and head are both o'erflowing. 
When eager words within are glowing. 
And all at once for utterance crowd and throng, 
How hard to find no tongue ! 
The little babe upon the breast 
Wails out his wail and is at rest : 
These may but look and long. 

Perhaps some deed of sacred story. 
Or lesson deep of God's high glory. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 145 

For man J a toilsome hour rehears' d or read, 

In holy Church is said, 
He knows it all — ^none half so well, — 
Ajid longs in turn his tale to tell. 

But all his words are fled. 

Perhaps on high the chant is ringing, 
The youthful choir the free notes flinging, 
To soar at will the mazy roof around : 

But his to earth are bound. 
In every chord his heart beats high, 
But vainly would his frail lips try 

The tones his soul hath found. 

O gaze not so in wistful sadness : 
Ere long a morn of power and gladness 
Shall break the heavy dream ; the unchained voice 

Shall in free air rejoice ; 
Thoughts with their words and tones shall meet, 
The unfaltering tongue harmonious greet 

The heart's eternal choice. 

Even now the call that wakes the dying 
Steals on thine ear with gentle sighing : 
The breath, the dew of heaven hath touched thy 
tongue : 
Ear to the winds are flung 
The bonds unseen, ill spirits' work : 
Satan no more may round thee lurk, 
Thine Ephphatha is sung. 

Anok. 

L 



146 SOJSTGS OF TRE SOUL; 

l^atl! ffilalitiemns Htsfjt. 

TTAIL ! gladdening Li&ht, of his pure 
-■--L glory poured 

Who is th' immortal Pathee, heavenly, blest, 

Holiest of Holies — Jesus Christ onr Loed ! 

Now we are come to the sun's hour of rest. 

The lights of evening round us shine, 

"We hymn the Father, So]S", and Holt Spirit 

divine ! 

"Worthiest art thou at all times to be sung 
With undefiled tongue, 
Soi^ of our GrOD, GriTER of Life, alone ! 
Therefore in all the world, thy glories, Lord, 
they own. 

Anon. 



Ilanttafj's Eijanftsst&mg. 

r^ OD hath raised my head on high : 

O my heart, enlarge my joy ! 
Grod hath now my tongue untied, 
To retort their scorn and pride. 
In thy grace I will rejoice ; 
Praise Thee while I have a voice. 
Who so holy as our Lord ! 
Who but He to be adored ! 
Who such wonders can effect ! 
AVho so strongly can protect ! 
Be no longer arrogant, 
jSTor in folly proudly vaunt : 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 147 

God our secret thoughts displays ; 
All oiu' works his balance weighs. 
Giants' bows his forces break ; 
He with strength invests the weak. 
Who were full, now serve for bread ; 
Those who served, enfranchised. 
Barren wombs with children flow ; 
fruitful mothers childless grow. 
God, frail man of life deprives ; 
Those who sleep in death, revives : 
Leads us to our silent tombs, 
Brings us from those horrid rooms : 
Eiches sends ; sends poverty : 
Casteth down and lifts on high. 
He, from the despised dust, 
Prom the dunghill, takes the just ; 
To the height of honour brings ; 
Plants them on the throne of kings. — 
God, earth's mighty pillars made ; 
He the world upon them laid. 
He, his servants' feet will guide : 
Wicked souls, who swell with pride, 
Will in endless darkness chain. 
Since all human strength is vain. 
He shall grind his enemies ; 
Blast with lightning from the skies : 
Judge the habitable earth. 
All of high and humble birth : 
ShaU with strength his King renown, 
And his Christ with glory cro^vn. 

GEOnaE Sakdts. 



148 SO^^GS OF THE SOUL; 

^^mn to t!)c Sa&6at|j. 

T) EIGrllT shadows of true rest ! some shoots 
J^ of bliss! 

Heaven once a week ; 
The next world's gladness prepossessed in this ; 

A day to seek 
Eternity in time : the steps bv which 

We climb above all ages ; lamps that light 
Man through his heap of dark days ; and the rich 
And fiill redemption of the whole week's 
flight : 
The pulleys imto headlong man; time's bower: 

The narrow way ; 
Transplanted paradise ; God's walking hour ; 

The cool o' the day ; 
The creature's jubilee ; God's parle with dust ; 
Heaven here; man on those hills of myrrh, 
of flowers ; 
Angels descending ; the returns of trust ; 

A gleam of glory after six days' showers ; 
The Church's love-feasts ; time's prerogative 

And interest 
Deducted from the whole ; the combs and hive, 

And home of rest ; 
The milky- way chalked out with sims ; a clue 
That guides through erring hours, and in full 
story ; 
A taste of heaven on earth ; the pledge and cue 
Of a full feast, and the out-courts of glory. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 149 

§^atU <Source of SEncreatel! Hisfjt. 

nEEATOR Spirit, by whose aid 

^^ The world's foundations first were laid, 

Come ™it ev'ry pious mind, 

Come pour thy joys on human kind ; 

Prom sin and sorrow set us free, 

And make thy temples worthy thee. 

O source of uncreated light. 
The father's promis'd Paraclete ! 
Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire, 
Our hearts mth heavenly love inspire ; 
Come, and thy sacred unction bring 
To sanctify us, while we sing. 

Plenteous of grace, descend from high, 
B/ich in thy sevenfold energy ! 
Thou strength of his Almighty hand, 
Whose pow'r does heaven and earth command. 
Proceeding Spirit, our defence, 
Who dost the gift of tongues dispense, 
And croTVTi thy gift with eloquence ! 

Eefine and purge our earthly parts ; 
But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts ! 
Our frailties help, our vice control, 
Submit the senses to the soul ; 
And when rebellious they are grown. 
Then lay thy hand, and hold them down. 
Chase from our minds th' infernal foe, 
And peace, the fruit of love, bestow ; 
And, lest our feet should step astray, 
Protect and guide us in the way. 



150 SOjS^GS of the SOUL; 

Make us eternal trutt. receive, 
And practise all that we believe : 
Grive us tliyself, that we may see 
The Father, and the Son, hy thee. 

Immortal honor, endless fame, 
Attend th' Almighty Father's name : 
Thy Saviour Son be glorified, 
"Who for lost man's redemption died ; 
And equal adoration be, 
Eternal Paraclete, to thee ! 

JoH^' Detde^'. 



?^2mn to tije Ntgfjt 

T HEARD the trailing garments of the ]S; ight M , 
Sweep through her marble halls ! " 



I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light 
Erom the celestial walls ! 

I felt her presence, by its spell of might, 
j j Stoop o'er me from above ; 
' The calm, majestic presence of the iS'ight, 
As of the one I love. 

I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight, 

The manifold, soft chimes, 
That fill the haunted chambers of the ]N"ight, 

Like some old poet's rhjTues. 

Erom the cool cisterns of the midnight air 

ISLy spirit drank repose ; 
The fountain of perpetual peace flows there, — 

Erom those deep cisterns flows. 



i 



FBOM MINES OF THOTTGHT. 151 

holy Night ! from thee I learn to bear 

"ViHiat man has borne before ! 
Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care, 

And they complain no more. 

Peace ! Peace ! Orestes-like I breathe this prayer ! 

Descend with broad- winged flight, 
The welcome, the thrice-prayed for, the most fair, 

The best-beloved Mght ! 

H. W. LOKaPELLOW. 



§^ea&m Calls antr 3 jHxist ffio. 

A H ! why should this immortal mind, 
"-^^ Enslaved by sense, be thus confined, 

And never, never rise ? 
Why, thus amused with empty toys, 
And soothed with visionary joys, 

Porget her native skies ? 
The mind was formed to mount sublime, 
Beyond the narrow bounds of time, 

To everlasting things ; 
But earthly vapours cloud her sight. 
And hang with cold oppressive weight 

Upon her drooping wings. 

The world employs its various snares, 
Of hopes and pleasures, pains and cares, 

And chained to earth I Ue : 
"When shall my fettered powers be free, 
And leave these seats of vanity, 

And upward learn to fly ? 



152 SOJSTGS OF TSU SOUL; 

Bright scenes of bliss, imclouded skies, 
Invite mj soul; — could I rise, 

]S'or leave a tliouglit below ! 
I'd bid fareweU to anxious care, 
And say to every tempting snare, 

"Heaven calls, and I must go." 

Heaven calls, and can I yet delay ? 
Can augbt on eartb engage my stay ? 

Ah, wretched, lingering heart ! 
Come, Lord, with strength, and life, and light, 
Assist and guide my upward flight. 

And bid the world depart. 

Steele. 



f^ail, l^olg Uhtl 

TTAIL, holy love ! thou word that sums all bliss, 
^ Grives and receives all bliss, fullest when most 
Thou givest 1 spring-head of all felicity. 
Deepest when most is drawn ! emblem of God ! 
O'erflowing most when greatest numbers drink ! 
Essence that binds the uncreated Three, 
Chain that unites creation to its Lord, 
Centre to which all being gravitates, 
Eternal, ever-gro^^'ing, happy love ! 
Enduring aU, hoping, forgiving all ; 
Instead of law, fulfilling every law ; 
Entirely blest, because thou seek'st no more, 
Hopest not, nor fear'st ; but on the present livest, 
And hold'st perfection smiling in thy arms. 



FROM MINES OF TROTTGHT. 153 

Mysterious, infinite, exhaustless love ! 
On earth mysterious, and mysterious still 
In heaven ; sweet chord, that harmonises all 
The harps of Paradise ! the spring, the well. 
That fills the bowl and banquet of the sky. 

Egbert Pollok. 



'^t gearns to jForstbe. 

T^IDST thou not hear how soft the day-wind 
sighed, 

How from afar that sweeping breath it drew, 
Waved the light rustling branches far and wide, 

Then died away, then rose and moaned anew ? 

Sure if aright our morning prayers were said, 
"We in those tones the Almighty's unseen walk 

Shall hear, nor vainly shun the Presence dread, 
Which comes in mercy with our souls to talk. 

" Where art thou, child of earth ?'* He seems to 
say, 
"Why hide so deep from Love's all-seeing 
eye?"- 
" I heard and feared, for I have sinned to-day." — 
" What ? know'st thou not the Almighty One 
was by ? 

" Think' st thou to lurk in yonder wavering boughs. 
Where even these earthly sunbeams glide and 
steal ? 

INTay, speed thee forth while yet high grace allows. 
Lay bare thy wounds to Him who waits to heal. 



154 SOJSTGS OF THE SOUL; 

" They only ranJile in tli' unwholesome shade ; 

But sun and air hare soothing power, and He 
Yearns to forgive, when hearts are lowly laid, 

Even now behold His robe prepared for thee. 

" These fluttering leaves the more unveil thy 
shame ; 
Fall humbly down, and hide thine eyes in dust : 
He will upraise thee, for His OAvn great IN'ame ; 
His penance garb ^vill make and show thee 
just." AifOK. 

?^2tttn of tije Citg. 

XoT in the solitude 
Alone, may man commune "v\ith Heaven, or see 

Only in savage wood 
And sunny vale, the present Deity ; 

Or only hear his voice 
Where the winds whisper and the waves rejoice. 

Even here do I behold 
Thy steps, Almighty — here, amidst the crowd 

Through the great city roll'd. 
With everlasting murmur, deep and loud — 

Choking the ways that wind 
'Mongst the proud piles, the work of human kind. 

Thy golden sunshine comes 
From the round heaven, and on their dwellings lies, 

And lights their inner homes — 
Eor them thou fill'st with air the mibounded skies, 

And givest them the stores 
Of ocean, and the harvests of its shores. 



FBOM MIJVUS OF THOUGHT. 155 

Thy Spirit is around, 
Quickening the restless mass that sweeps along ; 

And this eternal sound — 
Yoiees and footfalls of the numberless throng — 

Like the resounding sea, 
Or like the rainy tempest, speaks of thee. 

And when the hours of rest 
Come, like a calm upon the mid-sea brine, 

Hushing its billowy breast — 
The quiet of that moment, too, is thine ; 

It breathes of Him who keeps 
The vast and helpless city while it sleeps. 

"W. C. Bet ANT. 



I^ope in i^olr. 

TjS' thee, dear Lord, my pensive soul respires. 

Thou art the fulness of my choice desires ; 
Thou art that sacred spring, whose waters burst 
In streams to him that seeks with holy thirst. 
Thrice happy man, thrice happy thirst, to bring 
Thy fainting soul to so, so sweet a spring ; 
Thrice happy he, whose well-resolved breast 
Expects no other aid, no other rest ; 
Thrice happy he, whose do^iiy age has been 
Eeclaimed by scourges from the pride of sin, 
And early seasoned with the taste of truth, 
Eemembers his Creator in his youth. 

FeANCIS QrAELES. 



156 SOI^GS OF THE SOUL; 

^t is t|je Sxttxmn b^fjom tfje ^rutir 
mafos Sxtt. 

TTE is the freeman whom the truth makes free, 
And all are slaves beside! There's not a chain, 
That hellish foes, confederate for his harm, 
Can wind around him, but he casts it off 
With as much ease as Samson his green withes. 
He looks abroad into the varied field 
Of nature, and though poor, perhaps, compared 
With those whose mansions glitter in his sight. 
Calls the dehghtfiil scenery all his own. 
His are the mountains, and the valleys his, 
And the resplendent rivers. His t' enjoy 
"With a propriety that none can feel, 
But who, with fiHal confidence inspired. 
Can lift to heav'n an unpresumptuous eye. 
And smilmg say — " My Pather made them all !" 
"William Cowpee. 



T SOUGHT Thee round about, Thou,my God! 

In thine abode. 
I said unto the Earth, " Speak, art thou He ?" 

She answered me, 
" I am not." — 1 inquired of creatures all 

In general 
Contained therein; — they mth one voice proclaim 
That none amono^st them challeno'ed such a name. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGRT, 157 

I asked the seas, and all the deeps below, 

My Grod to know : 
I asked the reptiles, and whatever is 

In the abyss — 
Even from the shrimp to the leviathan, 

Inquiry ran ; 
But in those deserts which no line can sound, 
The Grod I sought for was not to be found. 

I asked the air if that were He ? but 

It told me " No." 
I, from the towering eagle to the wren, 

Demanded then 
If any feathered fowl 'mongst them were such ? 

But they all, much 
Offended with my question, in full quire 
Answered — "To find thy Grod thou must look 
higher." 

I asked the heavens, sun, moon, and stars, but they 

Said, " We obey 
The Grod thou seek'st." — I asked, what eye or ear 

Could see or hear ; 
"What in the world I might descry or know. 

Above, below : 
"With an imanimous voice all these things said, 
" "We are not Grod, but we by Him were made." 

I asked the world's great universal mass, 

If that Grod was ; 
WTiich, mth a mighty and strong voice replied, 

As stupefied. 



158 SOJ^^aS OF TRE SOUL; 

" I am not He, O man ! for know that I 

By Him on liigh, 
"Was fashioned first of nothing, thus instated 
And swayed by Him, by whom I was created." 

I sought the court ; but smooth-tongued ilattery 
there 

Deceived each ear ; 
In the thronged city there was selling, buying. 

Swearing and lying ; 
I' the country, craft in simpleness arrayed : 

And then I said, 
" Vain is my search, although my pains be great. 
Where my Grod is, there can be no deceit." 

A scrutiny within myself I then. 

Even thus began : 
" man, what art thou? " — "What morecouldl say 

Than, Dust and clay ? 
Frail, mortal, fading, a mere puff, a blast, 

That cannot last ; 
Enthroned to-day, to-morrow in an urn ; 
Eormed from that earth to which I must retui^n. 

I asked myself what this great Grod might be 

That fashioned me ? 
I answered — The all-potent, solely immense. 

Surpassing sense ; 
Unspeakable, inscrutable, eternal — 

Lord over all. 
The only terrible, strong, just, and true, 
WTio hath no end, and no beginning knew. 



FROM MINES OF TROUGHT, 159 

He is the well of life, for He doth give 

To all that live 
Both breath and being ; He is the Creator 

Both of the water, 
Earth, air, and fire. Of all things that subsist 

He hath the list ; 
Of all the heavenly host, or what earth claims. 
He keeps the scroll, and calls them by their 
names. 

And now, my Grod, by thine illuming grace, 

Thy glorious face, 
(So far forth as it may discovered be), 

Methinks I see ; 
And, though invisible and infinite, 

To human sight, 
Thou in thy mercy, justice, truth, appearest ; 
In which to our weak senses thou comest 
nearest. 

Oh ! make us apt to seek, and quick to find, 

Thou Grod most kind ! 
Give us love, hope, and faith, in Thee to trust ; 

Thou Grod most just ! 
Remit all our offences we intreat. 

Most Grood, most Grreat ! 
Grrant that our willing, though unworthy quest, 
May through thy grace admit us 'mongst the 
blest. 

Thomas Hetwogi). 



160 SO^''GS OF TRE SOUL; 

Immortality. 

TINOIOETAL ! ages past, yet notliing gone ! 
Morn without eve ! a race without a goal ! 
Unshortened by progression infinite ! 
Euturity for ever fatnre ! life 
Beginning still where computation ends ! 
'Tis the description of a Deity ! 
'Tis the description of the meanest slave. 
Immortal ! "What can strike the sense so strong, 
As this the soul ? it thunders to the thought ; 
E/cason amazes, gTatitude o'erwhelms, 
ISo more we sliunber on the brink of fate ; 
Eoused at the sound, the exulting soul ascends. 
And breathes her native air : an air that feeds 
Ambition high, and fans ethereal fires ! 
Quick kindles all that is divine within us, 
Nor leaves one loitering thought beneath the stars. 

Immortal ! was but one immortal, how 
Would others envy ! how would thrones adore ! 
Because 'tis common, is the blessing less ? 
How this ties up the bounteous hands of heaven ! 
O vain, vain, vain ! all else ; eternity ! 
A glorious and a needful refuge that, 
From vile imprisonment in abject views. 
'Tis immortality, 'tis that alone. 
Amid life's pains, abasements, emptiness, 
The soul can comfort, elevate, and fill. 
Eternity depending covers all ; 
Sets earth at distance, casts her into shades ; 
Blends her distinctions ; abrogates her powers : 
The low, the lofty, joyous, and severe. 



FROM MINJES OF THOUGHT. 161 

Fortune's dread frowns, and fascinating smiles, 
Make one promiscuous and neglected heap, 
The man beneath, if I may call him man, 
AVTiom immortality's full force inspires. 
Nothing terrestrial touching his high thought ; 
Suns shine unseen, and thunders roll unheard. 
By minds quite conscious of their high descent. 
Their present province and their future prize ; 
Divinely darting upward every wish, 
"Warm on the wing, in glorious absence lost. 
Doubt you this truth ? Why labours your belief ? 
If earth's whole orb by some due distanced eye 
Was seen at once, her towering Alps would sink, 
And levelled Atlas leave an even sphere. 
Thus earth, and all that earthly minds admire, 
Is swallowed in eternity's vast round. 
To that stupendous view when souls awake. 
So large of late, so mountainous to man. 
Time's joys subside, and equal all below. 

Edward Touis^a. 



Jn&ocation to ^top. 

CLEEP ! downy sleep ! come close mine eyes. 

Tired with beholding vanities ; 
Sweet slumbers, come, and chase away 
The toils and follies of the day. 
On your soft bosom will I lie, 
Eorget the world, and learn to die. 
O Israel's watchful Shepherd! spread 
Tents of a^ngels round my bed ; 



162 SOJSTGS OF TKU SOUL; 

Let not the spirits of the air 
AVliile I slumber me ensnare ; 
But save thy suppliant free from harms, 
Clasped in thine everlasting arms. 
Clouds and thick darkness are thy throne, 
Thy wonderftd pavilion ; 
Oh ! dart fi-om thence a shining ray, 
And then my midnight shall be day ! 
Thus when the morn in crimson drest, 
Breaks through the windov^^s of the east. 
My hymns of thankful praise shall rise. 
Like incense at the morning sacrifice ! 

Thomas Flatmais'. 



M tfje ILortf iSutllr not t!je l^ouse, tfje 
iLaiour is Uain. 

TI/TAT the blessing of Grod, my dearest and 

loveliest daughter, 
Be Avith thee ! yea, the blessing of Grod on this 

earth and in heaven ! 
Young have I been, and now am old, and of joy 

and of sorrow. 
In this uncertain life, sent by Grod, much, much, 

have I tasted : 
G-od be thanked for both ! O, soon shall I now 

with my fathers 
Lay my grey head in the grave ! liow fain ! for 

my daughter is happy : 



FROM MINES OF TROTTGHT. 163 

Happy, because slie knows this, that our Grod, 

like a father who watches 
Carefully over his children, us blesses in joy and 

in sorrow. 
Wondrously throbs my heart at the sight of a 

bride young and beauteous, 
Dressed and adorned, while she leans, in affec- 
tionate, childlike demeanour, 
On the arm of the bridegroom, who through 

life's path shall conduct her : 
Eeady to bear with him boldly, let whatsoever 

may happen ; 
And feeling with him, to exalt his delight and 

lighten his sorrow ; 
And, if it please Grod, to wipe from his dying- 
forehead the last sweat ! 
Even such my presentiments were, when, after 

the bridal, 
I my young wife led home. Happy and serious, 

I showed her, at distance. 
All the extent of our fields, the church-toAver, 

and the dwellings, and this one, 
"Where we together have kno^Ti so much both 

of good and of evil. 
Thou, my only child ! then in sorrow I think of 

the others, 
"When my path to the church by their blooming 

graves doth conduct me. 
Soon, thou only one, wilt thou track that way 

whereon I came hither, — 
Soon, soon my daughter's chamber, soon 't will 

be desolate to me, 



164 SOI^GS OF THJE SOUL; 

And mj daughter's place at the table ! In vain 

shall I listen 
For her voice afar off, and her footsteps at dis- 
tance approaching ! 
When with thy hnshand on that way thou from 

me art departed, 
Sobs will escape me, and thee my eyes bathed 
I in tears long will follow ; 

I For I am a laan and a father, — and my daughter, 
who heartily loves me. 
Heartily love ! But I wiU in faith raise my head 

up to heaven. 
Wipe my eyes from their tears, and with folded 
hands myself humble 
I E'en in prayer before &od, who, as a father 
I watches his children, 

! Eoth in joy and in sorrow us blesses, for we are 
■ his children. 

! Yea, for this is the law of the Eternal, that 
father and mother 
Ever they shall forsake, who as husband and 

wife are imited, 
Gro, then, in peace, my child ! forsake thy family 

and thy 
Father's dwelling, — go, by the youth guided, 

who to thee must hence be 
Father and mother ! Be to him like a vine that 

is fruitful 
In his house ; round his table thy children like 

branches of olive 
Flourish! So will the man be blessed in the 
Lord who confideth. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 165 

Lovely and fair to be is nothing; but a Grod- 

fearing wife brings 
Honor and blessing both ! for and if the Lord 

build the house not, 
Surely the builders but labour in vain. 

JoHANN Heikrich Voss, Trans, Anon, 



I SEafe to mnobj mg Brtter Mt 

T "WASTE no more in idle dreams 

My life, my soul away ; 
I wake to know my better self — 

I wake to watch and pray. 
Thought, feeling, time, on idols vain, 

I've lavished all too long : 
Henceforth to holier purposes 

I pledge myself, my song ! 

Oh ! still within the inner veil, 

Upon the spirit's shrine, 
Still unprofaned by evil, burns 

The one pure spark divine. 
Which Grod has kindled in us all, 

And be it mine to tend 
Henceforth, with vestal thought and care. 

The Hght that lamp may lend. 

I shut mine eyes in grief and shame 

Upon the dreary past — 
My heart, my soul poured recklessly 

On dreams that could not last : 



166 sojsras of the soul; 

My bark was drifted down the stream, 

At will of wind or wave — 
An idle, light, and fragile thing, 

That few had cared to save. 

Henceforth the tiller Truth shall hold, 

And steer as Conscience tells, 
And I will brave the storms of Pate, 

Though wild the ocean swells. 
I know my soul is strong and high. 

If once I give it sway ; 
I feel a glorious power within, 

Though light I seem and gay. 

Oh, laggard Soul ! unclose thine eyes, 

'No more in luxury soft 
Of joy ideal waste thyself: 

Awake, and soar aloft ! 
Unfurl this hour those falcon wings 

Which thou dost fold too long ; 
Kaise to the skies thy lightning gaze, 

And sing thy loftiest song ! 

Fea:n'cis S. Osgood. 



UnUcstructtftilttg of ILo&e. 

TPHEY sin who tell us love can die ; 
^ With life all other passions fly, 
All others are but vanity. 
In heaven ambition cannot dwell, 
Nor avarice in the vaults of hell : 



FROM MIXES OF TROVGHT. 167 

Earthly these passions, as of earth, 

They perish where they have their birth. 

But love is indestructible ; 

Its holy flame for ever burneth, 

From heaven it came, to heaven returneth ; 

Too oft on earth a troubled guest, 

At times deceived, at times oppressed, 

It here is tried and purified. 

And hath in heaven its perfect rest : 

It soweth here with toil and care, 

But the harvest-time of love is there. 

Oh ! when a mother meets on high 

The babe, the lost in infancy. 

Hath she not then, for pains and fears, 

The day of woe, the anxious night, 
For all her sorrow, all her tears. 

An over-payment of delight ? 

EOBEET SOTJTHET. 



" T THE good fight have fought "— 

O when shall I declare ! 
The victory by my Saviour got, 

I long with Paul to share. 
O may I triumph so, 

"When all my warfare's past ! 
And dying, find my latest foe 

Under my feet at last ! 



168 SOJVGS OF THJE SOUL; 

Tins blessed word be mine, 

Just as tbe port is gain'd ; — 
" Kept bj the power of grace divine, 

I have the faith maintain' d : " 
The apostles of my Lord, 

To whom it first was given. 
They could not speak a greater word, 

]^or all the saints in heaven. 

Joh:s" Wesley. 



31 %u tijem SEalfems in m ^tr of ffilorg. 

T^HEY are all gone into a world of light, 
"^ I alone sit lingering here ; 
Their very memory is fair and bright. 
And my sad thoughts doth clear. 

It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast. 
Like stars upon some gloomy grove ; 

Or those faint beams in which the hill is drest 
After the sun's remove. 

I see them walking in an air of glory. 

Whose light doth trample on my days ; 

My days which are at best but dull and hoary, 
]Mere glimmerings and decays. 

O holy Hope, and high Humility, 

High as the heavens above ! 
These are your walks, and you have showed them 
me, 

To kindle my cold love. 



I 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 169 

Dear, beauteous Death, the jewel of the just, 
Shining no where but in the dark, 

What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, 
Could man outlook that mark ! 

He that hath found some fledged bird's nest may 
know. 

At first sight, if the bird be flown ; 
But what fair field, or grove, he sings in now, 

That is to him unknown. 

And yet as angels, in some brighter dreams,' 
Call to the soul when man doth sleep, 

So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted 
themes. 
And into glory peep. 

If a star were confined into a tomb. 

Her captive flame must needs burn there ; 

But when the hand that locked her up gave room. 
She'd shine through all the sphere. 

Father of eternal life, and all 

Created glories under Thee ! 
Resume thy spirit from this world of thrall 

Into true liberty. 

Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill 
My perspective still as they pass ; 

Or else remove me hence unto that hill, 
Where I shall need no glass. 



170 >S'0:V^G^.S^ OF TRE SOUL; 

MfiniU cSpirtt ! bj!)o art xouriQ us etrer. 

TKTIIS'ITE Spirit ! who art round us ever, 
In whom we float, as motes in snmmer-sky, 

May neither life nor death the sweet bond sever, 
Which joins us to our unseen Friend on high. 

Unseen — yet not unfelt — if any thought 

Has raised our mind from earth, or pure desire, 

A generous act, or noble purpose brought, 
It is thy breath, Loed, Avhich fans the fire. 

To me, the meanest of thy creatures, kneeling. 
Conscious of weakness, ignorance, sin, and 
shame, 

Give such a force of holy thought and feeling, 
That I may live to glorify thy name ; 



I That I may conquer base desire and passion, 
I That I may rise o'er selfish thought and will, 
I O'ercome the world's allurement, threat, and 
j fashion. 

Walk humbly, softly, leaning on thee still. 

I am unworthy. Yet, for their dear sake 
I ask, whose roots planted in me are found ; 

For precious vines are propp'd by rudest stake. 
And heavenly roses fed in darkest ground. 

Beneath my leaves, though early fallen and faded. 
Young plants are warm'd, — they drink my 
branches' dew: 

Let them not, Lord, by me be Upas-shaded ; 
Make me, for their sake, firm, and pure, and true. 



FEOM MINES OF THOTTGRT, 171 

For their sake, too, the faithful, wise, and hold, 
AVhose generous love has been my pride and 
stay, 

Those who have found in me some trace of gold, 
For their sake purify my lead and clay. 

And let not all the pains and toil be wasted. 
Spent on my youth by saints now gone to rest ; 

Nor that deep sorrow my Redeemer tasted, 
When on his soul the guilt of man was press' d. 

Tender and sensitive, he braved the storm, 
That we might fly a well-deserved fate, 

Pour'd out his soul in supplication warm, 
Look'd with his eyes of love on eyes of hate. 

Let all this goodness by my mind be seen, 
Let all this mercy on my heart be seal'd! 

Lord, if thou wilt, thy power can make me clean : 
O, speak the word — thy servant shall be heal'd. 
James T. Clabk. 



A UTHOE; of being ! life-sustaining King ! 
Lo ! Want's dependant eye from Thee im- 
plores 
The seasons, which provide nutritious stores ; 
G-ive to her prayers the renovating Spring, 
And Summer-heats all perfecting that bring 
The fruits which Autumn from athousand stores 
Selecteth provident ! when earth adores 
Her Grod, and all her vales exulting sing. 



172 SOJVGS OF THJE SOUL; 

Without thj blessing, the submissive steer 
Bends to the ploughman's galling yoke in vain ; 

Without thy blessing on the varied year, 

Can the swarth reaper grasp the golden grain ? 

Without thy blessing, all is black and drear ; 
With it, the joys of Eden bloom again. 

Willia:^: AVobdswoeth. 



T^WO Spirits o'er an open grave were bending. 
Their gaze far down its gloomy chamber 
sending. 
One, with a brow of stern and cold despair, 
And sable weeds and cj^ress in his hair. 
Turned not his eyes, so fixed and dark mth wo. 
From the cold pit, which fearful yawned below. 
The other stood with garments pure and white 
As deck the dwellers of the land of light : 
Her placid brow was as an angel's fair. 
While calm and joyous was her gentle air ; 
And though v^dthin the grave she dropped a tear, 
Her upturned eye was still serene and clear. 

" Life !" said the Spirit with the brow of gloom. 
His arm outstretching o'er the gaping tomb — 
" 'T is a deep and sullen river, 

EoUing slowly to the sea, 
There to be engulfed for ever 
In a dark eternity !" 



FROM MINES OF THOTJGRT. 173 

" Nay," said the shining one, with upturned eye, 
And smile so clear it mirrored back the sky — 
" 'T is a sunny streamlet gliding 

Gently on to seek its goal ; 
There in Grod's own bosom hiding — 
Bright and pure, a Avhite-robed soul." 

But the dark Spirit's gloomy voice again 
Doled out in slow and melancholy strain : 

" 'T is a mournful weed, that groweth 

Lone and friendless in the world, 
"Which a ghastly reaper moweth, 
And 't is to oblivion hurled ! " 

" Nay," the bright, gentle one replied once more, 
And softer still the holy smile she wore — 
" 'T is a starry flower upraising 

Through all ills a trusting eye, 
Evermore its Maker praising — 
Eading here to bloom on high ! " 

Slowly the dark one sunk his gloomy brow, 
As once again he murmured sad and low : 
" 'T is a storm, for ever sweeping 
O'er a bleak and barren heath ; 
Tossing, surging, never sleeping, 
TiU it lull in endless death !" 

" Nay ! " and the hoping Spirit's hands were prest 
In meek and holy rapture to her breast — 
" 'T is a friendly rain, that showers 

On a fair and pleasant land. 
Where the darkest cloud that lowers 
By the rainbow still is spanned !" 



174 SO was OF THE SOUL; 

Stern was tlie gaze of sorrow and despair 
That now was fixed upon tlie Spirit fair, 
As, a last time, the hopeless wailer's burst 
Of anguish came more drear than e'en at first : 

" 'T is a haunting vision, blended 
Evermore with tears and pain : 

'T is a dream, that best were ended ; 
Life is false, and life is vain !" 
Ceased the dark Spirit — and a sable cloud 
O'er his set features folded like a shroud ; 
Then slowly sank, as sinks the dying wave. 
In the dark chambers of the yawning grave. 
Silently closed the damp turf o'er his head, 
And the stern Spirit, like the mortal dead. 
Came not again from out his gloomy bed ! 

" Life !" said the shining one, as, stretching forth 
Her long, fair arms, she blessed the teeming earth, 
" Life is true, and life is real ! 

Life has worthy deeds for all ; 
'T is no vain and false ideal. 

Ending with the shroud and pall. 
Up and do, then, dreaming mortal ! 

AVith a strong heart toil away ; 
Earth has cares, but heaven a portal 
Opening up to endless day !" 
She paused, and o'er her pure and spotless breast 
Drew the soft drapery of her snowy vest ; 
Her long, fair arms extended yet once more 
To bless the earth she oft had blessed before ; 
Then turned away to pour her heavenly light 
In genial fioods where all were else but night. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 175 

Still dwells she here, that chUd of heavenly birth — 
Soothing the sorrows of the sons of earth ; 
Drying the tears that dim the mourner's eye ; 
G-ently subduing Grrief 's desponding sigh ; 
"Winging with rapture e'en the parting ray, 
And wreathing smiles around the lips of clay. 

Blest be her path along life's rugged way ! 
Blest be her smiles which light the darkest day ! 
And blest the tears that, trusting still, she weeps, 
Where the dark Spirit yet in silence sleeps. 
Caeoline M. Sawyer. 



''iLct tfjere Ire H^muV \\z satlf, anU 
all iwas Calm. 

^^ T ET there be peace !" he said, and aU was 

calm, 
Amongst the warring world, — calm as the sea 
When, " Oh, be stiU, ye boisterous winds!" he 

cried. 
And not a breath was blown, nor murmur heard. 
His was a life of miracles and might. 
And charity and love, ere yet he taste 
The bitter draught of death, ere yet he rise 
Victorious o'er the universal foe. 
And death and sin, and heU in triumph lead. 
His, by the right of conquest, is mankind, 
And in sweet servitude, and golden bonds 
We're tied to him for ever. — Oh, how easy 



176 SOJSTGS OF THE SOUL ; 

Is his tmgalliiig yoke ! and all his burthens 
'Tis ecstacj to bear ! Him, blessed Shepherd ! 
His flocks shall follow through the maze of life, 
And shades that tend to day spring from on high, 
And as the radiant roses, after fading. 
In fuller foliage, and more fragrant breath, 
Eeyiye in smiling spring, so shall it fare 
With those that love him: — for, sweet is their 

savour. 
And all eternity shall be their spring. 
Then shall the gates and everlasting doors, 
At which the King of Grlory enters in, 
Be to the saints unbarr'd; and there, where 

pleasure 
Boasts an undying bloom ; where dubious hope 
Is certainty ; and grief-attended love 
Is free from passion ; there we'll celebrate. 
With worthier numbers, Him who is, and was. 
And in immortal prowess King of kings, 
Shall be the monarch of all worlds for ever. 

Christopheb Smaet. 



ILtabes !jabe tijeir Kimt to jFall 

T EAVES have their time to fall, 

And flowers to wither at the north- wind's 
breath. 
And stars to set, — ^but all, 
Tliou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death. 



FROM MINES OF THOiraRT, 111 

Day is for mortal care, 
Eve for glad tidings round the joyous hearth, 

JSTight for the dreams of sleep, the voice of prayer, 
But all for thee, thou mightiest of the earth. 

The banquet hath its hour. 
Its feverish hour of mirth, and song, and v^ine ; 

There comes a day for grief's o'erwhelming 
power, 
A time for softer tears, but all are thine ! 

Youth and the opening rose 
May look like things too glorious for decay, 

And smile at thee ! — ^but thou art not of those 
That wait the ripened bloom to seize their prey ! 

Leaves have their time to fall. 
And flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath, 

And stars to set, — ^but all. 
Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death. 

We know when moons shall wane ; 
"When summer birds from far shall cross the sea, 

"When autumn's hue shall tinge the golden 
grain, — 
But who shall, teach us when to look for Thee ! 

Is it when spring's first gale 
Comes forth to whisper where the violets lie ? 

Is it when roses in our path grow pale ? 
They have one season, — all are ours to die ! 

Thou art where billows foam, 
Thou art where music melts upon the air ; 

Thou art around us in our peaceful home, 
And the world calls us forth, — and Thou art there ! 



178 SOXGS OF TRE SOTTL ; 

Thou art where friend meets friend, 
Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest ; 

Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend 
The skies, and swords beat do^n the princely crest. 

Leaves have their time to fall, 
And flowers to wither at the north- wind's breath, 

And stars to set, — but all. 
Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death. 
Felicia Hemajs^s. 



Hife's ffiuitims Star. 

n^HE youth whose bark is guided o'er 
-^ A summer stream by zephyr's breath, 
"With idle gaze delights to pore 

On imaged skies that gloAV beneath. 
But should a fleeting storm arise 

To shade a while the watery way, 
Quick lifts to heaven his anxious eyes. 

And speeds to reach some sheltering bay. 

'Tis thus, down time's eventful tide, 

AVhile prosperous breezes gently blow, 
In life's frail bark we gayly glide. 

Our hopes, our thoughts all fixed below. 
But let one cloud the prospect dim, 

The ^^^nd its quiet stillness mar. 
At once we raise our prayer to Him 

AVhose light is life's best guiding star. 

William Leggett. 



FBOM MINES OF THOUGHT. 179 

ILti me ILibe to W^u. 

Tj^ATHEE ! whate'er of earthly bliss 
-^ Thy sovereign will denies ; 
Accepted at thy throne of grace, 
Let this petition rise ; 

Grive me a calm, a thankful heart, 

Prom every murmur free ; 
The blessings of thy grace impart, 

And let me live to Thee : 

Let the sweet hope that thou art mine. 

My life and death attend ; 
Thy presence through my journey shine. 

And crown my journey's end. 

Steele. 



Het t!)ere be ILtgijt. 

^^T ET THERE BE LiasT!" The Eternal spoke, 
And from the abyss where darkness rode 
The earliest dawn of nature broke. 

And light around creation flow'd. 
The glad earth smiled to see the day, 

The first-born day come blushing in ; 
The young day smiled to shed its ray 

Upon a world untouch' d by sin. 

" Let there be light 1" O'er heaven and earth, 
The GrOD who first the day-beam pour'd. 

Utter' d again his fiat forth, 

And shed the gospel's light abroad, 



180 SO^^GS OF THE SOUL; 

And, like the dawn, its cheering rays 

On rich and poor Avere meant to fall, 
Inspiring their Eedeemer's praise, 

In lowlj cot and lordly hall. 

Then come, when in the orient first 

Plushes the signal-light for prayer : 
Come with the earliest beams that burst 

From GtOd's bright throne of glory there. 
Come kneel to Him who through the night 

Hath watch' d aboye thy sleeping soid, 
To Him whose mercies, like his light. 

Are shed abroad from pole to pole. ■ 

Chaeles F. HorrjiAis". 



Hortr of tfje <Saibatfj, ijtar xts Prag. 

T OED of the Sabbath, hear us pray. 
In this thy house, on this thy day ; 
And own, as grateful sacrifice. 
The songs which from thy temple rise. 

Thine earthly Sabbaths, Lord, we loye ; 
But there's a nobler rest above ; 
To that our labouring souls aspire 
With ardent hope and strong desire. 

No more fatigue, no more distress, 
Nor sin, nor death, shall reach that place ; 
No siglis shall mingle with the songs 
That warble from immortal tongues. 



FROM MINES OF THOUaHT, 181 

ISio rude alarms of raging foes, 
Xo cares to break the long repose, 
iS'o midniglit shade, no clouded sun, — 
But sacred, high, eternal noon. 

long expected day, begin ; 
Da^Ti on these realms of woe and sin ; 
Tain would we leave this weary road. 
And sleep in death, to rest with Grod. 

DoDDBIDaE. 



iLift t!je ^twd antr Bentr tlje Enee. 

/^HILD, amidst the flowers at play, 

"WTiile the red light fades away ; 
Mother, with thy earnest eye. 
Ever following silently ; 
Pather, by the breeze of eve. 
Called thy harvest-work to leave ; 
Pray ! — ere yet the dark hours be, 
Lift the heart and bend the knee. 

Traveller, in the stranger's land, 
Ear from thine OAvn household band ; 
Mourner, haunted by the tone 
Of a voice from this world gone ; 
Captive, in whose narrow cell 
Sunshine hath not leave to dwell ; 
Sailor, on the darkening sea. 
Lift the heart and bend the knee. 



182 sojsras of trje souz; 

AYarrior, that from battle won, 
Ereathest now at set of sun ; 
"Woman, o'er the lowly slain, 
Weeping on his burial plain ! 
Te that triumph, ye that sigh. 
Kindred by one holy tie ; 
Heaven's first star alike ye see — 
Lift the heart and bend the knee. 

Pelicia Hemais^s 



Uttang to tije Holg <Sptrtt. 

TjST the hour of my distress, 

When temptations me oppress, 
And when I my sins confess. 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 

When I lie within my bed. 
Sick in heart and sick in head, 
And with doubts disquieted. 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 

When the house doth sigh and weep. 
And the world is drown' d in sleep. 
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep. 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 

When the passing-bell doth toll. 
And the furies, in a shoal. 
Come to fright my parting soul. 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 



FBOM IflNES OF THOVGHT. 183 

"When the priest his last hatli pray'd, 
And I nod to what is said, 
'Cause mj speech is now decay' d, 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 

"When, Grod knows, I'm toss'd about, 
Either with despair or doubt, 
Yet before the glass be out, 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 

"When the Tempter me pursu'th 
With the sins of all my youth, 
And half- damns me with untruth. 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 
AVhen the flames and hellish cries 
Fright mine ears and fright mine eyes, 
And all terrors me surprise, 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 

"When the judgment is reveal' d. 
And that open'd which was seal'd, 
When to Thee I have appeal' d, 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 

EOBEET HeREICK. 



%ti US not Hose Wi}tt get 

^^ A BIDE with us ! The evening hour draws on ; 
And pleasant at the daylight's fading close 
The traveller's repose ! 
And as at morn's approach the shades are gone. 
Thy words, oh, blessed stranger, have dispelled 
The midnight gloom in which our souls were held. 



184 SO^'^GS OF THE SOUL; 

Sad were our souls, and quenclied hope' s latest ray, 
But thou to us hast words of comfort given 

Of him who came from heaven ! 
How biu'ned our hearts within us on tlie way, 
While thou the sacred scripture didst unfold, 
And bad'st us trust the promise given of old. 

Abide ^vith us : let us not lose thee yet ! 
Lest unto us the cloud of fear return, 

"WTien we are left to mourn 
That Israel's Hope — his better Sun — is set ! 
Oh, teach us more of what we long to know, 
That new-born joy may chide our faithless wo." 

Thus in their sorrow the disciples prayed, 
And knew not He was walking by their side 

Who on the cross had died ! 
Eut when he broke the consecrated bread, 
Then saw they who had deigned to bless their 

board. 
And in the stranger hailed their risen Lord. 

'• Abide with us 1" Thus the believer prays. 
Compassed with doubt and bitterness and dread — 

When, as life from the dead. 
The bow of mercy breaks upon his gaze : 
He trusts the word, yet fears lest from his heart 
He whose discourse is peace too soon depart. 

Open, thou trembling one, the portal wide, 
And to the inm^ost chamber of thy breast 

Take home the heavenly guest ! 
He for the famished shall a feast provide — 



FROM MINES OF TROUGRT. 185 

And thou shalt taste the bread of life,, and see 
The Lord of angels come to sup with thee. 

Beloved — who for ns with care hast sought — 
Say, shall we hear thy voice, and let thee wait 

All night before the gate — 
Wet mth the dews — nor greet thee as we ought ? 
Oh, strike the fetters from the hand of pride, 
And, that we perish not, with us, Lord, abide ! 
Elizabeth P. Ellet. 



ILo&e iLetr tfjem ©n. 

TTTHEiSr Eaith and Love, which parted from 
thee never. 
Had ripened thy just soul to dwell mth Grod, 
Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load 
Of death, called life ; which us from life doth 
sever. 
Thy works, and alms, and all thy good endeavoiu', 
Staid not behind, nor in the grave were trod ; 
But, as Eaith pointed with her golden rod, 
EoUoAved thee up to joy and bliss for ever ! 
Love led them on, and Eaith, who knew them best 
Thy handmaids, and clad them o'er with purple 

beams 
And azure wings, that up they flew so drest. 
And spake the truth of thee on glorious themes, 
Before the Judge ; who thenceforth bade thee 

rest. 
And drink thy fill of pure immortal streams. 

JoH:^^ Miltois^. 



186 SOJVGS OF THU SOUL; 

%oxQ, K tooulU Jear W^tt. 

^T^ IS not thy terrors, Lord, thy di^eadful frown, 
AYhich keep my step in duty's narrow path ; 
'T is not the aAvful threatenings of thy wrath, — 
Eut that in virtue's sacred smile alone 
I find peace and happiness. Thy light, 
In all its prodigality, is shed 
Upon the worthy and the unworthy head : 
And thou dost wrap in misery's stormy night 
The holy as the thankless. AH is well ; 
Thy wisdom has to each his portion given ; — 
Why should our hearts by selfishness be riven ? 
'T is vain to murmur, daring to rebel : 
Lord, I would fear thee, though I feared not hell ; 
And love thee, though I had no hopes of heaven ! 
Santa Teeesa di Avila, Trans, hy Bowru^g, 



Haftgrmti) of Hife. 

T IFE is a crooked labyrinth, and we 

Are daily lost in that obliquity. 
'Tis a perplexed circle, in whose round 
IsTothing but sorrows and new sins abound. 
How is the faint impression of each good 
Drowned in the vicious channel of our blood. 
Whose ebbs and tides by their vicissitude, 
Both our great Maker and oiu^selves delude ! 
Oh ! wherefore is the most discerning eye 
Unapt to make its own discovery ? 
Why is the clearest and best judging mind, 
In its OA\Ti ills' prevention dark and blind ? 



FEOM MINES OF THOTTGHT. 187 

Dull to advise, to act precipitate, 
We scarce think what to do, but when too late, 
Or if we think, that fluid thought, Like seed, 
E/Oots there to propagate some fouler deed. 
Still we repent and sin — sin and repent ; 
We thaw and freeze ; we harden and relent. 
Those fires which cooled to day, the morrow's heat 
Rekindles ; thus frail nature does repeat 
What she unlearnt, and still by learning on 
Perfects her lesson of confusion. 
Sick soul ! what cure shall I for thee devise, 
Whose leprous state corrupts all remedies ? 
What medicine or what cordial can be got 
For thee, who poisonest thy best antidote ? 
E-epentance is thy bane, since thou by it 
Only revivest the fault thou didst commit. 
Nor grievest thou for the past, but art in pain, 
For fear thou mayest not act it o'er again ; 
So that thy tears, like water spilt on lime. 
Serve not to quench, but to advance thy crime. 
My blessed Saviour, unto Thee I fly ! 
For help against this home-bred tyranny. 
Thou canst true sorow in my soul imprint, 
And draw contrition from a breast of flint ; 
Thou canst reverse this labyrinth of sin, 
My will afl*ects and actions wander in. 
Oh ! guide my faith ! and, by thy grace's clue 
Teach me to hunt that kingdom at the view. 
Where true joys reign, which like their day shall 

last, 
Those never clouded, nor that overcast. 



188 SOJS^GS OF THE SOUL; 

Hobe, i^t Hast JBifamest ImnQt. 

Thou Jehovah 
Art named, but I am dust of dust ; 
Dust, yet eternal ! for the immortal soul 
Thou gav'st me, gav'st thou for eternity, 
Breath' dst into her, to form thy image. 
Sublime desires for peace and bliss, 
A thronging host ! Eut one ; more beautiful 
Than all the rest, is as the queen of all, — 
Of thee the last, divinest image. 
The fairest, most attractive, — Love ! 
Thou feelest it, though as the Eternal One : 
It feel, rejoicing, the high angels, whom 
Thou mad'st celestial, — thy last image. 
The fairest and divinest, — Love 1 
Deep within Adam's heart thou plantedst it : 
In his idea of perfection made, 

For him create, to him thou broughtest 
The mother of the human race. 
Deep also in my heart thou plantedst it : 
In my idea of perfection made, 

For me create, from me thou leadest 
Her whom my heart entirely loves. 
Towards her my soul is all outshed in tears, — 
jNIy fall soul weeps, to stream itself away 

Wholly in tears ! From me thou leadest 
Her whom I love, O Grod ! from me, — 
For so thy destiny, invisibly, 
Ever in darkness works, — far, far away 

From my fond arms in vain extended, — 
But not away from my sad heart ! 



FROM MINUS OF THOUGHT. 189 

And jet tliou knowest wliy thou didst conceive, 
And to reality creating call, 

Souls so susceptible of feeling. 

And for each other fitted so. 
Thou know'st, Creator! But thy destiny 
Those souls, thus born as for each other, parts : 

High destiny, impenetrable, — 

How dark, yet how adorable ! 
Eut life, when with eternity compared. 
Is like the smft breath by the dying breathed, 

The last breath, wherewith flees the spirit 

That aye to endless life aspired. 
What once was labyrinth in glory melts 
Away, — and destiny is then no more. 

Ah, then, with rapturous rebeholding, 

Thou givest soul to soul again ! 
Thought of the soul, and of eternity, 
"Worthy and meet to soothe the saddest pain : 

My soul conceives it in its greatness ; 

But, O, I feel too much the life 
That here I live ! Like immortality. 
What seemed a breath fearfully wide extends ! 

I see, I see my bosom's anguish 

In boundless darkness magnified. 
Grod ! let this life pass like a fleeting breath ! 
Ah, no ; — But her who seems designed for me 

Grive, — easy for thee to accord me, — 

Grive to my trembling, tearful heart ! 
(The pleasing awe that thrills me, meeting her ! 
The suppressed stammer of the undying soul. 

That has no words to say its feelings, 

And, save by tears, is wholly mute !) 



190 SONGS OF THJE SOUL; 

Grive her unto my arms, whicli, innocent, 
In ehildhood, oft I raised to thee in heaven, 
"When, with the fervor of devotion, 
I prayed of thee eternal peace ! 
With the same effort dost thou grant and take 
From the poor worm, whose hours are centuries, 
His brief felicity, — the worm, man. 
Who blooms his season, droops and dies ! 
By her beloved, I beautiful and blest 
Will Virtue call, and on her heavenly form 
With fixed eye will gaze, and only 
Own that for peace and happiness 
Wliich she prescribes for me. But, Holier One, 
Thee too, who dwell' st afar in higher state 
Than human virtue, — thee I'll honour, 
Only by God observed, more pure. 
By her beloved, will I more zealously, 
Eejoicing, meet before thee, and pour forth 
My fuller heart. Eternal Father, 
In hallelujahs ferventer. 
Then, when with me she thine exalted praise 
Weeps up to heaven in prayer, with eyes that 
swim 
In ecstacy, shall I already 
With her that higher life enjoy. 
The song of the Messiah, in her arms 
Quaffing enjoyment pure, I noblier may 
Sing to the good, who love as deeply. 
And, being Christians, feel as we [ 

Friedhich Gottlieb Klopstock, 
Trans. Anon. 



FEOM MlJSrUS OF THOUGHT. 191 

HeaU, l^intilg iLigfji. 

T EAD, Kindly light, amid the encircling gloom, 

•^ Lead Thou me on ! 

The night is dark, and I am far from home — 

Lead Thou me on : 
Keep Thou my feet ; I do not ask to see 
The distant scene — one step enough for me. 

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou 

Shouldst lead me on. 
I loved to choose and see my path ; but now, 

Lead Thou me on ! 
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears. 
Pride ruled my will : remember not past years. 

So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still 

"Will lead me on. 
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till 

The night is gone ; 
And with the morn those Angel faces smile 
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile. 

Akon. 



iLift goxir l^eart antr Uoice in ^rager. 

T?E/E the morning's busy ray 

Call you to your work away ; 
Ere the silent evening close 
Tour wearied eyes in sweet repose. 
To lift your heart and voice in prayer, 
Ee joviTji7'st and latest care. 



192 SOJ^GS OF TSU SOUL; 

He, to wlioiii tlie prayer is due, 

rroin heaTen his tlirone shall smile on you ; 

Angels sent by Him shall teiid, 

Toiu^ daily labour to befriend, 

And their nightly vigils keep 

To guard you in the hour of sleep. 

"WTien tln-ough the peacefril parish ST\'ells 
The music of the Sabbath-bells, 
Duly tread the sacred road 
"WHiich leads you to the house of Grod ; 
The blessing of the Lamb is there. 
And " Grod is in the midst of her." 
And oh ! where'er yoiu* days be past, 
And oh ! howe'er yoro* lot be cast, 
Still think on Him whose eye surveys, 
Whose hand is over all your ways. 

Abroad, at home, in weal, in woe, 
That service which to Heaven you owe 
That bounden service duly pay. 
And God shall be your strength alway. 

ITe only to the heart can give 
Peace and true pleasure while you live ; 
He only, when you yield your breath. 
Can guide you through the vale of death. 

He can. He will, from out the dust 
Eaise the blest spirits of the just ; 
Heal every wound, hush every fear ; 
Prom every eye wipe every tear ; 
And place them where distress is o'er, 
And pleasures dwell for evermore. 

Bishop Makt. 



FROM MINES OF TROUOHT. 193 



A SAEE stronghold our Grod is still, 
-^ A trusty shield and weapon ; 
He'll help us clear from all the ill 
That hath us now o'ertaken. 
The ancient Prince of Hell 
Hath risen with purpose fell ; 
Strong mail of craft and power 
He weareth in this hour : 
On earth is not his fellow. 

With force of arms we nothing can ; 

Pull soon were we down-ridden, 
But for us fights the proper Man, 
AVhom Grod himself hath bidden. 
Ask ye, "WTio is this same ? 
Christ Jesus is his name, 
The Lord Zebaoth's Son : 
He, and no other one, 
Shall conquer in the battle. 

And were this world all devils o'er 

And watching to devour us, 
We lay it not to heart so sore, 
Xot they can overpower us. 
And let the Prince of 111 
Look grim as e'er he will, 
He harms us not a whit. 
Por why ? His doom is writ, 
A word shall quickly slay him. 
o 



194 SOXGS OF THE SOUL; 

God's word, for all their craft and force, 

One moment ^vill not linger, 
But, spite of Hell, sliall have its course. 
'Tis written by liis finger. 
And tliougli they take our life, 
Groods, honour, children, wife, 
Yet is their profit small : 
These things shall vanish all, 
The City of Grod remaineth. 

Maetin Ltthee, Trans hy Carlyle. 



Hantr for t!je Brofeen^fjeartelr. 

I]S'TO the Silent Land ! 
Ah ! who shall lead us thither ? 
Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather, 
And shattered wrecks lie thicker on the strand. 
Who leads us with a gentle hand 
Thither, O, thither, 
Into the Silent Land ? 

Into the Silent Land ! 
To you, ye boundless regions 
Of all perfection ! Tender morning- visions 
Of beauteous souls ! The Future's pledge and 
band ! 
AVho in Life's battle firm doth stand 
Shall bear Hope's tender blossoms 
Into the Silent Land ! 



FEOM MIJsfES OF TROUGHT. 195 

OLand! O Land! 
Eor all the broken-hearted 
The mildest herald by our fate allotted 

Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand 

To lead us with a gentle hand 

Into the land of the great departed, 

Into the Silent Land ! 

JOHANN Gc. Vox SaLIS, 

Trails, by K. W. Longfellow. 



T ASKED the Lord, that I might grow 

In faith, and love, and every grace ; 
Might more of His salvation know, 
And seek more earnestly His face. 

'Twas He who taught me thus to pray. 
And He, I trust, has answered prayer ; 
But it has been in such a way 
As almost drove me to despair. 

I hoped that in some favoured hour, 
At once He'd answer my request ; 
And, by His love's constraining power, 
Subdue my sins, and give me rest. 

Instead of this, He made me feel 
The hidden evils of my heart ; 
And let the angry powers of hell 
Assault my soul in every part. 



196 sojsras of the soul; 

Tea more, with His own hand He seemed 
Intent to aggravate my woe ; 
Crossed all the fair designs I schemed, 
Elasted my gourds, and laid me low. 

" Lord, why is this ?" I trembling cried, 
" "Wilt Thou pursue thy worm to death ?"— 
" 'Tis in this way," the Lord replied, 
" I answer prayer for grace and faith." 

" These inward trials I employ, 
From self and pride to set thee free ; 
And break thy schemes of earthly joy. 
That thou mayest seek thy all in Me." 

JSTewton". 



Mint is m SEnrijangms ILo&e. 

TTAE/K, my soul ! it is the Lord ; 

'Tis thy Saviour, hear His word ; 
Jesus speaks, and speaks to thee ; 
" Say, poor sinner, — lovest thou me ? 

" I delivered thee when bound. 
And, when wounded, healed thy wound ; 
Sought thee wandering, set thee right. 
Turned thy darkness into light. 

^' Mine is an unchanging love, 
Higher than the heights above ; 
Deeper than the depths beneath ; 
Free and faithful, strong as death. 



FR03I MINES OF TROTIGHT. 197 

" Thou shalt see my glory soon, 
When the work of grace is done ; 
Partner of my throne shall be : 
Say, poor sinner, — lovest thou me ?" 

Lord, it is my chief complaint. 
That my love is weak and faint : 
Yet I love Thee, and adore, — 
Oh ! for grace to love Thee more ! 

"William Cowpee. 



lEg SEountieti Spirit longs to Jig. 

r\ HAPPY, happy he, who flies 
^ Par from the noisy world away, — 

"Who, with the worthy and the wise, 
Hath chosen the narrow way, — 

The silence of the secret road 

That leads the soul to virtue and to Grod ! 

No passions in his breast arise : 
Calm in his own unaltered state, 

He smiles superior, as he eyes 
The splendour of the great ; 

And his undazzled gaze is proof 

Against the glittering hall and gilded roof. 

He heeds not, though the trump of fame 
Pour forth the loudest of its strains, 

To spread the glory of his name ; 
And his high soul disdains 

That flattery's voice should varnish o'er 

The deed that truth or virtue would abhor. 



198 SOJ^^aS OF THE SOUL; 

Such lot be mine : what boots to me 
The cumbrous pageantry of power : 

To court the gaze of crowds, and be 
The idol of the hour ; 

To chase an empty shape of air, 

That leaves me weak with toil and worn with care ? 

O streams, and shades, and hills on high, 

Unto the stillness of your breast 
My wounded spirit longs to fly, — 

To fly, and be at rest ! 
Thus from the world's tempestuous sea, 
gentle Nature, do I turn to thee ! 

Be mine the holy calm of night, 
Soft sleep and dreams serenely gay, 

The freshness of the morning light, 
The fubiess of the day ; 

Far from the sternly froT^-ning eye 

That pride and riches turn on poverty. 

The warbling birds shall bid me wake 

AVith their untutored melodies ; 
No fearful dream my sleep shall break. 

No wakeful cares arise, 
Like the sad shapes that hover still 
Eound him that hangs upon another's will. 

Be mine my hopes to Heaven to give. 
To taste the bliss that Heaven bestows, 

Alone and for myself to live. 
And 'scape the many woes 

That human hearts are doomed to bear, — 

The pangs of love, and hate, and hope, and fear. 



FROM MINES OF TROVGHT. 199 



A garden by the mountain- side 
Is mine, whose flowery blossoming 

Shows, even in spring's luxuriant pride, 
"What autumn's suns shall bring : 

And from the mountain's lofty crown 

A clear and sparkling rill comes trembling down ; 

Then pausing in its downward force 

The venerable trees among, 
It gurgles on its winding course ; 

And, as it gHdes along, 
Grives freshness to the day, and pranks 
With ever changing flowers its mossy banks. 

The whisper of the balmy breeze 
Scatters a thousand sweets around, 

And sweeps in music through the trees, 
With an enchanting sound. 

That laps the soul in calm delight. 

Where crowns and kingdoms are forgotten quite. 

Theirs let the dear-bought treasure be. 
Who in a treacherous bark confide ; 

I stand aloof, and changeless see 
The changes of the tide, 

Nor fear the wail of those that weep. 

When angry winds are warring with the deep : 

Day turns to night ; the timbers rend ; 
- More fierce the ruthless tempest blows ; 
Confused the varying cries ascend, 

As the sad merchant throws 
His hoards, to join the stores that lie 
In the deep sea's uncounted treasury. 



200 SOJS^GS OF THE SOUL; 

Mine be tlie peaceful board of old, 
From want as from profusion free : 

His let the massy cup of gold, 
And glittering baubles be, 

AVbo builds bis baseless hope of gain 

Upon a brittle bark and stormy main. 

AVbile others, thoughtless of the pain 
Of hope delayed and long suspense, 

Still struggle on to guard or gain 
A sad preeminence, 

May I, in woody covert laid. 

Be gayly chanting in the secret shade, — 

At ease within the shade reclined, 
With laurel and with iw crooned, 

And my attentive ear inclined 
To catch the heavenly sound 

Of harp or lyre, when o'er the strings 

Some master-hand its practised finger flings. 
Luis Poxce de Leok, Trans. Anon. 



r\ THOU great Power ! in whom I move, 

For whom I live, to whom I die, 
Behold me through thy beams of love, 
Whilst on this couch of tears I lie ; 
And cleanse my sordid soul within 
By thy Christ's blood, the bath for sin. 



FBOM MINES OF THOTIGHT. 201 

1^0 hallowed oils, no gums I need, 
No rags of saints, no purging fire ; 

One rosy drop from David's seed, 

Was worlds of seas to quench thine ire ; 

Oh precious ransom ! which once paid. 

That '' consu7nmatum est'''' was said; — • 

And said by Him, that said no more. 
But sealed it with His sacred breath : 

Thou then, that has dispunged my score, 
And, dying, wert the death of death, 

Be to me now, on Thee I call, 

My life, my strength, my joy, my all ! 

Sm Henet Wottok". 



IE2 ILife's a preparation liut to ILea&e 

T^HUS I, the object of the world's disdain. 

With pilgrim face siu'round the weary earth ; 

I only relish what the world counts vain ; 

Her mirth's my grief, her sullen grief my 

mirth ; 

Her light my darkness, and her truth my error ; 

Her jfreedom is my gaol, and her delight my terror. 

Fond earth ! proportion not my seeming love 
To my long stay ; let not thy thoughts de- 
ceive thee ; 

Thou art my prison, and my home's above ; 
My life's a preparation but to leave thee. 



202 SONGS OF TSU SOUL ; 

Like one that seeks a door, I walk about thee : 
With thee I cannot live ; I cannot live without 
thee. 

The world's a lahyrinth, whose anfractuous 
ways 
Are all composed of rubs and crooked 
meanders ; 
'No resting here ; he's hurried back, that stays 
Athought ; and he that goes unguided, 
wanders : 
Her way is dark, her path untrod, uneven. 
So hard's the way from earth, so hard's the way 
to heaven. 

This gyring labyrinth is betrenched about 
On either hand, with streams of sulphurous 
fire. 
Streams closely sliding, erring in and out. 
But seeming pleasant to the fond deceiver ; 
Where, if his footsteps trust their own invention. 
He falls without redress, and sinks without 
dimension. 

Where shall I seek a guide ? where shall I meet 
vSome lucky hand to lead my trembling paces; 
What trusty lantern will direct my feet 

To 'scape the danger of these dangerous 
places ? 
"Wliat hopes have I to pass without a guide ? 
Where one gets safely through, a thousand fall 
beside. 



FROM MINES OF TROTTGIIT. 203 

An unrequested star did gently slide 

Before the wise men to a greater light ; 
Backsliding Israel found a double guide, 
A pillar and a cloud — by day, by night ; 
Yet in my desperate dangers, which be far 
More great than theirs, I have no pillar, clou.d, 
nor star. 

Oh ! that the pinions of a clipping dove 

Would cut my passage through the empty air ; 
Mine eyes being sealed, how would I mount 
above 
The reach of danger and forgotten care ; 
My backward eyes should ne'er commit that fault. 
Whose lasting guilt should build a monument of 
salt. 

G-reat Grod! Thou art the flowing spring of 
light; ^ 
Enrich mine eyes with thy refulgent ray : 
Thou art my path ; direct my steps aright, 
I have no other light, no other way : 
I'll trust my Grod, and Him alone pursue ; 
His law shall be my path, his heavenly light my 
clue. rEA:NCis Quarles. 



JEatx, t|jou sijalt ne&er ©ie I 

TS this thy prison-house, thy grave, then, love ? 
And doth death cancel the great bond that 
holds 
Commingling spirits ? Are thoughts that know 
no bounds, 



204 SOXGS OF THE SOUL; 

But self-inspired rise upward, searching out 
The Eternal Mind— the Father of all thought- 
Are they become mere tenants of a tomb ? 
Dwellers in darkness, who the illuminate reabns 
Of nncreate life have visited, and lived ? 
Lived in the dreadful splendour of that throne. 
Which One, with gentle hand the veil of flesh 
Lifting, that hung 'twixt man and it, revealed 
In glory ? — throne, before which, even now. 
Our souls, moved by prophetic power, bow down 
Eejoicing, yet at their own natui-es awed ? 
Souls that Thee know by a mysterious sense. 
Thou awful, unseen Presence — are they quenched, 
Or burn they on, hid from our mortal eyes 
By that bright day which ends not ; as the sun 
His robe of light flings round the glittering stars ? 
And T\dth our frames do perish all our loves ? 
Do those that take their root, and put forth buds, 
And their soft leaves, unfolded in the warmth 
Of mutual hearts, grow up and live in beauty. 
Then fade and fall, like fair unconscious flowers ? 
Are thoughts and passions that to the tongue 

give speech, 
And make it send forth living harmonies, — 
That to the cheek do give its living glow, 
And vision in the eye the soul intense 
With that for which there is no utterance — 
Are these the body's accidents ? — no more 
To live in it, and when that dies, go out 
Like the burnt taper's flame ? 

Oh ! listen, man ! 
A voice within us speaks that startling word, 



FEOM MUS-ES OF THOUGHT. 205 

" Man, thou shalt never die 1" Celestial voices 
Hymn it unto our souls : according harps 
By angel fingers touched, when the mild stars 
Of morning sang together, sound forth still 
The song of our great immortality ; 
Thick- clustering orbs, and this our fair domain. 
The tall dark mountains, and the deep-toned seas, 
Join in this solenni universal song. 
Oh ! listen ye our spirits ! drink it in 
Prom all the air ! 'Tis in the gentle moonlight : 
'Tis floating 'midst day's setting glories ; Xight 
Wrapped in her sable robe, with silent step 
Comes to our bed, and breathes it in our ears : 
Night and the dawn, bright day and thoiightful 

eve. 
All time, all bounds, the limitless expanse. 
As one vast mystic instrument are touched. 
By an unseen living Hand, and conscious chords 
Quiver with joy in this great jubilee. 
The dying hear it ; »and as sounds of earth 
G-row dull and distant, wake their passing souls 
To mingle in this heavenly harmony. 

EiCHAEn H. Da^s^a. 



T^HESE are Thy glorious works, Parent of good, 

Almighty, thine this luiiversal frame, 
Thus wondrous fair ; thyself how wondrous then ! 
Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these Heavens 



206 SO was OF THE SOUL: 

To us invisible, or dimly seen 

In these tliy lowest works ; yet these declare 

Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r divine. 

Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, 

Angels ; for ye behold him, and Avith songs 

And choral symphonies, day without night, 

Circle his throne rejoicing ; ye in Heaven, 

On Earth, join all ye creatures to extol 

Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. 

Eairest of stars, last in the train of night, 

If better thou belong not to the dawn. 

Sure pledge of day, that crown' st the smiling morn 

With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, 

"While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. 

Thou, Sun, of this great world both eye and soul. 

Acknowledge him thy greater, sound his praise 

In thy eternal course, both when thou climb 'st. 

And when high noon hast gain'd, and when thou 

faU'st. 
Moon that now meet'st the orient sun, now fly'st 
AYith the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies, 
And ye five other wand' ring Fires that move 
In mystic dance, not without song, resound 
His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light. 
Air, and ye Elements, the eldest birth 
Of nature's womb, that in quaternion run 
Perpetual circle, multiform ; and mix 
And nourish all things ; let your ceaseless change 
Vary to our great Maker still new praise. 
Ye Mists and Exhalations that now rise 
Prom hill or streaming lake, dusky or grey, 
Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold, 



FROM MINES OF TROTTGHT, 207 

In honor to the world's great Author rise, 
Whether to deck with clouds th' uncolor'd skj, 
Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers, 
Eising or falling still advance his praise. 
His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow, 
Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye Pines, 
With every plant in sign of worship wave. 
Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow. 
Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise. 
Join voices, all ye living Souls ; ye Birds, 
That singing up to Heaven's gate ascend. 
Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise. 
Te that in waters glide, and ye that walk 
The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep ; 
Witness if I be silent, morn or even. 
To hill or valley, fountain, or fresh shade 
Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise. 
Hail, universal Lord ! be bounteous still 
To give us only good ; and if the night 
Have gather' d aught of evil, or conceal' d, 
Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark. 

Johns' Miltois-. 



IHg Hortr ijat!) Neetr of tfjese Jloiw'uts 



'T'HEEE is a Eeaper, whose name is Death, 

And, with his sickle keen, 
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath. 
And the flowers that grow between. 



208 sojsras of tsu soul; 

" Shall I have nought that is fair ?" saith he : 
'' Have nought but the bearded grain ? 

Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, 
I Avill give them all back again." 

He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, 

He kissed their drooping leaves : 
It was for the Lord of Paradise 

He bound them in his sheaves. 

" My Lord has need of these flowerets gay," 

The Eeaper said, and smiled ; 
" Dear tokens of the earth are they, 

Where He was once a child. 

" They shall all bloom in fields of light, 

Transplanted by my care. 
And saints, upon their garments white. 

These sacred blossoms wear." 

And the mother gave, in tears and pain. 

The flowers she most did love ; 
She knew she should find them all again 

In the fields of light above. 

Oh, not in cruelty, not in wrath, 

The Reaper came that day ; 
'Twas an angel visited the green earth, 

And took the flowers away. 

HeNET W. Loi^aFELLOW. 



FBOM MINES OF TROTIGHT. 209 

IHan's breat!)ins lEtntature. 

A H ! cease thy tears and sobs my little Life ! 
"^ I did but snatch, away the unclasp' d knife : 
Some safer toy will soon arrest thine eye, 
And to quick laughter change this peevish cry ! 
Poor stumbler on the rocky coast of woe, 
Tutor' d by pain each source of pain to know ! 
Alike the foodful fruit and scorching fire 
Awake thy eager grasp and young desire ; 
Alike the good, the ill, offend thy sight. 
And rouse the stormy sense of shrill affright ! 
Untaught, yet wise ! 'mid all thy brief alarms 
Thou closely clingest to thy Mother's arms, 
Nestling thy little face in that fond breast 
Whose anxious heavings lull thee to thy rest ! 
Man's breathing Miniature! thou mak'st me 

sigh — 
A Babe art thou — and such a thing am I ! 
To anger rapid, and as soon appeas'd, 
For trifles mourning, and by trifles pleas' d, 
Break friendship's mirror with a tetchy blow, 
Yet snatch what coals of fire on Pleasure's altar 

glow ! 

O thou that rearest with celestial aim 
The future Seraph in my mortal frame. 
Thrice holy Paith ! whatever thorns I meet 
As on I totter vdth unpractis'd feet. 
Still let me stretch my arms and cling to thee. 
Meek nurse of souls through their long infancy ! 
S. T. CoLEKinaE. 



210 SOJS^GS OF THE SOUL; 



fHen call it ©eati^ ixiljm JEortals Soar. 

T OYE now is found ; — for from the lips of all 
He murmurs forth in tones most wonderful ; 
Is manifest alike in hues and sounds, 
And beautiful alike in every tongue. 
AVithin the verdant sanctuary of groves 
The zephyr steals along to kiss the earth, 
And by his kiss gives life to fragrant flowers : 
The children of Platonic love are they. 
So, too, the trees Avith green and various tongues 
In gentle whisperings own, at eventide, 
Their mutual and mysterious love ; as low 
They downward bend their heads embracingly 
In twilight, when no watchful eyes are on them. 
The flowerets also love ; and though no tongue 
Have they, to tell their tenderness, they gaze 
"With streaming looks into each others' eyes, 
And understand each other, although dumb : 
Earth never hears a sweeter language spoken 
Than that invented by these fond ones, who 
With fervent glance fulfil the want of tongues. 
The streamlet, too, clasping, Avith constant arms. 
And folding to its breast the green Lemoniade, 
Arrayed in liA-ing rubies and in gold. 
Sighs forth its tender love in broken tones. 
Xature ! I know thy heart's deep meaning well, 
Thy flowery writings and discourse of birds, 
AVhereof the fair interpreting by thee 
"Was written on my heart's pure page with fire. 
A word it was of holy flame, long stifled. 



FROM MIJS'ES OF THOUGHT. 211 

But noAT set free ; like to the enfranchised bird, 
AYhich liigh upsoars and fills the air with songs, 
Forgetting how of late the prison pressed 
That love of song within his heart to pain, 
While with a Yoiceful flight he mounts to heaven, 
His home. Though o'er the wide earth none 

these sounds 
May understand, they still are known to Grod. 
Te flowerets ! I will gently dream among ye ; 
And I will give to ye a human heart. 
And thus empower ye to return my love. 
Sweet, even as childhood's sinless beauty, shines 
The glance that greets me through yoiu' trembling 

tears. 
Fair ano-els ! bloomino; in eternal youth, 
Te ne'er survive your early loveliness, 
But even in death itself are beautiful. 
And yet ye do not die, — ^but smk to rest, 
When ruthless northern tempests raging come. 
Te will not look on life when stormful ; ne'er 
Save when, in child-like sweetness, it disports 
With Xature in the western breeze. But when 
Destruction, striding o'er the fresh green fields, 
Goes forth to battle with this blissful life. 
Then ye close down yoin? lovely lids in slumber. 
And on your mother's beauteous breast repose, 
Until, the contest done, victorious life 
In light and song reveals itself once more. 
Then Grod arouses ye again from sleep, 
Sending sweet May to whisper in yoiu? ears 
That spring is blooming in the vaulted heaven. 
And that 't is time for you yourselves to bloom. 



212 SO]}^GS OF TRF SOUL ; 

Ye tlien put off your verdant veil, — and feel 
The spring-breeze spreading life upon your cheeks, 
Which vie with roses planted by the Morn 
Along the Grarden of the East. And when 
The sun shall come, your forms so bright and fair, 
AVill shine forth more magnificently still. 
Thus I, too, shall not die ; — men call it death, 
"When mortals soar unto the eternal Eather, 
Who yonder dwells upon the horizon's verge, 
"Where earth and heaven mingle in harmony and 



joy^ 



Eric SjOEaEis-, Trans. Anon. 




mistering cSpirits. 

'are winging, they are winging. 
Through the thin blue air their way ; 
Unseen harps are softly ringing 

Round about us, night and day. 
Could we pierce the shadows o'er us, 

And behold that seraph band, 
Long-lost friends would bright before us 
In angelic beauty stand. 

Lo ! the dim blue mist is sweeping 
Slowly from my longing eyes, 

And my heart is upward leaping 
AVith a deep and glad surprise. 

I behold them — close beside me, 
Dwellers of the spirit-land ; 



FR03I MINES OF THOTTGHT. 213 

Mists and shades alone divide me 
From that glorious seraph band. 

Though life never can restore me 

My sad bosom's nestling dove, 
Yet my blue-eyed babe bends o'er me 

AVith her OAvn sweet smile of love ; 
And the brother, long departed, 

Who in being's summer died — 
Warm, and true, and gentle-hearted — 

Eolds his pinions by my side. 

Last called from us, loved and dearest—^ 

Thou the faultless, tried, and true, 
Of all earthly friends sincerest. 

Mother — I behold thee too ! 
Lo ! celestial light is gleaming 

Bound thy forehead pure and mild. 
And thine eyes with love are beaming 

On thy sad, heart-broken child ! 

Gentle sisters there are bending, 

Blossoms culled from life's parterre ; 
And my father's voice ascending, 

Bloats along the charmed air. 
Hark ! those thrilling tones Elysian 

Baint and fainter die away, 
And the bright seraphic vision 

Bades upon my sight for aye. 

But I know they hover round me 

In the morning's rosy light. 
And their unseen forms surround me 

All the deep and solemn night. 



214 SOJ^GS OF THJE SOUL; 

Yes, they're winging — yes, they're winging 
Through the thin blue air their way : 

Spirit-harps are softly ringing 
Eound about us night and day. 

Sophia IIele:n" Oliyee. 



lEintstmns Angels. 

ll/rOTHEE, has the dove that nestled 

Lovingly upon thy breast, 
Polded up his little pinion, 

And in darkness gone to rest ? 
Nay, the grave is dark and dreary, 

But the lost one is not there ; 
Hear'st thou not its gentle whisper, 

Moating on the ambient air ? 
It is near thee, gentle mother, 

Near thee at the evening hour ; 
Its soft kiss is in the zephyr. 

It looks up from every floAver. 
And when, Night's dark shadows fleeing. 

Low thou bendest thee in prayer, 
And thy heart feels nearest heaven, 

Then thy angel babe is there ! 

Maiden, has thy noble brother, 

On whose manly form thine eye 
Loved full oft in pride to linger. 

On whose heart thou couldst rely, 
Though all other hearts deceived thee, 

All proved hollow, earth grew drear, 
AYhose protection, ever o'er thee. 

Hid thee from the cold world's sneer — 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 215 

Has he left thee here to struggle, 

All unaided on thy way ? 
Nay ; he still can guide and guard thee, 

Still thy faltering steps can stay : 
Still, when danger hovers o'er thee, 

He than danger is more near ; 
"When in grief thou' st none to pity, 

He, the sainted, marks each tear. 

Lover, is the light extinguished 

Of the gem that, in thy heart 
Hidden deeply, to thy being 

All its sunshine could impart ? 
Look above ! 'tis burning brighter 

Than the very stars in heaven ! 
And to light thy dangerous pathway, 

All its new-found glory's given, 
"With the sons of earth commingling. 

Thou the loved one mayst forget ; 
Bright eyes flashing, tresses waving. 

May have power to win thee yet ; 
But e'en then that guardian spirit 

Oft will whisper in thine ear, 
And in silence, and at midnight, 

Thou wilt know she hovers near. 

Orphan, thou most sorely stricken 
Of the mourners thronging earth, 

Clouds half veil thy brightest sunshine, 
Sadness mingles with thy mirth. 

Yet, although that gentle bosom, 
WTiich has pillowed oft thy head, 



216 SOJSTGS OF TRE SOUL; 

jSTow is cold, thy mother's spirit 

Can not rest among the dead- 
Still her watchful eye is o'er thee 

Through the day, and still at night 
Hers the eye that guards thy slumber. 

Making thy young dreams so bright. 
Oh ! the friends, the friends we've cherished, 

How we weep to see them die ! 
All unthinking they're the angels 

That will guide us to the sky ! 

Emily JrDSOisr. 



IHotijer! oij, inijere is tfjat EaUiant 

^^ T HEAE thee speak of the better land ; 

Thou callest its children a happy band : 
Mother ! oh, where is that radiant shore ? — 
Shall we not seek it, and weep no more ? — 
Is it where the flower of the orange blows, 
And the fire-flies dance through the myrtle 
boughs ? " 

— "JNTot there— not there, my child!" 

*' Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise, 
And the date grows ripe under sunny skies ? — 
Or midst the green islands of glittering seas, 
AVTiere fragrant forests perfume the breeze ; 
And strange bright birds, on their starry wings, 
Bear the rich hues of aU glorious things ?" 

— " Not there — not there, my child !" 



FBOM MINES OF THOUGHT. 217 

" Is it far away, in some region old, 
"Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold ? — 
"Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, 
And the diamond lights up the secret mine, 
And the pearl gleams forth from the coral 

strand — 
Is it there, sweet mother, — that better land ?" 
— " Not there — not there, my child !" 

" Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy ! 
Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy ; 
Dreams cannot picture a world so fair — 
Sorrow and death may not enter there ; 
Time does not breathe on its fadeless bloom, 
Eor beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb. 

It is there — it is there, my child !" 
Eelicia Hemais^s. 



TTUES of the rich imfolding morn, 

That, ere the glorious sun be born, 
By some soft touch invisible 
Around his path are taught to swell ; — 

Thou rustling breeze so fresh and gay, 
That dancest forth at opening day. 
And brushing by with joyous wing, 
Wakenest each little leaf to sing ; — 



218 SO^''GS OF THU SOUL; 

Ye fragrant clouds of dewj steam, 
By Avliieh deep grove and tangled stream 
Pay, for soft rains in season given, 
Their tribute to the genial heaven ; — 

Why waste your treasures of delight 
Upon our thankless, joyless sight ; 
"Who day by day to sin awake, 
Seldom of Heaven and you partake ? 

Oh ! timely happy, timely wise, 
Hearts that ^vith rising morn arise ! 
Eyes that the beam celestial view, 
AVhich evermore makes all things new ! 

]S'ew every morning is the love 
Oiu" wakening and uprising prove ; 
Through sleep and darkness safely brought, 
Restored to life, and power, and thought. 

jS'ew mercies, each returning day, 

Hover around us while we pray ; 

New perils past, new sins forgiven, 

JSTew thoughts of Grod, new hopes of Heaven. 

If on our daily course our mind 
Be set to hallow all we find. 
New treasures still, of countless price, 
God will provide for sacrifice. 

Old friends, old scenes, will lovelier be. 
As more of Heaven in each we see : 
Some softening gleam of love and prayer 
Shall da\N'n on every cross and care. 



FEOM MINES OF THOTTGHT. 219 

As for some dear familiar strain 
Untir'd we ask, and ask again, 
Ever, in its melodious store, 
rinding a spell unheard before ; 

Such is the bliss of souls serene, 

"When thej have sworn, and stedfast mean, 

Counting the cost, in all to espj 

Their God, in all themselves deny. 

could we learn that sacrifice, 
What lights would all around us rise ! 
HoAV would our hearts with wisdom talk 
Along Life's dullest dreariest walk! 

We need not bid, for cloister' d cell. 
Our neighbour and our Avork farewell, 
Nor strive to wind ourselves too high 
Tor sinful man beneath the sky : 

The trivial round, the common task, 
Would furnish all we ought to ask ; 
E/Oom to deny ourselves ; a road 
To bring us, daily, nearer Grod. 

Seek we no more ; content vrith these, 
Let present Eapture, Comfort, Ease, 
As Heaven shall bid them, come and go : — 
The secret this of Rest below. 

Only, Lord, in Thy dear loA^e 
Eit us for perfect Eest above ; 
And help us, this and every day. 
To live more nearly as we pray. 

Joh:n' Keble. 



220 SOJS^aS OF THU SOUL; 



^tbtx Step tije &un tip. 

TTTHEx^ first thy eyes unyeil, give thy soul 

leave 
To do the like ; our bodies but forerun 
The spirit's duty; true hearts spread and heave 
Unto their Grod as flowers do to the sun ; 
Grive Him thy first thoughts then, so shalt thou 

keep 
Him company all day, and in Him sleep. 

Yet never sleep the sun up ; prayer should 
Da^vn Avith the day ; there are set, av^'ful hours 
'Twixt heaven and us ; the manna was not good 
After sun-rising ; far day sullies flowers : 
Rise to prevent the sun ; sleep doth sins glut, 
And heaven's gate opens when the world's is shut. 

AValk A\4th thy fellow-creatures : note the hush 
And whisperings amongst them. JN^ot a spring 
Or leaf but hath his morning hymn ; each bush 
And oak doth know I AM. — Canst thou not sing? 
Above thy cares and follies ! go this way, 
And thou art sure to prosper all the day. 

Serve Grod before the world : let Him not go 
Until thou hast a blessing ; then resign 
Tlie whole unto Him, and remember who 
Prevail' d by Avrestling ere the sun did shine : 
Pour oil upon the stones, weep for thy sin, 
Then journey on, and have an eye to heaven. 



FROM MIJSfJES OF THOUGHT. 221 

Mornings are mysteries: tlie first, World's youtli, 
Man's resurrection, and the future's bud. 
Shroud in their births ; the crown of life, light, 

truth. 
Is styled their star ; the stone and hidden food : 
Three blessings wait upon them, one of which 
Should move — they make us holy, happy, rich. 

"When the world's up, and every swarm abroad. 
Keep well thy temper, mix not with each day : 
Despatch necessities ; life hath a load 
Which must be carried on, and safely may : 
Yet keep these cares without thee ! let the heart 
Be Grod's alone, and choose the better part. 
Henry VAuaHAis^. 



Not one ^rager is Breatfjetr in Fain. 

IV/TY Gron, I thank thee ! may no thought 

E'er deem thy chastisements severe ; 
But may this heart, by sorrow taught, 
Calm each A\dld wish, each idle fear. 

Thy mercy bids all nature bloom ; 

The sun shines bright, and man is gay ; 
Thine equal mercy spreads the gloom 

That darkens o'er his little day. 

Pull many a throb of grief and pain 
Thy frail and erring child must know ; 

But not one prayer is breathed in vain, 
jN'or does one tear unheeded flow. 



222 SO was OF TSU SOUL; 

Thy various messengers employ ; 

Thy purposes of love fulfil ; 
And, mid the wreck of human joy, 

May kneeling faith adore thy will ! 

AlS^DEEWS NOETOK. 



©, let us M^t on bjijat is Stable. 

T TOLD thee, soul, that joy and woe 

"Were hut a gust, a passing dew : 
I told thee so, — I told thee so, — 
And, my soul, the tale was true ! 

This mortal life, — a fleetiug thing, — 

When most we love it, swiftest flies ; 

It passes like a shade and dies : 
And while it flaps its busy wing. 

It scatters every mist that lies 
E/Ound human hopes, — all air and dew. 

I told thee so, — I told thee so, — 
And, my soul, the tale Avas true ! 

Like the dry leaf that autumn's breath 

Sweeps from the tree, the mourning tree, 

So swiftly and so certainly 
Our days are blo^vn about by death : 

Por life is built on vanity ; 
Henewing days but death renew. 

I told thee so, — I told thee so, — 
And, O my soul, the tale was true 1 



FEOM MINES OF THOUGHT. 223 

0, let us seize on wliat is stable, 

And not on what is shifting ! All 

Kushes down life's vast waterfall, 
On to that sea interminable 

Which has no shore. Earth's pleasures pall. 
But heaven is safe, and sacred too. 

I told thee so, — I told thee so, — 
And, my soul, the tale was true ! 

Feancisco di Yelasco, Trans, hy JBowrixg. 



A T morning I stood on the mountain's brow, 
'^ In its May- wreath crowned, and there 
Saw day-rise in gold and in purple glow. 
And I cried, — " Life, how fair !" 

As the birds in the bowers their lay began, 
When the dawning time was nigh, 

So wakened for song in the breast of man 
A passion heroic and high. 

•My spirit then felt the longing to soar 

Erom home afar in its ilight. 
To roam, like the sun, still from shore to shore, 

A creator of flowers and light. 

At even I stood on the mountain's brow. 
And, rapt in devotion and prayer. 

Saw night-rise in silver and purple glow. 
And I cried, — " O death, how fair !" 



224 SOJ^^aS OF TSJE SOUL; 

And when that the soft evening wind, so meek, 

"With its balmy breathing came, 
It seemed as though Nature then kissed my cheek 

And tenderly sighed my name ! 

I saw the vast Heaven encompassing all, 
Like children the stars to her came ; 

The exploits of man then seemed to me small, — 
Nought great save the Infinite's name. 

Ah ! how unheeded all charms which invest 
The joys and the hopes that men prize, 

"While the eternal thoughts in the poet's breast. 
Like stars in the heavens, arise 1 

E:ric SjOEaEN, Trans. Anon. 



©n t|)e ©eatfj of ijer Brottjer, jFrancts 

>^ IS done ! a father, mother, gone, 

A sister, brother, torn away, 
My hope is now in Grod alone. 

Whom heaven and earth alike obey. 
Above, beneath, to him is known, — 
The world's wide compass is his own. 

I love, — but in the world no more. 
Nor in gay hall, or festal bower ; 

Not the fair forms I prized before, — 
But Him, all beauty, wisdom, power. 

My Saviour, who has cast a chain 

On sin and iU, and woe and pain ! 



FROM MlJSrUS OF THOUGHT, 225 

I from my memory have effaced 

All former joys, all kindred, friends ; 

All honors that my station graced 
I hold but snares that fortune sends : 

Hence ! joys by Christ at distance cast, 

That we may be his own at last ! 

Maegueeite de Yalois, Trans, hy Costello, 



©, ijoSw Blest wet ge ixifjose SToils are 
lEnielr I 

r\ HOW blest are ye whose toils are ended ! 
^ Who, through death, have unto Grod 
ascended ! 
Te have arisen 
From the cares which keep us still in prison. 

We are still as in a dungeon living, 

Still oppressed with sorrow and misgiving ; 

Our undertakings 

Are but toils, and troubles, and heart-breakings. 

Te, meanwhile, are in your chambers sleeping. 
Quiet, and set free from all our weeping ; 
ISTo cross nor trial 
Hinders your enjoyments with denial. 

Christ has wiped away your tears for ever ; 
Ye have that for which we still endeavour. 
To you are chanted 

Songs which yet no mortal ear have haunted. 
Q 



226 SO^^GS OF THE SOUL; 

All ! who would not, then, depart ^yith gladness, 

To inherit heaven for earthly sadness ? 

"Wlio here would languish 

Longer in bewailing and in anguish ? 

Come, Christ, and loose the chains that hind us ! 
Lead us forth, and east this world behind us ! 
"With thee, the Anointed, 
Finds the soul its joy and rest appointed. 
SiMox Dach, Trans, hy Senry W. Longfellow. 



T>OEX unto God in Christ— in Christ, my all! 
What that earth boasts were not lost cheaply, 
rather 
Than forfeit that blest name, by which we call 

The Holy One, the Almighty Grod, our Eather ! 
The heir of heaven, henceforth I dread not death : 
In Christ I live, in Christ I draw the breath 
Of the true life. Let sea, and earth, and sky, 
Wage war against me ; on my front I shew 
Their mighty Maker's seal ! In vain they try 

To end my life, who can but end its woe. 
Is tliat a death-bed where the Christian lies ? 
Yes ! but not his : 'tis death itself that dies ! 
S. T. CoLEKinaE. 



FROM MINES OF THOTTGHT. 227 

© ^i)ou, to!)0 art i\\z Source antr 
Sprtns. 

^^ love, where love is shewn to me, 

A¥ith smile a smile to greet — 
Where tempers, tastes, and thoughcs agree, 
In friendship's bonds to meet — 

To light at others' torch the flame, 

And burn, one common fire — 
To list the chord, and strike the same 

On a responsive wire — 

This were not hard, 'twere but to own 

The force of Nature's might, 
Who ever wakes a kindred tone. 

Where harmonies unite. 

But for the living torch to burn, 

Tho' all around be chill — 
Where kindly acts meet no return. 

To feed love's fervours still — 

To keep the heart in tune, despite 

A war of jarring sounds — 
Still to preserve the affections right. 

And love, where hate abounds — 

This, this is hard, for nature spurns 

To render good for ill, 
And hot the angry spirit burns. 

Harsh rules the uno^overned will. 



228 SOJVGS OF THE SOUL; 

'Tis grace alone can mould the heart 

This gentle power to prove — 
'Tis grace alone can grace impart, 

And teach the soul to love, 

O Thou, who art the Source and Spring 

Of our new nature's birth, 
Love brought Thee down, that Thou might' st 
bring 

Love to this wretched earth. 

Light Thou my torch by Thine own flame ; 

So shall it ever glow, 
A light to mark from whence it came, 

Thro' all the fogs below. 

Light Thou my torch, a living sign, 

While thro' this world I rove, 
A child of love, a child of Thine — > 

Por Thou, my God, art Love ! 

Lateoee. 



©ruination l^smn. 

/^ HEIST to the young man said: "Yet one 
thing more ; 

If thou wouldst perfect be. 
Sell all thou hast and give it to the poor, 

And come and follow me !" 

Within this temple Christ again, unseen. 

Those sacred words hath said. 
And his invisible hands to-day have been 

Laid on a young man's head. 



FROM IIINES OF THOTTGHT. 229 

And evermore beside him on his way 

The unseen Christ shall move, 
That he may lean upon his arm and say, 

"Dost thou, dear Lord, approve?" 

Beside him at the marriage-feast shall be. 

To make the scene more fair ; 
Beside him in the dark Grethsemane 

Of pain and midnight prayer. 

holy trust ! O endless sense of rest ! 

Like the beloved John 
To lay his head upon the Saviour's breast. 

And thus to journey on ! 



©nl2 to lEan Efjou ijast maUe l^noton 

r\ SACRED Providence, who from end to end, 

^^ Strongly and SAveetly movest ! shall I ^T?ite, 

And not of Thee, through whom my fingers bend 

To hold my quill ? shall they not do Thee 

right ? 

Of all the creatures both in sea and land. 

Only to man Thou hast made known thy ways, 

And put the pen alone into his hand, 
And made him secretary of thy praise. 



230 SOJVGS OF THE SOUL; 

Beasts fain would sing; birds ditty to their 
notes ; 
Trees would be tuning of tlieii* native lute 
To thj renown ; but all tbeir bands and throats 
Are brought to man, while they are lame and 
mute. 

Man is the world's high-priest ; he doth present 
The sacrifice for all ; while they below 

Unto the service mutter an assent, 

Such as springs use that fall, and winds that 
blow. 

He that to praise and laud Thee doth refrain, 
Dotli not refrain unto himself alone, 

But robs a thousand who would praise Thee fain ; 
And doth commit a world of sin in one. 

AVherefore, most sacred Spirit, I here present, 
Eor me and all my fellows, praise to Thee ; 

And just it is that I should pay the rent. 
Because the benefit accrues to me. 

We all acknowledge both thy power and love 
To be exact, transcendant, and divine. 

Who dost so strongly and sweetly move, 

AVhile all things have their will, yet none but 
thine : 

For either thy command, or thy permission. 
Lay hands on all ; they are thy right and left ; 

The first puts on with speed and expedition. 
The other curbs sin's stealing pace and theft ; 



FROM MINES OF THOVGHT, 281 

JSTotliiiig escapes them botli ; all must appear, 
And be disposed, and dressed and tuned by 
Thee, 

Wlio sweetly temperest all ; if we could hear 
Thy skill and art, what music would it be ! 

Thou art in small things great, not small in any ; 

Thy even praise can neither rise nor fall ; 
Thou art in all things one, in each thing many : 

Eor Thou art infinite in one, and all. 

Tempests are calm to Thee, they know thy hand. 

And hold it fast, as children do their father's, 

Which cry and follow. Thou hast made poor 

sand 

Check the proud sea, even when it swells and 

gathers. 

Thy cupboard serves the world : the meat is set 
AYhere all may reach ; no beast but knows his 
food; 

Birds teach us hawking ; fishes have their net : 
The great prey on the less, they on some weed. 

Nothing engendered doth prevent his meat, 
Elies have their table spread, ere they appear ; 

Some creatures have in winter what to eat, 
Others do sleep, and envy not their cheer. 

How finely dost thou times and seasons spin, 
And make a twist checkered with night and day, 

Which, as it lengthens, winds and winds us in. 
As bowls go on, but turning all the way. 



232 SOWGS OF TRIE SOUL; 

Each creature liath a wisdom for his good, 
The pigeons feed their tender offspring crying, 

"When they are callow ; but withdraw their food 
AVhen they are fledged, that need may teach 
'em flying. 

Bees work for man, and yet they never bruise 
Their master's flower, but leave it, having done, 

As fair as ever, and as fit to use : 

So both the flower do stay and honey run. 

Sheep eat the grass, and dung the groimd for 

more : 

Trees, after bearing, drop their leaves for soil ; 

Springs vent their streams, and by expanse get 

store ; 

Clouds cool by heat, and baths by cooling boil. 

Who hath the virtue to express the rare 

And curious virtues both of herbs and stones ? 

Is there an herb for that ? O that thy care 
Would show a root that gives expressions ! 

And if an herb hath power, what have the stars ? 

A rose, besides his beauty, is a cure ; 
Doubtless our plagues and plenty, peace and wars, 

Are there much surer than our art is sure. 

Thou hast hid metals, man may take them thence, 
But at his peril ; when he digs the place. 

He makes a grave, as if the thing had sense. 
And threatened man that he should fill the 
space. 



FROM MINES OF TROUGRT, 233 

E'en poisons praise tliee : should a thing be lost ? 
Should creatures want, for want of heed, their 
due? 
Since where are poisons, antidotes are most, 
The help stands close, and keeps the fear in 
view. 

The sea, which seems to stop the traveller. 
Is by a ship the speedier passage made ; 

The winds, who think they rule the mariner, 
Are ruled by him, and taught to serve his trade. 

And as thy house is full, so I adore 

Thy curious art in marshalling thy goods ; 

Thy hills with health abound, thy vales with store ; 
The south with marble, north with fur and 
woods. 

Hard things are glorious ; easy things, good, 
cheap ; 

The common all men have ; that which is rare. 
Men therefore seek to have and care to keep : 

The healthy frosts with summer fruits compare. 

Light without wind, is glass ; warm mthout 
weight. 

Is wool and furs ; cool without coldness, shade ; 
Speed without pains, a horse ; tall T\ithout weight, 

A servile hawk ; low without loss, a spade. 

All countries have enough to serve their need ; 

If they seek fine things, thou dost make them 
run 
Tor their offence ; and then dost turn their speed, 

To be commerce and trade, from sun to sun. 



234 SOJVGS OF TIIU SOUL; 

Nothing wears clothes but man ; nothing doth 
need 

But he to wear them. Nothing useth fire, 
But man alone, to show his heavenly breed : 

And only he hath fuel in desne. 

"WTien the earth was dry, Thoumadest a sea of wet ; 
AVhen that laj gathered, thou didst broach the 
mountains ; 
AVhile yet some places could no moisture get, 
The winds grew gardeners, and the clouds 
good fountains. 

Bain, do not hurt mj flowers, but gently spend 
Tour honey-drops ; press not to smell them 
here ; 

"When they are ripe, their odour will ascend. 
And, at your lodging, with their thanks appear. 

How harsh are thorns to pears ! and yet they make 
A better hedge, and need less reparation ; 

How smooth are silks, compared with a stake, 
Or with a stone ! yet make no good foundation. 

Sometimes thou dost divide thy gifts to man — 
Sometimes unite. The Indian nut alone 

Is clothing, meat and trencher, drink and can. 
Boat, cable, sail, and, need be, all in one. 

Most herbs that grow in brooks are hot and dry ; 

Cold fruit's warm kernels help against the wind : 
The lemon's juice and rind cure mutually ; 

The whey of milk doth loose, the milk doth bind. 



FROM MINES OF TKOJJGIIT. 235 

To show Thou art not bound, as if thy lot 

Were worse than ours, sometimes Thou 
shiftest hands : 
Most things move th' under jaw ; the crocodile 
not; 
Most things sleep lying ; th' elephant leans or 
stands. 

But who hath praise enough ? nay, who hath any ? 

Xone can express thy works but he that knows 
them, 
And none can know thy works, which are so many. 

And so complete, but only he that owns them. 

All things that are, though they have several ways, 
Yet in their being join with one advice 

To honour Thee ; and so I give Thee praise 
In all my other hymns, but in this twice. 

Each thing that is, although in use and name 
It go for one, hath many ways in store 

To honour Thee ; and so each hymn thy fame 
Extolleth many ways ; yet this, one more. 

GrEOEGE HeEEEET. 



© ffioD SEnseen, 6ut not SEnj^noton. 

r^ GrOD unseen, but not unknown, 
Thine eye is ever fixed on me ; 
I dwell beneath thy secret throne, 
Encompassed by thy Deity. 



236 SOXGS OF TSJE SOUL; 

Thi'ongliout this universe of space 

To notliing am I long allied, 
For flight of time, and change of place. 

My strongest, dearest bonds divide. 

Parents I had, but where are they ? 

Friends whom I knew, I know no more, 
Companions once that cheered by way. 

Have di^opt behind or gone before. 

Xow I am one amidst the crowd 
Of life and action hurrying round ; 

Xow left alone — for like a cloud 

They came, they went, and are not found. 

Even from myself sometimes I part, 
Unconscious sleep is nightly death ; 

Yet sui^ely by my bed thou art, 

To prompt my pulse, inspire my breath. 

Of ail that I have done or said 

How little can I now recal ! 
Forgotten things to me are dead ; 

AVith Thee they live, Thou know'st them all. 

Thou hast been with me from tlie womb, 

AVitness to every conflict here ; 
Xor vd\t Thou leave me at the tomb, 

Before thy bar I must appear. 

The moment comes, when strength must fail. 
When health, and hope, and comfort flown, 

I must go down into the vale 

And shade of death, with Thee alone. 



FB03I MINES OF TROTTGRT. 237 

Alone with Tliee ; — in that dread strife 
Uphold me through mine agony, 

And gently be this dying life 
Exchanged for immortality. 

Then, when the unbodied spirit lands 
"Where flesh and blood have never trod, 

And in the nnveiled presence stands 
Of Thee, my Saviour, and my God ; — 

Be mine eternal portion this. 

Since Thou wert always here with me, 
That I may view Thy face in bhss. 

And be for evermore with Thee. 

EOBEET Moi^^TaOMEET. 



©Ijl come it Jtrst, or come it ILast. 

r^H ! come it first, or come it last. 

The shadow o'er my passage cast, 
Grrant it may find me on my guard, 
And at thy will, God, prepared 
To welcome the approaching gloom. 
The deep dark stilhiess of the tomb ! 
'Tis but a transitory night : 
The sun shall rise, and aU be light ! 

Sweet thought, and of sweet solace fuU, 
And apt the swelling grief to luU 
Of those, beside a parting friend 
Constrained in bitterness to bend ; 



238 SOJ^GS OF THE SOUL; 

The form, so clierished once and dear, 
To follow on his funeral bier ; 
And see the grave above it close, 
The last '' long home " of man's repose. 

It has been said, and I believe. 

Though tears of natural sorrow start, 

'Tis mixed with pleasure when we grieve 
Tor those the dearest to the heart, 
From whom long-lived at length we part ; 

As by a Christian's feelings led 

We lay them in their peaceful bed. 

Yet speak I not of those Avho go 
The allotted pilgrimage on earth. 

With earth-born passions grovelling low. 
Enslaved to honour, avarice, mirth, 
Unconscious of a nobler birth : 

But such as tread with loftier scope 

The Christian's path with Christian hope. 

We grieve to think, that they again 

Shall ne'er in this world's pleasure share : 

But sw^eet the thought, that this world's pain 
IN'o more is theirs ; that this world's care 
It is no more their lot to bear. 

And surely in this scene below 

The joy is balanced by the w^oe ! 

We grieve to see the lifeless form, 
The livid cheek, the sunken eye : 

But sweet to think, coiTuption's worm 
The living spirit can defy, 
And claim its kindred with the sky. 



FROM MINES OF TROTTGHT, 239 

Lo ! where the earthen vessel lies ! 
Aloft the unbodied tenant flies. 

We grieve to think, our eyes no more 

That form, those features loved, shall trace : 

But sweet it is from memory's store 
To call each fondly- cherished grace. 
And fold them in the heart's embrace. 

No bliss 'mid worldly crowds is bred, 

Like musing on the sainted dead ! 

We grieve to see expired the race 
They ran, intent on works of love : 

But sweet to think, no mixture base, 
AVhich with their better nature strove, 
Shall mar their virtuous deeds above. 

Sin o'er their soul has lost his hold, 

And left them with their earthly mould ! 

We grieve to know, that we must roam 
Apart from them each wonted spot : 

But sweet to think, that they a home 
Have gained, a fair and goodly lot. 
Enduring, and that changeth not. 

And who that home of freedom there 

Will with this prison-house compare ? 

Bishop Mat^t. 



T^HE waters slept. Night's silvery veil hung low 

On Jordan's bosom, and the eddies curled 
Their glassy rings beneath it, like the still, 
Unbroken beating of the sleeper's pulse. 



240 SOJVGS OF THE SOUL; 

The reeds bent down the stream: the willow- 
leaves, 
"With a soft cheek upon the lulling tide, 
Forgot the lifting winds ; and the long stems, 
Whose flowers the water, like a gentle nurse, 
Eears on its bosom, quietly gave way, 
And leaned, in graceful attitudes, to rest. 
How strikingly the course of nature tells. 
By its light heed of human suffering. 
That it was fashioned for a happier world ! 

King David's limbs were weary. He had fled 
Prom far Jerusalem : and now he stood, 
"With his faint people, for a little rest 
Upon the shore of Jordan. The light wind 
Of morn was stirring, and he bared his brow 
To its refreshing breath ; for he had worn 
The mourner's covering, and he had not felt 
That he could see his people until now. 
They gathered round him on the fresh green bank, 
And spoke their kindly words ; and, as the sun 
Rose up in heaven, he knelt among them there. 
And bowed his head upon his hands to pray. 
Oh ! when the heart is full — when bitter thoughts 
Come crowding thickly up for utterance. 
And the poor common words of courtesy 
Are such a very mockery — how much 
The bursting heart may pour itself in prayer ! 
He prayed for Israel ; and his voice went up 
Strongly and fervently. He prayed for those 
Whose love had been his shield ; and his deep 
tones 



FROM MINES OF THOVGHT, 241 

G-rew tremulous. But oh ; for Absalom — 
For his estranged, misguided Absalom — 
The proud, bright being, who had burst away 
In all his princely beauty, to defy 
The heart that cherished him — for him he poured, 
In agony that would not be controlled, 
Strong supplication, and forgave him there, 
Before his Grod, for his deep sinfulness. 

■at- ^y. .y. .y. jf. 

•Tr "TS" TV" TV" TP 

The pall was settled. He who slept beneath 
Was straightened for the grave ; and as the folds 
Sunk to the still proportions, they betrayed 
The matchless symmetry of Absalom. 
His hair was yet unshorn, and silken curls 
"Were floating round the tassels as they swayed 
To the admitted air, as glossy now 
As when, in hours of gentle dalliance, bathing 
The snowy fingers of Judea's girls. 
His helm was at his feet : his banner, soiled 
With trailing through Jerusalem, was laid 
Reversed, beside him : and the jewelled hilt, 
Whose diamonds lit the passage of his blade. 
Rested, like mockery, on his covered brow, 
The soldiers of the king trod to and fro. 
Clad in the garb of battle ; and their chief. 
The mighty Joab, stood beside the bier. 
And gazed upon the dark paU steadfastly, 
As if he feared the slumberer might stir. 
A slow step startled him. He grasped his blade 
As if a trumpet rang ; but the bent form 
Of David entered, and he gave command, 



242 SO was OF THE SOUL; 

In a low tone, to Ms few followers, 
And left him witli Ms dead. The king stood still 
Till the last echo died : then throwing off 
The sackcloth from his brow, and laying back 
The pall from the still features of his child, 
He bowed his head upon him, and broke forth 
In the resistless eloquence of woe ! — 

" Alas I my noble boy ! that thou shouldst die ! 

Thou, who wert made so beautifully fair ! 
That deatb should settle in thy glorious eye, 

And leave Ms stillness in this clustering hair ! 
How could he mark thee for the silent tomb, 

My proud boy, Absalom ! 

" Cold is thy brow, my son I and I am chill. 

As to my bosom I have tried to press thee. 
How was I wont to feel my pulses tM-ill, 

Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee. 
And hear thy sweet 'My father, '' from these dumb 

And cold lips, Absalom ! 

" The grave hath won thee. I shall hear the gush 
Of music, and the voices of the young ; 

And life will pass me in the mantling blush. 
And the dark tresses to the soft wind flung : 

But thou no more, mth thy sweet voice, shalt 
come 
To meet me, Absalom ! 

" And oh ! when I am stricken, and my heart, 
Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken. 

How wall its love for thee, as I depart. 

Team for thine ear to di^ink its last deep token! 



FBOM MINES OF THOTTGHT, 243 

It were so sweet, amid death's gathering gloom, 
To see thee, Absalom ! 

" And now, farewell ! 'Tis hard to give thee np, 
With death so like a gentle slumber on thee — 

And thy dark sin ! — Oh ! I could drink the cup, 
If from this woe its bitterness had won thee. 

May Grod have called thee, like a wanderer, home. 
My erring Absalom ! ' ' 

He covered up his face, and bowed himself 
A moment on his child : then, giving him 
A look of melting tenderness, he clasped 
His hands convulsively, as if in prayer ; 
And, as a strength were given him of Grod, 
He rose up calmly, and composed the pall 
Eirmly and decently, and left him there. 
As if his rest had been a breathing sleep. 

"Willis. 



© mafte me ^ure, tott!) ^ure ©m% 
€tx to ©hjell 

T7"ES, let me die ! Am I of spirit-birth, 

And shall I linger here where spirits fell, 
Loving the stain they cast on all of earth ? 
Oh make me pure, with pure ones e'er to dwell! 

'Tis sweet to die ! The flowers of earthly love 
(Eair, frail, spring blossoms) early droop and 
die; 

But all their fragrance is exhaled above, 
Upon our spirits evermore to lie. 



244 SO was OF THE SOUL; 

Life is a dream, a bright but fleeting dream, 
I can but love ; but tben my soul awakes, 

And from tbe mist of eartbliness a gleam 
Of heavenlj light, of truth immortal, breaks. 

I shrink not from the shadows Sorrow flings 
Across my pathway ; nor from cares that rise 

In every footprint ; for each shadow brings 
Sunshine and rainbow as it glooms and flies. 

But heaven is dearer. There I have my treasure ; 

There angels fold in love their snowy wings ; 
There sainted lips chant in celestial measure, 

And spirit fingers stray o'er heav'n-wrought 
strings. 

There loving eyes are to the portals straying ; 

There arms extend, a wanderer to fold ; 
There waits a dearer, holier One, arraying 

His oicn in spotless robes and crowns of gold. 

Then let me die ! My spirit longs for heaven. 
In that pure bosom evermore to rest ; 

But, if to labour longer here be given, 

" Father, thy A^ill be done !" and I am blest. 
Emily Judsgn. 



r\ LOVE-DESTEOTING, cursed Bigotr}^ ! 
Cursed in heaven, but cursed more in heU, 
Where millions curse thee, and must ever curse. 
Religion's most abhorred ! perdition's most 



FROM IIINES OF TKOUGHT, 245 

Forlorn ! God's most abandoned ! hell's most 

damned ! 
The infidel who turned his impious war 
Against the walls of Zion, on the rock 
Of ages built, and higher than the clouds, 
Sinned, and received his due reward ; but she 
Within her walls sinned more. Of Ignorance 
Begot, her daughter. Persecution, walked 
The earth, from age to age, and drank the blood 
Of saints ; with horrid relish drank the blood 
Of Grod's peculiar children, and was drunk, 
And in her drunkenness dreamed of doing good. 
The supplicating hand of innocence, 
That made the tiger mild, and in his wrath 
The lion pause — ^the groans of suffering most 
Severe, were nought to her: she laughed at 

groans ; 
No music pleased her more ; and no repast 
So sweet to her as blood of men redeemed 
By blood of Christ. Ambition's self, though 

mad. 
And nursed on human gore, with her compared, 
Was merciful. Nor did she always rage. 
She had some hours of meditation, set 
Apart, wherein she to her study went, 
The Inquisition, model most complete 
Of perfect wickedness, where deeds were done — 
Deeds ! let them ne'er be named — and sat and 

planned 
Deliberately, and with most musing pains, 
How to extremest thrill of agony 
The flesh, and blood, and souls of holy men. 



246 SOWGS OF TRE SOUL; 

Her victims, iniglit be wrought ! and when she saw 
JSTew tortures of her labouring fancy born, 
She leaped for joy, and made great haste to try 
Their force, well pleased to hear a deeper groan. 

EoBEBT Pollok:. 







THOU great Being! in whom I move and live, 
The grateful tribute of my praise receive. 
To thy indulgence I my being owe, 
And all the joys which from that being flow. 
Scarce eighteen suns have form'd the rolling year, 
And run their distant courses round the sphere, 
Since thy creative eye my form survey' d 
'IMidst undistinguish'd heaps of matter laid. 
Thy skill my elemental clay refin'd ; 
The vagrant particles in order join'd ; 
AVith perfect symmetiy compos' d the whole, 
And stamp' d thy sacred image on my soul ; 
A soul, susceptible of endless joy, 
AVTiose frame not force nor time can e'er destroy ; 
Which shall survive when JS^ature claims my 

breath, 
And bid defiance to the darts of death ; 
To realms of bliss with active freedom soar. 
And live when earth and skies shall be no more. 
Author of life ! in vain my tongue essays 
Por this immortal gift to speak thy praise ! 
How shall my heart its grateful sense reveal, 
Where all the energy of words must fail ! 



FROM MINES OF TROTTGHT, 247 

may its influence on my life appear, 
And ev'ry action prove my thanks sincere ! 
Grant me, great Grod, a heart to thee inclin'd ; 
Increase my faith, and rectify my mind ; 
Teach me betimes to tread thy sacred ways, 
And to thy service consecrate my days. 
Still as through life's perplexing maze I stray, 
Ee thou the guiding star to mark my way. 
Conduct the steps of my unguarded youth, 
And point their motions to the paths of truth. 
Protect me by thy providential care, 
And warn my soul to shun the tempter's snare. 
Through all the shifting scenes of varied life, 
In calms of ease, or ruffing storms of gTief, 
Through each event of this inconstant state, 
Preserve my temper equal and sedate : 
Grive me a mind that nobly can despise 
The low designs and little arts of vice- 
Be my rehgion such as taught by thee. 
Alike from pride and superstition free : 
Inform my judgment, regulate my t\t1].. 
My reason strengthen, and my passions stiU. 
To gain thy favoiu' be my first great end. 
And to that scope may every action tend ! 
Amidst the pleasures of a prosp'rous state, 
"Whose flatt'ring charms the untutored heart 

elate. 
May I reflect to whom those gifts I owe. 
And bless the bounteous hand from whence they 

flow. 
Or if an adverse fortune be my share, 
Let not its terrors tempt me to despair ; 



248 SONGS OF TSJE SOUL ; 

But, fix'd on thee, a steady faitli maiiitairL, 
And own all good wHcli tliy decrees ordain ; 
On thy unfailing Providence depend. 
The best protection, and the surest friend. 
Thus on life's stage may I my part sustain, 
And at my exit thy applauses gain ! 
When thy pale herald summons me away, 
Support me in that dread catastrophe ; 
In that last conflict guard me from alarms, 
And take my soul expiring to thy arms. 

Mes. Caetee. 



©nbjartr ! for tfje Kxni^Q of &(fii. 

/^XWAED ! Hath earth's ceaseless change 
^^ Trampled on thy heart ? 
Faint not, for that restless range 

Soon will heal the smart. 
Trust the future : time T^dlL prove 
Earth hath stronger, truer love. 

Eless thy God — the heart is not 

An abandoned urn, 
Where, aU lonely and forgot, 

Dust and ashes mourn : 
Bless him, that his mercy brings 
Joy from out its withered things. 

Onward, for the truths of God — 

Onward, for the right ! 
Firmly let the field be trod, 

In life's coining fight : 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 249 

Heaven's own hand ^dll lead thee on, 
Gruard thee till thy task is done ! 

Then will brighter, sweeter flowers 

Blossom round thy way. 
Than e'er sprung in Hope's glad bowers, 

In thine early day : 
And the rolling years shall bring 
Strength and healing on their wing. 

LuELLA J. B. Case. 



©ne ffilance of Efjtne Creates a ©ag. 

Tet, gracious Grod, 

Yet ^411 1 seek thy smiling face : 
AVhat though a short eclipse his beauties shroud, 

And bar the influence of his rays ? 
Tis but a morning vapour or a summer cloud ; 

He is my sun, though He refuse to shine. 
Though for a moment He depart, 
I dwell for ever on his heart, 

For ever He on mine. 
Early before the light arise, 

I'll spring a thought away to God ; 
The passion of my heart and eyes 
Shall shout a thousand groans and sighs, 
A thousand glances strike the skies. 

The floor of his abode. 

Dear Sovereign, hear thy servant pray ; 
Bend the blue heavens. Eternal King, 
Downward thy cheerful graces bring ; 



250 SONGS OF THE SOUL ; 

Or shall I breathe in vain, and pant my hours away ? 
Break, glorious Brightness, through the gloomy 
veil, 

Look, how the armies of despair 

Aloft their sooty banners rear 

Eound my poor captive soul, and dare 
Pronounce me prisoner of hell. 

But Thou, my Sun, and Thou, my Shield, 

Wilt save me in the bloody field ; 
Break, glorious Brightness, shoot one glimmering 
One glance of thine creates a day, [ray; 

Aaid drives the troops of hell away. 

Happy the times, but ah ! those times are gone, 
When wondrous power, and radiant grace, 

Round the tall arches of thy temple shone, 
And mingled their victorious rays : 

Sin, with all its ghastly train, 

Fled to the depths of death again, 
And smiling triumph sat on every face : 

Our spirits, raptured with the sight, 

Were all devotion, all delight, 
And loud Hosannas sounded the Redeemer's 
praise. 

Here could I say, 
(And paint the place whereon I stood,) 

Here I enjoyed a visit half the day 
From my descending God : 
I was regaled with heavenly fare, 

With fruit and manna from above ; 
Divinely sweet the blessings were, 
While my Emmanuel was there ; 



FROM MINES OF THOTTGHT. 251 

And o'er my head 
The Conqueror spread 
The banner of his love. 

Then why, my heart, sunk down so low ? 
Why do my eyes dissolve and flow, 

And hopeless nature mourn ? 
Keview, my soul, those pleasing days, 
Eead his unalterable grace 
Through the displeasure of his face. 

And wait a kind return. 
A father's love may raise a frown, 
To chide the child, or prove the son, 

But love will ne'er destroy ; 
The hour of darkness is but short, 
Paith be thy life, and patience thy support : 

The morning brings thee joy. 

Isaac Watts. 



s 



! to!)at is ILife ! 

many years I've seen the sun, 



And called these hands and eyes my own ; 
A thousand little acts I've done, 

And childhood have, and manhood known : 
Oh ! what is Life 1 and this dull round 
To tread, why was a spirit bound ? 
So many airy thoughts and lines, 

And vain exertions of the mind. 
Have fiHed my soul with gTeat designs. 

While practice grovelled far behind : 
Oh what is Thought ! and where withdraw 
The glories which my fancy saw ? 



252 SO was OF THJE SO TIL ; 

So many tender joys and woes 

Have on my quivering soul had power ; 

Plain, life witli heightening passions rose, 
The boast or burden of their hour : 

Oh what is all we feel ! why fled 

Those pains and pleasures o'er my head ? 

So many human souls divine 

So at one interview displayed, 
Some oft and freely mixt with mine, 

In lasting bands my heaii; have laid : 
Oh what is Friendship ! why imprest 
On my weak, wretched, dying breast ! 

So many wondrous gleams of light, 

And gentle ardours from above. 
Have made me sit, like seraph bright. 

Some moments on a throne of love : 
Oh what is Virtue ! why had I, 
Who am so low, a taste so high ? 

Ere long, when sovereign wisdom wills, 
My soul an unknown path shall tread. 

And strangely leave, which strangely fills 
This frame, and waft me to the dead : 

Oh what is Death ! — 'Tis life's last shore. 

Where vanities are vain no more ; 

Where all pursuits their goal obtain, 

And Life is all retouched again ; 

Where in their bright results shall rise. 

Thoughts, virtues, friendships, griefs, and joys. 

Gambold. 



FROM MINES OF THOTIGHT. 253 

©fj, cling not, S^rcmftler, to ^Life's 

r\^, cling not, Trembler, to life's fragile bark : 
^^ It fiUs — it soon must sink : 

Look not below, where all is chill and dark ; 

'Tis agony to think 
Of that wild waste ; but look, oh ! look above, 
And see the outstretched arm of Love. 

Cling not to this poor life : unlock thy clasp 

Of fleeting, vapoury air. 
The world receding soon will mock thy grasp ; 

But let the wings of prayer 
Take the blest breeze of Heaven, and upward flee. 

And life from Grod shaU enter thee. 
Oh, fear not Him who walks the stormy wave : 

'Tis not a spectre, but the Lord. 
Trust thou in Him who overcame the Grrave, 

"Who holds in captive ward 
The powers of Hell. Heed not the monster grim ; 
Nor fear to go through death to Him. 

Look not so fondly back on this false Earth : 

Let hope not linger here. 
Say, would the worm forego its second birth, 

Or the transition fear. 
That gives it wings to try a world unknown, 
Although it wakes and mounts alone P 

But thou art not alone : on either side 

The portal, friends stand guard : 

And the kind spirits wait thy course to guide. 
"Why, why should it be hard, 



254 SOJSraS OF THE SOUL; 

To trust our Maker witli tlie soul He gave, 
Or Him who died that soul to save ? 

Into His hands commit thy trembling spirit, 
"Who gave His life for thine. 

Gruilty, fix all thy trust upon His merit : 
To Him thy heart resign. 

Oh, give Him love for love, and sweetly faU 
Into His hands who is thy All. 

COjS^DEE. 



® Etiou, to!jom still 31 ?^ollr, "i^ViX 
cannot S^tt. 

riOME, Thou traveller unknown, 
^ Whom still I hold, but cannot see ! 
My company before is gone. 

And I am left alone with Thee ; 
With Thee all night I mean to stay, 
And wrestle till the break of day. 

I need not tell Thee who I am ; 

My misery or sin declare ; 
Thyself hast called me by my name ; 

Look on Thy hands and read it there : 
But who, I ask Thee, who art Thou ? 
TeU me Thy name, and tell me now. 

In vain Thou strugglest to get free, 
I never will unloose my hold : 

Art Thou the Man that died for me ? 
The secret of thy love imfold : 

Wrestling, I will not let Thee go, 

Till I Thy name. Thy nature know. 



FROM MINES OF TROTJGRT. 255 

Wilt Thou not yet to me reveal 

Thy new, unutterable name ? 
Tell me, I still beseech Thee, tell ; 

To know it now, resolved I am ; 
Wrestling, I will not let Thee go, 
Till I Thy name, Thy nature know. 

"What though my sinking flesh complain, 
And murmur to contend so long, 

I rise superior to my pain ; 

When I am weak, then am I strong : 

And when my all of strength shall fail, 

I shall with the Grod-man prevail. 

My strength is gone, my nature dies, 
I sink beneath Thy mighty hand ; 

Faint, to revive, and fall, to rise ; 
I fall, and yet by faith I stand, — 

I stand, and will not let Thee go, 

Till I Thy name, Thy nature know. 

Yield to me now, — for I am weak. 

But confident in self- despair ; 
Speak to my heart, in blessings speak ; 

Be conquered by my instant prayer : 
Speak, or Thou never hence shalt move. 
And tell me, if Thy name be Love. 

'Tis Love ! 'tis Love ! Thou diedst for me ; 

I hear Thy whisper in my heart : 
The morning breaks, the shadows flee ; 

Pure, Universal Love, Thou art : 
To me, to all. Thy bowels move : 
Thy nature and Thy name is Love. 



256 SO^^^GS OF THE SOTTL ; 

My prayer hath power with Grod ; the grace 

Unspeakable I now receive ; 
Through faith I see Thee face to face ; 

I see Thee face to face, and live : 
In vain I have not wept and strove ; 
Thy nature and Thy name is Love. 
I know Thee, Saviour, who Thou art, 

Jesus, the feeble sinner's friend ; 
jN'or vrilt Thou with the night depart, 

But stay, and love me to the end : 
Thy mercies never shall remove ; 
Thy nature and Thy name is Love. 

The Sun of Eighteousness on me 

Hath rose, with healing in His wings ; 

Wither' d my nature's strength, from Thee 
My soul its life and succour brings ; 

My help is all laid up above ; 

Thy nature and Thy name is Love. 

Contented now, upon my thigh 
I halt, till life's short journey end ; 

All helplessness, all weakness, I 

On Thee alone for strength depend ; 

Xor have I power from Thee to move ; 

Thy nature and Thy name is Love. 

Lame as I am, I take the prey ; 

Hell, earth, and sin, with ease o'ercome ; 
I leap for joy, pursue my way, 

And, as a bounding hart, fly home ; 
Through all eternity to prove. 
Thy natui^e and Thy name is Love. 

JoHK Wesley. 



FBOM MINES OF TR0T7GHT. 257 

(9 ®otr, 2r|)0u ffireat IntelUsmce 
<Supreme. 

r\ LOE/D, Thou great intelligence supreme, 
Sov'reign director of this mighty frame ; 
"WHiose watchful hand, and all-observing ken, 
Fashions the heart, and views the ways of men ; 
Whether thy hand the plenteous table spread, 
Or measure sparingly the daily bread ; 
"Whether or wealth or honours gild the scene, 
Or wants deform, and wasting anguish stain ; 
On Thee let truth and virtue firm rely. 
Bless' d in the care of thy approving eye ! 
Know that thy providence, their constant friend. 
Thro' life shall guard them, and in death attend ; 
AVith everlasting arms their cause embrace. 
And cro^Ti the paths of piety T\-ith peace. 

BOTCE. 



TXy'HEN' gathering clouds around I view. 

And days are dark, and friends are few ; 
On Him I lean, who, not in vain, 
Experienced every human pain : 
He sees my griefs, allays my fears. 
And counts and treasures up my tears. 

If aught shoidd tempt my soul to stray 
Erom heavenly wisdom's narrow way. 



258 SO^^GS OF THE SOUL: 

To fly the good I would pursue, 
Or do the thing I would not do ; 
Still He who felt temptation's power, 
AVill guard me in that dangerous hour. 

If wounded love my bosom swell. 
Despised by those I prized too well ; 
He shall His pitying aid bestow, 
Who felt on earth severer woe : 
At once betrayed, denied, or fled, 
Ey those who shared his daily bread. 

AYhen vexing thoughts within me rise, 
And, sore dismayed, my spirit dies ; 
Yet, He, who once vouchsafed to bear 
The sickening anguish of despair, 
Shall sweetly soothe, shall gently dry. 
The throbbing heart, the streaming eye, 

AYhen mourning o'er some stone I bend. 

Which covers all that was a friend, 

And from His voice, His hand. His smile. 

Divides me for a little while ; 

Thou, Saviour, mark'st the tears I shed, 

For thou didst weep o'er Lazarus dead. 

And oh ! when I have safely past 
Through every conflict but the last ; 
Still, still unchanging, watch beside 
My painful bed, — for Thou hast died ; . 
Then point to realms of cloudless day, 
And wipe the latest tear away. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 259 

T PRAISED tlie earth, in beauty seen, 
With garlands gay of various green ; 
I praised the sea, whose ample field 
Shone glorious as a silver shield; 
And earth and ocean seemed to say, 
" Our beauties are but for a day." 

I praised the sun, whose chariot rolled 
On wheels of amber and of gold ; 
I praised the moon, whose softer eye 
Gleamed sweetly through the summer-sky ; 
And moon and sun in answer said, 
" Our days of light are numbered." 

O Grod, O good beyond compare ! 
If thus thy meaner works are fair ; 
If thus thy bounties gild the span 
Of ruined earth and sinful man ; 
How glorious must the mansion be 
"Where thy redeemed shall dwell with Thee ! 
Bishop Hebee. 



©mntpresmce of ffiotr. 

/^NCE more I dare to rouse the sounding string, 

The Poet of my Grod. — Awake, my glory. 
Awake, my lute and harp — myself shall wake, 
Soon as the stately night-exploring bird, 
In lively lay, sings welcome to the dawn. 



260 SOJ\^GS OF TSU SOUL; 

List ye ! liow nature, with ten tlionsand tongues. 
Begins tlie grand thanksgiying. Hail, all hail, 
Ye tenants of the forest and the field ! 
My fellow-subjects of th' Eternal King, 
I gladly join your matins, and mth you 
Confess his presence, and report his praise. 
O Thou, who or the lambkin or the dove. 
When offered by the lowly, meek, and poor, 
Prefer' st to pride's whole hecatomb, accept 
This mean essay, nor from thy treasure-house 
Of glory immense the orphan's mite exclude. 
"What, though th' Almighty^s regal throne be 

raised 
High o'er your azure heaven's exalted dome, 
By mortal eye unkenned — where east, nor west, 
]N"or south, nor blustering north, has breath to 

blow ; 
Albeit He there with angels and with saints 
Holds conference, and to his radiant host, 
E'en face to face, stands visibly confest ; 
Yet know that nor in presence or in power 
Shines He less perfect here ; 'tis man's dim eye 
That makes the obscurity. He is the same, 
Alike in all his universe the same ; 
Whether the mind along the spangled sky 
Measures her pathless walk, studious to view 
The works of vaster fabric, where the planets, 
Weave their harmonious rounds, their march 

directing 
Still faithful, still inconstant to the sun ; 
Or where the comet, through space infinite, 
(Though whirling worlds oppose in globes of fire) 



FEOM MINES OF THOTTGHT. 261 

Darts like a javelin to liis distant goal ; 
Or where in heaven above, the heaven of heavens, 
Burn brighter suns, and goodlier planets roll, 
With satellites more glorious, — Thou art there. 
Or v^hether on the ocean's boisterous rock, 
Thou ride triumphant, and with outstretched arm 
Curb the wild winds and discipline the billows. 
The suppliant sailor finds Thee there, his chief. 
His only help. When Thou rebuk'st the storm 
It ceases ; and the vessel gently glides 
Along the glassy level of the calm. 
Oh ! could I search the bosom of the sea, 
Down the gTeat depth descending ; there thy 

works 
Would also sp^ak thy residence, and there 
Would I, thy servant, like the still profound, 
Astonished into silence, muse thy praise. 
Behold ! behold th' unplanted garden round 
Of vegetable coral ! sea-flowers gay. 
And shrubs of amber, from the pearl-paved bottom 
Else richly varied, where the finny race, 
In blithe security, their gambols play ; 
While high above their heads Leviathan, 
The terror and the glory of the main. 
His pastime takes, with transport proud to see 
The ocean's vast dominion all his own. 
Hence through the genial bowels of the earth, 
Easy may fancy pass ; till at thy mines, 
Gani or B^aolconda, she arrive. 
And from the adamant's imperial blaze 
Form weak ideas of her Maker's glory- 
Next to Pegu or Ceylon let me rove. 



262 SOJSraS of TJELU SOUL; 

Where the rich ruby (deemed by sages old 

Of sovereign virtue) sparkles e'en like Sirius, 

And blushes into flames. Thence will I go 

To undermine the treasure-fertile womb 

Of the huge Pyrenean, to detect 

The agate, and the deep intrenched gem 

Of kindred jasper ; nature in them both 

Delights to play the mimic on herself ; 

And in their veins she oft portrays the forms 

Of leaning hills, of trees erect, and streams 

ISTow stealing softly o'er, now thundering down 

In desperate cascade, with flowers and beasts, 

And all the living landscape of the vale : 

In vain thy pencil, Claudio, or Poussin, 

Or thine, immortal Gruido, would essay 

Such skill to imitate j it is the hand 

Of Grod Himself, for Grod Himself is there. 

Hence with the ascending springs let me advance. 

Through beds of magnets, minerals, and spar ; 

Up to the mountain's summit, there t' indulge 

The ambition of the comprehensive eye, 

That dares to call the horizon all her own. 

Behold the forest and the expansive verdure 

Of yonder level la-wn, whose smooth shorn sod 

No object interrupts ; unless the oak 

His lordly head uprears, and branching arms 

Extends. Eehold, in regal solitude 

And pastoral magnificence he stands. 

So simple and so great, the underwood. 

Of meaner rank, an awful distance keep. 

Yet Thou art tliere, yet Grod Himself is there, 

Even on the bush, (though not as when to Moses 



FBOM MIWUS OF THOTTGHT. 263 

He shone in burning majesty revealed,) 
JSTatliless conspicuous in the linnet's throat 
Is his unbounded goodness. Thee her maker, 
Thee her preserver, chants she in her song ; 
While all the emulative vocal tribe 
The grateful lesson learn. No other voice 
Is heard, no other sound — for in attention 
Buried, even babbling echo holds her peace. 
Now from the plains where the unbounded 

prospect 
Gives liberty her utmost scope to range, 
Turn we to yon inclosures, where appears 
Chequered variety in all her forms 
"Which the vague mind attract, and still suspend 
With sweet perplexity. What are yon towers. 
The work of labouring men and clumsy art, 
Seen with the ringdove' s nest ? On that tall beech 
Her pensile house the feathered artist builds. 
The rocking winds molest her not ; for see, 
With such due poise the wondrous fabric's hung. 
That, like the compass in the bark, it keeps 
True to itself, and stedfast e'en in storms. 
Thou idiot, that asserts there is no Grod, 
View and be dumb for ever. 
Gro, bid Vitruvius or Palladio build 
The bee his mansion, or the ant her cave. 
Gro call Correggio, or let Titian come 
To paint the hawthorn's bloom, or teach the 

cherry 
To blush with just vermilion. Hence, away ! 
Hence, ye profane ! for Grod himself is here. 
Vain were the attempt, and impious, to trace 



264 SO]}^GS OF THE SOUL; 

Througli all Ms works tli' Artificer Divine. 

And tliougli nor shining snn nor twinkling star 

Bedecked the crimson cnrtains of the sky ; 

Though neither vegetable, beast, nor bird^ 

Were extant on the surface of the ball, 

Nor lurking gem beneath ; though the great sea 

Slept in profound stagnation, and the air 

Had left no thunder to pronounce its Maker ; 

Yet man, at home within himself, might find 

The Deity immense, and in that frame, 

So fearfully, so wonderfully made. 

See and adore his providence and power. 

I see and I adore ; — O Grod, most bounteous ! 

Oh ! infinite of goodness and of glory, 

The knee that Thou hast shaped shall bend to 

Thee! 
The tongue which Thou hast tuned shall chant 

thy praise ! 
And thine ovni image, the immortal soul, 
Shall consecrate herself to Thee for ever. 

Cheistopheb, Smart. 



(B tfjat 31 mag Iteep Efjg SEortr. 

TESTIS, by whose grace I live, 

Prom the fear of evil kept. 
Thou hast lengthened my reprieve, 

Held in being while I slept ; 
With the day my heart renew, 
Let me wake Thy wiU to do. 



FROM MINES OF TROTIGHT. 265 



Since the last revolving dawn 
Scattered the nocturnal cloud, 

how many souls have gone, 
Unprepared to meet their Grod ! 

Tet Thou dost prolong my breath. 

Nor hast sealed my eyes in death ! 

O that I may keep Thy word, 

Taught by Thee to watch and pray ! 

To Thy service, dearest Lord, 
Sanctify the present day : 

Swift its fleeting moments haste ; 

Doomed, perhaps, to be my last ! 

Crucified to all below, 

Earth shall never be my care ; 
Wealth and honour I forego, 

This my only wish and prayer ; — 
Thine in life and death to be, 
Now, and to eternity ! 

TOPLADT. 



©|j, come, let us so to tlje Falleg 
of ^eace ! 

/^H, come, let us go to the Yalley of Peace ! 
There earth's weary cares to perplex us shall 
cease ; 

We win stray through its solemn and far-spread- 
ing shades. 

Till twilight's last ray from each green hillock 
fades. 



266 S02iGS OF TSE SOUL; 

There slumber the friends whom we long must 

regret — 
The forms whose mild beauty we can not forget ; 
"We will seek the low mounds where so softly 

they sleep, 
And will sit down and muse on the idols we weep : 
But we will not repine that they're hid from our 

eyes, 
For we know they still live in a home in the skies ; 
But we'll pray that, when life's weary journey 

shall cease, 
AVe may slumber mth them in the Yalley of 

Peace ! 

Oh, sad were our path through this valley of tears, 
If, when weary and wasted with toil and with 

years, 
No home were prepared where the pilgTim might 

lay 
Mortality's cumbering vestments away ! 
But sadder, and deeper, and darker the gloom. 
That would close o'er our way as we speed to 

the tomb. 
If Faith pointed not to that heavenly goal, 
Where the Sun of eternity beams on the soul ! 
Oh, who, mid the sorrows and changes of time. 
E'er dreamed of that holier, that happier clime. 
But yearned for the hour of the spirit's release — 
For a pillow of rest in the Valley of Peace ! 

Oh, come, thou pale mourner, whose sorromng 

gaze 
Seems fixed on the shadows of long- vanished days, 



FBOM MINES OF THOTTGHT. 267 

Sad, sad is thy tale of bereayement and wo, 
And thy spirit is weary of life's garish show ! 
Come here : I will shew thee a haven of rest. 
Where sorrow no longer invades the calm breast ; 
"Where the spirit throws off its dull mantle of care, 
And the robe is ne'er folded o'er secret despair ! 
Yet the dwelling is lonely, and silent, and cold, 
And the soul may shrink back as its portals 

unfold ; 
But a bright Star has dawned through the shades 

of the east, 
That will light up with beauty the Valley of Peace ! 

Thou frail child of error ! come hither and say, 
Has the world yet a charm that can lure thee to 

stay ? 
Ah, no ! in thine aspect are anguish and wo. 
And deep shame has written its name on thy brow. 
Poor outcast ! too long hast thou Avandered forlorn. 
In a path where thy feet are all gored with the 

thorn ; 
Where thy breast by the fang of the serpent is 

stung, 
And scorn on thy head by a cold world is flung ! 
Come here, and find rest from thy guilt and thy 

tears. 
And a sleep sweet as that of thine innocent years ; 
We vdll spread thee a couch where thy woes 

shall all cease : 
Oh, come and lie down in the Valley of Peace ! 

The grave, ah, the grave! 'tis a mighty stronghold. 
The weak, the oppressed, all are safe in its fold : 



268 SOJS^aS OF THJE SOUL; 

There Penury's toil-wasted cliildren may come. 

And the helpless, the houseless, at last find a home. 

What myiiads unnumbered have sought its re- 
pose. 

Since the day when the sun on creation first rose ; 

And there, till earth's latest, dread morning shall 
break, 

Shall its wide generations their last dweUing 
make : 

But beyond is a world — ^how resplendently bright ! 

And all that have lived shall be bathed in its light. 

AYe shall rise — we shall soar where earth's sor- 
rows shall cease, 

Thousrh oiu^ mortal clar rests in the Yallev of 



Peace ! 



Caeolixe I\L Sawyee. 



(Call to l^rabrn. 

r\H, weary heart, there is a rest for thee I 

Oh. truant heart, there is a blessed home — 
An isle of gladness on life's wayward sea, 

Where storms that vex the waters never come ; 
There trees perennial peld their balmy shade. 
There flower-wreathed hills in sunlit beauty 
sleep, 
There meek streams miu-mur thro' the verdant 
glade. 
There heaven bends smiling o'er the placid 
deep. 



FROM MINJES OF THOUGHT, 269 

Winnowed by ^dngs immortal that fair isle ; 

Vocal its air with music from above : 
There meets the exile eje a welcoming smile ; 

There ever speaks a summoning voice of love 
Unto the heav}^-laden and distressed, 
" Come unto me, and I will give you rest." 

Elizabeth E. Ellet. 



Palm Suntfagf. 

"V/^E whose hearts are beating high 
•^ With the pulse of Poesy — 
Heirs of more than royal race, 
Eramed by Heaven's peculiar grace, 
Grod's own work to do on earth, 
(If the word be not too bold,) 
Griving virtue a new birth, 

And a life that ne'er grows old — 

Sovereign masters of all hearts 1 
Know ye, who hath set your parts ? 
He who gave you breath to sing, 
Ey whose strength ye sweep the string, 
He hath chosen you, to lead 

His Hosannahs here below ; — 
Mount, and claim your glorious meed ; 

Linger not with sin and woe, 
Eut if ye should hold your peace. 
Deem not that the song would cease — 
Angels round His glory-throne. 
Stars, His guiding hand that own, 



270 SONGS OF THE SOUL; 

Elowers, that grow beneath our feet, 
Stones in earth's dark womb that rest, 

High and low in choir shall meet, 
Ere His Name shall be unblest. 

Lord, by every minstrel tongue, 
Be Thy praise so duly sung. 
That Thine angels' harps may ne'er 
Eail to find fit echoing here. 
We the while, of meaner birth, 

Who in that divinest spell 
Dare not hope to join on earth, 

G-ive us grace to listen well. 

But should thankless silence seal 
Lips, that might half Heaven reveal, 
Should bards in idol-hymns profane 
The sacred soul-enthralling strain, 
(As in this bad world below 

ISToblest things find vilest using,) 
Then, Thy power and mercy show, 

In vile things noble breath infusing ; 

Then waken into sound divine 

The very pavement of Thy shrine. 

Till we, like Heaven's star-sprinkled floor, 

Paintly give back what we adore : 

Childlike though the voices be, 

And untunable the parts. 
Thou wilt own the minstrelsy. 

If it flow from childlike hearts. 

John Keble. 



FROM IlINES OF THOTTGHT, 271 

public SEorsljtp. 

■jDESTOEE to G-od his due in tithe and time ; 
A tithe purloin' d, cankers the whole estate. 
Sundays observe : think when the bells do chime, 
'Tis angels' music ; therefore come not late. 
Grod then deals blessings ; if a king did so, 
Who would not haste, nay give, to see the show ? 

Twice on the day his due is understood, 
Por all the week thy food so oft he gave thee. 
Thy cheer is mended ; bate not of the food. 
Because 'tis better, and perhaps may save thee. 

Thwart not th' Almighty Grod ; O be not cross. 

Fast when thou wilt, but then 'tis gain, not loss. 

Though private prayer be a brave design. 
Yet public hath more promises, more love ; 
And love's a weight to hearts, to eyes a sign. 
"We all are but cold suitors ; let us move 

"Where it is warmest. Leave thy six and seven; 

Pray with the most ; for where most pray, is 
heav'n. 

When once thy foot enters the church, be bare. 
Grod is more there than thou : for thou art there 
Only by his permission. Then beware, 
And make thyself all reverence and fear. 

Kneeling ne'er spoil' d silk stocking : quit thy 
state : 

All equal are within the church's gate. 

Resort to sermons, but to prayers most ; 
Praying's the end of preaching. be drest ; 



272 soyas OF TRE SOUL; 

Stay not for the other pin. Why, thou hast lost 
A joy for it worth AYorlds. Thus hell doth jest 
Away thy blessings, and extremely flout thee, 
Thy clothes being fast, but thy soul loose about 
thee. 

In time of service seal up both thine eyes, 
And send them to thy heart ; that, spying sin, 
They may weep out the stains by them did rise. 
Those doors being shut, all by the ear comes in. 
"Who marks in church-time others' symmetry. 
Makes all their beauty his deformity. 

Let vain or busy thoughts have there no part ; 

Bring not thy plough, thy plots, thy pleasure 
thither. 

Christ purg'd his temple : so must thou thy heart. 

All wordly thoughts are but thieves met together 
To cozen thee. Look to thy action well. 
For churches either are our heaven or hell. 

Judge not the preacher, for he is thy judge : 
If thou mislike him, thou conceiv'st him_ not. 
Grod calleth preaching folly. Do not grudge 
To pick out treasures from an earthen pot. 

The worst speak something good : if all want 
sense. 

God takes a text, and preacheth patience. 

He that gets patience, and the blessing which 
Preachers conclude with, hath not lost his pains. 
He that by being at church, escapes the ditch. 
Which he might fall in by companions, gains. 



FROM MINES OF THOVGHT, 273 

He that loves Grod's abode, and to combine 
With saints on earth, shall one day with them 
shine. 

Jest not at preachers' language or expression : 
How know'st thou but thy sins made him mis- 
carry ? 
Then turn thy faults and his into confession : 
Grod sent him whatsoe'er he be : tarry, 
And love him for his Master : his condition. 
Though he be ill, makes him no ill physician. 

IS" one shall in hell such bitter pangs endure, 
As those who mock at Grod's way of salvation. 
Whom oil and balsams kill, what salve can cure ? 
They drink with greediness a full damnation. 

The Jews refused thunder ; and we folly. 

Though Grod do hedge us in, yet who is holy ? 
GrEOEaE Herbert. 



Prager for ^irm Eemper. 

TTOW should I praise thee. Lord ! how should 
my rhymes 
Gladly engrave thy love in steel. 
If what my soul doth feel sometimes, 
My soul might ever feel ! 

Although there were some forty heav'ns or more, 
Sometimes I peer above them all ; 
Sometimes I hardly reach a score ; 
Sometimes to hell I fall. 



274 SOJ^^GS OF TRE SOUL; 

rack me not to such a vast extent ; 
Those distances belong to thee : 
The world's too little for thy tent, 
A grave too big for me. 

Wilt thou meet arms -with man, that thou dost 
stretch 
A crumb of dust from heav'n to hell ? 
Will great God measure with a wretch ? 
Shall he thy stature spell ? 

let me, when thy roof my soul hatk hid, 
let me roost and nestle there : 
Then of a simier thou art rid. 
And I of hope and fear. 

Yet take thy way ; for sure thy way is best : 
Stretch or contract me, thy poor debtor : 
This is but tuning of my breast. 
To make the music better. 

Whether I fly with angels, fall with dust, 
Thy hands made both, and I am there. 
Thy power and love, my love and trust 
Make one place everywhere. 

GrEORaE Heebeet. 



T OED ! in whose sight a thousand years 

but seem 
A fleeting moment, — Eternal Eeing ! 
Turn towards me thy clemency. 
Lest like a shadow vain my brief existence flee ! 



FROM MINES OF TROVGHT. 275 

Thou who dost swell with thine ineffable 
Spirit the world, — O Being Infinite ! 
Kegard me graciously, 
Since than an atom more invisible am I ! 

Thou in whose mighty, all-protecting hand 
The firmament of heaven abides, — O Power ! 
Since of my soul thou know'st 
The faUen and abject state, unveil the virtuous 
boast ! 

Thou who dost feed the world's immensity, 
O Fount of Life, still inexhaustible ! 
Hear my despised breath, 
Since before thee my life will seem but wretched 
death ! 

Thou who dost see within thy boundless mind 
"Whatever was or wiU be ! — ^knowledge vast ! — 
Thy light I now implore. 
That I in error's shades may wander lost no more ! 

Thou, who upon the sacred throne of heaven 
In glorious light dost sit, Immutable ! 
For thine eternal rest. 
Exchange, my Lord, the thoughts of this unstable 
breast 1 

Thou, whose right hand, if from the abyss 

withdrawn. 
Doth cause the stars to fall, — Omnipotent ! 
Since I am nothing, take 
Sweet mercy upon me, for thy dear Jesus' sake ! 



276 SOJVGS OF THJE SOUL; 

Thou, by whose hand the sparrow is sustained, 
Pather of all, Grod of the universe ! 
Thy gifts with gracious speed 
Scatter upon my head, since I am poor indeed ! 

Being Eternal, Infinite ! Soul ! Life 1 
Father all-knowing ! wise, omniscient Power ! 
From thine exalted throne, 
Since I thy creature am, look down upon thine 
own! 
JuAijiT Melakdez Valdes, Trans, Anon, 



picture of a ILaUg's JHtntr. 

"pAIISTTEE, you're come, hut may he gone, 

Now I have better thought thereon ; 
This work I can perform alone. 
And give you reasons more than one. 

Not that your art I do refuse, 
But here I may no colours use ; 
Beside, your hand mil never hit 
To draw a thing that cannot sit. 

You could make shift to paint an eye, 
An eagle tow'ring in the sky. 
The sun, a sea, or soundless pit ; 
But these are like a mind, not it, 

No • to express a mind to sense 
Would ask a heaven's intelligence ; 
Since nothing can report that flame, 
But what's of kin to whence it came. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 277 

A mind so pure, so perfect, fine, 
As 'tis not radiant, but divine ; 
And, so disdaining any tryer, 
'Tis got where it can trj tlie fire. 

There, high exalted in the sphere. 
As it another nature were. 
It moveth all, and makes a flight 
As circular as infinite. 

Whose notions, when it will express 
In speech, it is with that excess 
Of grace and music to the ear. 
As what it spoke it planted there. 

The voice so sweet, the words so fair, 
As some soft chime had stroked the air ; 
And though the sound were parted thence. 
Still left an echo in the sense. 

But, that a mind so rapt, so high. 

So swift, so pure, should yet apply 

Itself tons, and come so nigh 

Earth's grossness ; there''s the how, and why. 

Is it because it sees us dull. 
And stuck in clay here, it would puU 
Us forth by some celestial flight. 
Up to her own sublimed height ? 

Or hath she here upon the ground, 
Some paradise or palace found. 
In all the bounds of beauty fit 
Tor her to inhabit ? There is it. 



278 SONGS OF THU SOUL; 

Thrice tappy house, that has receipt 
Tor this so lofty form, so straight, 
So polished, perfect, roimd, and even, 
As it slid moulded off from heaven. 

]S'ot swelling like the ocean proud, 
But stooping gently as a cloud ; 
As smooth as oil poured forth, and calm 
As showers, and sweet as drops of balm. 

Smooth, soft, and sweet, in all a flood 
Where it may run to any good ; 
And where it stays, it there becomes 
A nest of odorous spice and gums. 

In action, winged as the wind. 
In rest, like spirits left behind 
Upon a bank, or field of flowers. 
Begotten by that wind and showers. 

In thee, fair mansion, let it rest. 

Yet know ^ith what thou art possessed ; 

Thou entertaining in thy breast 

But such a mind, makest Grod thy guest. 

Bex JoKsoy. 



TDBUXE thou thy words, the thoughts control 

That o'er thee swell and throng ; 
They will condense within thy soul, 
And change to purpose strong. 



FROM MINES OF TROTIGRT. 279 

But he, who lets his feelings run 

In soft luxurious flow, 
Shrinks when hard service must be done, 

And faints at every woe. 

Faith's meanest deed more favour bears, 
"Where hearts and Atolls are weighed, 

Than brightest transports, choicest prayers, 
AYhich bloom their hour and fade. 

Ais'OiS". 



^ass toe 3SItt|jel2> ^tn, ttje 'Emz. 

T 0, the lilies of the field. 

How their leaves instruction yield ! 
Hark to Nature's lesson given 
By the blessed birds of heaven ! 
Every bush and tufted tree 
"Warbles sweet philosophy : 
" Mortal, fly from doubt and sorrow : 
God provideth for the morrow ! 

" Say, with richer crimson glows 
The kingly mantle than the rose ? 
Say, have kings more wholesome fare 
Than we, poor citizens of air ? 
Barns nor hoarded grain have we, 
Yet we carol merrily : 
Mortal, fly from doubt and sorrow ; 
Grod provideth for the morrow ! 



280 SONGS OF TITJS SOUL; 

" One tliere lives, whose guardian eye 
Guides our humble destiny ; 
One there lives, who. Lord of all, 
Keeps our feathers lest they fall ; 
Pass we blithely, then, the time. 
Fearless of the snare and lime, 
Free from doubt and faithless sorrow ; 
Grod provideth for the morrow !" 

Bishop Hebee. 



^rager for l^estsnatton. 

r^ OOD and great God ! can I not think of thee. 

But it must straight my melancholy be ? 
Is it interpreted in me disease, 
That, laden with my sins, I seek for ease ? 

be thou witness, that the reins dost know. 
And hearts of all, if I be sad for show ; 
And judge me after, if I dare pretend 

To aught but grace, or aim at other end. 
As thou art all, so be thou all to me. 
First, midst, and last, converted One and Three ! 
My faith, my hope, my love ; and in this state. 
My Judge, my Witness, and my Advocate, 
"Where have I been this while exiled from thee? 
And whither rapt, now thou but stoop' st to me ? 
Dwell, dwell here still : O, being every where. 
How can I doubt to find thee ever here ? 

1 know my state both full of shame and scorn. 
Conceived in sin and unto labour born ; 
Standing with fear, and must with horror fall, 
And destined unto judgment after all. 



FROM MINES OF TROUGHT. 281 

I feel mj griefs too ; and there scarce is ground 
Upon my flesh to inflict another wound ; 
Yet dare I not complain, or wish for death, 
"With holy Paul, lest it be thought the breath 
Of discontent ; or that these prayers be 
For weariness of life, not love of thee. 

Be]s^ Jo]S'so:s^. 



^rager for tfje l^olg ^Spirit. 

"nEFEJN'DEE of my rightful cause, 

While anguish from my bosom draws 
The deep-felt sigh, the ceaseless pray'r, 
make thy servant still thy care. 
That aid, which oft my griefs has heal'd, 
To aid again, entreated, yield. 
How long, ye sons of pride, how long 
Shall falsehood arm your impious tongue, 
And erring rage your breast inflame, 
My pow'r to thwart, my acts defame ? 
To Grod my heart shall vent its woe, 
WTio, prompt his blessings to bestow 
On each whose breast has learn' d his fear, 
Eows to my plaint the willing ear. 
Him wouldst thou please ? With rev'rend awe 
Observe the dictates of his law : 
In secret on thy couch reclin'd 
Search to its depth thy restless mind. 
Till hush'd to peace the tumult lie, 
And wrath and strife within thee die. 



282 SOJSraS of the SOTTL; 

AYitli purest gifts approach his shrine, 

And safe to him thy care resign. 

I hear a hopeless train demand, 

" AYhere's now the wish'd Dehv'rer's hand ?" 

Do Thou, my Grod, do Thou reply, 

And let thy presence from on high 

In full effusion o'er our head, 

Its all-enlivening influence shed. 

What joy my conscious heart o'erflows ! 

Xot such the exulting lab'rer knows, 

When to his long expecting eyes 

The vintage and the harvests rise. 

And, shadowing mde the cultur'd soil, 

AVith full requital crown his toil. 

My weary eyes in sleep I close. 

My limbs, secure, to rest compose ; 

For Thou, great Grod, shalt screen my head, 

And plant a guard around my bed. 

Mereick. 



^rager for Eime. 

A ND must the harp of Judah sleep again ? 

Shall I no more reanimate the lay ? 
O Thou who visitest the sons of men. 

Thou who dost listen when the humble pray. 
One little space prolong my mournful day ; 
One little lapse suspend thy last decree ! 

I am a youthful traveller in the way. 
And this slight boon would consecrate to Thee, 
Ere I A\dth Death shake hands, and smile that I 
am free. Henry Kirke White. 



FROM IflNES OF THOUGHT, 283 

pleasure, Betottcfjing Sgrm! 

T) EWITCHING syren ! golden rottenness ! 
-^ Thou hast with cunning artifice displayed 
Th' enamelled outside, and the honied verge 
Of the fair cup, where deadly poison lurks. 
"Within, a thousand sorrows dance the round ; 
And, like a shell, pain circles thee without. 
Grief is the shadow waiting on thy steps, 
"Which, as thy joys 'gin towards their west decline, 
Doth to a giant's spreading form extend 
Thy dwarfish stature. Thou thyself art pain, 
Greedy, intense desire ; and the keen edge 
Of thy fierce appetite oft strangles thee. 
And cuts thy slender thread ; but still the terror 
And apprehension of thy hasty end 
Mingles with gall thy most refined sweets. 
Yet thy CirCean charms transform the world. 
Captains that have resisted war and death, 
Nations that over fortune have triumphed, 
Are by thy magic made effeminate : 
Empires, that know no limits but the poles, 
Have in thy wanton lap melted away. 
Thou wert the author of the first excess 
That drew this reformation on the gods ; 
Canst thou, then, dream those powers that from 

heaven 
Eanished the eff'ect, will there enthrone the cause ? 
To thy voluptuous den fly, witch, from hence ; 
There dwell, for ever drowned in brutish sense. 

Thomas Carew. 



284 SO^'^aS OF THE SOUL; 

XT' E AH was witliiii the tossing bark, 

When stormy winds grew loud ; 
And waves came rolling high, and dark, 
And tlie tall mast was bowed. 

And men stood breathless in their dread, 

And baffled in their skill ; 
Bat One was there, who rose and said 

To the ^-ild sea, "Be still!" 

And the wind ceased — it ceased — that word 
Passed through the gloomy sky ; 

The troubled billows knew their Lord, 
And sank beneath his eye. 

And slumber settled on the deep, 

And silence on the blast ; 
As when the righteous fall asleep, 

AVhen death's fierce throes are past. 

Tliou, that didst rule the angry hour. 
And tame the tempest's mood. 

Oh ! send thy Spirit forth in power, 
O'er our dark souls to brood. 

Thou, that didst bow the billow's pride, 

Thy mandates to fulfil, — 
So speak to passion's raging tide,' 

Speak and say, — " Peace, be still!" 

Pelicia Hemans. 



I 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 285 



IPraaer for an aifisent l^usbantr. 

Eather in heaven ! 
Behold, he whom I love is daily treading 

The path of life in heaviness of soul. 
With the thick darkness now around him spread- 
ing 

He long hath striven — 
Oh, thou most kind ! break not the golden bowl. 

^Father in heaven ! 
Thou who so oft hast healed the broken-hearted, 
And raised the weary spirit bowed with care, 
Let him not say his joy hath all departed. 

Lest he be driven 
DoAvn to the deep abyss of dark despair. 

Father in heaven ! 
Oh, grant to his most cherished hopes a blessing — 

Let peace and rest descend upon his head. 
That his torn heart, thy holy love possessing, 

May not be riven — 
Let guardian angels watch his lonely bed. 

Eather in heaven ! 
Oh, may his heart be stayed on thee ! each feeling 

Still lifted up in gratitude and love ; 
And may that faith the joys of heaven revealing 

To him be given. 
Till he shall praise thy name in realms above. 

M. St. LEO]sr Loud. 



286 sojsras of thu soul; 



Eatstns of Satrus' ©augtjter. 

T^HET liave watclied her last and quivering 
breath, 

And the maiden's soul has flown ; 
They have wrapt her in the robes of death, 

And laid her dark and alone. 

But the mother easts a look behind, 

Upon that fallen flower, — 
Xay, start not,— 'twas the gathering vrind ; 

Those limbs have lost their power. 

And tremble not at that cheek of snow, 

O'er which the faint light plays ; 
Tis only the crimson curtain's glow, 

Which thus deceives thy gaze. 

Didst thou not close that expiring eye, 

And feel the soft pulse decay ? 
And did not thy lips receive the sigh, 

AYhich bore her soul away ? 

She lies on her couch, all pale and hushed. 

And heeds not thy gentle tread. 
And is still as the spring-flower by traveller 
crushed. 

Which dies on its snowy bed. 

Tlie mother has flown from that lonely room. 

And the maid is mute and pale : 
Her ivory hand is cold as the tomb, 

And dark is her stiff'ened nail. 



I 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 287 

Her mother strays with folded arms, 

And her head is bent in woe ; 
She shuts her thoughts to joy or charms ; 

Nor tear attempts to flow. 

But listen ! what name salutes her ear ? 

It comes to a heart of stone ; 
" Jesus," she cries, "has no power here ; 

My daughter's life has flown." 

He leads the way to that cold white couch, 
And bends o'er the senseless form ; 

Can his be less than a heavy touch ? 
The maiden's hand is warm ! 

And the fresh blood comes with a roseate hue, 

While Death's dark terrors fly ; 
Her form is raised, and her step is true, 

And life beams bright in her eye. 

GrEOEaE W. Doa:j^e. 



Eeltston, tljou tfje cSoul of l^appmess. 

T^ELI&ION'S AU. Descending from the skies 

To wretched man, the goddess, in her left. 
Holds out this world, and, in her right, the next; 
Beligion ! the sole voucher man is man : 
Supporter sole of man above himself ; 
E'en in this night of frailty, change, and death, 
She gives the soul a soul that acts a god. 
Eeligion ! Providence 1 an after-state ! 
Here is firm footing ; here is solid rock ! 



288 SOJSTGS OF THE SOUL; 



Tliis can support us ; all is sea besides ; 
Sinks under us ; bestorms, and then devours. 
His band tbe good man fastens on tbe skies, 
And bids Eartb roll, nor feels ber idle wbirl. 

As wben a wretcb, from tbick, polluted air, 
Darkness and stencb, and suffocating damps, 
And dungeon-borrours, by kind fate, discbarg'd. 
Climbs some fair eminence, wbere etber pure 
Surrounds bim, and Elysian prospects rise. 
His beart exults, bis spirits cast tbeir load ; 
As if new-born, be triumpbs in tbe cbange : 
So joys tbe soul, wben, from inglorious aims, 
And sordid SAveets, from feculence and frotb 
Of ties terrestrial, set at large, sbe mounts 
To reason's region, ber own element, 
Breatbes bopes immortal, and affects tbe skies. 

Religion ! tbou tbe soul of bappiness ; 
And, groaning Calvary, of tbee ! There sbine 
Tbe noblest trutbs; there strongest motives sting; 
Tbere sacred violence assaults tbe soul ; 
Tbere, notbing but compulsion is forborne. 
Can love allure us ? or can terror awe ? 
He weeps ! — tbe falliug drop puts out tbe Sun ; 
He sigbs — tbe sigb Eartb' s deep foundation 

sbakes. 
If in bis love so terrible, wbat tben 
His wratb inflamed ? bis tenderness on fire ? 
Like soft, smootb oil, outblazing otber fires ? 
Can prayer, can praise, avert it ? — Tbou, my All! 
My tbeme ! my inspiration ! and my crown ! 
My strengtb in age ! my rise in low estate ! 
My soul's ambition, pleasure, wealtb! — my world! 



FROM MINES OF TROUGHT. 289 

Mj light in darkness ! and my life in death ! 
My boast through time ! bliss through eternity ! 
Eternity, too short to speak thy praise ! 
Or fathom thy profound of love to man ! 
To man, of men the meanest, e'en to me ; 
My sacrifice ! my Grod ! — what things are these ! 

Edwakd TorNa. 



deception of t!je cSptrtt. 

T)EACE to thy ashes, sweetly-smiling maid ! 
Eled are thy beauties w^here they ne'er shall 
fade; 
See where the hallow' d choir their sister greet, 
And lead the stranger to her star-clad seat ; 
"All hail, pure spirit! — Life's short voyage o'er. 
Safe thou reposest on this placid shore. 
'No flowing tears shall quench that radiant eye, 
No rising sorrows prompt the frequent sigh : 
One, thy sweet office in this blest abode. 
To view thy Saviour, and to hymn thy Grod." 

Ais-Qisr. 



2^atS0 t!jm t!je ?|gmn to ©eatfj. 

r^H ! could I hope the wise and pure in heart 
Might hear my song without a frown, nor 
deem 
My voice unworthy of the theme it tries, — 
I would take up the hymn to Death, and say 



290 SOJ^GS OF THE SOUL; 

To the grim power, The world hath slandered thee 
And mocked thee. On thy dim and shadowy brow 
They place an iron crown, and call thee king 
Of terrors, and the spoiler of the world, 
Deadly assassin, that strik'st down the fair. 
The loved, the good — that breathest on the lights 
Of virtue set along the vale of life, 
And they go out in darkness. I am come, 
Not with reproaches, not with cries and prayers. 
Such as have stormed thy stern insensible ear 
Prom the beginning. I am come to speak 
Thy praises. True it is, that I have wept 
Thy conquests, and may weep them yet again : 
And thou from some I love wilt take a life 
Dear to me as my own. Yet while the speU 
Is on my spirit, and I talk with thee 
In sight of all thy trophies, face to face, 
Meet is it that my voice should utter forth 
Thy nobler triumphs ; I will teach the world 
To thank thee. — Who are thine accusers ? — Who ? 
The living ! — they who never felt thy power. 
And know thee not. The curses of the wretch 
Whose crimes are ripe, his sufferings when thy 

hand 
Is on him, and the hour he dreads is come. 
Are writ among thy praises » But the good — 
Does he whom thy kind hand dismissed to peace. 
Upbraid the gentle violence that took off 
His fetters, and unbarred his prison ceU ? 

Raise then the hymn to Death. Deliverer ! 
G-od hath anointed thee to free the oppressed 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 291 

And crush tlie oppressor. When the armed chief, 
The conqueror of nations, walks the world. 
And it is changed beneath his feet, and all 
Its kingdoms melt into one mighty realm — 
Thou, while his head is loftiest and his heart 
Blasphemes, imagining his own right hand 
Almighty, thou dost set thy sudden grasp 
Upon him, and the links of that strong chain 
That bound mankind are crumbled; thou dost 

break 
Sceptre and crown, and beat his throne to dust. 
Then the earth shouts with gladness and her tribes 
Grather within their ancient bounds again. 
Else had the mighty of the olden time, 
Nimrod, Sesostris, or the youth who feigned 
His birth from Libyan Ammon, smitten yet 
The nations with a rod of iron, and driven 
Their chariot o'er our necks. Thou dost avenge. 
In thy good time, the wrongs of those who know 
JSTo other friend, nor dost thou interpose 
Only to lay the sufferer asleep. 
Where he who made him vn?etched troubles not 
His rest — thou dost strike down his tyrant too. 
Oh, there is joy when hands that held the scourge 
Drop lifeless, and the pitiless heart is cold. 
Thou too dost purge from earth its horrible 
And old idolatries ; — from the proud fanes 
Each to his grave their priests go out, till none 
Is left to teach their worship ; then the fires 
Of sacrifice are chilled, and the green moss 
O'ercreeps their altars ; the fallen images 
Cumber the weedy courts, and for loud hymns, 



292 SO^'^GS OF THE SOUL ; 

Chanted bv kneeling multitudes, the wind 
Shrieks in the solitary aisles. When he 
Who gives his life to guilt, and laughs at all 
The laT\'S that Grod or man has made, and round 
Hedges his seat with power, and shines in wealth, 
Lifts up his atheist front to scoff at Heaven, 
And celebrates his shame in open day, 
Thou, in the pride of all his crimes, cutt'st off 
The horrible example. Touched by thine, 
The extortioner's hard hand foregoes the gold 
Wrung from the o'er-worn poor. The perjurer, 
"WHiose tongue was lithe, e'en now, and voluble 
Against his neighbour's life, and he who laughed 
And leaped for joy to see a spotless fame 
Blasted before his own foul calumnies. 
Are smit with deadly silence. He, who sold 
His conscience to preserve a worthless life. 
Even while he hugs himself on his escape. 
Trembles, as, doubly terrible, at length. 
Thy steps o'ertake him, and there is no time 
For parley — nor will bribes unclench thy grasp. 
Oft, too, dost thou reform thy Adctim, long 
Ere his last hour. And when the reveller. 
Mad in the chase of pleasure, stretches on. 
And strains each nerve, and clears the path of life 
Like ^vind, thou point' st him to the dreadful goal, 
And shak'st thy hour-glass in his reeling eye. 
And check' st him in mid course. Thy skeleton 

hand 
Shows to the faint of spirit the right path. 
And he is warned, and fears to step aside. 
Thou sett'st between the ruffian and his crime 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 293 

Thy ghastly countenance, and his slack hand 
Drops the drawTi knife. But, oh, most fearfully 
Dost thou show forth Heaven's justice, when thy 

shafts 
Drink up the ebbing spirit — then the hard 
Of heart and violent of hand restores 
The treasure to the friendless wretch he wronged. 
Then from the wi^ithing bosom thou dost pluck 
The guilty secret ; lips, for ages sealed, 
Are faithless to the dreadful trust at length, 
And give it up ; the felon's latest breath 
Absolves the innocent man who bears his crime ; 
The slanderer, horror-smitten, and in tears, 
Eecalls the deadly obloquy he forged 
To work his brother's ruin. Thou dost make 
Thy penitent victim utter to the air 
The dark conspiracy that strikes at life, 
And aims to whelm the laws ; ere yet the hour 
Is come, and the dread sign of murder given. 

Thus, from the first of time, hast thou been 

found 
On virtue's side ; the wicked, but for thee, 
Had been too strong for the good ; the great of 

earth 
Had crushed the weak for ever. Schooled in 

guile 
For ages, while each passing year had brought 
Its baneful lesson, they had filled the world 
With their abominations ; while its tribes, 
Trodden to earth, imbruted, and despoiled, 
Had knelt to them in worship ; sacrifice 



294 SOJVaS OF TSJE SOUL; 

Had smoked on many an altar, temple roofs 
Had echoed mtli the blasphemous prayer and 

hymn. 
But thou, the great reformer of the world, 
Tak'st oifthe sons of violence and fraud 
In their green pupilage, their lore half learned — 
Ere guilt had quite o'errun the simple heart 
Grod gave them at their birth, and blotted out 
His image. Thou dost mark them flushed with 

hope. 
As on the threshold of their vast designs, 
Doubtful and loose they stand, and strik'st them 

doAvn. 

Alas ! I little thought that the stern power 
AYhose fearful praise I sung, would try me thus 
Before the strain was ended. It must cease — 
Tor he is in his grave who taught my youth 
The art of verse, and in the bud of life 
Offered me to the Muses. Oh, cut off 
Untimely ! when thy reason in its strength, 
Hipened by years of toil and studious search, 
And watch of I^ature's silent lessons, taught 
Thy hand to practise best the lenient art 
To which thou gavest thy laborious days. 
And, last, thy life. And, therefore, when the earth 
Received thee, tears were in unyielding eyes 
And on hard cheeks, and they who deemed thy 

skill 
Delayed their death-hour, shuddered and turned 
pale 



FROM MINJES OF THOTiailT. 295 

When thou wert gone. This faltering verse, 

which thou 
Shalt not, as wont, o'erlook, is all I have 
To offer at thy grave — this — and the hope 
To copy thy example, and to leave 
A name of which the wretched shall not think 
As of an enemy's, whom they forgive 
As all forgive the dead. Rest, therefore, thou 
"Whose early guidance trained my infant steps — 
Eest, in the bosom of God, till the brief sleep 
Of death is over, and a happier life 
Shall dawn to waken thine insensible dust. 

Now thou art not — and yet the men whose 
guilt 
Has wearied Heaven for vengeance — ^he who bears 
Palse witness — he who takes the orphan's bread. 
And robs the widow — he who spreads abroad 
Polluted hands of mockery of prayer. 
Are left to cumber earth. Shuddering I look 
On what is written, yet I blot not out 
The desultory numbers — let them stand, 
The record of an idle revery. 

W. C. Betant. 



'^iaoom for t!je Heper! Eoom!'' 

came. 
The cry passed on — " Eoom for the leper ! room ! ' ' 
Sunrise was slanting on the city gates 



296 SO was OF THE SOUL ; 

Eosy and beautiful, and from the tills 
The early-risen poor were coming in, 
Duly and cheerfully, to their toil, and up 
Eose the sharp hammer's clink, and the far hum 
Of moving wheels and multitudes astir, 
And all that in a city murmur swells. 
Unheard but by the watcher's weary ear. 
Aching with night's dull silence, or the sick 
Hailing the welcome light, and sounds that chase 
The death-like images of the dark away. 

" Hoom for the leper 1 " And aside they stood. 
Matron, and child, and pitiless manhood — all 
AVTio met him on his way — and let him pass. 
And onward through the open gate he came, 
A leper, \vith the ashes on his brow. 
Sackcloth about his loins, and on his lip 
A covering, stepping painfully and slow, 
And ^\ith a difficult utterance, like one 
"Whose heart is ^vith an iron nerve put doTvii, 
Crying, " Unclean ! Unclean I ' ' 

'Twas now the depth 
Of the Judsean summer, and the leaves, 
"Whose shadow lay so still upon the path. 
Had budded on the clear and flashing eye 
Of Judah's loftiest noble. He was young. 
And eminently beautiful, and life 
Mantled in eloquent fulness on his lip. 
And sparlded in his glance ; and in his mien 
There was a gracious pride that every eye 
Followed with benisons — and this was he ! 
With the soft air of summer there had come 



FROM MINES OF TROUGHT. 297 

A torpor on his frame, Avhich not the speed 
Of his best barb, nor music, nor the blast 
Of the bold huntsman's horn, nor aught that stirs 
The spirit to its bent might drive away. 
The blood beat not as wont within his veins ; 
Dimness crept o'er his eye ; a drowsy sloth 
Fettered his limbs like palsy, and his port, 
"With all his loftiness, seemed struck with eld. 
Even his voice was changed — a languid moan 
Taking the place of the clear, silver key ; 
And brain and sense grew faint, as if the light, 
And very air, were steeped in sluggishness. 
He strove with it awhile, as manhood will, 
Ever too proud for weakness, till the rein 
Slackened within his grasp, and in its poise 
The arrowy jereed like an aspen shook. 
Day after day he lay as if in sleep ; 
His skin grew dry and bloodless, and white scales, 
Circled with livid purple, covered him. 
And then his nails grew black, and fell away 
Erom the dull flesh about them, and the hues 
Deepened beneath the hard unmoistened scales, 
Ajad from their edges grew the rank white hair. 
— And Helon was a leper ! 

Day was breaking 
When at the altar of the temple stood 
The holy priest of Grod, The incense lamp 
Burned mth a struggling light, and a low chant 
Swelled through the hollow arches of the roof 
Like an articulate wail, and there alone, 
Wasted to ghastly thinness, Helon knelt. 



298 SOJSraS of THJE SOTTL; 

The echoes of the melancholy strain 
Died in the distant aisles, and he rose up, 
Struggling with weakness, and bowed down his 

head 
Unto the sprinkled ashes, and put off 
His costly raiment for the leper's garb. 
And with the sackcloth round him, and his lip 
Hid in a loathsome covering, stood still, 
AVaiting to hear his doom : — 

Depart! depart, child 
Of Israel, from the temple of thy God ; 
Eor He has smote thee with his chastening rod. 

And to the desert wild. 
From all thou lovest, away thy feet must flee. 
That from thy plague His people may be free. 

Depart, and come not near 
The busy mart, the crowded city, more ; 
Nor set thy foot a human threshold o'er. 

And stay thou not to hear 
Voices that call thee in the way ; and fly 
From aU who in the wilderness pass by. 

Wet not thy burning lip 
In streams that to a human dwelling glide ; 
Nor rest thee where the covert fountains bide ; 

Nor kneel thee down to dip 
The water where the pilgrim bends to drink, 
By desert well or river's grassy brink. 

And pass not thou between 
The weary traveller and the cooling breeze. 
And lie not down to sleep beneath the trees 

Where human tracks are seen. 



FROM MIJSrJES OF TROUGHT. 299 

^OY milk tlie goat that browseth on the plain, 
Nor pluck the standing corn, or yellow grain. 

And now depart ! and when 
Thy heart is heavy, and thy eyes are dim. 
Lift up thy prayer beseechingly to Him 

Who, from the tribes of men. 
Selected thee to feel his chastening rod. 
Depart, oh leper ! and forget not Grod ! 

And he went forth — alone ; not one, of all 
The many whom he loved, nor she whose name 
Was woven in the fibres of the heart 
Breaking within him nqw, to come and speak 
Comfort unto him. Tea, he went his way. 
Sick, and heart-broken, and alone, to die ; 
For God hath cursed the leper ! 

It was noon, 
And Helon knelt beside a stagnant pool 
In the lone wdlderness, and bathed his brow, 
Hot with the burning leprosy, and touched 
The loathsome water to his parched lips. 
Praying that he might be so blessed — to die ! 
Footsteps approached, and with no strength to 

flee, 
He drew the covering closer on his lip. 
Crying, " Unclean ! Unclean 1 " and, in the folds 
Of the coarse sackcloth, shrouding up his face, 
He fell upon the earth till they should pass. 
INTearer the stranger came, and bending o'er 
The leper's prostrate form, pronounced his name, 
— " Helon ! " — the voice was like the master-tone 



800 SON as OF THJE SOUL; 

Of a rich instrument — ^most strangely sweet ; 
And the dull pulses of disease awoke, 
And for a moment beat beneath the hot 
And leprous scales with a restoring thrill. 
" Helon, arise !" and he forgot his curse, 
And rose and stood before him. 

Love and awe 
Mingled in the regard of Helon's eye 
As he beheld the stranger. He was not 
In costly raiment clad, nor on his brow 
The symbol of a princely lineage wore ; 
No followers at his back, nor in his hand 
Buckler, or sword, or spear ; — yet in his mien 
Command sat throned serene, and, if he smiled, 
A kindly condescension graced his lips, 
The lion would have crouched to in his lair. 
His garb was simple, and his sandals worn ; 
His statue modelled with a perfect grace ; 
His countenance, the impress of a Grod, 
Touched with the open innocence of a child ; 
His eye was blue and calm, as is the sky 
In the serenes t noon ; his air, unshorn, 
Fell on his shoulders ; and his curling beard 
The fulness of perfected manhood bore. 
He looked on Helon earnestly awhile. 
As if his heart was moved, and stooping down. 
He took a little water in his hand. 
And laid it on his brow, and said, " Be clean !" 
And lo ! the scales fell from him, and his blood 
Coursed with delicious coolness through his veins. 
And his dry palms grew moist, and on his brow 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 301 

The dewy softness of an infant's stole. 
His leprosy was cleansed, and he fell doAvn 
Prostrate at Jesus' feet, and worshipped him. 

Willis. 



I^eturn, tijou Bag of l^olimss! 

"D ETURN, thou wished and welcome guest, 

Thou day of holiness and rest ; 
The best, the dearest of the seven, 
Emblem and harbinger of heaven ! 
Though not the Bridegroom, at his voice, 
Eriend of the Bridegroom, still rejoice. 
Day, doubly sanctified and blessed. 
Thee the Ceeatoe cro^Tied with rest ; 
Erom all his works, from all his woes, 
On thee the Savioub, found repose. 
Thou dost, with mystic voice, rehearse 
The birth- day of an universe : 
Prophet, historian, both, in scope 
Thou speak' st to memory and to hope. 

Amidst the earthliness of life, 
Vexation, vanity, and strife. 
Sabbath ! how sweet thy holy calm 
Comes o'er the soul, like healing balm ; 
Comes like the dew to fainting flowers, 
Renewing her enfeebled powers. 
Thine hours, how soothingly they glide. 
Thy morn, thy noon, thine eventide ! 

All meet as brethren, mix as Mends ; 
Nature her general groan suspends ; 



302 SO^'^GS OF THU SOUL; 

Ko cares the sin-born labourers tire ; 

E'en the poor brutes thou bid'st respire ; 

'Tis almost as, restored awhile, 

Earth had resumed her Eden smile. 

I love thy call of earthly bells, 

As on my waking ear it swells ; 

I love to see thy pious train 

Seeking in gTOups the solemn fane : 

But most I love to mingle there 

In sympathy of praise and prayer, 

And listen to that living word. 

Which breathes the Spirit of the Lord : 

Or at the mystic table placed. 

Those eloquent mementos taste 

Of Thee, Thou suffering Lamb Divine, 

Thy soul-refreshing bread and wine ; 

Sweet viands given us to assuage 

The faintness of the pilgrimage. 

Severed from Salem, while unstrung 
His harp on Pagan willows hung, 
AYhat wonder if the Psalmist pined. 
As for her brooks the hunted hind ! — 
The temple's humblest place should win 
Grladlier than all the pomp of sin ; — 
Envied th' unconscious birds that sung 
Around those altars, o'er their young ; 
And deemed one heavenly Sabbath worth 
More than a thousand days of earth ; 
AVell might his harp and heart rejoice 
To hear, once more, that festal voice : 
" Come, brethren, come with glad accord, 
Haste to the dwelling of the Lord." 



FEOII MINES OF THOTTGHT. 303 

But if on earth so calm, so blest, 
The house of prayer, the day of rest ; 
If to the spirit when it faints, 
So sweet the assembly of the saints ; — 
There let us pitch our tents (we say), 
Por, Lord, with Thee 'tis good to stay ! 
Yet from the mount we soon descend, 
Too soon our earthly Sabbaths end ; 
Cares of a work-day will return. 
And faint our hearts, and fitful, burn ; 
Oh ! think, my soul ! beyond compare. 
Think what a Sabbath must be there, 
"Where all is holy bliss, that knows 
Nor imperfection, nor a close ; 
Where that innumerable throng 
Of saints and angels mingle song ; 
Where, wrought with hands, no temples rise, 
For Grod Himself their place supplies ; 
Nor priests are needed in th' abode 
Where the whole host are priests to G-od. 
Think what a Sabbath tJiere shall be, 
The Sabbath of Eternity ! 

Thomas Gtriistield. 



T^AIEEST of those that left the calm of heaven. 
And ventured down to man with words of 
peace. 
Daughter of G-race ! known by whatever name, 
Eeligion, Virtue, Piety, or Love 



304 SO]}^GS OF THE SOUL; 

Of Holiness, the day of tliy reward 
"Was come. Ah ! thou wast long despised, des- 
pised 
By those thou wooedst from death to endless life. 
Modest and meek, in garments white as those 
That seraphs wear, and countenance as mild 
As Mercy looking on Eepentance' tear ; 
"With eye of purity, now darted up 
To Grod's eternal throne ; now humbly bent 
Upon thyself, and weeping down thy cheek, 
That glowed with universal love immense, 
A tear, pure as the dews that fall in heaven ; 
In thy left hand, the olive branch, and in 
Thy right, the crown of immortality ; — 
With noiseless foot, thou walkedst the vales of 

earth, 
Beseeching men, ifrom age to age, to turn 
From utter death, to turn from woe to bliss. 

EoBEET Pollok:. 



i^eceptton of (©race. 

T IVE ever in my heart, sweet awful hour. 

When prostrate in my sin and shame I lay, 
And heard the absolving accents fall with power, 
As soft, as keen, as lambent lightnings play. 

And sure with lightning glance they seem'd to 
thriU, 
(0 may the dream prove true!) and search 
and burn 



FROM MINJES OF THOTTGRT. 305 

Each foul dark corner of my lawless will. 

"What if the Spirit griev'd did then return ? — 

O fear, joy to think ! — and what if yet, 

In some far moment of eternity, 
The lore of evil I may quite forget, 

And with the pure in heart my portion be ? 

Live in my heart, dread blissful hope, to tame 
The haughty brow, to curb the unchastened eye, 

And shape to deeds of good each wavering aim ; 
teach me some true penance ere I die ! 

Akois-. 



3^eg0neratt0n. 

COMETIMES indeed, when Wisdom in their 

^ ear 

"Whispered, and with its disenchanting wand 

Effectually touched the sorcery of their eyes. 

Directly pointing to the holy Tree, 

Where grew the food they sought, they turned 

surprised 
That they had missed so long what now they found. 
As one upon whose mind some new and rare 
Idea glances, and retires as quick. 
Ere memory has time to write it dowTO.': 
Stung with the loss, into a thoughtful cast 
He throws his face, and rubs his vexed brow ; 
Searches each nook and corner of his soul 
With frequent care ; reflects, and re-reflects, 

X 



306 SO^^GS OF THJE SOUL; 

And tries to touch relations tliat may start 

The fugitive again ; and oft is foiled ; 

Till something like a seeming chance, or flight 

Of random fancy, when expected least. 

Calls back the wandered thouo-ht, long souo'ht in 

vain; 
Then does uncommon joy fill all his mind ; 
And still he wonders, as he holds it fast, 
What lays so near he could not sooner find ; 
So did the man rejoice, when from his eye 
The film of folly fell, and what he, day 
And night, and far and near, had idly searched, 
Sprang up before him suddenly displayed ; 
So wondered why he missed the tree so long. 

EOBEKT POLLOK. 



TTAPPT those early days, when I 

Shine d in my angel-infancy ! 
Before I understood this place, 
Appointed for my second race ; 
Or taught my soul to fancy aught 
But a white celestial thought ; 
When yet I had not walked above 
A mile or two firom my first love ; 
And, looking back at that short space, 
Could see a glimpse of his bright face ; 
When on some gilded cloud or flower 
IMy gazing soul would dweU an hour, 



FROM MINES OF TROTTGRT. 307 

And in those weaker glories spy 

Some shadows of eternity ; 

Before I taught my tongue to wound 

My conscience with a sinful sound ; 

Or had the black art to dispense, 

A several sin to every sense ; 

But felt through all this fleshly dress 

Bright shoots of everlastingness. 

Oh ! how I long to travel back, 

And tread again that ancient track ! 

That I might once more reach that plain 

AVhere first I left my glorious train ; 

Prom whence the enlightened spirit sees 

That shady city of palm-trees ; 

But, oh ! my soul, with too much stay, 

Is drunk, and staggers in the way. 

Some men a forward motion love. 

But I by backward steps would move ; 

And when this dust falls to the urn. 

In that state I came return. 



Pooh heart, lament : 
Por since thy Grod refuseth still, 
There is some rub, some discontent, 

Which cools his will. 



308 SO^''GS OF THE SOUL; 

Thy Pather could 
Quickly effect what thou dost move ; 
Tor he is power : and sure he would ; 

For he is love. 

GrO search this thing : 
Tumble thy breast, and turn thy book ; 
If thou hadst lost a glove or ring, 

"Wouldst thou not look ? 

What do I see 
"Written above there ? " Yesterday 
I did behave me carelessly, 

When I did pray." 

And should Grod's ear 
To such indifferents chained be, 
Who do not their own motions hear ? 

Is Grod less free ? 

But stay ! what's there ? 
'' Late, when I would have something done, 
I had a motion to forbear ; 

Yet I went on." 

And should Grod's ear, 
Which needs not man, be tied to those 
Who hear not him, but quickly hear 

His utter foes ? 

Then once more pray ; 
Down with thy knees, up with thy voice ; 
Seek pardon first, and Grod wiU say, 

" Glad heart, rejoice !" 

Georoe Heebert. 



FROM MINES OF THOTTGHT. 309 

<Sfje is not ©eatr, 6ut Sleeprtij. 

TT7ITIII]Sr the darkened chamber sat 

A proud but stricken form ; 
Upon her vigil- wasted cheeks 

The grief- WT?ung tears were warm ; 
And faster streamed they as she bent 

Above the couch of pain, 
"Where lay a withering flower that wooed 

Those fond eyes' freshening rain. 

The raven tress on that young brow 

Was damp with dews of death ; 
And glassier grew her upraised eye 

With every flluttering breath. 
Coldly her slender fingers lay 

Within the mourner's grasp ; 
Lightly they pressed that fostering hand. 

And stiffened in its grasp. 

Then low the mother bent her knee, 

And cried in fervent prayer — 
" Hear me, Grod ! mine own, my child, 

Oh, holy Pather, spare ! 
My loved, my last, mine only one — 

Tear her not yet away ; 
Leave this crushed heart its best, sole joy : 

Be merciful, I pray ! " 

A radiance lit the maiden's face. 

Though fixed in death her eye ; 
A smile had met the angel's kiss 

That stole her parting sigh ! 



310 SOjSTGS of trie SOUL; 

And round her cold lips still that smile 

A holy brightness shed, 
As though she joyed her sinless soul 

To Him who gave had fled. 

The mother clasped the senseless form, 

And shrieked in wild despair, 
And kissed the icy lips and cheek, 

And touched the dewy hair. 
" JSTo warmth — no life — my child, my child ! 

Oh for one parting word. 
One murmur of that lutelike voice, 

Though hut an instant heard ! 

" She is not dead — she could not die — 

So young, so fair, so pure ; 
Spare me, in pity spare this blow ! 

All else I can endure. 
Take hope, take peace, this blighted head 

Strike "VNdth thy heaviest rod ; 
But leave me this, thy sweetest boon, 

Give back my child, O God ! " 

The suppliant ceased : her tears were stayed ; 

Hushed were those wailings loud ; 
A hallowed peace crept o'er her soul ; 

Her head to earth was bowed 
Low as her knee ; for as she knelt, 

About her, lo ! a flood 
Of soft, celestial lustre fell — 

A form beside her stood. 

And slowly then her awe -struck face 
And flighted eyes she raised ; 



FEOM MINES OF TROTIGHT, 311 

Her heart leaped liigli : those clouded orbs 

Grrew brighter as she gazed ; 
For oh ! they rested on a shape 

Majestic — yet so mild, 
Imperial dignity seemed blent 

With sweetness of a child. 

It spake not, but that saintlike smile 

Was full of mercy's light. 
And power and pity from those eyes 

Looked forth in gentle might ; 
Those angel looks, that lofty mien, 

Have breathed without a word — 
" Trust, and thy faith shall win thee all : 

Eehold, I am thy Lord!" 

He turns, and on that beauteous clay 

His godlike glances rest ; 
Commandingly the pallid brow 

His potent fingers pressed ; 
The frozen current flows anew 

Beneath that quickening hand ; 
The pale lips, softly panting, move ; 

She breathes at his command ! 

The spirit in its kindred realm 

Has heard its Master's call ; 
And back returning at that voice, 

Resumes its earthly thrall. 
And now from 'neath those snowy lids 

It shines with meeker light. 
As though 'twere chastened, purified, 

By even that transient flight. 



312 SONGS OF TKU SOUL; 

Loud swells tlie motlier's cry of joy : 

To Him how passing sweet ! 
Her child she snatches to her breast. 

And sinks at Jesus' feet. 
^' Grlory to thee, Almighty G-od ! 

AYho spared my heart this blow ; 
And glory to thine only Son — 

My Saviour's hand I know 1" 

A^-^A COEA MOWATT. 



Sons to ^t ISternal 3Etstiom. 

r\ THOU eternal Mind ! whose wisdom sees, 

And rules our changes by unchanged decrees ; 
As with delight on thy grave works we look, 
Say, art thou too mth our light follies took ? 
For when thy bounteous hand, in liberal showers 
Each way diffused, thy various blessings pours. 
We catch at them with strife, as vain to sight 
As children, when for nuts they scrambling fight. 
This snatching at a sceptre, breaks it ; he, 
That broken does ere he can grasp it, see : 
The poor world seeming like a ball, that lights 
Betwixt the hands of powerful opposites ; 
AYhich, while they cantonise in their bold pride, 
They but an immaterial point divide. 
O whilst for wealthy spoils these fight, let me, 
Though poor, enjoy a happy peace Avith thee ! 
Sir Edwaed Siieebi7e:n^e. 



FROM MINES OF THOVGRT. 313 

<Star of ti)e ©atoning. 

IVfOW, brighter than the host that all night 

■^^ long, 

In fiery armour, far up in the sky 

Stood watch, thou comest to wait the morning 

song, 
Thou comest to tell me day again is nigh, 
Star of the daAvning ! Cheerful is thine eye ; 
And yet in the broad day it must grow dim. 
Thou seem'st to look on me, as asking why 
My mourning eyes with silent tears do swim ; 
Thou bid'st me turn to Gron, and seek my rest 

in Him. 

Canst thou grow sad, thou say'st, as earth 

grows bright ? 
And sigh, when little birds begin discourse 
In quick, low voices, ere the streaming light 
Pours on their nests, from out the day's fresh 

source ? 
With creatures innocent thou must perforce 
A sharer be, if that thine heart be pure. 
And holy hour like this, save sharp remorse. 
Of ills and pains of life must be the cure. 
And breathe in kindred calm, and teach thee to 

endure. 

I feel its calm. But there's a sombrous hue. 
Edging that eastern cloud, of deep, dull red ; 
Nor gutters yet the cold and heavy dew ; 
And all the woods and hill-tops stand outspread 
With dusky lights, which warmth nor comfort 
shed. 



314 SO]}^GS OF THE SOUL; 

Still — save the bird that scarcely lifts its song — 
The vast world seems the tomb of all the dead — 
Tlie silent city emptied of its throng, 
And ended, all alike, grief, mirth, love, hate, and 
wrong. 

But T^Tong, and hate, and love, and grief, and 
mirth 

"Will quicken soon; and hard hot toil and strife. 

With headlong purpose, shake this sleeping 
earth 

"With discord strange, and all that man calls life. 

With thousand scatter' d beauties nature's rife; 

And airs and woods and streams breathe har- 
monies : 

Man Aveds not these, but taketh art to wife ; 

Nor binds his heart with soft and kindly ties : — 
He, feverish, blinded, lives, and, feverish, sated, 
dies. 

It is because man useth so amiss 

Her dearest blessings, nature seemeth sad ; 

Else why should she in such fresh hour as this 

Isot lift the veil, in revelation glad. 

From her fair face ? — It is that man is mad ! 

Then chide me not, clear star, that I repine 

AV]ien nature grieves ; nor deem this heart is 

bad. 
Thou look'st toward earth; but yet the heavens 

are thine ; 
AVhile I to earth am bound: — AVhen will the 

heavens be mine ? 



FROM MlJSrUS OF THOUGHT. 315 

If man would but his finer nature learn, 
And not in life fantastic lose the sense 
Of simpler things ; could nature's features stern 
Teach him be thoughtful, then, with soul 

intense 
I should not yearn for GrOD to take me hence. 
But bear my lot, albeit in spirit bow'd, 
Eemembering humbly why it is, and whence : 
But when I see cold man of reason proud. 
My solitude is sad — I'm lonely in the crowd. 

But not for this alone, the silent tear 
Steals to mine eyes, while looking on the mom, 
Nor for this solemn hour : fresh life is near ; — 
But all my joys ! — ^they died when newly born. 
Thousands wilL wake to joy ; while I, forlorn. 
And like the stricken deer, with sickly eye 
Shall see them pass. Breathe calm — ^my 

spirit's torn ; 
Ye holy thoughts, lift up my soul on high ! — 
Te hopes of things unseen, the far-off world 
bring nigh. 

And when I grieve, O, rather let it be 
That I — ^whom nature taught to sit with her 
On her proud mountains, by her rolling sea — 
Who, when the winds are up, with mighty stir 
Of woods and waters — feel the quickening spur 
To my strong spirit ; — who, as my own child. 
Do love the flower, and in the ragged bur 
A beauty see — that I this mother mild 
Should leave, and go with care, and passions fierce 
and wild ! 



316 SOWGS OF THE SOUL; 

How suddenly that straiglit and glittering shaft 
Shot 'thwart the earth I In crown of living 

fire 
Up comes the day ! As if they conscious 

qaaff'd— 
The sunny flood, hill, forest, city sph-e 
Laugh hi the wakening light. — Gro, vain desire! 
The dusky hghts are gone ; go thou thy way ; 
And pining discontent, like them, expu'e ! 
Be call'd my chamber, Peace, when ends the 

day; 
And let me with the dawn, like Pilgbim, sing 

and pray. 

H. Da>'a. 



<Searcij afttr fflfotr, 

■WHEEE shaH I find my God ? where, 

where, 
Shall I direct my steps to find him there ? 
Shall I make search in swelling bags of coin ? 
Ah ! no ; for Grod and Mammon cannot join. 
Do beds of down contain this heavenly stranger ? 
jS'o, no, he's rather cradled in some manger : 
Dwells he in wisdom ? is he gone that road ? 
IN'o, no, man's wisdom's foolishness with Grod : 
Or hath some new plantation yet unknown. 
Made him their king, adorned him with their 

crown? 
Xo, no ; the kingdoms of the earth think scorn 
To adorn his brows ^"ith any crown but thorn. 



FROM MINES OF THOTTGHT. 317 

Where shall I go to trace, where go to wind him ? 
Mj Lord is gone ; and O ! I cannot find him : 
I'll ransack the dark dungeons ; I'll inquire 
Into the furnace, after the seventh fire : 
I'll seek in Daniel's den, and in Paul's prison ; 
I'll search his grave, and see if he be risen : 
I'll go to the house of mourning ; and I'll caU 
At every alms-abused hospital : 
I'll go and ask the widow that's 0]3prest ; 
The heavy-laden that inquireth rest. 
I'll search the corners of all broken hearts ; 
The wounded conscience, and the soul that smarts ; 
The contrite spirit fill'd with filial fear — 
Ay, there he is ; and nowhere else but there : 
Spare not to scourge thy pleasure, O my Grod, 
So I may find thy presence vrith thy rod. 

Eeakcis Qtjaeles. 



^tlf::ptirifgms, SEnpollutetr Sea. 

r^ EEAT Ocean ! strongest of creation's sons, 

Unconquerable, unreposed, untired. 
That rolled the wild, profound, eternal bass. 
In nature's anthem, and made music, such 
As pleased the ear of Grod ! original, 
Unmarred, unfaded work of Deity, 
And unburlesqued by mortal's puny skill ; 
Trom age to age enduring and unchanged, 
Majestical, inimitable, vast ; 



318 SO^^GS OF THJE SOUL; 

Loud uttering satire, day and night, on eacli 
Succeeding race, and little pompous work 
Of man. Unfallen, religious, holy Sea ! 
Thou bow'dst thy glorious head to none, fear'dst 

none, 
Heardst none, to none didst honour, but to Grod 
Thy Maker, only worthy to receive 
Thy great obeisance. Undiscovered Sea ! 
Into thy dark, unknown, mysterious caves, 
And secret haunts, unfathomably deep, 
Beneath all visible retired, none went 
And came again, to tell the wonders there. 
Tremendous Sea ! what time thou liftedst up 
Thy waves on high, and with thy winds and storms 
Strange pastime took, and shook thy mighty sides 
Indignantly, the pride of navies fell ; 
Eeyond the arm of help, unheard, unseen. 
Sank friend and foe, with all their wealth and war; 
And on thy shores men of a thousand tribes, 
Polite and barbarous, trembling stood, amazed. 
Confounded, terrified, and thought vast thoughts 
Of ruin, boundlessness, omnipotence, 
Infinitude, eternity ; and thought. 
And wondered still, and grasped, and grasped, 

and grasped 
Again ; beyond her reach exerting all 
The soul, to take thy great idea in, 
To comprehend incomprehensible : 
And wondered more, and felt their littleness. 
SeM-purifying, unpoUuted Sea ! 
Lover unchangeable, thy faithful breast 
For ever heaving to the lovely moon, 



FEOM MINJES OF THOTTGHT. 319 

That like a shy and holy virgin, robed 

In saintly white, walked nightly in the heavens, 

And to thy everlasting serenade 

Gave gracious audience ; nor was wooed in vain. 

EOBEET POLLOK. 



Song of t!je «Stars. 

TT7"HE]Sr the radiant morn of creation broke, 

And the world in the smile of Grod awoke, 
And the empty realms of darkness and death 
Were moved through their depths by his mighty 

breath. 
And orbs of beauty and spheres of flame 
From the void abyss by myriads came, — 
In the joy of youth as they darted away. 
Through the widening wastes of space to play. 
Their silver voices in chorus rang. 
And this was the song the bright ones sang : 

" Away, away, through the wide, wide sky. 
The fair blue fields that before us lie, — 
Each sun with the worlds that round him roll. 
Each planet, poised on her turning pole ; 
With her isles of green, and her clouds of white, 
And her waters that lie like fluid light. 

" For the source of glory uncovers his face. 
And the brightness o'erflows unbounded space ; 
And we drink as we go the luminous tides 
In our ruddy air and our blooming sides ; 



320 SOJSTGS OF TRIE SOUL; 

Lo, yonder the living splendours play ; 
Away, on our joyous path, away ! 

" Look, look, through our glittering ranks afar, 

In the infinite azure, star after star. 

How they brighten and bloom as they STsdftly 

pass! 
How the verdure runs o'er each rolling mass ! 
And the path of the gentle winds is seen, 
Where the small waves dance, and the young 

woods lean. 

" And see where the brighter day-beams pour, 
How the rainbows hang in the sunny shower ; 
And the morn and eve, with their pomp of hues, 
Shift o'er the bright planets and shed their dews ; 
And 'twixt them both, o'er the teeming ground, 
With her shadowy cone the night goes round ! 

" Away, away ! in our blossoming bowers, 
In the soft air wrapping these spheres of ours, 
In the seas and fountains that shine v^ith mom, 
See, Love is brooding, and Life is born. 
And breathing myriads are breaking from night, 
To rejoice, like us, in motion and light. 

" Glide on in your beaut}', ye youthful spheres. 
To weave the dance that measures the years ; 
Grlide on, in the glory and gladness sent, 
To the farthest wall of the firmament, — ■ 
The boundless visible smile of Him, 
To the veil of whose brow your lamps are dim." 

W. C. Brya:nt. 



FROM MINES OF THOVGRT, 321 

Sprins Sa6&at|j SEalft. 

]l/rOST earnest was Ms voice! most mild his look, 
As with raised hands he blessed his parting 
flock. 
He is a faithful pastor of the poor ; — 
He thinks not of himself ; his Master's words, 
" Teed, feed my sheep ! ' ' are ever at his heart, 
The cross of Christ is aye before his eyes. 
Oh ! how I love with melted soul to leave 
The house of prayer, and wander in the fields 
Alone ! what though the opening spring be chill ! 
Although the lark, checked in his airy path, 
Eke out his song, perched on the fallow clod 
That still o'ertops the blade ! although no branch 
Have spread its foliage, save the willow wand 
That dips its pale leaves in the swollen stream. 
What though the clouds oft lour ! their threats 

but end 
In summer-showers, that scarcely fill the folds 
Of moss-couched violets, or interrupt 
The merle's dulcet pipe, — ^melodious bird ! 
He, hid behind the milk-white sloe-thorn spray, 
(Whose early flowers anticipate the leaf), 
"Welcomes the time of buds, the infant year. 
Sweet is the sunny nook to which my steps 
Have brought me, hardly conscious where I 

roamed. 
Unheeding where, — so lovely all around 
The works of God arrayed in vernal smile. 

James Geahame, 

T 



322 SOI^GS OF THE SOUL; 

cSearcfj after ^olj. 

TTrEIG-H me the fire ; or canst thou find 

A way to measure out the wind ; 
Distinguish all those floods that are 
Mixed in that watery theatre, 
And taste thou them as saltless there. 
As in their channel first they were. 
Tell me the people that do keep 
Within the kingdoms of the deep ; 
Or fetch me back that cloud again, 
Beshiver'd into seeds of rain. 
Tell me the motes, dusts, sands, and spears 
Of corn, when summer shakes his ears ; 
Show me that world of stars, and whence 
They noiseless spill their influence : 
This if thou canst, then show me Him 
That rides the glorious cherubim. 

Egbert Heerick. 



.Sons of praise for tfje 5E&mtns. 

lyrOAV, from the altar of my heart, 
■^ Let incense-flames arise : 
Assist me, Lord, to offer up 

Mine evening sacrifice. 
Awake, my love ; awake, my joy ; 

Awake mj^ heart and tongue ! 
Sleep not : when mercies loudly call, 

Break forth into a song. 



FROM MINJES OF THOUGHT. 323 

Mail's life's a book of history ; 

The leaves thereof are days ; 
The letters, mercies closely join' d; 

The title is thy praise. 
This day God was my sun and shield, 

My keeper and my guide ; 
His care was on my frailty shown, 

His mercies multiplied. 

Minutes and mercies multiplied 

Have made up all this day : 
Minutes came quick ; but mercies were 

More fleet and free than they. 
New time, new favour, and neAV joys 

Do a new song require : 
Till I should praise thee as I would, 

Accept my heart's desire. 

JOHTT MaSOjS^. 



cSons to a Nigfitmsale. 

O WEET bird, that sing'st away the early hours 

Of winters past, or coming, void of care. 
Well pleased with delights which present are, 
Eair seasons, budding sprays, sweet-smelling 

flow'rs ; 
To rocks, to springs, to rills, from leafy bow'rs ; 
Thou thy Creator's goodness dost declare. 
And what dear gifts on thee he did not spare, 
A stain to human sense in sin that low'rs. 



324 SOJS'GS OF THE SOUL; 

"^\niat soul can be so sick, wliich by thy songs 
(Attir'd in sweetness) sweetly is not driven 
Quite to forget earth's tn.rmoils, spites, and 

wrongs. 
And lift a reverend eye and tliougbt to beaven ? 
Sweet, artless songster, tbou nij mind dost raise 
To airs of spheres, yes, and to angels' lays. 
William Detjmmois^d. 



Summer Sai&attj SEalft. 

T^ELI&HTEUL is this loneliness ! it calms 
My heart : pleasant the cool beneath these 
elms 
That throw across the stream a moveless shade ! 
Here nature in her midnoon whisper speaks ; 
How peaceful every sound ! — The ring-dove's 

plaint, 
Moaned from the twihght centre of the grove, 
While every other woodland lay is mute, 
Save when the wren flits from her doAvn-eaved nest, 
And from the root-sprig trills her ditty clear, — 
The grasshopper's oft-pausing chirp, — the buzz 
Angrily shrill of moss-entangled bee, 
That soon as loosed booms with full twang aAvay,— 
The sudden rushing of the minnow-shoal. 
Scared from the shallows by my passing tread. 
Dimpling the water glides, A^ith here and there 
A glossy fly, skimming in circlets gay 
The treacherous siirface, while thequick-eyed trout 



FEOM MINES OF THOUGHT. 325 

Watches his time to spring ; or, from above 
Some feathered dam, purveying midst the boughs, 
Darts from her perch, and to her plumeless brood 
Bears oiF the prize : — sad emblem of man's lot ! 
He, giddy insect, from his native leaf, 
(Where safe and happily he might have lurked). 
Elate upon ambition's gaudy mugs, 
Forgetful of his origin, and, worse. 
Unthinking of his end, flies to the stream, 
And if from hostile vigilance he 'scape, 
Buoyant he flutters but a little while. 
Mistakes the inverted image of the sky 
For heaven itself, and, sinking, meets his fate. 
Now let me trace the stream up to its source. 
Among the hills ; its runnel by degrees 
Diminishing, the murmur runs a trickle ; 
Closer and closer still the banks approach. 
Tangled so thick with pleaching bramble-shoots. 
With brier and hazel branch, and hawthorn spray, 
That, fain to quit the dingle, glad I mount 
Into the open air ; grateful the breeze 
That fans my throbbing temples ! smiles the plain 
Spread wide below ; how sweet the placid view ! 
But oh ! more sweet the thought, heart-soothing 

thought ! 
That thousands, and ten thousands of the sons 
Of toil, partake this day the common joy 
Of rest, of peace, of viewing hill and dale, 
Of breathing in the silence of the woods, 
And blessing Him who gave the Sabbath-day. 
Yes, my heart flutters with a freer throb. 
To think that now the townsman wanders forth 



326 SOWGS OF THE SOUL; 

Among tlie fields and meadows, to enjoy 
The coolness of tlie da5''s decline : to see 
His children sport around, and simply pull 
The flower and weed promiscuous, as a boon 
Which proudly in his breast they smiling fix. 
Again I turn me to the hill, and trace 
The wizard stream, now scarce to be discerned ; 
"Woodless its banks, but green with ferny leaves, 
And thinly strewed with heath-bells up and down. 
Now, when the downward sun has left the glens, 
Each mountain's rugged lineaments are traced 
Upon the adverse slope, where stalks gigantic 
The shepherd's shadow thrown across the chasm, 
As on the topmost ridge he homeward hies. 
How deep the hush ! the torrent's channel dry 
Presents a stony steep, the echo's haunt : 
But hark, a plaintive sound floating along ! 
'Tis from yon heath-roofed shielin ; now it dies 
Away, now rises full ; it is the song 
Which He, — -\n\io listens to the hallelujahs 
Of choiring seraphim — delights to hear : 
It is the music of the heart, the voice 
Of venerable age, — of guileless youth, 
In kindly circle seated on the ground 
Before their wicket door : behold the man ! 
The grandsn-e and the saint ; his silvery locks 
Beam in the parting ray ; before him lies, 
Upon the smooth cropt sward, the open book, 
His comfort, stay, and ever-new delight ! 
While, heedless, at his side, the lisping boy 
Fondles the lamb that nightly shares his couch. 
James G-rahame. 



FROM MINJES OF THOUGHT, 327 

<Spealt, for tijg <Ser&ant l^earetfj. 

CPEAK, for thy servant heareth; 
^ Alone, in my lowly bed. 
Before I laid me down to rest, 

My nightly prayer was said ; 
And naught my spirit feareth, 

In darkness or by day : 
Speak, for thy servant heareth, 

And heareth to obey. 

I've stood before thine altar, 

A child before thy might ; 
No breath within thy temple stirred 

The dim and cloudy light ; 
And still I knew that thou wert there, 

Teaching my heart to say — 
" Speak, for thy servant heareth. 

And heareth to obey." 

O Grod, my flesh may tremble 

"When thou speakest to my soul ; 
But it can not shun thy presence blest, 

Or shrink from thy control. 
A joy my spirit cheereth 

That can not pass away : 
Speak, for thy servant heareth, 

And heareth to obey. 

Thou biddest me to utter 

Words that I scarce may speak. 

And mighty thiQgs are laid on me, 
A helpless one and weak ; 



328 SOJVGS OF TSU SOUL; 

Darkly thy truth declareth 
Its purpose and its way ; 

Speak, for thy servant heareth, 
And heareth to obey. 

And shouldst thou he a stranger 

To that which thou hast made ? 
Oh ! ever be about my path, 

And hover near my bed. 
Lead me in every step I take, 

Teach me each word I say : 
Speak, for thy servant heareth^ 

And heareth to obey. 

How hath thy glory lighted 

My lonely place of rest ; 
How sacred now shall be to me 

The spot which thou hast blest I 
If aught of evil should draw nigh 

To bring me shame and fear, 
My steadfast soul shall make reply, 

" Depart, for God is near I '* 

I bless thee that thou speakest 

Thus to an humble child ; 
The God of Jacob calls to me 

In gentle tones and mild ; 
Thine enemies before thy face 

Are scattered in dismay : 
Speak, Lord, thy servant heareth. 

And heareth to obey. 



FROM MINES OF TROTTGRT. 329 

I've stood before thee all my days — 

Have ministered to thee ; 
But in the hour of darkness first 

Thou speakest unto me. 
And now, the night appeareth 

More beautiful than day : 
Speak, Lord, thy servant heareth, 

xlnd heareth to obey. 

Julia W. Howe. 



Song of praise for tije fSlornms. 

1\/rY Grod was with me all this night, 

And gave me sweet repose : 
My Grod did watch, even whilst I slept, 

Or I had never rose. 
How many groan' d, and wish'd for sleep. 

Until they Avish'd for day. 
Measuring slow hours with their quick pains, 

"Whilst I securely lay ! 

Whilst I did sleep all dangers slept, 

Ko thieves did me affright ; 
Those ev'ning wolves, those beasts of prey, 

Disturbers of the night. 
ISTo raging flames nor storms did rend 

The house that I was in ; 
I heard no dreadful cries without, 

iSTo doleful groans within. 



330 SOIfGS OF THE SOUL; 

"WTiat terrors have I scap'd this rdghtj 

Wliich liave on others fell ! 
My body might have slept its last ; 

My soiil have wak'd in heU. 
Sweet rest hath gain'd that strength to me, 

"Which labour did devour : 
My body v^'as in weakness sown, 

But it is rais'd in power. 

Lord, for the mercies of the night, 

My humble thanks I pay ; 
And unto thee I dedicate 

The first-fruits of the day. 
Let this day praise thee, O my Grod, 

And so let all my days : 
And, let mine eternal day 

Be thine eternal praise. 

John Mason. 



I 

li 



«Son2 of iiraise. 

r^ OD of my life, and author of my days ! 
^-^ Permit my feeble voice to lisp thy praise ; 
And trembling take upon a mortal tongue 
That haUow'd name to harps of Seraphs sung. 
Yet here the brightest Seraphs could no more 
Than hide their faces, tremble, and adore. 
Worms, angels, men, in ev'ry diff'rent sphere, 
Are equal all, for all are nothing here. 
All jS'ature faints beneath the mighty name, 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 331 

Which Nature's works, through all her parts, 

proclaim. 
I feel that name my inmost thoughts control, 
And breathe an awful stillness thro' my soul ; 
As by a charm the waves of gTief subside ; 
Impetuous passion stops her headlong tide : 
At thy felt presence all emotions cease, 
And my hush'd spirit finds a sudden peace, 
Till ev'ry worldly thought within me dies. 
And earth's gay pageants vanish from my eyes ; 
Till all my sense is lost in infinite. 
And one vast object fills my aching sight. 

But soon, alas ! this holy calm is broke ; 
My soul submits to wear her wonted yoke ; 
With shackled pinions strives to soar in vain, 
And mingles with the dross of earth again. 
But he, our gracious Master, kind as just, 
Knowing our frame, remembers man is dust. 
His Spirit, ever brooding o'er our mind, 
Sees the first wish to better hopes inclin'd ; 
Marks the young dawn of ev'ry virtuous aim, 
And fans the smoking flax into a flame : 
His ears are open to the softest cry. 
His grace descends to meet the lifted eye ; 
He reads the language of a silent tear, 
And sighs are incense from a heart sincere. 
Such are the vows, the sacrifice I give : 
Accept the vow, and bid the suppliant live. 
From each terrestrial bondage set me free ; 
Still ev'ry wish that centres not in thee ; 
Bid my fond hopes, my vain disquiets cease. 
And point my path to everlasting peace. 



332 SOW as OF THE SOUL; 

If tlie soft hand of winning pleasure leads 
By living waters, and throngli flow'rj meads. 
When all is smiling, tranquil, and serene, 
And vernal beauty paints the flatt'ring scene. 
Oh ! teach me to elude each latent snare, 
And whisper to my sliding heart — Eeware ! 
With caution let me hear the Syren's voice, 
And doubtful, Avith a trembling heart rejoice. 
If friendless in a vale of tears I stray. 
Where briers wound, and thorns perplex my way, 
Still let my steady soul thy goodness see. 
And with strong confidence lay hold on thee ; 
With equal eye my various lot receive, 
Eesign'd to die, or resolute to live ; 
Prepar'd to kiss the sceptre or the rod, 
AVliile Grod is seen in all, and all in Grod. 

I read his awful name emblazon' d high 
With golden letters on th' illumin'd sky, 
]^or less the mystic characters I see 
Wrought in each flow'r, inscrib'd on ev'ry tree ; 
In ev'ry leaf that trembles to the breeze 
I hear the voice of Grod among the trees ; 
With thee in shady solitudes I walk, 
With thee in busy crowded cities talk ; 
In ev'ry creature own thy forming pow'r. 
In each event thy providence adore. 
Thy hopes shall animate my drooping soul. 
Thy precepts guide me, and thy fear control. 
Thus shall I rest unmov'd by all alarms, 
Secure ^^ithin the temple of thine arms, 
From anxious cares, from gloomy terrors free. 
And feel myself omnipotent in thee. 



FROM MIJS'ES OF TROUGHT. 333 

Then when the last, the closing hour draws nigh, 
And earth recedes before mj swimming eye ; 
When trembling on the doubtful edge of fate 
I stand, and stretch my view to either state ; 
Teach me to quit this transitory scene 
With decent triumph and a look serene ; 
Teach me to fix my ardent hopes on high, 
And haying liv'd to thee, in thee to die. 

Ai^-^^'A Letitia Baebauld. 



"Y^OIJ Spirits ! who haye thro^ni away 
That enyious weight of clay, 

Which your celestial flight denied ; 
Who by your glorious troops supply 
The winged hierarchy. 

So broken in the angel's pride ! 

you ! whom your Creator's sight 
Inebriates with delight ! 

Sing forth the triumphs of his name ; 
All you enamoured souls, agree 
In a loud symphony, 

To giye expression to your flame ! 

To Him his own great works relate. 
Who deigned to eleyate 

Ton 'boye the frailty of yoiu' birth. 
Where you stand safe from that rude war 
With which we troubled are. 

By the rebellion of our earth. 



334 SOJSraS of THJE SOUL; 

"While a corrupted air teneath 
Here in tliis world we breathe, 

Each hour some passion us assails. 
jSTow lust casts wildfire in the blood, 
Or, that it may seem good, 

Itself in wit or beauty veils. 
Then envy circles us with hate, 
And lays a siege so strait, 

No heavenly succour enters in : 
But if revenge admittance find 
For ever hath the mind 

jMade forfeit of itself to sin. 
Assaulted thus, how dare we raise 
Our minds to think his praise, 

"WHio is eternal and immense ? 
How dare we force our feeble wit 
To speak Him infinite, 

So far above the search of sense ? 
you ! who are immaculate. 
His name may celebrate 

In your soul's bright expansion : 
You, whom your virtues did unite 
To his perpetual light, 

That ever with Him you now shine one. 

"While we who to earth contract our hearts, 
Aiid only study arts 

To shorten the sad length of time, 
In place of joys, bring humble fears. 
For h}Tnns, repentant tears. 

And a new sigh, for every crime. 

William Habi^gto^". 



FROM MIXES OF THOUGHT. 335 

^ixt, fHafor, Spirit I 

OIEE, Maker, Spirit, who alone canst know 
^ My soul and all the deep remorse that's 

there — 
I ask no mitigation of my wo ; 

Yet pity me, and give me strength to bear ! 

Kemorse ? — ah ! not for ill designedly done : 
To look on pain, to me is pain severe ; 

Tet, yet, dear forms which Death from me hath 
won, 
Had Love been Wisdom, haply ye were here ! 

Much have I suffered ; yet this form, unscathed. 
Declares thy kind protection, by its thrift : 

"With secret dews the wounded plant is bathed ; 
My ills are my desert, my good thy gift. 

Three years are flown since my sore heart bereft 
Hath mourned for two, ta'en by the powers on 

Nor tint nor atom that is fair is left 

Beneath the marble where their relics lie. 

Tet no oblivious veil is o'er them cast : 

Blent with my blood, the sympathetic glow 

Burns brighter now their mortal lives are past. 
Than when, on earth, I felt their joy and wo. 

Oh ! may their spirits, disembodied, come, 
And strong though secret influence dispense — 

Pitying the sorrows of an earthly doom. 

And smoothing pain with sweet beneficence. 



336 SOj\^GS of the SOUL ; 

Oil ! cover them with forms so made to meet 
The models of their souls, that, when they see, 

They cast themselves in beauty at thy feet. 
In all the heaven of grateful ecstasy, 

JMethinks I see them, side by side, in love, 
Like brothers of the zodiac, all around 

Diffusing light and fragrance, as they move 
Harmonious as the spheric music's sound. 

And may these forms in warm and rosy sleep, 
(In some fair dwelling for such forms assigned,) 

Lie, while o'er air, earth, sea, their spirits sweep. 
Quick as the changeful glance of thought and 
mind. 

This fond ideal which my grief relieves, 

Pather, beneath thy throne may live, may be : 

Tor more than all my feeble sense conceives, 
Thy hand can give in blest reality. 

Sire, Maker, Spirit ! source of all that's fair ! 

Howe'er my poor words be unworthy thee, 
Oh ! be not weary of the imperfect prayer 

Breathed from the fervor of a ^M?etch like me ! 
Maeia Beooks. 



&\}t Comes to fHe. 

C HE comes to me in robes of snow. 
The friend of all my sinless years- 
Even as I saw her long ago. 

Before she left this vale of tears. 



FROM MINES OF TROVGHT. 337 

She comes to me in robes of snow — 
She walks the chambers of my rest, 

"With soundless footsteps, sad and slow, 
That wake no echo in my breast. 

I see her in my visions yet, 

I see her in my waking hours ; 
Upon her pale, pure brow is set 

A crown of azure hyacinth flowers. 

Her golden hair waves round her face, 
And o'er her shoulders gently falls : 

Each ringlet hath the nameless grace 
My spirit yet on earth recalls. 

And, bending o'er my lowly bed, 

She murmurs — " Oh, fear not to die ! 

Por thee an angel's tears are shed, 
An angel's feast is spread on high. 

" Come, then, and meet the joy divine 
That features of the spirits wear : 

A fleeting pleasure here is thine — 
An angel's crown awaits thee there. 

" Listen ! it is a choral hymn' ' — 
And, gliding softly from my couch. 

Her spirit-face waxed faint and dim, 
Her white robes vanished at my touch. 

She leaves me with her robes of snow — 
Hushed is the voice that used to thrill 

Around the couch of pain and wo — 
She leaves me to my darkness still. 

Catherine "Waefield k^j) Eleaii^oe Lee. 



338 SO^^GS OF THE SOUL; 

5^IS now clear day : I see a rose 

Eud in the bright east, and disclose 
The pilgrim smi ; all night have I 
Spent in a roving ecstacy 
To find my Saviour ; I have been 
As far as Bethlehem, and have seen 
His inn and cradle : being there 
I met the wise men ; asked them where 
He might be found, or what star can 
Xow point him out, grown up a man ? 
To Eg}^t hence I fled, ran o'er 
All her parched bosom to JS'ile's shore, 
Her yearly nurse ; came back, inquired 
Among the doctors, and desired 
To see the temple ; but was shown 
A little dust, and for the town 
A heap of ashes, where some said 
A small bright sparkle was a-bed, 
Which would one day (beneath the pole) 
AAvake, and then refine the whole. 
Tired here, I came to Sychar ; thence 
To Jacob's well, bequeathed since 
Unto his sons ; where often they 
In those calm golden evenings lay. 
Watering their flocks ; and having spent 
Those white days, drove home to the tent 
Their well-fleeced train ; and here (0 fate !) 
I sit where once my Saviour sate. 
The angry spring in bubbles swelled, 
Wliich broke in sighs still as they filled. 



FR03I MINES OF TROrGHT. 389 

And whispered Jesus had been there, 

But Jacob's children would not hear. 

Loth hence to part, at last I rise, 

But with the fountain in my eyes ; 

And here a fresh search is decreed, 

He must be found where He did bleed. 

I walk the garden, and there see 

Ideas of his agony, 

And moving anguishments, that set 

His blessed face in a bloody sweat : 

I climbed the hill, perused the cross. 

Hung with my gain, and his great loss ; 

jSTever did tree bear fruit like this, 

Balsam of souls, the body's bliss I 

But, O his grave ! where I saw lent 

(For he had none) a monument. 

An undeiiled and new hewed one. 

But there was not the Corner Stone ; 

" Sure then," said I, " my quest is vain, 

He'll not be found where He was slain. 

So mild a lamb can never be 

'Midst so much blood and cruelty - 

I'll to the wilderness, and can 

rind beasts more merciful than man ; 

He lived there safe, 'twas his retreat 

From the fierce Jew, and Herod's heat •,. 

And forty days mthstood the fell 

And high temptations of hell. 

With seraphims there talked He^ 

His Father's flaming ministry : 

He heavened their walks, and with his eye& 

Made those wild shades a paradise : 



340 SOJS^GS OF TRJE SOUL; 

Thus ^'as the desert sanctified, 
To be the refuge of his Bride. 
I'll thither then ; see ! it is day ; 
The sun's broke through to guide my way." 
But as I urged thus, and sit down, 
What pleasures should my journey crown ; 
"W^at silent paths, what shady cells, 
Pair virgin flowers, and hallowed wells, 
I should rove in, and rest my head 
Y\niere my dear Lord did often tread ; 
j j Sweetening all danger vrith success, 
Methought I heard one singing thus : 
" Search well another world ; who studies this 
Travels in clouds, seeks manna where none is." 



i' 



Srarcij after ^ctr. 

'XT'ET why drown fancy in such depths as these ? 
-^ Eeturn, presumptuous rover ! and confess 
The bounds of man, nor blame them as too small. 
Enjoy we not full scope in what is seen ? 
Full ample the dominions of the sun ! 
Full glorious to behold ! how fiir, how wide, 
The matchless monarch, from his flaming throne, 
Lavish of lustre, throws his beams about him, 
Farther and faster than a thought can fly, 
And feeds his planets with eternal fires ! 
Beyond this city why strays human thought ? 
One wonderful enough for man to know ! 



FROM IIIJ^JSS OF THOUGHT, 341 

One firmament enough for man to read ! 
Nor is instruction here our only gain : 
There dwells a noble pathos in the skies, 
"Which warms our passions, proselytes our hearts. 
How eloquently shines the glowing pole ! 
With what authority it gives its charge, 
Remonstrating great truths in style sublime, 
Though silent, loud ! heard earth around, above 
The planets heard ; and not unheard in hell ; 
Hell has its wonder, though too proud to praise. 

Divine Instructor ! thy first volume this, 
For man's perusal ; all in capitals ! 
In moon and stars (heaven's golden alphabet !) 
Emblazed to seize the sight ; who runs may read, 
Who reads can understand : 'tis unconfined 
To Christian land, or Jewry ; fairly writ 
In language universal, to mankind : 
A language lofty to the learned, yet plain 
To those that feed the flock, or guide the plough, 
Or, from its husk, strike out the bou.nding grain. 
A language worthy the great Mind that speaks ! 
Preface, and comment, to the sacred page ! 
Stupendous book of wisdom to the wise ! 
Stupendous book, and opened, Xight! by thee. 
By thee much opened, I confess, O Mght ! 
Yet more I wish ; say, gentle Night, whose beams 
Give us a new creation, and present 
The world's great picture, softened to the sight ; 
Say, thou, whose mild dominion's silver key 
Unlocks our hemisphere, and sets to view 
Worlds beyond number; worlds concealed by day 
Behind the proud and envious star of noon ! 



342 SONGS OF THE SOUL ; 

Canst tlioii not draw a deeper scene ?— and show 
The mighty Potentate, to w^hom belong 
These rich regalia, pomponsly displayed ? 
Oh ! for a glimpse of Him my sonl adores ! 
As the chased hart, amid the desert waste, 
Pants for the living stream ; for Him who made her 
So pants the thirsty sonl, amid the blank 
Of sublunary joys : say, goddess, where ? 
Where blazes his bright court? where burns his 

throne ? 
Thou know'st, for thou art near Him ; by thee, 

round 
His grand pavilion, sacred fame reports, 
The sable curtains drawn : if not, can none 
Of thy fail' daughter-train, so swift of wing, 
Who travel far, discover where He dwells ? 
A star his dwelling pointed out below : 
Say ye, who guide the wildered in the waves, 
On which hand must I bend my course to find 

Him? 
These courtiers keep the secret of their King ; 
I wake whole nights, in vain, to steal it from them. 
In ardent contemplation's rapid car, 
Prom earth, as from my barrier, I set out ; 
How swift I mount ! diminished earth recedes ; 
I pass the moon ; and, from her further side, 
Pierce heaven's blue curtain; pause at every 

planet. 
And ask for Him who gives their orbs to roll. 
Prom Saturn's ring I take my bolder flight, 
Amid those sovereign glories of the skies, 
Of independent, native lustre, proud ; 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 343 

The souls of systems ! — What behold I now ? 
A wilderness of wonders burning round, 
Where larger suns inhabit higher spheres. 
JS'or halt I here ; my toil is but begun ; 
'Tis but the threshold of the Deity, 
Or far beneath it I am grovelling still. 

Edwaed YoiJNa. 



Sin of %t ^fjousfjtUss. 

"TTmO laughs at sin, laughs at his Maker's 
frowns ; 

Laughs at the sword of vengeance o'er his head; 
Laughs at the great Redeemer's tears and wounds, 

Who, but for sin, had never wept or bled. 

Who laughs at sin, laughs at the numerous woes 
Which have the guilty world so oft befel ; 

Laughs at the whole creation's groans and 
throes, — 
At all the spoils of death, and pains of hell. 

Who laughs at sin, laughs at his own disease ; 

Welcomes approaching torments with his 
smiles ; 
Dares at his soul's expense his fancy please. 

Affronts his Grod, himself of bliss beguiles. 

Who laughs at sin, sports at his guilt and shame ; 

Laughs at the errors of his senseless mind : 
Por so absurd a fool, there wants a name, 

Expressive of a folly so refined. 

Ak-qk. 



344 SONGS OF TRE SOUL; 

,Sons of '^xm%t for ffirace. 

f\ GrOD of grace, who hast restor'd 

^^ Thine image iinto me, 

Which by my sins ^vas quite defac'd, 

"What shall I render thee ? 
Thine image and inscription, Lord, 

Upon my heart I bear : 
Thine own I render unto thee, 

God, my Grod most dear. 

Myself I owe thee for myself, 
Whom thou didst make of earth ; 

But thou hast made me o'er again, 
Thou gav'st a second birth. 

Twice born, and twice endu'd with life, 

1 haste to come to thee. 

To pay my vows, my thanks, my heart, 
With all humility. 

O, was I born first from beneath. 

And then born from above ? 
Am I a child of man and God ? 

rich and endless love ! 
When I had broke the tables, Lord, 

New tables thou didst hew ; 
And with thy finger didst engrave 

Thy laws on them anew. 

Earth is my mother, earth my nurse, 
And earth must be my tomb : 

Yet God, the God of heaven and earth, 
My Father is become. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 845 

Hell enter' d me, and into hell 

I quickly should have run ; 
But, ! kind heav'n laid hold on me : 

Heav'n is in me begun. 

This spark vrS\. rise into a flame, 

This seed into a tree ; 
My songs shall rise, my praises shall 

Loud hallelujahs be. 

JoHK Mason. 



TT7HAT is this passing scene ? 

A peevish April- day ! 
A little sun, — a little rain, — 
And then night sweeps along the plain, 
And all things fade away : 
Man (soon discussed) 
Yields up his trust ; 
Ajad all his hopes and fears He with him in the 
dust ! 

And what is beauty's power ? 

It flourishes and dies ; 
Will the cold earth its silence break, 
To tell how soft, how smooth a cheek 
Beneath its surface lies ? 
Mute, mute is all 
O'er beauty's faU; 
Her praise resounds no more, when mantled in 
her pall. 



346 S0J:^GS of THU SOUL; 

The most beloved on earth 

N'ot long survives to-day ; 
So music past is obsolete, 
And yet 'twas sweet, 'twas passing sweet, 
But now 'tis gone away : 
Thus does the shade 
In memory fade, 
When in forsaken tomb the form beloved is laid ! 

• Then since this world is vain 
And volatile and fleet, 
Why should I lay up earthly joys, 
Where rust corrupts and moth destroys, 
And cares and sorrows eat ? 
! Why fly from Ul 

With anxious skill, 
When soon this hand will freeze, this throbbing 
heart lie still ? 

He:n^ry Kieke White. 



I' 



F 



Song of praise for tfje ffiospel 
JHmistrs* 

AIE; are the feet which bring the news 
Of gladness unto me : 
What happy messengers are these 

Which my bless' d eyes do see ! 
These are the stars which Grod appoints 

For guides unto my way, 
To lead me unto Bethlem-town, 

'Wliere my dear Saviour lay. 



FROM MINES OF TROTIGHT. 347 

These are mj Grod's ambassadors, 

Ey whom his mind I know ; 
God's angels in his lower heav'n, 

G-od's trumpeters below. 
The trumpet sounds, the dead arise, 

Which fell by Adam's hand : 
Again the trumpet sounds, and they 

Set forth for Canaan's land. 

Thy servants speak ; but thou, Lord, dost 

An hearing ear bestow : 
They smite the rock ; but thou, my God, 

Dost make the waters flow. 
They shoot the arrow ; but thy hand 

Doth drive the arrow home : 
They call ; but, Lord, thou dost compel, 

And then thy guests are come. 

Angels that fly, and worms that creep, 

Are both alike to thee ; 
If thou mak'st worms thine angels, Lord, 

They bring my God to me. 
As sons of thunder first they come, 

And I the lightning fear ; 
But then they bring me to my home. 

And sons of comfort are. 

Lord, thou art in them of a truth, 

That I might never stray ; 
The clouds and pillars march before. 

And show me Canaan's way : 



348 SOJSraS of TRE SOTTL; 

I bless my God, who is my guide ; 

I sing in Sion's ways : 
"When shall I sing on Sion's hill 

Thine everlasting praise ? 

JoHiq- Mason. 



S^^\^txtMxxi ilarmomous <Sisters, 
ISmz antr TSti%t. 

T) LEST pair of S}Tens, pledges of Heaven's joy, 
^^ Sphere-born harmonious sisters, Voice and 

Verse, 
Wed your divinest sounds, and mixed power 

employ 
Dead things with inbreathed sense able to pierce ; 
And to our high-raised phantasy present 
That undisturbed song of pure consent. 
Aye sung before the sapphire-coloured throne, 
To Him that sits thereon, 
With saintly shout, and solemn jubilee : 
Where the bright seraphim, in burning row, 
Their loud uplifted angel-trumpets blow ; 
And the cherubic host, in thousand quires, 
Touch their immortal harps of golden wires, 
With those just spirits that wear victorious palms, 
Hymns devout and holy psalms 
Singing everlastingly : 
That we on earth, with undiscording voice 
May rightly answer that melodious noise ; 
As once we did, till disproportioned sin 
Jarred against nature's chime, and with harsh din 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 349 

Broke the fair music that all creatures made, 
To their great Lord,whoselovetheirmotion swayed 
In perfect diapason, whilst they stood 
In first obedience, and their state of good. 
Oh, may we soon again renew that song, 
Ajid keep in tune with heaven, till Grod ere long 
To his celestial concert us unite. 
To Hve with him, and sing in endless mom of light. 

John Milton. 



cSoon to IHtrt Wiitt JFac0 to jFace. 

n LOEIOUS Shepherd of the sheep, 
^ May I dare to caU me Thine, 
One whom Thou wilt tend and keep 
Safe beneath thy wings divine ? 
Ah ! with Thee so kind and near, 
"What have I to wish or fear ? 

AYhere the heavenly pastures grow, 
Yf here the hving waters glide, 
Led and fed by Thee below, 
I have nought to ask beside ; 
ISTought but thankfulness of heart, 
To proclaim how good Thou art. 

Keep me in Thy righteous ways, 
Gruide me with Thy holy wand, 
Through this life's perplexing maze. 
Through the vale of death beyond ; 
G-racious Thou, and happy I, 
AYith so great a Priend so nigh. 



350 SOJ^GS OF THE SOUL; 

In the desert then I'm fed, 
Manna round me rains from high, 
Holy oil anoints my head, 
And my cruse is never dry ; 
Then from grace I pass to grace, 
Soon to meet Thee face to face. 



Ltte. 



A ET thou near me, spirit mother, 

'^^ When, in the tmlight hour, 

A holy hush pervades my heart 
"With mysterious power : 

While eyes of dreamy tenderness 
Seem gazing into mine. 

And stir the fountains of my soul- 
Sweet mother, are they thine ? 

Is thine the blessed influence 

That o'er my being flings 
A sense of rest, as though 'twere wrapped 

Within an angel's wings ? 
A deep, abiding trustfulness. 

That seems an earnest given 
Of future happiness and peace 

To those who dwell in heaven ! 

And ofttimes when my footsteps stray 

In error's shining track. 
There comes a soft, restraining voice, 

That seems to caU me back ; 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 351 

I hear it not with outward ears, 

But with a power divine 
Its whisper thrills my inmost soul : 

Sweet mother, is it thine ? 

It well may be, for know we not 

That beings all unseen 
Are ever hovering o'er our paths, 

The earth and sky between ? 
They're with us in our daily walks, 

And tneless vigils keep. 
To weave those happy fantasies 

That bless our hours of sleep \ 

Oh, could we feel that spirit-eyes 

For ever on us gaz.e. 
And watch each idle thought that threads 

The heart's bewildering maze, 
"Would we not guard each careless word, 

All sinful feelings quell, 
Lest we should grieve the cherished ones 

"VVe loved on earth so well ? 

Sweet spirit mother, bless thy child I 

And with a holy love 
Inspire my feeble energies, 

And lift my heart above ; 
And when the long-imprisoned soul 

These earthly bonds has riven. 
Be thine the wing to wear it up 

And waft it on to heaven. 

SrSAlS" PlI^DAE. 



352 SOJ^aS OF THE SOUL; 

Sonss oi praise ^ixrofo tije JEorn* 

OONGrS of praise the angels sang, 

Heaven mtli hallelujahs rang. 
When Jehovah's work begun, 
When He spake, and it was done. 

Songs of praise awoke the morn, 
When the Prince of Peace was born ; 
Songs of praise arose, when He 
Captive led captivity. 

Heaven and earth must pass away, 
Songs of praise shall crown that day : 
Grod will make new heavens and earth, 
Songs of praise shall hail their birth. 

And will man alone be dumb, 
Till that glorious kingdom come ? 
No ; — the Church delights to raise 
Psalms and hymns, and songs of praise. 

Saints below, with heart and voice, 
StiU in songs of praise rejoice ; 
Learning here, by faith and love, 
Songs of praise to sing above. 

Borne upon the latest breath, 
Songs of praise shall conquer death ; 
Then, amidst eternal joy. 
Songs of praise their powers employ. 

E. Mois'TaOMEEY. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 358 



Spiritual 5Lis|)t. 



T^HE moon is up ! How calm and slow 
■^ She wheels above the hill ! 
The weary winds forget to blow, 
And all the world lies still. 

The way-worn travellers, with delight, 

The rising brightness see, 
Eevealing all the paths and plains, 

And gilding every tree. 

It glistens where the hurrying stream 

Its little ripple leaves ; 
It falls upon the forest shade, 

And sparkles on the leaves. 

So once, on Judah's evening hills, 

The heavenly lustre spread. 
The Gospel sounded from the blaze, 

And shepherds gazed with dread. 

And still that light upon the world 
Its guiding splendour throws : 

Bright in the opening hours of life, 
Eut brighter at the close. 

The waning moon, in time, shall fail 

To walk the midnight skies ; 
But Grod hath warmed this bright light 

With fire that never dies. 

"William Peaeodt. 
2a 



354 SOI^GS OF THU SOUL; 

^fj0 UU Mt jFtrst to ^otr. 

" She led me first to Grod ; 
Her words and prayers were my joimg spirit's dew. 

For, when she used to leave 

The fireside, every eve, 
I knew it was for prayer that she withdrew. 

" That dew, that bless' d my youth,— 

Her holy love, her truth, 
Her spirit of devotion, and the tears 

That she could not suppress, — 

Hath never ceased to bless 
My soul, nor vrill it, through eternal years. 

" How often has the thought 

Of my mourn' d mother brought 
Peace to my troubled spirit, and new power 

The tempter to repel ! 

Mother, thou knowest well 
That thou hast blessed me since thy mortal hour!" 
Joh:n^ Pieepoint. 



C OUJSTD the timbrel, harp, and lute, 

Let not voice or string be mute ; 
Strike the doubly-sounding chord, 
Music echoing to the word ; 
Bid th' seraphic sound ascend, 
Till the vaulted roof it rend ; 
Strike till, sounding through the skies, 
To the gate of heaven it rise ! 



FROM MlJSrUS OF THOUGHT, 355 

Hymns to the Almighty raise, 
To whom all power and good belong : 
Hallelujah be our praise ; 
Hallelujah be our song ! 

Hosannah in the highest sing, 
Laud the name of Sion's King ; 
Let the loud, triumphant strain 
Grlory to our Grod proclaim ; 
Let the organ peal inspire 
Hallelujahs through the choir. 
Praise Him who gave creation birth ! 
Praise Him all living things on earth ! 

Hymns to the Almighty raise, 
To whom all power and good belong ; 
Hallelujah be our praise 1 
Hallelujah be our song ! 

Anoi^. 



'Kx% Enfatng to ©te, antj not &e JHtssetr. 

TT70ULDST thou from sorrow find a sweet 
^^ relief? 

Or is thy heart oppressed with woes untold ? 
Balm wouldst thou gather for corroding grief, 
Pour blessings round thee like a shower of gold? 
'Tis when the rose is wrapped in many a fold 
Close to its heart, the worm is wasting there 
Its life and beauty ; not when, all unrolled, 
Leaf after leaf, its bosom, rich and fair. 
Breathes freely its perfume throughout the 
ambient air. 



356 SO^^GS OF THI] SOUL; 

Wake, thou tliat sleepest in enclianted bowers. 
Lest these lost years should haunt thee on the 

night 
"When death is -waiting for thy numbered hours 
To take their swift and everlasting flight ; 
Wake, ere the earth-born charm unnerve thee 

quite, 
And be thy thoughts to work divine addressed; 
Do something — do it soon — ^with all thy might ; 
An angel's wing would droop if long at rest, 
And Grod himself, inactive, were no longer blessed. 

Some high or humble enterprise of good 
Contemplate, till it shall possess thy mind, 
Eecome thy study, pastime, rest, and food, 

j And kindle in thy heart a flame refined. 

I Pray Heaven for firmness thy whole soul to 

bind 

To this thy purpose — to begin, pursue, 

With thoughts all fixed, and feelingspurely kind. 

Strength to complete, and with delight review. 

And grace to give the praise where all is ever due. 

jSTo good of worth subhme -^^-ill Heaven permit 
To light on man as from the passing air ; 
The lamp of genius, though by nature lit, 
If not protected, pruned, and fed with care, 
Soon dies, or runs to waste with fitful glare : 
And learning is a plant that spreads and towers 
Slow as Columbia's aloe, proudly rare, 
That, 'mid gay thousands, with the suns and 
showers 
Of half a century, grows alone before it flowers. 



FROM MINUS OF THOUGHT. 357 

Has immortality of name been given 
To them that idly worship hills and groves, 
And burn sweet incense to the queen of heaven ? 
Did Xewton learn from fancy, as it roves, 
To measure worlds, and follow where each 

moves ? 

Did Howard gain renown that shall not cease, 

By wanderings ^dld that IN'ature's pilgrim loves ? 

Or did Paul gain heaven's glory and its peace, 

By musing o'er the bright and tranquil isles of 

Greece ? 

Beware, lest thou from sloth, that would appear 
But lowliness of mind, with joy proclaim 
Thy want of worth ; a charge thou couldst not 

hear 
From other lips without a blush of shame, 
Or pride indignant ; then be thine to blame, 
And make thyself of worth ; and thus enlist 
The smiles of all the good, the dear to fame ; 
'Tis infamy to die and not be missed, 
Or let all soon forget that thou didst e'er exist. 

Bouse to some work of high and holy love, 
And thou an angel's happiness shalt know, — 
Shalt bless the earth while in the world above ; 
The good begun by thee shall onward flow 
In many a branching stream, and wider gTOW : 
The seed, that, in these few and fleeting hours, 
Thy hand^ unsparing and unwearied sow, 
Shall deck thy grave with amaranthine flowers. 
And yield thee fruits divine in heaven's immor- 
tal bowers. Caelos Wilcox. 



358 SOJVGS OF THE SOUL; 



Z\jt Star of 3Seti)Ie|)em. 

"irrHElSr marshalled on the nightly plain, 

The glittering host bestud the sky ; 
One star alone, of aU the train, 

Can fix the sinner's Avandering eye. 

Hark ! hark ! to Grod the chorus breaks, 
Erom every host, from every gem : 

But one alone the Saviour speaks ; 
It is the star of Bethlehem. 

Once on the raging seas I rode, 

The storm was loud, the night was dark, 
The ocean yawned, and rudely blowed 

The wind that tossed my foundering bark. 

Deep horror then my vitals froze, 

Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem : 

AThen suddenly a star arose, — 
It was the star of Bethlehem. 

It was my guide, my light, my all. 

It bade my dark forebodings cease ; 
And, through the storm and danger's thraU, 

It led me to the port of peace, 

Now safely moored, my perils o'er, 
I'll sing, first in night's diadem, 

For ever, and for evermore. 

The Star ! the Star of Bethlehem ! 

Heney Kieke White. 



FBOM MINES OF THOUGHT. 359 

" SToitri) m Not/' 

^^T/'E who wait in wistful gaze 

-^ Where young infants lie, 
Learning faith and silent praise 

Prom each pure calm sigh, 
Say, 'mid all those beaming glances, 
Starts, and gleams, and silent trances, 
"When the fond heart highest dances, 

Peeling Heaven so nigh ? " 

" Hard it is, 'mid gifts so sweet 

Choosing out the prime : 
But no brighter smiles we meet 

Than at waking time, 
"When they burst the chains of slumber, 
Chains that guard but not encumber, 
xlnd glad fancies without number 

Eing their playful chime." 

" Nay, but with a moaning sound 

Babes awakening start ; 
See the uneasy eye glance round, 

Feel the beating heart." 
" But the watcher's look prevailing 
In a moment stills that wailing. 
Eye and heart have ceased their ailing, 

Joy hath learn' d her part." — 

So when rose on Easter dawn 

Our all-glorious Sun, 
You might see love's eye withdrawn 

Erom the adored One. 



360 SONGS OF THE SOUL; 

Tears that morn were in her waking, 
Now again her heart is breaking ; — 
"Who may soothe her soul's sad aching ? 
For her Lord is gone. 

Him for tears she may not see, 

Even her soul's delight, 
Tet full near to her is He. — 

Say, did Hosts of Light 
Ever breathe in mortals' hearing 
Tones so soft, so heavenly cheering ? 
" Mary," was the word endearing— 

Heaven and earth grew bright. — 

Lo, the babe spreads out his arms 

Toward the watcher's face, 
Pain to hide from sad alarms 

In Love's safe embrace. — 
See the "Word of Grrace attending, 
Magdalen full lowly bending. 
" Touch me not till mine ascending,''^ 

Is the word of Grrace. 

Love with infant's haste would fain 

Touch Him and adore, 
But a deeper holier gain 

Mercy keeps in store. 
" Touch Me not : awhile beheve Me : 
Touch Me not till Heaven receive Me, 
Then draw near and never leave Me, 

Then I go no more." 



FROM MINES OF TROUGHT, 361 

STranscmUmt ^objer! sole arbiter 
of Jatet 

rrEAlvrSCENDENT power! sole arbiter of 
^ fate! 

How great thy glory ! and tliy bliss bow great ! 
To view from thy exalted throne above 
(Eternal source of light, of life, and love !) 
TJnnumber'd creatures draw their smiling birth, 
To bless the heav'ns, or beautify the earth. 
Then raise the song, the gen'ral anthem raise, 
And swell the concert of eternal praise. 
Assist, ye orbs, that form the boundless whole. 
Which in the womb of space unnumber'd roll ; 
Te planets, who compose our lesser scheme. 
And bend concertive round the solar frame ; 
Thou eye of nature ! whose extensive ray, 
"With endless charms, adorns the face of day ; 
Consenting, raise the harmonious joyful sound. 
And bear his praises through the vast profound ! 
His praise, ye winds that fan the cheerful air, 
Swift as they pass along your pinions bear ! 
His praise let Ocean thro' her realms display, 
Ear as her circling billows can convey ! 
His praise, ye misty vapours, wide diffuse. 
In rains descending, or in milder dcAvs ! 
His praises whisper, ye majestic trees, 
As your tops rustle to the gentle breeze ! 
His praise around, ye flow'ry tribes exhale, 
Ear as your sweets embalm the spicy gale ! 
His praise, ye dimpled streams, to earth reveal, 
As pleas' d ye murmur thro' the flow'ry vale ! 



362 SOJSTGS OF TRE SOUL; 

His praise, ye feather' d choirs, distinguisli'd sing, 

As to your notes the vocal forests ring ! 

His praise proclaim, ye monsters of the deep, 

'Who in the vast abyss your revels keep ! 

Or ye fair natives of our earthly scene, 

"Who range the wilds, or haunt the pasture 

green ! 
jSTor thou, vain lord of earth, with careless ear, 
The universal hymn of worship hear ! 
But ardent in the sacred chorus join. 
Thy soul transported with the task divine ! 
AYhile by his works th' Almighty is confess' d, 
Supremely glorious, and supremely bless' d ! 
Great Lord of Hfe ! from whom this humble frame 
Derives the pow'r to sing thy holy name, 
blest Creator, let thy servant pay 
His mite of gratitude this feeble way ; 
Thy goodness own, thy providence adore, 
An.d yield thee only — ^what was thine before. 

BOTCE. 



EJ)0 Boto of IPromtse. 

rrEIUMPHAXT arch, that fill'st the sky 
■^ When storms prepare to part, 
I ask not proud Philosophy 
To teach me what thou art. 

Still seem as to my childhood's sight, 

A midway station given, 
For happy spirits to alight 

Betwixt the earth and heaven. 



FROM MINES OF TROTTGHT, 363 

Can all that Optics teach unfold 

Thy form to please me so, 
As when I dreamt of gems and gold 

Hid in thy radiant bow ? 

"When Science from Creation's face 

Enchantment's veil withdraws, 
What lovely visions yield their place 

To cold material laws ! 

And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams, 

But words of the Most High, 
Have told why first thy robe of beams 

Was woven in the sky. 

When o'er the green undeluged earth, 
Heaven's covenant thou didst shine, 

How came the world's gray fathers forth 
To watch thy sacred sign ! 

And when its yellow lustre smiled 

O'er mountains yet untrod. 
Each mother held aloft her child 

To bless the bow of Grod. 

Methinks thy jubilee to keep, 

The first-made anthemx rang 
On earth delivered from the deep, 

And the first poet sang. 

Nor ever shall the Muse's eye 

Unraptured greet thy beam ; 
Theme of primeval prophecy, 

Be still the poet's theme ! 



364 SOJSraS of this SOUL; 

The earth to tliee her incense yields, 

The lark thy welcome sings, 
When glittering in the freshened fields. 

The snowy mushroom springs. 

How glorious is thy girdle cast 
O'er mountain, tower, and town, 

Or mirrored in the ocean vast, 
A thousand fathoms down ! 

As fresh in yon horizon dark. 

As young thy beauties seem. 
As when the eagle from the ark 

First sported in thy beam. 

For, faithful to its sacred page, 
Heaven still rebuilds thy span, 

Nor lets the type grow pale with age, 
That first spoke peace to man. 

Thoieas Campbell, 



nnHIS Book, this holy Book — on every line 
-^ Marked with the seal of high divinity, 
On every leaf bedewed with drops of love 
Divine, and with the eternal heraldry 
And signature of Grod Almighty stamped 
From first to last — this ray of sacred light, 
This lamp, from off" the everlasting throne, 
Mercy took down, and in the night of Time 
Stood, casting on the dark her gracious bow ; 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 365 

And evermore beseeching men, with tears 
And earnest sighs, to read, believe, and live. 
And many to her voice gave ear, and read, 
Believed, obeyed ; and now, as the Amen, 
True, Eaithful "Witness swore, with snowy robes 
And branchy palms surround the fount of life, 
And drink the streams of immortality, 
Tor ever happy, and for ever young. 

EOBEET POLLOK. 



CHEPHEED, with meek brow wreathed with 
blossoms sweet, 
"Who guard' st thy timid flock with tenderest 
care, 
Who guid'st in sunny paths their wandering feet, 
And the young lambs dost in thy bosom bear ; 
Wlio lead'st thy happy flock to pastures fair, 
And by still waters at the noon of day — 

Charming with lute divine the silent air, 
What time they linger on the verdant way : 
Grood shepherd ! might one gentle, distant 
strain 
Of that immortal melody sink deep 
Into my heart, and pierce its careless sleep. 

And melt by powerful love its sevenfold chain : 
Oh, then my soul thy voice should know, and flee 
To mingle with thy flock, and ever follow Thee. 
Elizabeth E. Ellet. 



366 SOJ^^GS OF THE SOUL; 

S^ije Sours Eeturtt. 

TP in departed souls tlie power remain 

These eartlily scenes to visit once again, 
Not in the night thy visit wilt thon make, 
When only sorrowing and longing wake ; — 
]S'o ! in some summer morning's light serene, 
When not a cloud upon the sky is seen, 
When high the golden harvest rears its head, 
All interspersed -with, flowers of blue and red, 
Thou, as of yore, around the fields wilt walk, 
Greeting the reapers T\ith mild, friendly talk. 
JoHAis']s" LiJDWia Uhla:n'I), 

Trans, by W, W. Story. 



W^z Cfjrtsttan gtelus an ^Ingel to Jjts 
ffiotJ. 

TTEEE sleeps what once was beauty, once was 
grace ; 

Grace with that tenderness and sense combin'd 
To form that harmony of soul and face, 

AYhere beauty shines, the mirror of the mind. 
Such was the maid, that in the morn of youth, 

In virgin innocence, in nature's pride. 
Blest with each art that owes its charm to truth, 

Sunk in her father's fond embrace and died. 
He weeps : O venerate the holy tear : 

Faith lends her aid to ease Affiction's load ; 
The parent mourns the child upon the bier, 

The Christian yields an angel to his God. 

John Masois-. 



FROM MINES OF THOTIGHT, 367 

W^t ©eatfj of a ffl^ootr Bisijop. 

nnHE good old man is gone ! 
-^ He lies in his saintly rest, 

And his labours all are done, 
And the work that he loved the best. 

The good old man is gone — 
But the dead in the Lord are blest ! 

I stood in the holy aisle, 
When he spake the solemn word, 

That bound him, through care and toil, 
The servant of the Lord : 

And I saw how the depths of his manly soul 
By that sacred vow were stirred. 

And nobly his pledge he kept — 
For the truth he stood up alone, 

And his spirit never slept, 
And his march was ever on ! 

Oh ! deeply and long shall his loss be wept, 
The brave old man that's gone. 

There were heralds of the cross, 
By his bed of death that stood. 

And heard how he counted all but loss, 
For the gain of his Saviour's blood ; 

And patiently waited his Master's voice, 
Let it call him when it would. 

The good old man is gone ! 
An apostle's chair is void ; 

There is dust on his mitre thrown. 
And they've broken his pastoral rod ! 



368 SO^^GS OF TKU SOUL; 

And the fold of his love he has left alone, 
To account for its care to God. 

The wise old man is gone ; 
His honom^'d head lies lo^Y, 

And his thoughts of power are done, 
And his voices manly flow, 

And his pen that, for truth, like a sword was 
drawn, 
It still and soulless now. 

The brave old man is gone ! 
"With his armour on he fell ; 

Nor a groan nor a sign was drawn, 
"When his spirit fled, to tell ; 

For mortal sufi'erings, keen and long. 
Had no power his heart to quell. 

The good old man is gone ! 
He is gone to his saintly rest, 

"W'^here no sorrow can be known. 
And no trouble can molest ; 

For his crown of life is won. 
And the dead in Christ are blessed ! 

G-EOEaE W. DOAXE. 



Her lotolg CSift ixias mitntsst^. 

Amid the pompous crowd 
Of rich adorers, came a humble form ; 
A widow, meek as poverty doth make 
Her children ! with a look of sad content, 
Her mite within the treasure-heap she cast ; 



FROM MIJSrJES OF THOUGHT. 369 

Then timidly as bashful twilight, stole 
From out the temple. But her lowly gift 
Was witnessed by an eye, whose mercy views, 
In motive, all that consecrates a deed 
To goodness : — so He blessed the Widow's Mite 
Eeyond the gifts abounding wealth bestowed. — 
Thus is it. Lord ! with Thee : the heart is thine, 
And all the world of hidden action there 
Works in thy sight, like waves beneath the sun, 
Conspicuous ! and a thousand nameless acts 
That lurk in lovely secrecy, and die 
Unnoticed, like the trodden flowers which fall 
Beneath a proud man's foot, — to Thee are knowTi, 
And written mth a sunbeam in the Book 
Of Life, where Mercy fills the brightest page 1 

E^OBEUT MOJS^TGOMEBY. 



Efje Hife of t|}e Blessetr. 

EEaiOX of life and Hght ! 

Land of the good whose earthly toils are o'er ! 
Kor frost nor heat may blight 
Thy vernal beauty, fertile shore, 

Yielding thy blessed fruits for evermore ! 

There, without crook or sling. 
Walks the Good Shepherd ; blossoms white and 
red 
Eound his meek temples cling ; 
And, to sweet pastures led, 
His ovm loved flock beneath his eve is fed. 
2b 



370 SO^'^GS OF THJE SOUL; 

He guides, and near him thev 
Tollow delighted ; for he makes them go 

Where dwells eternal May, 

And heavenly roses blow, 
Deathless, and gathered but again to grow. 

He leads them to the height 
JSTamed of the infinite and long-sought Grood, 

And fountains of delight ; 

And where his feet have stood, 
Springs up, along the way, their tender food. 

And when, in the mid skies. 
The climbing sun has reached his highest bound, 

deposing as he lies, 

With all his flock around. 
He witches the still air with numerous sound. 

From his sweet lute flow forth 
Immortal harmonies, of power to stUl 

All passions born of earth, 

And draw the ardent will 
Its destiny of goodness to fulfil. 

Might but a little part, 
A wandering breath, of that high melody 

Descend into my heart. 

And change it till it be 
Transformed and swallowed up, love ! hi thee : 

Ah ! then my soul should know, 
Eeloved ! where thou liest at noon of day ; 

And from this place of woe 

Released, should take its way 
To mingle with thy flock, and never stray. 

Luis Ponce de Leon, Trans, hy Bryant. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 371 

iLortr. 

TTVO not I love Thee, O mj Lord ?— 
-^ Behold my heart and see ; 
And turn each hateful idol out, 
That dares to rival Thee. 

Do not I love Thee from my soul ? 

Then let me nothing love ; 
Dead be my heart to every joy, 

When Jesus cannot move. 

Is not thy name melodious still, 

To mine attentive ear ? — 
Doth not each pulse with pleasure bound, 

My Saviour's voice to hear ? 

Hast Thou a lamb in all thy flock, 

I would disdain to feed ? 
Hast Thou a foe before whose face 

I fear thy cause to plead ? 

"Would not my heart pour forth its blood 

In honour of thy name ? 
And challenge the cold hand of death 

To damp the immortal flame. 

Thou knowest I love Thee, dearest Lord ; 

But Oh ! I long to soar, 
Par from the sphere of mortal joys, 

And learn to love Thee more. 

DoDDETDaE. 



372 SOJS-QS OF TJSF SOUL; 

5C!je Sttcf)0r of Hope. 

TTOPE sets the stamp of vanity on all 
^ That men have deemed substantial since the 
fall, 
Tet has the wondrous virtue to educe 
Prom emptiness itself a real use ; 
And while she takes, as at a father's hand, 
What health and sober appetite demand, 
From fading good derives, with chemic art, 
That lasting happiness, a thankful heart. 
Hope, mth uplifted foot, set free from earth. 
Pants for the place of her ethereal birth, 
On steady wings sails through th' immense abyss. 
Plucks amaranthine joys from bowers of bliss. 
And crowns the soul, while yet a mourner here. 
With wreaths like those triumphant spirits wear. 
Hope, as an anchor firm and sure, holds fast 
The Christian vessel, and defies the blast. 
Hope ! nothing else can nourish and secure 
His new-born virtues and preserve him pure. 
Hope! let the wretch, once conscious of the joy. 
Whom now despairing agonies destroy. 
Speak, for he can, and none so well as he. 
What treasures centre, what delights, in thee. 
Had he the gems, the spices, and the land 
That boasts the treasure, all at his command ; 
The fragrant grove, th' inestimable mine, 
Were light, when viewed against one smile of 
thine. 

William Cowpee. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 373 

Eijou, ixi!)0 art (JHntfjronelj ^boJje. 

^HOTJ, who art enthron'd above ; 

-^ Thou, by whom we live and move ; 

how sweet, how excellent, 

Is't with tongue and heart's consent, 

Thankful hearts, and joyful tongues, 

To renown thy name in songs ! 

AVhen the morning paints the skies, 

"When the sparkling stars arise ; 

Thy high favours to rehearse, 

Thy firm faith, in grateful verse. 

Take the lute and violin ; 

Let the solemn harp begin ; 

Instruments strung with ten strings ; 

While the silver cymbal rings. 

Erom thy works my joy proceeds : 

How I triumph in thy deeds ! 

Who thy wonders can express ! 

All thy thoughts are fathomless ; 

Hid from men in knowledge blind ; 

Hid from fools to vice inclined. 

Who that tyrant sin obey, 

Though they spring like flowers in May, 

Parch' d with heat, and nipp'd with frost, 

Soon shall fade, for ever lost. 

Lord, thou art most great, most high .; 

Such from all eternity. 

Perish shall thy enemies, 

E^ebels that against thee rise. 

All, who in their sins delight, 

Shall be scatter' d by thy might. 



374 SO was OF THE SOUL; 

But thou shalt exalt my liorn, 
Like a youthful unicorn ; 
Presh and fragrant odours shed 
On thy crowned prophet's head. 
I shall see my foes' defeat, 
Shortly hear of their retreat : 
But the just like palms shall flourish, 
"Which the plains of Judah nourish : 
Like tall cedars mounted on 
Cloud-ascending Lebanon, 
Plants set in thy court, below 
Spread their roots, and upwards grow ; 
Emit in their old age shall bring ; 
Ever fat and flourishing. 
This Grod's justice celebrates ; 
He, my rock, injustice hates. 

GrEORaE Sandys. 



TT7HAT were Thy teachings ? thou who hadst 
not where 

In all this weary earth to lay thy head ; 
Thou who wert made the sins of men to bear, 

And break with publicans thy daily bread ! 
Turning from Nazareth, the despised, aside. 

And dwelling in the cities by the sea. 
What were thy words to those who sat and dried 

Their nets upon the rocks of Gralilee ? 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 375 

Didst thou not teach thy followers here below, 

Patience, long-suffering, charity, and love ; 
To be forgiving, and to anger slow, 

And perfect, like our blessed Lord above ? 
And who were they, the called and chosen then. 

Through all the world, teaching thy truth, to go ? 
"Were they the rulers, and the chiefest men, 

The teachers in the synagogue ? Not so ! 
Makers of tents, and fishers by the sea, 
These only left their all to follow thee. 

And even of the twelve whom thou didst name 

Apostles of thy holy word to be, 
One was a devil ; and the one who came 

"With loudest boasts of faith and constancy, 
He was the first thy warning who forgot, 
And said, with curses, that he knew thee not ! 
Tet there were some who in thy sorrows were 

To thee even as a brother and a friend. 
And w^omen, seeking out the sepulchre, 

Were true and faithful even to the end : 
And some there were who kept the living faith 
Through persecution even unto death. 

But, Saviour, since that dark and awful day 

When the dread temple' s veil w^as rent in twain. 
And while the noontide brightness fled away, 

The gaping earth gave up her dead again ; 
Tracing the many generations down. 

Who have professed to love thy holy ways. 
Through the long centuries of the world's renown. 

And through the terrors of her darker days — 



376 SOJS'GS OF THE SOUL; 

"WTiere are tliy followers, and what deeds of love 
Their deep devotion to thy precepts prove ? 
And is there nothing to redeem mankind ? — 

ISTo heart that keeps the love of Grod within ? 
Is the whole world degraded, weak, and blind, 

And darkened by the leprous scales of sin ? 
'No, we will hope that some, in meekness SAveet, 
Still sit, mth trusting Mary, at thy feet. 

Eor there are men of Grod, who faithful stand 

On the far ramparts of our Zion's wall, 
Planting the cross of Jesus in some land 

That never listened to salvation's call. 
And there are some led by philanthropy, 

Men of the feeling heart and daring mind, 
Who fain would set the hopeless free, 

And raise the weak and fallen of mankind. 
And there are many in life's humblest way, 

Who tread like angels on a path of light, 
Who warn the sinful when they go astray, 

And point the erring to the way of right ; 
And the meek beauty of such lives will teach 
More than the eloquence of man can preach. 

And, blessed Saviour ! by thy life X)f trial, 

And by thy death, to free the world from sin. 

And by the hope that man, though weak and vile. 
Hath something of divinity within — 

Still will we trust, though sin and crime be met, 

To see thy holy precepts triumph yet ! 

Ph(ebe Caret. 



FROM MIJSiES OF THOUGHT. 377 

STije |Hm tofjo Ijatr no Name on ^artJj. 

111" ST numerous, indeed, among the saved, 

■^ And many, too, not least illustrious, shone 
The men who had no name on earth. Eclipsed 
By lowly circumstance, they lived unkno^Mi ; 
Like stream that in the desert warbles clear. 
Still nursing, as it goes, the herb and flower. 
Though never seen ; or like the star, retired 
In solitudes of ether, far beyond 
All sight, not of essential splendour less. 
Though shining unobserved. None saw their pure 
Devotion, none their tears, their faith, and love, 
Which burned within them, both to Grod and 

man — 
jSTone saw but Grod : He, in His bottle, all 
Their tears preserved, and every holy wish 
Wrote in His book ; and, not as they had done, 
But as they wished, with all their heart, to do. 
Arrayed them now in glory, and displayed — 
jN'o longer hid by coarse uncourtly garb — 
In lustre equal to their inward worth. 

EOEEET POLLOK. 



Efje Cljrtsttan i^atrtardj. . 

f\F life's past woes, the fading trace 

Hath given that aged patriarch's face 
Expression, holy, deep, resigned, 
The calm sublimity of mind. 



378 SONGS OF THE SOUL; 

Tears o'er his snowy head have past, 
And left him of his race the last ; 
Alone on earth, but yet his mien 
Is bright with majesty serene ; 

And those high hopes, whose guiding star 
Shines from eternal worlds afar, 
Haye with that light illumed his eye, 
"Whose fount is immortality, 

And o'er his features poured a ray 
Of glory not to pass away. 
He seems a being who hath known 
Communion with his Grod alone. 

On earth by nought but pity's tie, 
Detained a moment from on high ; 
One to sublimer worlds allied, 
One from all passion purified. 

E'en now half-mingled with the sky, 
And all prepared, oh ! not to die. 
But, like the prophet, to aspire 
To heaven's triumphant car of fire. 

Felicia Hemais^s. 



K\it IHotto of ti)0 iierfect JHan. 

"T^ QUAL to either fortune ! " This should be 
The motto of the perfect man and true — 
Striving to stem the billow fearlessly. 

And keeping steadily the right in view, 
Whether it be his lot in life to sail 
Before an adverse or a prosperous gale. 



FROM MINES OF TROUGHT. 379 

j\:Ian fearlessly his voice for truth should raise, 
"When truth would force its way in deed or 
word ; 

Whether for him the popular voice of praise, 
Or the cold sneer of unbelief is heard : 

Like the Krst Martyr, when his voice arose 

Distinct above the hisses of his foes. 

"Equal to either fortune," Heaven designs, 
Whether his destiny be repose or toil — 

W^hether the sun upon his palace shines, 

Or calls him forth to plant the furroAved soil : 

So shall he find life's blessings freely strewn 

Around the peasant's cottage as the throne. 

Man should dare all things which he knows are 
right, 

And fear to do no act save what is wrong ; 
But, guided safely by his inward light, 

And with a permanent belief, and strong, 
In Him who is our Pather and our friend, 
He should walk steadfastly unto the end, 

Eeady to live or die, even in that day 

Which man from childhood has been taught to 
fear. 
When, putting off its cumbrous weight of clay, 

The spirit enters on a nobler sphere : 
And he will be, whose life was rightly passed, 
"Equal to either fortune" at the last. 

Ph(ebe Caeey. 



380 SOXGS OF TRE SOUL; 

W^t ILorti of all, M\Vi%t\i tfjrouglj all 

'T'HE Lord of all, Himself through all diffused, 

Sustains, and is the life of all that lives. 
Nature is but a name for an effect, 
"Whose cause is Grod. He feeds the sacred ffre 
Bj which the mighty process is maintained ; 
AVho sleeps not, is not weary ; in whose sight 
Slow circling ages are as transient days ; 
Whose work is ^vithout labour ; whose designs 
jSTo flaw deforms, no difficulty thwarts ; 
And whose beneficence no charge exhausts. 
Him blind antiquity profaned, not served, 
With self-taught rites, and under various names, 
Female and male : Pomona, Pales, Pan, 
And Plora, and Vertumnus ; peopling earth 
With tutelary goddesses and gods. 
That were not ; and commending as they would 
To each some province, garden, field, or grove. 
But all are under one. One Spirit — his, 
^^o wore the platted thorns with bleeding brows, 
Bules universal nature. Xot a flower 
But shows some touch in freckle, streak, or stain, 
Of his unrivalled pencil. He inspires 
Their balmy odours, and imparts their hues. 
And bathes their eyes mth nectar, and includes, 
In grains as countless as the sea-side sands. 
The forms in which He sprinldes all the earth. 
Happy who walks with Him! whom what he 
finds. 



FEOM MllfUS OF THOUGHT. 381 

Of flavour or of scent, in fruit or flower, 

Of what he views of beautiful or grand 

In nature, from the broad majestic oak 

To the green blade that twinkles in the sun, 

Prompts with remembrance of a present Grod. 

His presence, who made all so fair, perceived, 

Makes all still fairer. As with Him no scene 

Is dreary, so with Him all seasons please. 

Though winter had been none, had man been true. 

And earth be punished for its tenants' sake, 

Yet not in vengeance, as this smiling sky. 

So soon succeeding such an angry night, 

And these dissolving snows, and this clear stream, 

Eecovering fast its liquid music, prove. 

William Cowpee. 



/^NE there is, above all others, 

^^ Well deserves the name of Friend ; 

His is love beyond a brother's. 

Costly, free, and knows no end ! 
They who once His kindness prove, 
Find it everlasting love. 

Which of all our friends, to save us. 
Could or would have shed his blood ? 

But our Jesus died to have us 
Keconcil'd in Him to Grod : 

This was boundless love indeed 1 

Jesus is a friend in need. 



382 SOJ^GS OF TSU SOUL; 

Wlien He liv'd on eartli abased, 
Priend of sinners was His name ; 

Now, above all glory raised, 
He rejoices in the same : 

Still He calls them Brethren, Friends, 

And to all their wants attends. 

Could we bear from one another 
"WTiat He daily bears from us ? 

Yet this glorious Friend and Brother 
Loves us though we treat Him thus ! 

Though for good we render ill, 

He accounts us brethren still. 

Oh ! for grace our hearts to soften ; 

Teach us, Lord, at length to love ; 
We, alas ! forget too often 

"What a friend we have above : 
But, when home our souls are brought, 
"We will love Thee as we ought. 

JSTewtok. 



Efje TOorltr. 

T^HE world with stones, instead of bread, 

Our hungry souls has often fed ; 
It promised health, — in one short hour 
Perished the fair but fragile flower ; 
It promised riches, — in a day 
They made them wings and fled away ; 
It promised friends, — all sought their own. 
And left my widowed heart alone. 



I 



FROM MINES OF THOVGHT. 383 

Lord ! with the barren service spent, 
To Thee my suppliant knee I bent ; 
And found in Thee a Father's grace, 
His hand, His heart, His faithfulness. 
The voice of peace, the smile of love, 
The bread which feeds the saints above ; 
And tasted in this world of woe, 
A joy its children never know. 

Akon^. 



W^t Mn of JBa&ttr Comes. 

T^HE air is filled with shouts and trumpets 

sounding ; 
A host are at thy gates, Jerusalem. 
Now is their van the Mount of Olives rounding; 
Above them Judah's lion-banners gleam. 
Twined with the palm and olive's peaceful stem. 
Now swell the nearer sounds of voice and string. 
As down the hill- side pours the living stream : 
And to the cloudless heaven Hosannas ring — 
" The Son of David comes ! the Conqueror — ^the 
King!" 

The cuirassed Eoman heard, and grasped his 

shield. 
And rushed in fiery haste to gate and tower : 
The pontijff from his battlement beheld 
The host, and knew the falling of his power : 



384 SOJS^GS OF THE SOUL; 

He saw the cloud on Sion's glory lour. 

Still down the marble road the myriads come, 

Spreading the way ^ith garment, branch, and 

flower, 
And deeper sounds are mingling: "Woe to 

Rome ! 
The day of freedom da^\Tis ; rise, Israel, from thy 

tomb." 

Temple of beauty — ^long that day is done ; 
Thy ark is dust ; thy golden cherubim 
In the fierce triumphs of the foe are gone ; 
The shades of ages on thy altars SAvim. 
Yet still a light is there, though wavering dim ! 
And has its holy lamp been watched in vain ? 
Or lives it not until the finished time, 
"When He who fixed, shaU break his people's 
chain. 
And Sion be the loved, the cro^NTied of God again ? 

He comes, yet Avith the burning bolt imarmed; 
Pale, pure, prophetic, Grod of Majesty ! 
Though thousands, tens of thousands round 

him swarmed, 
JSTone durst abide the depth divine of eye ; 
None the waving of his robe draw nigh. 
But at his feet Avas laid the E/oman's SAvord : 
There Lazarus knelt to see his King pass by ; 
There Jairus, Avith his age's child, adored. 
" He comes, the King of kings ; Hosanna to the 

Lord!" 

GEOEaE Ceoly. 



FROM MINES OF TROVGIIT. 385 

Wcit l^eart's II0I2 temple. 

'THOUGH glorious, God ! must thy temple 
have been, 
On the day of its first dedication, 
When the cherubims' wings widely Avaying were 
seen 
On high, o'er the ark's holy station ; 

When eyen the chosen of Leyi, though skilled 
To minister standing before Thee, 

Eetired from the cloud which the temple then 
fiUed, 
And thy glory made Israel adore Thee ; 

Though awfully grand was thy majesty then. 
Yet the worship thy Gospel discloses. 

Less splendid in pomp to the yision of men, 
Par surpasses the ritual of Moses. 

And by whom was that ritual for eyer repealed 
But by Him, unto whom it was giyen 

To enter the Oracle, where is reyealed, 

JS'ot the cloud but the brightness of heayen. 

Wlao haying once entered, hath shown us the way, 
Lord ! how to worship before Thee ; 

Xot with shadowy forms of that earlier day, 
But in spirit and truth to adore Thee ! 

This, this is the worship the Sayiour made known. 

When she of Samaria found him 
By the patriarch's well sitting weary, alone, 

Yv^ith the stillness of noon-tide around Him. 
2 c 



386 SOJVGS OF THE SOUL; 

How sublime, yet how simple, the homage He 
taught, 

To her who inquired by that fountain, 
If Jehovah at Solyma's shrine would be sought, 

Or adored on Samaria's mountain. 

" "Woman ! believe me, the hour is near, 
"When He, if ye rightly would hail Him, 

W^ill neither be worshipped exclusively here, 
iS'or yet at the altar of Salem. 

" For Grod is a spirit ! and they who aright 
Would perform the pure worship He loveth. 

In the heart's holy temple will seek, with delight, 
That spirit the Father approveth." 

EeKNARD BARTOIf. 



^fjougljts on a Summer's lEbemng. 

'T^IS past ! the sultry tyrant of the south 

Has spent his short-liv'd rage : more grate- 
ful hours 
Move silent on : the skies no more repel 
The dazzled sight ; but, with mild maiden beams 
Of temper' d light, invite the cherish' d eye 
To wander o'er their sphere ; where, hung aloft, 
Dian's bright crescent, like a silver bow 
New strung in heav'n, lifts high its beamy horns, 
Impatient for the night, and seems to push 
Her brother down the sky. Fair Venus shines, 
Ev'n in the eye of day ; with sweetest beam 



FROM MINES OF THOTIGRT, 387 

Propitious shines, and shakes a trembling flood 
Of soften' d radiance from her dewy locks. 
The shadows spread apace ; while meeken'd Eve, 
Her cheek yet warm with blushes, slow retires 
Through the Hesperian gardens of the west. 
And shuts the gates of day. 'Tis now the hour 
When Contemplation, from her sunless haunts, 
The cool damp grotto, or the lonely depth 
Of unpierc'd woods, where, ^-rapt in silent shade. 
She mus'd away the gaudy hours of noon. 
And fed on thoughts unripen'd by the sun, 
Moves forward ; and with radiant finger points 
To yon blue concave swell' d by breath divine. 
Where, one by one, the living eyes of heaven, 
Awake, quick kindling o'er the face of aether 
One boundless blaze; ten thousand trembling 

fires. 
And dancing lustres, where the unsteady eye, 
Kestless and dazzled, wanders unconfin'd 
O'er all this field of glories : spacious field, 
And worthy of the Master ! he whose hand 
With hieroglyphics elder than the jSTile, 
Inscrib'd the mystic tablet, hung on high 
To public gaze ; and said. Adore, O man. 
The finger of thy Grod 1 From what pure wells 
Of milky light, what soft o'erflowing urn, 
Are all these lamps so fill'd r these friendly lamps, 
For ever streaming o'er the azure deep 
To point our path and light us to our home. 
How soft they slide along their lucid spheres ! 
And, silent as the foot of time, fulfil 
Their destin'd courses : JN'ature's self is hush'd, 



388 SO^''GS OF TKU SOUL ; 

And, but a scatter' d leaf ayMcL. rustles tliroush 
The thick-TTOYe foliage, not a sound is lieard 
To break the midnigbt air ; tliough the rais'd ear, 
Intensely list'ning, drinks in ev'ry breatb. 
How deep tbe silence, yet bow loud the praise ! 
But are tbey silent all ? or is tbere not 
A tongue in ev'ry star, tbat talks witb man, 
Aud wooes bim to be wise ? nor wooes in vain. 
This dead of midnigbt is tbe noon of tbougbt. 
And wisdom mounts ber zenitb witb tbe stars. 
At tbis still boiu^ tbe self-collected sotil 
Turns inward, and bebolds a stranger tbere 
Of bigb descent, and more tban mortal rank ; 
An embryo God ; a spark of fire divine, 
Wbicb must burn on for ages, wben tbe sun 
(Pair transitory creature of a day) 
Has clos'd bis golden eye, and, A^Tapt in shades, 
Forgets bis wonted journey through the east. 

Ye citadels of light, and seats of gods ! 
Perhaps my future home, from whence the soul, 
Eevolving periods past, may oft look back, 
With recollected tenderness, on all 
The various busy scenes she left below, 
Its deep-laid projects and its strange events, 
As on some fond and doting tale tbat sooth' d 
Her infant hours. — O be it lawful now 
To tread the hallow' d circle of your courts. 
And with mute wonder and delighted awe 

Approach your biu'ning confines ! Seiz'd in 

thought. 
On fancy's wild and roving ^ving I sail 
From the green borders of the peopled earth. 



FROM MINJES OF THOUGHT. 389 

And the pale moon, her duteous fair attendant ; 
rrom solitary Mars ; from the vast orb 
Of Jupiter, whose huge gigantic bulk 
Dances in aether like the lightest leaf ; 
To the dim verge, the suburbs of the system. 
Where cheerless Saturn 'midst his wat'ry moons, 
G-irt with a lucid zone, in gloomy pomp. 
Sits like an exil'd monarch ; fearless thence 
I launch into the trackless deeps of space, 
Where, burning round, ten thousand suns appear, 
Of elder beam ; which ask no leave to shine 
Of our terrestrial star, nor borrow^ light 
From the proud regent of our scanty day ; 
Sons of the morning, first-born of creation, 
And only less than him who marks their track. 
And guides their fiery wheels. Here must I stop. 
Or is there aught beyond F What hand unseen 
Impels me onward thro' the glowing orbs 
Of habitable nature, far remote. 
To the dread confines of eternal night, 
To solitudes of vast unpeopled space, 
The deserts of creation wide and ^vild, 
Where embryo systems and unkindled suns 
Sleep in the womb of Chaos ! fancy droops, 
And thought astonish' d stops her bold career. 
But, oh thou mighty Mind 1 whose pow'rful word 
Said, Thus let all tilings be, and thus they were, 
Where shall I seek thy presence ? how unblam'd 

Invoke thy dread perfection ? 

Have the broad eyelids of the morn beheld thee ? 
Or does the beamy shoulder of Orion 
Support thy throne ? O look with pity down 



390 SOJVGS OF THE SOUL; 

On erriiig, guilty man ! not in tlij names 
Of terror clad ; not with those thunders arm'd 
That conscious Sinai felt, when fear appall' d 
The scatter' d tribes ! Thou hast a gentler voice, 
That whispers comfort to the swelling heart, 
Abashed, yet longing to behold her Maker. 

Eut now my soul, unus'd to stretch her pow'rs 
In flights so daring, drops her weary wing. 
And seeks again the knoTSTi, accustom' d spot, 
Drest up with sun, and shade, and lawns, and 

streams ; 
A mansion fair and spacious for its guest. 
And full replete with wonders. Let me here, 
Content and grateful, wait the appointed time, 
And ripen for the skies ; the hour will come 
"When all these splendours bursting on my sight 
Shall stand unveil' d, and to my ravish 'd sense 
"Unlock the glories of the world unknown. 

Akka Letitia Baeeatild. 



W^t Call 

r^ OME, my way, my truth, my life ! 
^ Such a way as gives us breath ; 
Such a truth as ends all strife ; 
Such a life as killeth death. 

Come, my light, my feast, my strength ! 
Such a light as shows a feast ; 
Such a feast as mends in length ; 
Such a strength as makes his guest. 



FROM MINJES OF THOUGHT. 391 

Come, my joy, my love, my heart 1 
Such a joy as none can move ; 
Such a love as none can part ; 
Such a heart as joys in love. 

GrEOEaE Herbeet. 



Wcit ®[nton of ILobe. 

TF there be one whose thoughts delight to 

wander 
In pleasure's fields, where love's bright streams 
meander ; 
If there be one who longs to find, 
"Where all the purer blisses are enshrined, 
A happy resting-place of virtuous worth, — 
A blessed paradise on earth : 

Let him survey the joy-conferring union 
Of brothers who are bound in fond communion, 
And not by force of blood alone, 
Eut by their mutual sympathies are known, 
And every heart and every mind relies 
Upon fraternal kindred ties- 

0, blest abode, where love is ever vernal. 
Where tranquil peace and concord are eternal, 

AVTiere none usurp the highest claim. 

But each with pride asserts the other's fame ! 

O, what are all earth's joys, compared to thee, 

Fraternal Unanimity ? 

E'en as the ointment, whose sweet odours blended, 
From Aaron's head upon his beard descended ; 



392 SOJSraS of TSU SOUL; 

"Which, hung awhile in fragrance there, 
Bedewing every individnal hair, 
And falling thence, with rich perfume ran o'er 
The holy garb the prophet wore : 

So doth the unity that lives mth brothers 
Share its best blessings and its joys with others, 

And makes them seem as if one frame 

Contained their minds, and they were formed 
the same. 

And spread its sweetest breath o'er every part. 

Until it penetrates the heart. 

E'en as the dew, that, at the break of morning. 
All nature with its beauty is adorning, 
And flows from Hermon calm and still. 
And bathes the tender grass on Zion's hill, 
And to the young and withering herb resigns 
The drops for which it pines : 

So are fraternal peace and concord ever 
The cherishers without whose guidance never 
"Would sainted quiet seek the breast, — 
The life, the soul of unmolested rest, — 
The antidote to sorrow and distress, 
And prop of human happiness. 

Ah ! happy they whom genial concord blesses ! 
Pleasure for them reserves her fond caresses, 

And joys to mark the fabric rare, 

On virtue founded, stand unshaken there ; 

Whence vanish all the passions that destroy 

Tranquillity and inward joy. 



FROM 3IINES OF TII0T7GIIT. 393 

Who practise good are in themselves rewarded, 
Eor their own deeds Ke in their hearts recorded ; 
And thus fraternal love, when bound 
Bj virtue, is with its own blisses crowned. 
And tastes, in sweetness that itself bestows, 
What use, what power, from concord flows. 

God in his boundless mercy joys to meet it ; 
His promises of future blessings greet it, 
And fixed prosperity, which brings 
Long life and ease beneath its shadowing wings, 
And joy and fortune, that remain sublime 
Beyond all distance, change, and time. 
Psalm 133. — Diek Eafael Kamphuyze:n", 
Trans, hy Bowuing, 



W^t ^j^s^arfe Sans !jis JHattn Cijime. 

T WALKED the fields at morning's prime. 

The grass was ripe for mowing ; 
The skylark sang his matin chime, 
And all was brightly glowing. 

"And thus," I cried, "the ardent boy, 

His pulse with rapture beating. 
Deems life's inheritance is joy — 

The future proudly greeting." 

I wandered forth at noon : — Alas ! 

On earth's maternal bosom 
The scythe had left the withering grass, 

And stretched the fading blossom. 



394 SOWGS OF THE SOUL; 

And thus, I tliought with many a sigh, 

The hopes we fondly cherish, 
Like flowers which blossom but to die. 

Seem only born to perish. 

Once more, at eve, abroad I strayed, 
Through lonely hay-fields musing, 

T\n^iile every breeze that round me played, 
Eich fragrance was diffusing. 

The perfumed air, the hush of eve. 

To purer hopes appealing, 
O'er thoughts perchance too prone to grieve. 

Scattered the balm of healing. 

For thus " the actions of the just," 
When memory hath enshrined them, 

E'en from the dark and silent dust 
Their odour leave behind them. 

BeE]S^AEI) Barto]S'. 



A LOXE, alone ! — no other face 
"^ Wears kindred smile, or kindred line : 
And yet they say my mother's eyes. 

They say my father's brow, is mine ; 
And either had rejoiced to see 

The other's likeness in my face, 
But now it is a stranger's eye. 

That finds some long forgotten trace. 



FROM HIRES OF THOUGHT, 395 

I heard them name my father's death, 

His home and tomb alike the wave ; 
And I was early taught to weep, 

Beside my youthful mother's grave. 
I wish I could recall one look, — 

Eut only one familiar tone ; 
If I had ought of memory, 

I should not feel so all alone. 

My heart is gone beyond the grave, 

In search of love I cannot find, 
Till I could fancy soothing words 

Are whispered by the evening wind : 
I gaze upon the watching stars. 

So clear, so beautiful above, 
Till I could dream they look on me 

"With something of an answering love. 

My mother, does thy gentle eye. 

Look from those distant stars on me ? 
Or does the wind at evening bear 

A message to thy child from thee ? 
Dost thou pine for me, as I pine 

Again a parent's love to share ? 
I often kneel beside thy grave. 

And pray to be a sleeper there. 

The vesper bell ! — 'tis eventide, 
I will not weep, but I will pray : 

Grod of the fatherless, 'tis Thou 
Alone canst be the orphan's stay! 



396 SOJYGS OF THE SOUL ; 

Eartli's meanest flower, heaven's mightiest star. 

Are eqnal to their Maker's love : 
And I can say, " Thy wili be done," 

With eyes that fix their hopes above. 

L. E. Laxdo>^. 



E^m cSpeafost in i^t Secret l^eart. 

T>LEST, who can soften care or find 
Employment for the vacant mind, 
In nature's scenes ! Thrice blest is he, 
AYlio forward casts his eyes to see. 
In all that through the waters move, 
In earth beneath and heaven above, 
The sovereign Power, vrho nature made, 
The Author in his works displayed : 
And, as before the temple shrine 
In vision came the voice divine 
To youthful Samuel's nightly ear ; 
Hears, rapt in thought, or seems to hear, 
Though void of language and of speech, 
Grod's voice from all creation preach ! 

Then does the faithful duteous heart 
Take up the listening Samuel's part, 
Eull fain to hear his Maker speak ; 
And ^^-ith submissive spirit meek 
Pursues the future prophet's strain. 
Invokes the warning voice again. 
Owns the blest sign, howe'er conferred, 
And welcomes thus the heavenly word. 



FB03I MINES OF THOVGHT. 397 

"Speak, for thy servant lieareth, Lord;" — How 
varied are the ways, 

Whereby thy wisdom, my God, the truth to 
man conveys. 

'Tis thine to make thy will be known by many a 
speaking sign : 

Thy will, howe'er revealed, to heed ^vith answer- 
ing heart be mine. 

Thou speakest in creation's works ! AVhere'er I 

gaze abroad, 
In nature's miracles I hear the voice of nature's 

God: ; 

I hear thy voice of bounteousness breathed in ! 

the silent shower, j 

And in the awful thunder storm I hear thy voice 

of power. 

Thou speakest in this chequered scene of human 

joys and woes, 
^Hiere restlessness is twin to guilt, to holiness 

repose : 
And offc though clouds of mystery perplex my 

feeble sight, i 

I hear Thee say that Thou art good, and all will ; 

yet be bright. } | 

j I 
Thou speakest in thy book ! With words man's ; 

eloquence above, 
I hear Thee of affection tell, siu'passing woman's 

love : 



398 SONGS OF THJE SOUL; 

Of sinners from destruction saved, of blood in 

ransom given, 
Of faith by cbarity matured, and hope that rests 

in heaven. 

Thou speakest in the secret heart ! 'Mid vice 

and folly's din 
The whisper of the still small voice I hear my 

breast within. 
And when my feet would turn aside, I hear my 

guardian say, 
Kight onward for the narrow gate, right onward 

hold the way. 

"Speak, Lord; thy servant heareth Thee!" — 

Nor sound I crave, nor sight, 
"Which rapt thy chosen seers of old in visions of 

the night. 
But to my watchful eye be still thy works, thy 

word, displayed, 
"With thy vicegerent in my breast, informed by 

Thee, to aid : 

And when by conscience' inward voice Tliou 
wouldest. Lord, be heard, 

Or by thy works of providence, or by thy living 
word; 

Prom earth's obstructions purify my not un- 
willing ear. 

And grant that what Thou speakest thus, thy 
servant's soul may hear ! j 

Bishop Manx. j 

I 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 399 

Wc^z (!H&mng cStar. 

^HE evening star, with mild yet radiant light, 
■^ Shines clearly 'neath the young moon's pallid 

crest. 
The last faint gleam of crimson sunset fades 

In mellowed hues of brightness from the west. 
Soft shadows fall upon the mountain's brow, 

And steal with gradual pace o'er wood and 
stream. 
A bahny stillness floats upon the earth, 

And life is peaceful as a tranquil dream. 

O Grod, whose mantle shades this lovely world, 

And leaves a ray of glorious beauty round ; 
In that far home where angels spread their wings, 

What infinite perfection must abound ! 
What visions of ecstatic, wondrous bliss, 

In thy sublime, thy awful presence dwell, 
When in this sphere, all dimmed by sin and pain, 

Thy gifts of light and love words may not tell ! 

Would that my soul each wayward pulse could 
still. 

That I might know thee, Father, as thou art — 
That I within thy path of peace might walk. 

And take my place amid the " pure in heart ; " 
Then might I hope, as death's dark clouds draw 
near, 

Amid the deepening gloom thy smile to see, 
But oft my wandering footsteps guide me far 

Erom out the way that leads alone to thee. 



400 SOJSTGS OF THE SOUL; 

AVliat if we view upon tlie brink of wo, 

A dazzling gleam steal throngli the gates of 
heaven, 
And feel at once, while close its pearly doors, 

How long its entrance to our steps was given, 
Till, in the utter madness of our souls. 

Our last faint lingering hope in silence died, 
AVhile at the moment of our dreadful doom. 

Perchance, we basked in worldliness and pride. 

And while in folly's gilded courts I stand. 

Is this my fate ? Ah, no ! by these sad tears, 
Plead for me, Jesus, meek and holy one. 

For thou hast shared earth's agonies and fears ; 
Thou seest the struggles of my changing soul — 

Oh, let its darker thoughts of grief depart. 
And hear my prayer, when, kneeling low, I crave 

Thy words of truth mayreach my troubled heart. 

Devoid of merit, what have I to boast, 

"When man's best virtues are unworthy thee ? 
Yet in thy mercy will I place my trust. 

And in the Cross my hope and promise see. 
And though unresting conscience sternly tells 

Of talents unemployed and wasted powers, 
Lend me thine aid, and to thy service. Lord, 

I'll dedicate the remnant of my hoxn*s. 

Maet L. Lawso^^. 



fhom Mijsrus of thottght, 401 

X^OU that have spent the silent night 

In sleep and quiet rest, 
And joy to see the cheerful light 

That riseth in the East, 
Now clear your voice, now cheer your heart. 

Come, help me now to sing : 
Each willing wight, come, bear a part, 

To praise the heavenly King. 

And you whom care in prison keeps, 

Or sickness doth suppress. 
Or secret sorrow breaks your sleeps, 

Or dolours do distress. 
Yet bear a part in doleful wise, 

Yea, think it good accord, 
And acceptable sacrifice. 

Each sprite to praise the Lord. 

The dreadful night with darksomeness 

Had overspread the light. 
And sluggish sleep with drowsiness 

Had overprest our might ; 
A glass wherein you may behold 

Each storm that stops our breath, — 
Our bed the grave, our clothes like mould, 

And sleep like dreadful death. 

Yet as this deadly night did last 

But for a little space. 
And heavenly day, now night is past, 

Doth show his pleasant face, 
2d 



402 SOJ^aS OF TRF SOUL; 

So must we hope to see Grod's face, 

At last, in heaven on high, 
"When we have changed this mortal place 

Tor immortality. 

And of snch haps and heavenly joys, 

As then we hope to hold, 
All earthly sights and worldly toys 

Are tokens to behold. 
The day is like the day of doom, 

The sun, the Son of man, 
The skies, the heavens, the earth, the tomb, 

Wherein we rest till then. 

The rainbow bending in the sky, 

Bedeck' d with sundry hues. 
Is like the seat of Grod on high. 

And seems to tell these news : — ■ 
That as thereby he promised 

To drown the world no more. 
So, by the blood which Christ has shed, 

He will our health restore. 



The misty clouds that fall sometime, 

And overcast the skies, 
Are like to troubles of our time. 

Which do but dim our eyes ; 
Eut as such dews are dried up quite 

When Phoebus shows his face. 
So are such fancies put to flight, 

Where God doth guide by grace. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 403 

The little birds wliieh sing so sweet, 

Are like the angels' voice, 
"Which render Grod his praises meet, 

And teach us to rejoice ; 
And as they more esteem that mirth 

Than dread the night's annoy, 
So must we deem our days on earth 

But hell, to heavenly joy. 

Unto which joys for to attain 

Grod grant us all his grace. 
And send us, after worldly pain. 

In heaven to have a place ; 
Where we may still enjoy that light 

Which never shall decay : 
Lord, for thy mercy, lend us might 

To see that joyful day. 

Geoe&e G-Ascoiais^E. 



STreatJ still tlje Eljorns l^atlj. 

IVrOT unto thee, oh pale and radiant Death ! 
■^ Not unto thee, though every hope be past, 
Though Life's first, sweetest stars may shine 

no more, 
Nor earth again one cherished dream restore, 
Or from the bright urn of the future cast 

Aught, aught of joy on me. 
Tet unto thee, oh monarch ! robed and crowned, 
And beautiful in all thy sad array, 
I bring no incense, though the heart be chill, 
And to the eyes, that tears alone may fill, 



404 SOj^GS of THJE SOUL; 

Shines not as once tlie wonted liglit of daj. 

Still npon another shrine my vows 
Shall all be duly paid ; and though thy voice 
Is full of music to the pining heart, 
And woos one to that pillow of calm rest, 
Where all Life's dull and restless thoughts depart, 
Still, not to thee, oh Death ! 

I pay my vows ; though now to me thy brow 
Seems cro^nied ^*ith roses of the summer prime, 
And to the aching sense thy voice would be, 
Oh Death ! oh Death ! of softest melody. 
And gentle ministries alone were thine. 
Still I implore thee not. 

But thou, oh Life ! oh Life ! the searching test 
Of the weak heart ! to thee, to thee I bow ; 
And if the iire upon the altar shrine 
Descend, and scathe each glowing hope of mine. 

Still may my heart, as now. 

Turn not from that dread test. 
But let me pay my vows to thee, oh Life ! 
And let me hope that from that glowing fire 
There yet may be redeemed a gold more pure 
And bright, and eagle thoughts to mount and soar 

Their flight the higher, 
Eeleased from earthly hope or earthly fear. 

This, this, oh Life ! be mine. 
Let others strive thy glowing wreaths to bind — 
Let other seek thy false and dazzling gleams ; 
For me their light went out on early streams, 
And faded were thy roses in my grasp, 

No more, no more to bloom. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 405 

Yet as the stars, the holy stars of night, 

Shine out when all is dark, 
So would I, cheered by hopes more purely bright. 
Tread still the thorny path whose close is light, 
If but, at last, the tossed and weary bark 
Grains the' sure haven of her final rest. 

LrcT HooPEE. 



T OED, what am I, that, with unceasing care. 
Thou didst seek after me ; that thou didst wait, 
"Wet with unhealthy dews, before my gate. 
And pass the gloomy nights of winter there ? 
strange delusion ! — that I did not greet 
Thy blest approach, and oh, to Heaven how lost, 
If my ingratitude's unkindly frost 
Has chilled the bleeding w^ounds upon thy feet ! 
How oft my guardian angel gently cried, 
" Soul, from thy casement look, and thou shalt see 
How he persists to knock and wait for thee ! " 
And, oh ! how often to that voice of sorrow, 
" To-morrow we will open," I replied, 
And when the morrow came I answered still, 
" To-morrow." 

Lope de Yega, Trans, hy Loxgfellow. 



2r!j2 ffiotr tl)us cSpeafetlj tottfjin tfjee. 

" r\ DAIJGHTEE ! thy God thus speaketh 

within thee ! 
Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was 
wasted : 



406 SOJ^GS OF THE SOUL; 

If it enricli not the heart of another, its waters, 

returning 
Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill 

them full of refreshment ; 
That which the fountain sends forth returns 

again to the fountain. 
Patience ; accomplish thy labour ; accomplish 

thy work of affection 5 
Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient' 

endurance is godlike. 
Therefore accomplish thy labour of love, till the 

heart is made godlike. 
Purified, strengthened, perfected and rendered 

more worthy of heaven. 

Heis^ry W. LoKaPELLOw. 



E!je Searcij for ^eace. 

f\Si, seek her not in marble halls of pride. 

Where gushing fountains fling their silver 
tide. 
Their wealth of freshness toward the summer 
sky; 
The echoes of a palace are too loud — 
They but give back the footsteps of the crowd 

That throng about some idol throned on high, 
Whose ermined robe and pomp of rich array m 
But serve to hide the false one's feet of clay. I 

IS" or seek her form in poverty's low vale. 
Where, touched by want, the bright cheek waxes 
pale. 



FROM MINES OF TROVGHT. 407 , 

And the heart faints, with sordid cares opprest, 
Where pining discontent has left its trace 
Deep and abiding in each haggard face. 

Not there, not there Peace builds her halcyon 
nest : 
Wild revel scares her from wealth's towering 

dome, 
And misery frights her from the poor man's 
home. 

Nor dwells she in the cloister, where the sage 
Ponders the mystery of some time-stained page. 

Delving, with feeble hand, the classic mine ; 
Oh, who can tell the restless hope of fame. 
The bitter yearnings for a deathless name. 

That round the student's heart like serpents 
twine ! 
Ambition's fever burns within his breast. 
Can Peace, sweet Peace, abide with such a guest? 

Search not within the city's crowded mart, 
"Where the low-whispered music of the heart 

Is all unheard amid the clang of gold ; 
Oh, never yet did Peace her chaplet twine 
To lay upon base mammon's sordid shrine, 

Where earth's most precious things are bought 
and sold ; 
Thrown on that pile, the pearl of price would be 
Despised, because unfit for merchantry. 

Gro ! hie thee to God's altar — ^kneeling there, 
List to the mingled voice of fervent prayer 



408 SOWGS OF THJE SOUL; 

That swells around thee in the sacred fane ; 
Or catch the solemn organ's pealing note, 
"When grateful praises on the still air float, 

And the freed soul forgets earth's heavy chain; 
There learn that Peace, sweet Peace, is ever found 
In her eternal home, on holy ground. 

Emma C. Embtjry. 



Elje Nosegag of ILife. 

T MADE a posy, while the day ran by : 

" Here will I smell my remnant out, and tie 

My life within this band." 
But time did beckon to the flowers, and they 
By noon most cunningly did steal away. 

And wither' d in my hand. 

My hand was next to them, and then my heart ; 
I took, without more thinking, in good part 

Time's gentle admonition; 
Who did so SAYcetly death's sad taste convey, 
Making my mind to smell my fatal day. 

Yet sugaring the suspicion. 

Earewell, dear flowers ; sweetly your time ye 

spent. 
Pit, while ye liv'd, for smell or ornament : 

And after death for cures. 
I follow straight, without complaints or grief; 
Since, if my scent be good, I care not if 

It be as short as yours. 

GrEOEGE HeRBEET. 



FEOM MINES OF TROTTGHT. 409 

W(}t (&m^ %iiz, ILong iLtfe. 

TT is not growing like a tree 

In bulk doth make man better be ! 

Or standing long an oak three hundred year, 

To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere ; 

A lily of a day 

Is fairer far in May, 

Although it fall and die that night ; 

It was the plant and flower of light. 
In small proportions we just beauties see. 
And in short measures life may perfect be. 



Efjeg are not ©eatr, tijeg t(o 6ut cStop. 

T EFT in her little room alone, 
-■^ The E/uler's child lay stiff and dead, 
"While, vainly warm, the Syrian sun 
Played round her cold and silent bed ; 

"While, vainly soft, from Judah's hills 
Sighed through the lattice the soft air. 

That could not move the close white Up, 
ISlor heave again the bosom fair. 

The voice of anguish and despair 
Is loud within the chamber near, 

Of them lamenting bitterly 

Her early doom with groan and tear. 



410 SO^^GS OF THJE SOUL; 

Her mother roaketh grierous moan : — 
" Ah ! had the sire more swiftly sped, 

And brought the mighty Prophet here 
Ere the last lingering breath was fled ! 

" AVhat now avails that far away 

Comes o'er the plain his hastening tread! 

Gro tell him that he trouble not 

The Master more ; my child is dead." 

Dead ! is all o'er when that is said ? 

Are hope, and trust, and comfort, gone ? 
The servant tells the weeping sire, 

And yet the Prophet journeys on. 

He stands amid the mourning throng ; 

" Why do ye make this bitter cry ? 
The damsel is not dead, she sleeps," 

They laugh in scorn, — they saw her die. 

Tea, but they see not the strong power 
Por life and death that standeth by, 

ISTor read the a^vful Grodhead veiled 
Beneath that meekly patient eye. 

Go forth, then, unbelieving throng ; 

The three apostles, and the twain 
"Who love so tenderly, alone 

Shall see her spirit come again. 

Xow waken, waken, little maiden, 
His foot is on thy chamber-floor, 

The Lord God of the living cometh 
Thine earthly being to restore. 



FROM MINES OF TROTTGHT, 411 

He takes her cold resistless hand : — 

" Damsel, I say to thee, arise ! " 
Lo, life returns, with mantling flow, 

To cheek, and brow, and kindling eyes. 

She riseth up, she walketh forth, 
Her lip is red, her heart is warm ; 

He gives her to her mother's kiss. 
He gives her to her father's arm. 

Surely, we too have hope in sorrow, 
Who for our Christian brethren weep ; 

Christ is our Life and Eesurrection ; 
They are not dead, they do but sleep. 

A:s^o:s'. 



Eijou art ©one to t!je ffl^rabe. 

'^FHOTJ art gone to the grave — ^but we will not 
deplore thee, 
Though sorrows and darkness encompass the 
tomb ; 
The Saviour has passed through its portals before 
thee. 
And the lamp of his love is thy guide through 
the gloom. 

Thou art gone to the grave — we no longer behold 
thee, 
Xor tread the rough path of the world by thy 
side, 
But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold 
thee. 
And sinners may hope since the Sinless has died. 



412 SOJVGS OF THJE SOUL; 

Thou art gone to the grave — and its mansion 
forsaking, 
Perhaps thy tried spirit in doubt lingered long, 
But the sunshine of heaven beamed bright on 
thy waking, 
And the song -which thou heard' st was the 
seraphim's song. 

Thou art gone to the grave — but 'twere wrong 
to deplore thee, 
"When Grod was thy ransom, thy guardian, thy 
guide : 
He gave thee, and took thee, and soon will restore 
thee, 
Where death hath no sting, since the Saviour 
hath died. 

Bishop Heber. 



W^t jFool ijatfj satlr, '' Eijere is no 

nPHE fool hath said, " There is no God :" 

jSTo Grod ! — A\1io lights the morning sun, 
And sends him on his heavenly road, 

A far and brilliant course to run ? 

AVho, when the radiant day is done. 
Hangs forth the moon's nocturnal lamp, 

And bids the planets, one by one. 
Steal o'er the night-vales, dark and damp ? 



FBOM IIINES OF TROVGHT. 413 

No Grod ! — Who gives the evening devr, 

The fanning breeze, the fostering shower ? 
Who warms the spring-morn's budding bough, 

And paints the summer's noontide flower ? 

Who spreads in the autumnal bower, 
The fruit-tree's mellow stores around ; 

And sends the winter's icy power, 
T' invigorate the exhausted ground ? 

JN'o Grod ! — Who makes the bird to wing 

Its flight like arrow through the sky, 
And gives the deer its power to spring 

From rock to rock triumphantly ? 

Who formed Behemoth, huge and high, 
That at a draught the river drains, 

And great Leviathan to lie, 
Like floating isle, on ocean plains ? 

JSTo Grod ! — Who warms the heart to heave 

With thousand feelings soft and sweet, 
And prompts the aspiring soul to leave 

The earth we tread beneath our feet, 

And soar away on pinions fleet. 
Beyond the scene of mortal strife, 

AVith fair ethereal forms to meet, 
That tell us of an after life ? 

No Grod ! — Who fixed the solid ground 

On pillars strong, that alter not ? 
Who spread the curtained skies around ? 

Who doth the ocean bounds allot ? 



414 SO^^GS OF THE SOUL; 

'Who all things to perfection brought 
On earth below, in heaven abroad ? — 

Gro ask the fool of impious thought 
That dares to say, — "There is no Grod!" 

William Ki^'ox. 



W^t i^auper Cf)tl5j's Burial 

C TEETCHED on a rude plank the dead pauper 

IS'o weeping friends gathered to bear him away ; 
His white, slender fingers were clasped on his 

breast ; 
The pauper child meekly lay taking his rest. 

The hair on his forehead was carelessly parted ; 
No one cared for him, the desolate hearted : 
In life none had loved him — his pathway all sear 
Had not one sweet blossom its sadness to cheer. 

Xo fond, gentle mother had ever caressed him. 
In tones of affection and tenderness blessed him; 
Eor ere his eye greeted the light of the day, 
His mother had passed in her anguish away. 

Poor little one ! often thy meek eyes have sought 
Tile smile of affection, of kindness unb ought, 
And wistfully gazing, in wondering surprise. 
That no one beheld thee with pitying eyes. 



FROM MlJSrUS OF THOUGHT. 415 

And when in strange gladness thy young voice 

was heard, 
As in winter's stern sadness the song of a bird, 
Harsh voices rebuked thee, and, cowering in fear, 
Thy glad song was hushed in a sob and a tear. 

And when the last pang rent thy heartstrings in 

twain. 
And burst from thy bosom the last sign of pain, 
No gentle one soothed thee, in love's melting tone, 
With fond arm around thee in tenderness thrown. 

Stern voices and cold mingled strange in thine ear 
With the songs of the angels the dying may hear; 
And thrillingiy tender, amid Death's alarms. 
Was thy mother's voice welcoming thee to her 
arms. 

Thy fragile form, vrrapped in its coarse shroud 

reposes 
In slumbers as sweet as if pillowed on roses, 
And while on thy coffin the rude clods are pressed. 
The good Shepherd folds the shorn lamb to his 

breast. 

MAEaAEET L. Bailey. 



c 



OME, ladies, you that would appear 



Like angels fair, come, dress you here ; 
Come, dress you at this marble stone. 
And make that humble grace your own. 



416 SOJS^GS OF THJE SOUL; 

AVMcli once adorn' d as fair a mind 

As e'er yet lodg'd in womankind : 

So slie was dress' d, whose humble life 

"Was free from pride, was free from strife ; 

Pree from all envious brawls and jars, 

Of human life the civil wars. 

These ne'er disturb'd her peaceful mind. 

"Which still was gentle, still was kind. 

Her very looks, her garb, her mien, 

Disclos'd the humble soul within. 

Trace her thro' ev'ry scene of life, 

"View her as widow, virgin, wife ; 

Still the same humble she appears. 

The same in youth, the same in years ; 

The same in low, in high estate, 

ISTe'er vex'd with this, ne'er mov'd with that. 

Go, ladies, now, and if you'd be 

As fair, as great, as good as she, 

Go learn of her humility. 

Anok. 



STije Glories of Sprtns Cime. 

TTAIL, uncreated Being, source of life. 

Whose love is boundless, and whose mercy 
wise 1 

Whose power hath wrought, to spread thy glo- 
ries wide, 

Tor every sense a paradise of joy ! 

Thyself art All, and in thy spirit pure 

Live all created things : each form declares 



FROM MINES OF THOTiailT. 411 

Thy touch and pressure ; every meanest tribe 
The sacred image of thy nature bears ! 
Summer, and autumn's sun, and wintry blasts 
Proclaim thy might and glory : but the spring, 
Wherefore and whence, O Lord, its genial breath? 
'Tis the loud voice that bids the faithless bow ; 
"With thousand thousand tongues of joy and praise, 
With the full choir of new-created life. 
Singing thy name ; proclaiming to the dull 
Thy love, thy bounty, thine almighty hand ! 
And thee it most resembles ; like thyself, 
It moulds and fashions ; bids the spirit wake ; 
Grives life and aliment, and clothes the form 
With strength and vigor ! 'Tis the holy type 
Of thy creative breath ! — How mean of soul. 
How lost are they to every finer bliss, 
Who, prisoned 'mid the dusty smoke of towns 
(When Nature calls aloud, and Life invites, 
Arrayed in youth and freshest beauty), sit 
Eorlorn and darkling in the maze of thought ! 
Life springs at thy command ; thou bidd'st 
awake 
New scenes to witness all thy majesty, 
New shapes and creatures : none dost thou forbid 
To view the wondrous produce of thy word ; 
And shall that creature, whom thy bounty raised 
Ey reason high above the grovelling race, 
With coldness trace thy glory, taste thy gifts 
Contemptuous and unmoved ? — I tremble, Lord, 
I roam, as on a wide and fathomless sea. 
Amid the wonders of thy growing year ! 

2e 



418 SO]}^GS OF THU SOUL; 

I see, but know not : my full heart admires 
The prospect of delight thou spread' st around ; 
And, as thy beck can from the mthered plant 
Call forth new verdure, bid fresh blossoms spring, 
Methinks that power may in the mouldering corse 
Arouse warm life and vigor. I behold 
Each living thing declare thy liberal hand, 
Thy force, all-bountifal, almighty God ! 
And shall not I, on whom thy judging will 
Showers choicer bHss, some duteous tribute pay. 
Some strain of rapture, to the King of Kings ? 
My mind and heart and ravished sense admire 
The might and gorgeous majesty of heaven. 
The glory of thy works ; and deem the Vv^orld 
Created vainly for such torpid souls 
As scorn its beauty and renounce its joys. 

C. B. TuLLix, Trans, hy Herbert. 



^1)2 Barfe xi^i ©nixrarlr ^im. 

A BEIG-HT or dark eternity in view, 
"^ "With all its fix'd, unutterable things, 
What madness in the living to pursue. 
As their chief portion, with the speed of wings, 
The joys that death-beds always turn to stings! 
Infatuated man, on earth's smooth waste 
To dance along the path that always brings 
Quick to an end, from which with tenfold haste 
Back would he gladly fly till all should be retraced ! 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 419 

Our life is like the hurrying on the eve 
Before we start, on some long journey bound, 
"When fit preparing to the last we leave, 
Then run to every room the dwelling round. 
And sigh that nothing needed can be found ; 
Yet go we must, and soon as day shall break ; 
We snatch an hour's repose, when loud the 

sound 
For our departure calls ; we rise and take 
A quick and sad farewell, and go ere well awake. 

Eear'd in the sunshine, blasted by the storms 
Of changing time, scarce asking why or whence. 
Men come and go like vegetable forms. 
Though Heaven appoints for them a work im- 
mense. 
Demanding constant thought and zeal intense. 
Awaked by hopes and fears that leave no room 
For rest to mortals in the dread suspense, 
WTiile yet they know not if beyond the tomb 
A long, long life of bliss or wo shall be their doom. 

What matter whether pain or pleasures fill 
The swelling heart one little moment here ? 
From both alike how vain is every thrill. 
While an untried eternity is near ! 
Think not of rest, fond man, in life's career ; 
The joys and grief that meet thee, dash aside 
Like bubbles, and thy bark right onward steer 
Through calm and tempest, till it cross the tide. 
Shoot into port in triumph, or serenely glide. 

Caelos Wilcox. 



420 SOJSTGS OF THE SOUL; 

^ijousijts of mg <Soul, ijoto cStoift gc p I 

A HYMN more, my lyre ! 
Praise to the God above, 
Of joy, and life, and love^ 
Sweeping its strings of fire ! 

O, who the speed of bird and wind 
And sunbeam's glance will lend to me, 

That, soaring upward, I may find 

My resting-place and home in Thee ? 

Thou, whom my soul, 'midst doubt and gloom, 
Adoreth with a fervent flame, — 

Mysterious Spirit ! unto whom 
Pertain nor sign nor name ! 

Swiftly my lyre's soft murmurs go 
Up from the cold and joyless earth. 

Back to the God who bade them flow, 
"Whose moving Spirit sent them forth : 

But as for me, God ! for me. 
The lowly creature of thy ^^dll, 

Lingering and sad, I sigh to thee. 
An earth-bound pilgrim still ! 

"Was not my spirit born to shine 

Where yonder stars and suns are glowing ? 
To breathe mth them the light divine. 

Prom God's own holy altar flowing ? 
To be, indeed, whate'er the soul 

In dreams hath thirsted for so long, — 
A portion of heaven's glorious whole 
Of loveliness and song ? 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 421 

watchers of the stars of night, 

"Who breathe their fire, as we the air, — 

Suns, thunders, stars, and rays of light, 
O, say, is He, the Eternal, there ? 

Bend there around his awful throne 
The seraph's glance, the angel's knee ? 

Or are thy inmost depths his own, 
O wild and mighty sea ? 

Thoughts of my soul ! how swift ye go — 

Swift as the eagle's glance of fire, 
Or arrows from the archer's bow — 

To the far aim of your desire ! 
Thought after thought, ye thronging rise. 

Like spring-doves from the startled wood, 
Bearing like them your sacrifice 
Of music unto Grod ! 

And shall there thoughts of joy and love 
Come back again no more to me, — 

B/eturning, like the Patriarch's dove, 
Wing- weary, from the eternal sea, 

To bear within my longing arms 

The promise-bough of kindlier skies, 

Plucked from the green, immortal palms 
Which shadow paradise ? 

All-moving Spirit ! freely forth, 

At thy command, the strong wind goes 

Its errand to the passive earth ; 

Nor art can stay, nor strength oppose, 



422 SOJS^aS OF TJSCU SOUL; 

Until it folds its weary wing 

Once more within the hand diyine : 
So, weary of each earthly thing, 
My spirit turns to thine ! 

Child of the sea, the mountain-stream 
From its dark caverns hurries on 

Ceaseless, by night and morning's beam, 
By evening's star and noontide's sun, — 

Until at last it sinks to rest, 
O'erwearied, in the waiting sea, 

And moans upon its mother's breast : 
So turns my soul to thee ! 

O Thou who bidd'st the torrent flow, 
Who lendest wings unto the wind, — 

Mover of aE. things 1 where art thou ? 
O, whither shall I go to find 

The secret of thy resting-place ? 
Is there no holy wing for me, 

That, soaring, I may search the space 
Of highest heaven for thee ? 

O, would I were as free to rise, 

As leaves on autumn's whirlwiad borne, 
The arrowy light of sunset skies, 

Or sound, or ray, or star of mom, 
Which melts in heaven at twilight's close, 

Or aught which soars unchecked and free, 
Through earth and heaven, — that I might lose 
Myself in finding Thee ! 

Alphonse de Lamaetine, Trans. Anon> 



FBOM MIJS-ES OF TROUGRT, 423 

W^t Angels are SEaitins, mg JEotljer, 
for JEe. 

^^ f\K, mother, I've been with an angel to-day! 
I was out, all alone, in the forest at play, 
Chasing the butterflies, watching the bees, 
And hearing the woodpecker tapping the trees ; 
So I played, and I played, till, so weary I grew, 
I sat down to rest in the shade of a yeAV, 
While the birds sang so sweetly high up on its top, 
I held my breath, mother, for fear they would stop. 
Thus a long while I sat, looking up to the sky, 
And watching the clouds that went hurrying by. 
When I heard a voice calling, just over my head, 
That sounded as if ' Come, oh brother ! ' it said ; 
And there, right over the top of the tree, 
mother, an angel was beckoning to me ! 

"And, ' Brother,' once more, ^come, oh brother!' 

he cried. 
And flew on light pinions close down by my side; 
And mother, oh, never was being so bright 
As the one which then beamed on my wondering 

sight ! 
His face was as fair as the delicate shell, 
His hair down his shoulders in fair ringlets fell, 
While his eyes resting on me, so melting with love, 
Were as soft and as mild as the eyes of a dove. 
And somehow, dear mother, I felt not afraid, 
As his hand on my brow he caressingly laid, 
And murmured so softly and gently to me, 
' Come, brother, the angels are waiting for thee!' 



424 SOJSraS of TRE SOUL; 

" And then on my foreliead lie tenderly pressed 
Sncli kisses — oh, mother, they thrilled through 

my breast, 
As swiftly as lightning leaps down from on high, 
When the chariot of Grod rolls along the black 

While his breath, floating round me, was soft as 

the breeze. 
That played in my tresses, and rustled the trees; 
At last on my head a deep blessing he poured. 
Then plumed his bright pinions and upward he 

soared — 
And up, up he went, through the blue sky, so far, 
He seemed to float there like a glittering star, 
Yet still my eyes followed his radiant flight, 
Till, lost in the azure, he passed from my sight. 
Then, oh how I feared, as I caught the last gleam 
Of his Tanishing form, it was only a dream — 
When soft voices murmured once more from the 

tree, 
^ Come, brother, the angels are waiting for thee ! ' " 

Oh, pale grew that mother, and heavy her heart, 
Por she knew her fair boy from this world must 

depart ; 
That his bright locks must fade in the dust of the 

tomb. 
Ere the autumn winds withered the summer's 

rich bloom. 
Oh, how his young footsteps she watched, day by 

day, 
As his delicate form wasted slowly away, 



FROM IIIJSrES OF THOUGHT, 425 

Till the soft light of heaven seemed shed o'er his 

face, 
And he crept up to die in her loving embrace ! 
" Oh, clasp me, dear mother, close, close to your 

breast ; 
On that gentle pillow again let me rest ; 
Let me once more gaze up to that dear, loving eye. 
And then, oh, methinks, I can willingly die. 
Now kiss me, dear mother — oh, quickly — for see. 
The bright, blessed angels are waiting for me ! " 

Oh, wild was the anguish that swept through her 

breast. 
As the long, frantic kiss on his pale lips she 

pressed. 
And felt the vain search of his soft pleading eye. 
As it strove to meet hers ere the fair boy could die. 
" I see you not, mother, for darkness and night 
Are hiding your dear, loving face from my sight ; 
But I hear your low sobbings : dear mother, good 

by! 
The angels are ready to bear me on high. 
I will wait for you there; but, oh, tarry not long. 
Lest grief at your absence should sadden my 

song !" 
He ceased, and his hands meekly clasped on his 

breast, 
While his sweet face sank down on its pillow of 

rest; 
Then closing his eyes, now all rayless and dim, 
Went up with the angels that waited for him. 
Caeoliis-e M. Sawyer. 



426 SOJSraS OF TSU SOUL; 

Wiit laestmg Bag of Creation. 

f\ DAT most calm, most bright, 
^^ The fruit of tiiis, the next world's bud, 
The indorsement of supreme delight, 
AYrit by a Priend, and with his blood ; 
The couch of time, care's balm and bay : — 
The week were dark, but for thy light ; 
Thy torch doth show the way. 

The other days and thou 
Make up one man ; whose face tJiou art, 
Knocking at heav'n with thy brow : 
The workydays are the back-part ; 
The burden of the week lies there. 
Making the whole to stoop and bow, 

Till thy release appear. 

Man had straight forward gone 
To endless death : but thou dost pull 
And turn us round, to look on one. 
Whom, if we were not very dull. 
We could not choose but look on still ; 
Since there is no place so alone. 

The which he doth not fill. 

Sundays the pillars are. 
On which heaven's palace arched lies : 
The other days fill up the spare 
And hollow room with vanities. 
They are the fruitful beds and borders 
In Grod's rich garden : that is bare, 

"Which parts their ranks and orders. 



FBOM MINES OF TROTTGHT, 427 

The Sundays of man's life, 
Threaded together on time's string, 
Make bracelets to adorn the wife 
Of the eternal glorious King. 
On Sunday heaven's gate stand ope ; 
Blessings are plentiful and rife — 

More plentiful than hope. 

This day my Saviour rose, 
And did enclose this light for his ; 
That, as each beast his manger knows, 
Man might not of his fodder miss. 
Christ hath took in this piece of ground, 
And made a garden there for those 

"Who want herbs for their wound. 

The rest of our creation 
Our great Redeemer did remove 
"With the same shake, which at his passion 
Did the earth and all things with it move. 
As Sampson bore the doors away, 
Christ's hands, tho' nail'd, wrought our salvation, 

And did unhinge that day. 

The brightness of that day, 
AVe sullied by our foul offence : 
"Wherefore that robe we cast away, 
Having a new at his expense. 
Whose drops of blood paid the full price, 
That was requir'd to make us gay, 

And fit for paradise. 



428 SOJSfGS OF THE SOUL; 

Thoii art a day of mirtli : 
And wliere the week-days trail on ground, 
Thy flight is higher, as thy birth : 
let me take thee at the bound, 
Leaping with thee from seven to seven, 
Till that we both, being toss'd from earth, 

Ely hand in hand to heav'n ! 

Geoege Heebeet. 



W^t Sali&at!j IHorn in Sunltgllt comes. 

" WELL," Saturday to Sunday said, 

" The people now have gone to bed ; 
All, after toiling through the week, 
Eight willingly their rest would seek ; — 
Myself can hardly stand alone. 
So very weary I have grown." 

BQs speech was echoed by the bell. 
As on his midnight couch he fell ; 
And Sunday now the watch must keep. 
So, rising from his pleasant sleep, 
He glides, half- dozing, through the sky, 
To tell the world that morn is nigh. 

He rubs his eyes, — and, none too late, 

Knocks aloud at the sun's bright gate ; 

She slumbered in her silent hall, 

Unprepared for his early call. 

Sunday exclaims, " Thy hour is nigh ! " 

" Well, well," says she, " I'll come by and by." 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 429 

Gently, on tiptoe, Sunday creeps, — 
Cheerfully from the stars he peeps, — 
Mortals are all asleep below, — 
IN'one in the village hears him go. 
E'en Chanticleer keeps very still, — 
For Sunday whispered 't was his will. 

ISTow the world is awake and bright, 

After refreshing sleep all night ; 

The Sabbath morn in sunlight comes, 

Smiling gladly on all our homes. 

He has a mild and happy air, — 

Bright flowers are wreathed among his hair. 

He comes, with soft and noiseless tread, 
To rouse the sleeper from his bed ; 
And tenderly he pauses near, 
"With looks all full of love and cheer, 
"Well pleased to watch the deep repose 
That lingered till the morning rose. 

How gaily shines the early dew, 
Loading the grass with its silver hue ! 
And freshly comes the fragrant breeze, 
Dancing among the cherry-trees ; 
The bees are humming all so gay, — 
They know not it is Sabbath-day. 

The cherry-blossoms now appear, — 
Fair heralds of a fruitful year ; 
There stands upright the tulip proud,^ — 
Bethlehem-stars around her crowd, — 
And hyacinths of every hue, — 
All sparkling in the morning dew. 



430 SOJ^^GS OF TRE SOUL; 

How still and lovely all things seem ! 
Peaceful and pure as an angel's dream ! 
No rattling carts are in the streets ; — 
Kindly each one his neighbour greets ; — 
" It promises right fair to-day ; " — 
" Yes, praised be Grod ! " — 't is all they say. 

The birds are singing, " Come, behold 
Our Sabbath morn all bathed in gold, 
Pouring his calm, celestial light 
Among the flowers so sweet and bright ! " 
The pretty goldfinch leads the row. 
As if her Sunday-robe to show. 

Mary, pluck those auriculas, pray. 

And do n't shake the yellow dust away ; 

Here, little Ann, are some for you, — 

I'm sure you want a nosegay too. 

The first bell rings, — away ! away ! 

"We win go to church to-day. 

JoHANN Petee Hebel, Traus, hy F. Graeter, 



'C'AIl in some still, sequestered nook, 

Eemoved from worldly strife, 
How calmly, like a placid brook, 
"Would glide the stream of life ! 

How sweet in temples Grod has made 
To raise the voice of prayer. 

While songsters from the leafy glade 
AVith music fill the air ! 



FROM MINES OF TROUGHT, 431 

Does not the spirit seem to spurn 
The fettered thoughts of earth, 

And with a holier impulse turn 
To things of higher birth ; 

When in the forests' vast arcade, 

Where man has seldom trod, 
Amid the works that he has made. 

We stand alone with Grod ? 

When gazing on fair Nature's face. 

Untouched by hand of art. 
In every leaf his love we trace. 

What feelings thrill the heart ! 

The diamond dew-drop on the spray. 

Each early-fading flower, 
The glittering insects of a day — 

All show God's wondrous power : 

And teach us by their helplessness 

Of his unwearied care. 
Who gives the lily's vestal dress, 

And bids us not despair. 

When in the fading light of day 

The forests trees grow dim. 
And evening comes in sober gray, 

How turn our souls to him ! 

There is no sound upon the air, 

All living things are still — • 
A solemn hush, as if of prayer, 

Is brooding o'er the hill : 



432 SO^''GS OF THE SOUL; 

"While far above, like spirit-eyes, 

Tlie stars their vigils keep. 
And smile on tlie fair stream that lies 

Upon earth's breast, asleep. 

There is a spell that binds the heart 
At this most hallowed hour, 

And bids all earth-born thoughts depart, 
Beneath its holy power. 

And when to all created things 

A voice of praise is given. 
The spirit seems on angel wings 

To soar aloft to heaven. 

SuSAlSr PlNDAE. 



CI]SrGr aloud ; his praise rehearse 

"WHio hath made the universe. 
He the boimdless heavens has spread, 
All the vital orbs has kned ; 
He that on Olympus high 
Tends his flock Avith watchful eye 5 
And this eye has multiplied 
Midst each flock for to reside. 
Thus, as round about they stray, 
Toucheth each with out-stretch'd ray : 
Ximbly they hold on their way, 
Shaping out their night and day. 
Xever slack they ; none respires, 
Dancing round their central fires. 



FEOII IIINJES OF THOUGHT, 433 

In due order as they move, 
Echoes sweet be gently drove 
Thorough heaven's vast hollowness, 
"Which unto all corners press — 
Music, that the heart of Jove 
Moves to joy, and sportful love ; 
rills the listening sailor's ears, 
Riding on the wandering spheres. 
Neither speech nor language is, 
AVhere their voice is not transmiss. 

Grod is good, is wise, is strong, 
Witness all the creature-throng ; 
Is confess' d by every tongue — 
All things — back from whence they sprung. 
As the thankful rivers pay 
What they borrowed of the sea. 

Now, myself, I do resign ; 
Take me whole, I all am thine. 
Save me, Grod ! from self-desire, 
Death's pit, dark hell's raging fire ; 
Envy, hatred, vengeance, ire : 
Let not lust my soul bemire. 

Quit from these, thy praise I'll sing, 
Loudly sweep the trembling string. 
Bear a part, ivisdom's sons ! 
Ereed from vain religions. 
Lo ! from far I you salute. 
Sweetly warbling on my lute. 
India, Egypt, Araby, 
Asia, Greece, and Tartary, 
2e 



434 sojsras of tsu soul; 

Carmel-tracts and Lebanon, 
With the Mountains of the moon, 
Prom whence muddy Nile doth run ; 
Or, whatever else you won, 
Breathing in one vital air ; — 
One we are though distant far. 

Eise at once — ^let's sacrifice : 
Odours sweet perfume the skies. 
See how heavenly lightning fires 
Hearts inflamed with high aspires ; 
All the substance of our souls 
Up in clouds of incense rolls I 
Leave we nothing to ourselves 
Save a voice — what need we else ? 
Or an hand to wear and tire 
On the thankful lute or lyre. 

Sing aloud ; his praise rehearse 
"Who hath made the universe. 

Hensy More. 



CIX days the heavenly host, in circle vast, 

Like that untouching cincture which enzones 
The globe of Saturn, compassed wide this orb. 
And T\ith the forming mass floated along 
In rapid course, through yet untravelled space. 
Beholding God's stupendous power, — a world 
Bursting from Chaos at the omnific will, 
And perfect ere the sixth day's evening star 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 435 

On Paradise arose. Blessed that eve ! 
The Sabbath's harbinger, when, all complete, 
In freshest beauty from Jehovah's hand, 
Creation bloomed ; when Eden's twilight face 
Smiled like a sleeping babe : the voice divine 
A holy calm breathed o'er the goodly work ; 
Mildly the sun upon the loftiest tree 
Shed mellowly a sloping beam. Peace reigned, 
And love, and gratitude ; the human pair 
Their orisons poured forth ; love, concord reigned. 
The falcon perched upon the blooming bough 
With Philomela, listened to her lay ; 
Among the antlered herd the tiger couched 
Harmless ; the lion's mane no terror spread 
Among the careless, ruminating flock. 
Silence was o'er the deep ; the noiseless surge, 
The last subsiding wave — of that dread tumult 
Which raged when ocean at the mute command 
Rushed furiously into his new-cleft bed, — - 
Was gently rippling on the pebbled shore ; 
While on the swell the sea-bird, with her head 
Wing-veiled, slept tranquilly. The host of 

heaven, 
Entranced in new delight, speechless adored ; 
Nor stopped their fleet career, nor changed their 

form 
Encircular till on that hemisphere, — 
In which the blissful garden sweet exhaled 
Its incense, odorous clouds, — the Sabbath dawn 
Arose ; then wide the flying circle sped, 
And soared in semblance of a mighty rainbow. 
Silent ascend the choirs of seraphim. 



436 SO was OF THE SOUL; 

No liarp resounds, mute eacli voice is : the burst 
Of joy and praise reluctant they repress, — 
For love and concord all things so attuned 
To harmony, that earth must have received 
The grand vibration, and to the centre shook : 
But soon as to the starry altitudes 
They reached, then what a storm of sound 

tremendous i 

Swelled through the realms of space. The 

morning stars 
Together sang, and aU the sons of Grod 
Shouted for joy ! Loud was the peal ; so loud 
As would have quite overwhelmed human sense : 
But to the earth it came a gentle strain. 
Like softest fall breathed from ^olian lute, 
"When 'mid the chords the evening gale expires. 
" Day of the Lord ! creation's hallowed close ! 
Day of the Lord ! (prophetical they sung) 
Benignant mitigation of that doom 
Which must ere long consign the fallen race, 
Dwellers in yonder star, to toil and woe." 

James Geahame. 



Wiat Eocit of l^umanitg^ 

r^N piety, humanity is built ; 

And on humanity, much happiness ; 
And yet still more on piety itself. 
A soul in commerce with her Grod is Heaven ; 
Feels not the tumults and the shocks of life ; 
The whirls of passions, and the strokes of heart. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 437 

A Deity believ'd, is joy begun ; 
A Deity ador'd, is joy advane'd ; 
A Deity belov'd, is joy matur'd. 
Each branch oi piety delight inspires ; 
Faith builds a bridge from this world to the next, 
O'er death's dark gulf, and all its horrour hides; 
Fraise, the sweet exhalation of our joy, 
That joy exalts, and makes it sweeter still ; 
Frayer ardent opens Heaven, lets down a stream 
Of glory on the consecrated hour 
Of man, in audience with the Deity, 
Who worships the Great God, that instant joins 
The first in Heaven, and sets his foot on Hell. 

Edwaed Youisra. 



T^HE Pilgrim Fathers — where are they ? 

The waves that brought them o'er 
Still roll in the bay, and throw their spray 

As they break along the shore : 
Still roll in the bay, as they rolled that day. 

When the May-Elower moored below. 
When the sea around was black with storms, 

And white the shore with snow. 

The mists that wrapped the pilgrims' sleep, 

Still brood upon the tide ; 
And his rocks yet keep their watch by the deep. 

To stay its waves of pride. 



438 SOJ^GS OF THE SOUL; 

Eut the snow-wMte sail, that he gave to the gale, 
AVhen the heavens looked dark, is gone ; 

As an angel's wing, through an opening cloud, 
Is seen, and then withdrawn. 

The Pilgrim exile — sainted name ! — 

The hill whose icy brow 
Kejoiced, when he came, in the morning's flame, 

In the morning's flame burns now. 
And the moon's cold light, as it lay that night 

On the hni-side and the sea. 
Still lies where he laid his houseless head ; 

But the pilgrim, where is he ? 

The pilgrim fathers are at rest : 

A\Tien the summer's throned on high, 
And the world's warm breast is in verdure dressed, 

G-o stand on the hill where they lie. 
The earKest ray of the golden day 

On that hallowed spot is cast : 
And the evening sun, as he leaves the world, 

Looks kindly on that spot last. 

The pUgrim spirit has not fled : 

It walks in noon's broad light : 
And it watches the bed of the glorious dead, 

With the holy stars, by night. 
It watches the bed of the brave who have bled, 

And shall guard his ice-bound shore, 
Till the waves of the bay where the May-riower 
lay, 

Shall foam and freeze no more. 

John Pieepoint. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 439 

STije cStranger anti fjts JFrientr, 

A POOE/ wayfaring man of grief 
"^ Hatli often crossed me on my way, 
"Wlio sued so humbly for relief, 

That I could never answer, " x^ay." 
I had not power to ask his name, 
"Whither He went, or whence He came ; 
Yet there was something in his eye 
That won my love, — I knew not why. 

Once, when my scanty meal was spread, 
He entered ; — not a word He spake ; — 

Just perishing for want of bread, 

I gave Him all ; He blessed it, brake, 

And ate ; — but gave me part again ; 

INIine was an angel's portion then, 

For while I fed with eager haste. 

That crust was manna to my taste. 

I spied Him, where a fountain burst 

Clear from the rock ; his strength was gone ; 

The heedless water mocked his thirst : 
He heard it, saw it hurrying on : 

I ran to raise the sufferer up ; 

Thrice from the stream He drained my cup, 

Dipt, and returned it runniDg o'er; 

I drank, and never thirsted more. 

'Twas night ; the floods were out, — it blew 

A winter hurricane aloof ; 
I heard his voice abroad, and flew 

To bid Him welcome to my roof; 



440 SOJSTGS OF THJE SOUL; 

I warmed, I clothed, I cheered my guest ; 
Laid Him on my own couch to rest ; 
Then made the earth my bed, and seemed 
In Eden's garden while I dreamed. 

Stript, wounded, beaten nigh to death, 
I found Him by the highway side ; 

I roused his pulse, brought back his breath, 
Kevived his spirit, and supplied 

"Wine, oil, refreshment ; He was healed ; 

I had myself a wound concealed ; 

But from that hour forgot the smart, 

And Peace bound up my broken heart. 

In prison I saw Him next, condemned 
To meet a traitor's doom at morn ; 

The tide of lying tongues I stemmed, 

And honoured Him midst shame and scorn : 

My friendship's utmost zeal to try, 

He asked if I for Him would die ; 

The flesh was weak, my blood rim chill, 

But the free spirit cried, "I will." 

Then in a moment to my view, 

The stranger darted fr'om disguise ; 
The tokens in his hands I knew, 

My Saviour stood before mine eyes : 
He spake ; and my poor name He named, 
" Of Me thou hast not been ashamed. 
These deeds shall thy memorial be ; 
Fear not, thou didst them unto Me." 

James MoNTaoMEBT. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 441 

W^t Foice of ffiotr. 

TTTHERE is Thy favour' d haunt, eternal Voice, 

The region of Thy choice, 
Where, undisturb'd by sin and earth, the soul 

Owns Thy entire control ? — 
'Tis on the mountain's summit dark and high, 

When storms are hurrying by : 
'Tis 'mid the strong foundations of the earth, 

Where torrents have their birth. 

JN'o sounds of worldly toil ascending there, 

Mar the full burst of prayer ; 
Lone Nature feels that she may freely breathe, 

And round us and beneath 
Are heard her sacred tones : the fitful sweep 

Of winds across the steep. 
Through vdther'd bents — romantic note and clear. 

Meet for a hermit's ear, — 

The wheeling kite's wild solitary cry. 

And, scarcely heard so high, 
The dashing waters when the air is still 

From many a torrent rill 
That winds unseen beneath the shaggy fell. 

Track' d by the blue mist well ; 
Such sounds as make deep silence in the heart 

Eor Thought to do her part. 

'Tis then we hear the voice of Gron within, 

Pleading with care and sin : 
" Child of My love ! how have I wearied thee ? 

" Why wilt thou err from Me ? 



442 SOJ^^GS OF THJE SOUL; 

"Have I not brougM tliee from the house of slaves, 

" Parted the droTvning waves, 
" And set My saints before thee in the way, 

" Lest thou shouldst faint or stray ? 

" "What ? was the promise made to thee alone ? 

" Art thou th' excepted one ? 
" An heir of glory without grief or pain r 

" O vision false and vain ! 
" There lies thy cross ; beneath it meekly bow ; 

" It fits thy stature now : 
" Who scornful pass it with averted eye, 

" 'Twill crush them by and by. 

" Eaise thy repining eyes, and take true measure, 

" Of thine eternal treasure ; 
" The Tather of thy Lord can grudge thee nought, 

" The world for thee was bought, 
" And as this landscape broad — -earth, sea, and 
sky,— 

" All centres in thine eye, 
" So all Grod does, if rightly understood, 

" Shall work thy final good." 

JoH]^ Keble. 



Wi)t i^ealtts of jFaitfj. 

T^HT triumphs, Faith, we need not take 
■^ Alone from the blest martyr's stake ; 
In scenes obscure no less we see 
That Faith is a reality ; 



FROM MINES OF THOTTGST. 443 

An evidence of things not seen, 

A substance firm whereon to lean. 

Gro, search the cottager's low room, 

The day scarce piercing through the gloom ; 

The Christian on his dying bed. 

Unknown, imlettered, hardly fed ; 

IN'o flattering witnesses attend, 

To tell how glorious was his end ; 

Save in the book of life, his name 

Unheard ; he never dreamt of fame : 

N^o human consolation near, 

ISTo voice to soothe, no friend to cheer ; 

Of every earthly stay bereft, 

And nothing, — but his Saviour left ; 

Fast sinking to his kindred dust, 

The word of life is still his trust ; 

The joy Grod's promises impart 

Lies like a cordial at his heart ; 

Unshaken faith its strength supplies, 

He loves, believes, adores, and dies ! 

Hais^kah Mose. 



Efje cSintter's petition for ^Ttme. 

IV/r Y glass is half unspent ; forbear t' arrest 

My thriftless day too soon : my poor request 
Is, that my glass may run but out the rest. 

My time-devoured minutes wdll be done, 
"Without thy help ; see, see how swift they run ; 
Cut not my thread, before my thread be spun. 



444 SOJSTGS OF THU SOUL; 

The gain's not great I purchase by this stay ; 
What loss sustain' st Thou by so small delay, 
To whom ten thousand years are but a day ? 

My follo-\ving eye can hardly make a shift 
To count my winged hours ; they fly so swift, 
They scarce deserve the bounteous name of gift. 

The secret wheels of hurrying time do give 
So short a warning, and so fast they drive, 
That I am dead, before I seem to live. 

And what's a life ? a weary pilgrimage, 
Whose glory in one day doth fill the stage 
With childhood, manhood, and decrepit age. 

And what's a life ? the flourishing array 
Of the proud summer meadow, which to-day 
Wears her green plush, and is to-morrow hay. 

Eead on this dial, how the shades devour 

My short-lived winter's day ; hour eats up ho"ar ; 

Alas, the total's but from eight to four. 

Behold these lilies, (which thy hands have made. 
Fair copies of my life, and open laid 
To view,) how soon they droop, how soon they 
fade! 

Shade not that dial, night ^vill blind too soon ; 
My non-aged day already points to noon ; 
How simple is my suit, how small my boon ! 

JNTor do I beg this slender inch to wile 

The time away, or safely to beguile 

My thoughts Avith joy ; here's nothing but a smile. 



FROM MINES OF THOTIGHT, 445 

No, no ! 'tis not to please mj wanton ears 
With frantic mirth, I beg but hours, not years, 
And what thou giv'st me, I will give to tears. 

Draw not that soul, which would be rather led ! 
That seed has yet not broke my serpent's head ; 
Oh ! shall I die before my sins are dead ? 

Behold these rags ; am I a fitting guest 
To taste the dainties of thy royal feast, 
"With hands and face unwashed, ungirt, unblest ? 

Pirst let the Jordan streams (that find supplies 
Prom the deep fountain of thy heart) arise. 
And cleanse my spots, and clear my leprous eyes. ' 

I have a world of sins to be lamented ; 
I have a sea of tears that must be vented ; 
Oh ! spare till then, and then I die contented. 
Pea:n^cis Qtjaeles. 



Eije Scrbants of ffiotr. 

TTIGrll on His everlasting throne, 

The King of Saints His work surveys ; 
Marks the dear souls He calls His own, 
And smiles on that peculiar race. 
He rests well pleased their toil to see ; 
Eeneath His easy yoke they move, 
"With all their heart and strength agree 
In the sweet labour of His love. 



446 SONGS OF THE SOUL; 

His eye at once the world looks tlirough, 
A vast uncultivated field ; 
Mountains and vales in ghastly show, 
A barren, uncouth prospect yield : 
Clear' d of the thorns by civil care, 
A few less hideous wastes are seen ; 
Yet still they all continue bare, 
And not one spot of earth is green. 

See where the servants of their God, 

A busy multitude, appear ! 

For Jesus day and night employ' d 

His husbandry they toil to clear. 

The love of Christ their hearts constrains, 

And strengthens their unwearied hands ; 

They spend their blood, and sweat, and pains. 

To cultivate Emmanuel's lands. 

Alarm' d at their successful toil, 
Satan and his wild spirits rage. 
They labour to tear up and spoil 
And blast the rising heritage. 
In every wilderness they sow 
The seed of death, the carnal mind ; 
They would not let one virtue grow, 
Nor leave one seed of good behind. 

Yet still the servants of their Lo»d 
Look up and calmly persevere ; 
Supported by the Master's word. 
The adverse powers they scorn to fear ; 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 447 

Gladly their bappy work pursue ; 
The labour of their hands is seen, 
Their hands the face of earth renew ; 
Some spots at least are lively green. 

To dig the ground they thus bestow 
Their lives ; from every soften' d clod 
They gather out the stones, and sow 
The immortal seed, the word of Grod. 
They water it with tears and prayers. 
Then long for the returning word ; 
Happy, if all their pains and cares 
Can bring forth fruit to please their Lord. 

Jesus their work delighted sees. 
Their industry vouchsafes to crown ; 
He kindly gives the wished increase, 
And sends the promised blessing down. 
The sap of life, the Spirit's powers, 
He rains incessant from above ; 
He all His gracious fulness showers, 
To perfect their great work of love. 

O multiply Thy sowers' seed, 

And fruit we every hour shall bear ; 

Throughout the world Thy gospel spread, 

Thy everlasting grace declare : 

"We all in perfect love renew' d. 

Shall know the greatness of Thy power, 

Stand in the temple of our Grod 

As pillars, and go out no more. 

PkOM the GrEEMAlSr. 



448 SO^^GS OF THE SOUL; 



Wiit Cijtitlun of t!je Horn's ^upptr. 

pElS'TECOST, day of rejoicing, liad come. 

"^ Tlie chiirch of the village 

Stood gleaming white in the morning's sheen. 

On the spire of the belfry, 
Tipped with a vane of metal, the friendly flames 

of the spring-sun 
Grlanced like the tongues of fire beheld by 

Apostles aforetime. 
Clear was the heaven and blue, and May, with 

her cap crowned with roses. 
Stood in her holiday dress in the fields, and the 

wind and the brooklet 
Murmured gladness and peace, Grod's-peace ! 

With lips rosy-tinted 
"Whispered the race of the flowers, and merry 

on balancing branches 
Birds were singing their carol, a jubilant hymn 

to the Highest. 
Swept and clean was the church-yard. Adorned 

like a leaf-woven arbor 
Stood its old-fashioned gate ; and within upon 

each cross of iron 
Hung was a sweet-scented garland, new twined 

by the hands of affection. 
Even the dial, that stood on a foimtain among 

the departed 
(There full a hundred years had it stood), was 

embellished with blossoms. 
Like to the patriarch hoary, the sage of his kith 

and the hamlet, 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 449 

Who on his birth-day is crowned by children 

and children's children, 
So stood the ancient prophet, and mute with his 

pencil of iron 
Marked on the tablet of stone, and measured 

the swift changing moment, 
"While all around, at his feet, an eternity slum- 
bered in quiet. 
Also the church within was adorned, for this was 

the season 
In which the young, their parents' hope, and 

the loYcd-ones of Heaven, 
Should at the foot of the altar renew the vows 

of their baptism. 
Therefore each nook and corner were swept and 

cleaned, and the dust was 
Elown from the walls and ceiling, and from the 

oil-painted benches. 
There stood the church like a garden ; the Eeast 

of the Leafy Pavilions 
Saw we in living presentment. From noble 

arms on the church wall 
Grew forth a cluster of leaves, and the preacher's 

pulpit of oak-wood 
Budded once more anew, as aforetime the rod 

before Aaron. 
Wreathed thereon was the Eible with leaves, 

and the dove, washed with silver. 
Under its canopy fastened, a necklace had on of 

wind-flowers. 
But in front of the choir, round the altar-piece 

painted by Horberg, 2 g 



450 SOj}^GS of the SOUL; 

Crept a garland gigantic; and bright-curling 

tresses of angels 
Peeped, like tlie sun from a cloud, out of the 

shadowy leaf-work . 
Likewise the lustre of brass, new-polished, 

blinked from the ceiling, 
And for lights there were lilies of Pentecost set 

in the sockets. 



Loud rang the bells already ; the thronging 

crowd was assembled 
Far from valleys and hills, to list to the holy 

preaching. 
Hark ! then roll forth at once the mighty tones 

from the organ. 
Hover like voices from God, aloft, like invisible ' 

spirits. 
Like as Elias in heaven, when he cast off from 

him his mantle, 
Even so cast off the soul its garments of earth ; 

and with one voice 
Chimed in the congregation, and sang an anthem 

immortal 
Of the sublime AVallin, of Da^'id's harp in the 

Xorth-land, 
Tuned to the choral of Luther ; the song on its 

powerful pinions 
Took every living soul, and lifted it gently to 

heaven, 
And every face did shine like the Holy One's 

face upon Tabor. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 451 

Lo! there entered then into the church the 

reverend teacher. 
Father he hight, and he was, in the parish ; a 

Christianly plainness 
Clothed from his head to his feet the old man of 

seventy winters. 
Friendly was he to behold, and glad as the 

heralding angel 
Walked he among the crowds ; bnt still a con- 
templative grandeur 
Lay on his forehead, as clear as on moss-covered 

gravestone a sunbeam. 
As, in his inspiration (an evening twilight that 

faintly 
Gleams in the human soul, even now, from the 

day of creation), 
The Artist, the friend of Heaven, imagines Saint 

John when in Patmos, 
Gray, with his eyes uplifted to heaven, so 

seemed then the old man ; 
Such was the glance of his eye, and such were 

his tresses of silver. 
AU'the congregation arose in the pews that were 

numbered ; 
But with a cordial look, to the right and the 

left hand, the old man, 
Nodding all hail and peace, disappeared in the 

innermost chancel. 



Simply and solemnly now proceeded the 
Christian service, 



452 SOJSTGS OF THE SOUL ; 

Singing and prayer, and at last an ardent dis- 
course from the old man. 

Many a moving word and warning, that out of 
the heart came, 

Pell like the dew of the morning, like manna 
on those in the desert. 

Afterwards, when all was finished, the teacher 
reentered the chancel, 

Followed therein by the young. On the right 
hand the boys had their places, 

Delicate figures, with close-curling hair and 
cheeks rosy-blooming ; 

But on the left hand of these, there stood the 
tremulous lilies, 

Tinged with the blushing light of the morning, 
the diffident maidens, — 

Folding their hands in prayer, and their eyes 
cast down on the pavement. 

IS'ow came, with question and answer, the cate- 
chism. In the beginning 

Answered the children with troubled and fal- 
tering voice, but the old man's 

Glances of kindness encouraged them soon, and 
the doctrines eternal 

Flowed, like the waters of fountains, so clear 
from lips unpolluted. 

Whene'er the answer was closed, and as oft as 
they named the Redeemer, 

Lowly louted the boys, and lowly the maidens 
all courtesied. 

Friendly the teacher stood, like an angel of 
light there among them, 



FROM MINES OF THOTTGHT. 453 

And to tlie children explained he the holy, the 

highest, in few words, 
Thorough, yet simple and clear; for sublimity 

always is simple, 
Both in sermon and song, a child can sieze on 

its meaning. 
Even as the green-growing bud is unfolded 

when spring-tide approaches. 
Leaf by leaf is developed, and, warmed by the 

radiant sunshine. 
Blushes with purple and gold, till at last the 

perfected blossom 
Opens its odorous chalice, and rocks with its 

crovni in the breezes, — 
So was unfolded here the Christian lore of sal- 
vation. 
Line by line, from the soul of childhood. The 

fathers and mothers 
Stood behind them in tears, and were glad at 

each well- worded answer. 



Now went the old man up to the altar ; — and 
straightway transfigured 

(So did it seem unto me) was then the affec- 
tionate teacher. 

Like the Lord's prophet sublime, and awful as 
Death and as Judgment, 

Stood he, the Grod-commissioned, the soul- 
searcher, earthward descending. 

Glances, sharp as a sword, into hearts, that to 
him were transparent, 



454 SOJSfGS OF THE SOUL; 

Shot lie ; his voice was deep, was low like the 

thimder afar off. 
So on a sudden transfigured he stood there, he 

spake and he questioned. 



" This is the faith of the Fathers, the faith 

the Apostles delivered ; 
This is, moreover, the faith whereunto I baptized 

jou, while still ye 
Lay on your mothers' breasts, and nearer the 

portals of heaven. 
Slumbering received you then the Holy Church 

in its bosom ; 
Wakened from sleep are ye now, and the light 

in its radiant splendor 
^Eains from the heavens downward ; — to-day on 

the threshold of childhood 
Kindly she frees you again, to examine and 

make your election, 
For she knows naught of compulsion, only con- 
viction desireth. 
This is the hour of your trial, the turning-point 

of existence, 
Seed for the coming days; Avithout revocation 

departeth 
Now from your lips the confession ; bethink ye 

before ye make answer ! 
Think not, O think not with guile to deceive 

the questioning teacher ! 
Sharp is his eye to-day, and a curse ever rests 

upon falsehood. 



FBOM MINES OF TROJJGIIT, 455 

Enter not with a lie on life's journey; the 

multitude hears you, 
Brothers and sisters and parents, what dear 

upon earth is and holy 
Standeth before your sight as a witness ; the 

Judge Everlasting 
Looks from the sun down upon you, and angels 

in waiting beside him 
Grrave j^our confession, in letters of fire, upon 

tablets eternal. 
Thus, then, — believe ye in Grod, in the Eather 

who this world created ? 
Him who redeemed it, the Son ? and the Spirit 

where both are united ? 
Will ye promise me here (a holy promise !) to 

cherish 
Grod more than all things earthly, and every 

man as a brother ? 
Will ye promise me here to confirm your faith 

by your living, — 
The heavenly faith of affection ? — to hope, to 

forgive, and to suffer, 
Be what it may your condition, and walk before 

Grod in uprightness ? 
Will ye promise me this before Grod and man V 

— With a clear voice 
Answered the young men, Tes ! and Yes ! with 

lips softly-breathing 
Answered the maidens eke. Then dissolved 

from the brow of the teacher 
Clouds with the thunders therein, and he spake 

on in accents more gentle, 



456 SOJSfGS OF THE SOUL; 

I Soft as the evening's breath, as harps by Baby- 
lon's rivers. 



" Hail, then, hail to yon all ! To the heirdom 

of heaven be ye vrelconie ! 
Children no more from this day, but by cove- 
nant brothers and sisters ! 
Tet, — for what reason not children? Of such 

is the kingdom of heaven. 
Here upon earth an assemblage of children, in 

heaven one Father, 
Kuling them as his o^vn household, — forgiving 

in turn and chastising : 
That is of human life a picture, as Scripture has 

taught us. 
Blessed are the pure before God ! Upon purity 

and upon virtue 
Eesteth the Christian Faith ; she herself from 

on high is descended. 
Strong as a man and pure as a child, is the sum 

of the doctrine 
Which the Godlike delivered, and on the cross 

suffered and died for. 
O, as ye wander this day from childhood's 

sacred asylum 
Downward and ever downward, and deeper in 

Age's chill valley, 
0, how soon will ye come, — too soon! — and 

long to turn backward 
Up to its hill-tops again, to the sun-illumined, 

where Judgment 



FROM IflJVUS OF THOUGHT. 457 

Stood like a father before you, and Pardon, clad 

like a mother, 
Gave you her hand to kiss, and the loving 

heart was forgiven. 
Life was a play ; and your hands grasped after 

the roses of heaven ! 
Seventy years have I lived already ; the Father 

Eternal 
Grave to me gladness and care ; but the loveliest 

hours of existence, 
"When I have steadfastly gazed in their eyes, I 

have instantly known them. 
Know them all, all again; — they were my 

childhood's acquaintance. 
Therefore take, from henceforth, as guides in the 

paths of existence. 
Prayer, with her eyes raised to heaven, and 

Innocence, bride of man's childhood. 
Innocence, child beloved, is a guest from the 

world of the blessed. 
Beautiful, and in her hand a lily ; on life's 

roaring billows 
Swings she in safety, she heedeth them not, in 

the ship she is sleeping. 
Calmly she gazes around in the turmoil of men ; 

in the desert 
Angels descend and minister unto her ; she 

herself knoweth 
Naught of her glorious attendance ; but foUows 

faithful and humble, 
Pollows, so long as she may, her Mend ; 0, do 

not reject her. 



j 458 SOWGS OF THE SOUL; 

i 

j For she cometli from Grod, and slie holdeth the 
keys of the heavens : — 
Prayer is Innocence' friend ; and willingly flyeth 

incessant 
'Twixt the earth and the sky, the carrier-pigeon 

of heaven. 
Son of Eternity, fettered in Time, and an exile, 

the spirit 
Tugs at his chains evermore, and struggles like 

flames ever upward. 
Still he recalls with emotion his Father's mani- 
fold mansions. 
Thinks of the land of his fathers, where blos- 
somed more freshly the flowers, 
Shone a more beautiful sun, and he played with 

the winged angels. 
Then grows the earth too narrow, too close ; and 

homesick for heaven 
Longs the wanderer again; and the spirit's 

longings are worship ; 
Worship is called his most beautiful hour, and 
its tongue is entreaty. 
■ Ah ! when the infinite burden of life descendeth 
I upon us, 

i Crushes to earth our hope, and, under the earth, 
j in the grave-yard — 

i Then is it good to pray unto God, for his sor- 
I rowing children 

I Turns he ne'er from his door, but he heals and 

i ' 

I helps and consoles them. 

i Yet is it better to pray when all things are pros- 

! perous with us. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 459 

Pray in fortunate days, for life's most beautiful 

Fortune 
Kneels down before the Eternal's throne ; and, 

with hands interfolded. 
Praises thankful and moved the only Giver of 

blessings. 
Or do ye know, ye children, one blessing that 

comes not from Heaven ? 
What has mankind forsooth, the poor ! that it 

has not received ? 
Therefore fall in the dust and pray ! The seraphs 

adoring 
Cover with pinions six their face in the glory of 

him who 
Hung his masonry pendant on naught, when 

the world he created. 
Earth declareth his might, and the firmament 

uttereth his glory. 
Eaces blossom and die, and stars fall downward 

from heaven. 
Downward like withered leaveis ; at the last 

stroke of midnight, miEenniums 
Lay themselves down at his feet, and he sees 

them, but counts them as nothing. 
"Who shall stand in his presence ? The wrath 

of the Judge is terrific, 
Casting the insolent down at a glance. When 

he speaks in his anger, 
Hillocks skip like the kid, and mountains leap 

like the roe-buck. 
Yet, why are ye afraid, ye children? This 

awful avenger. 



460 SOXGS OF TRE SOUL; 

Ah ! is a merciful Q-od ! God's voice was not 

in tlie earthquake, 
Not in the fire nor the storm, but it was in the 

whispering breezes. 
Love is the root of creation, — God's essence ; 

worlds without number 
Lie in his bosom like children ; he made them 

for this purpose only. 
Only to love and to be loved again, he breathed 

forth his Spirit 
Into the slumbering dust, and upright standing, 

it laid its 
Hand on its heart, and felt it was warm with a 

flame out of heaven. 
Quench, 0, quench not that flame! It is the 

breath of your being. 
Love is life, but hatred is death. Xot father, 

nor mother 
Loved you as God has loved you : for 't was 

that you may be happy 
Gave he his only Son. '\^Tien he bowed down 

his head in the death-hour. 
Solemnized Love its triumph ; the sacrifice then 

was completed. 
Lo ! then was rent on a sudden the veil of the 

temple, dividing 
Earth and heaven apart; and the dead, from 

their sepulchres rising, 
Whispered ^ith pallid lips and low in the ears 

of each other 
The answer, but dreamed of before, to creation's 

enigma, — Atonement ! 



FEOM MINES OF THOTIGHT. 461 



Depths of love are Atonement's depths, for Love 
is Atonement. . 

Therefore, child of mortality, love thou the mer- 
ciful Father ; 

"Wish what the Holy One wishes, and not from 
fear, but affection ; — 

Fear is the virtue of slaves ; but the heart that 
loveth is willing ; 

Perfect was, before Grod, and perfect is Love, 
and Love only. 

Lovest thou Grod as thou oughtest, then lovest 
thou likewise thy brethren ; 

One is the sun in heaven, and one, only one, is 
Love also. 

Bears not each humxan figure the godlike stamp 
on his forehead ? 

Keadest thou not in his face thine origin ? Is 
he not sailing. 

Lost like thyself, on an ocean unknown, and is 
he not guided 

Ey the same stars that guide thee ? "Why 
shouldst thou hate, then, thy brother ? 

Hateth he thee, forgive ! for 't is sweet to 
stammer one letter 

Of the Eternal's language ; — on earth it is called 
Porgiveness ! 

Knowest thou Him who forgave, with the crown 
of thorns round his temples ? 

Earnestly prayed for his foes, for his murder- 
ers ? Say, dost thou know him ? 

Ah ! thou confessest his name, so follow like- 
wise his example ; 



462 SOI^GS OF THE SOUL; 

Think of thy brother no ill, but throw a veil 

over his failings ; 
Gruide the erring aright ; for the good, the 

heavenly Shepherd, 
Took the lost lamb in his arms, and bore it back 

to its mother. 
This is the fruit of Love, and it is by its fruits 

that we know it. 
Love is the creature's welfare, with God; but 

Love among mortals 
Is but an endless sigh ! He longs, and endures, 

and stands waiting. 
Suffers and yet rejoices, and smiles with tears on 

his eyelids. 
Hope, — so is called upon earth his recompense, — 

Hope, the befriending. 
Does what she can, for she points evermore up to 

heaven, and faithful 
Plunges her anchor's peak in the depths of the 

grave, and beneath it 
Paints a more beautiful world, a dim but a sweet 

play of shadows ! 
Eaces, better than we, have leaned on her waver- 
ing promise. 
Having naught else beside Hope. Then praise 

we our Eather in heaven, 
Him who has given us more ! for to us has Hope 

been illumined. 
Groping no longer in night ; she is Paith, she is 

living assurance. 
Paith is enlightened Hope ; she is light, is the 

eye of affection, 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 463 

Dreams of the longing interprets, and earyes their 

visions in marble. 
Faith is the sun of life; and her countenance 

shines like the Prophet's, 
For she has looked upon Grod ; the heaven on its 

stable foundation 
Draws she with chains down to earth, and the 

jN'ew Jerusalem sinketh 
Splendid with portals twelve in golden vapors 

descending. 
There enraptured she wanders, and looks at the 

figures majestic, 
Fears not the winged crowd; in the midst of 

them all is her homestead. 
Therefore love and believe ; for works will follow 

spontaneous, 
Even as day does the sun ; the Eight from the 

Grood is an offspring, 
Love in a bodily shape ; and Christian works are 

no more than 
Animate Love and Faith, as flowers are the ani- 
mate spring- tide. 
"Works do follow us all unto Grod ; there stand 

and bear witness, 
Not what they seemed, — ^but what they were, 

only. Blessed is he who 
Hears their confession secure; they are mute 

upon earth, until Death's hand 
Opens the mouth of the silent. Te children, 

does Death e'er alarm you ? 
Death is the brother of Love, twin-brother is he, 

and is only 



464 SOXGS OF THE SOUL; 

More austere to beliold. With a kiss upon lips 

that are fading 
Takes he the soul and departs, and, rocked in the 

arms of affection, 
Places the ransomed child, new-born, 'fore the 

face of its Tather. 
Sounds of his coming already I hear, — see dimly 

his pinions. 
Swart as the night, but with stars strewn upon 

them ! I fear not before him. 
Death is only release, and in mercy is mute. 

On his bosom 
Freer breathes, in its coolness, my breast ; and, 

face to face standing, 
Look I on Grod as he is, a sun unpolluted by 

vapors : 
Look on the light of the ages I loved, the spirits 

majestic, 
Kobler, better than I ; they stand by the throne 

all transfigured. 
Vested in white, and with harps of gold, and are 

singing an anthem, 
Writ in the climate of heaven, in the language 

spoken by angels. 
Tou, in hke manner, ye children beloved, he one 

day shall gather ; 
JN'ever forgets he the weary ; — then welcome, ye 

loved ones, hereafter ! 
Meanwhile forget not the keeping of vows, forget 

not the promise ; 
"Wander from holiness onward to holiness ; earth 

shall ve heed not : 



FROM MINES OF TROTIGRT, 465 

Earth is but dust, and lieayen is liglit ; I have 

pledged you to heaven. 
Grod of the Universe, hear me I thou Poimtain of 

Love everlasting, 
Hark to the voice of thy servant ! I send up my 

prayer to thy heaven ! 
Let me hereafter not miss at thy throne one spirit 

of all these 
Whom thou hast given me here ! I have loved 

them all like a father. 
May they bear mtness for me, that I taught 

them the way of salvation, 
Faithful, so far as I knew of thy word; again 

may they know me. 
Fall on their teacher's breast, and before thy face 

may I place them 
Pure as they now are, but only more tried, and 

exclaiming with gladness, 
' Father, lo ! I am here, and the children, whom 

thou hast given me !.' " 

Weeping, he spake in these words : and now, 
at the beck of the old man. 

Knee against knee they knitted a wreath round 
the altar's enclosure. 

Kneehng, he read then the prayers of the con- 
secration, and softly 

With him the children read ; at the close, with 
tremulous accents, 

Asked he the peace of Heaven, a benediction upon 
them. — 



\\ 



2h !i 



466 SOJSTGS OF THE SOUL; 

Now should have ended his task for the day ; the 
following Sunday 

"Was for the young appointed to eat of the Lord's 
holy Supper. 

Sudden, as struck from the clouds, stood the 
teacher silent, and laid his 

Hand on his forehead, and cast his looks upward : 
while thoughts high and holy 

Plew through the midst of his soul, and his eyes 
glanced with wonderful brightness. 

" On the next Sunday, — who knows ? — ^perhaps 
I shall rest in the grave-yard ! 

Some one perhaps of yourselves, a lily broken 
untimely. 

Bow down his head to the earth ! "Why delay I ? 
The hour is accomplished ; 

"Warm is the heart. I will so ! for to-day grows 
the harvest of heaven. 

What I began accomplish I now ; for what fail- 
ing therein is, 

I, the old man, will answer to God and the rev- 
erend father. 

Say to me only, ye children, ye denizens new- 
come in heaven, 

Are ye ready this day to eat of the bread of 
Atonement ? 

What it denoteth, that know ye full well, I have 
told it you often. 

Of the new covenant a symbol it is, of Atone- 
ment a token, 

'Stablished between earth and heaven. Man by 
his sins and transgressions 



FBOM MINES OF THOUGHT. 467 

Far has wandered from God, from his essence. 
'T was in the beginning 

East by the Tree of Knowledge he fell, and it 
hangs its crown o'er the 

Fall to this day ; in the Thought is the Fall ; in 
the Heart the Atonement. 

Infinite is the Fall, the Atonement infinite like- 
wise. 

See ! behind me, as far as the old man remem- 
bers, and forward, 

Far as Hope in her flight can reach with her 
wearied pinions. 

Sin and Atonement incessant go tln^ough the 
lifetime of mortals. 

Brought forth is Sin full-grown ; but Atonement 
sleeps in our bosoms. 

Still as the cradled babe ; and dreams of heaven 
and of angels, 

Cannot awake to sensation ; is like the tones in 
the harp's strings. 

Spirits imprisoned, that wait evermore the de- 
liverer's finger. 

Therefore, ye children beloved, descended the 
Prince of Atonement, 

Woke the slumber er from sleep, and she stands 
now with eyes all resplendent. 

Bright as the vault of the sky, and battles with 
Sin and o'ercomes her. 

Downward to earth he came and transfigured, 
thence reascended ; 

Not from the heart in like wise, for there he still 
lives in the Spirit, 



468 SONGS OF THE SOUL; 

Loves and atones evermore. So long as Time is, 

is Atonement. 
Therefore with reverence receive tMs day hev 

visible token. 
Tokens are dead, if tke tMngs do not live. The 

light everlasting 
Unto the blind man is not, but is born of the eye 

that has vision. 
Neither in bread nor in wine, but in the heart 

that is hallowed, 
Lieth forgiveness enshrined ; the intention alone 

of amendment 
Fruits of the earth ennobles to heavenly things, 

and removes all 
Sin and the guerdon of sin. Only Love with his 

arms wide extended. 
Penitence weeping and praying, the Will that is 

tried, and whose gold flows 
Purified forth from the flames ; in a word, man- 
kind by Atonement 
Breaketh Atonement's bread, and drinketh 

Atonement's wine- cup. 
But he who cometh up hither, unworthy, with 

hate in his bosom, 
Scofiing at men and at Grod, is guilty of Christ's 

blessed body 
And the Eedeemer's blood! To himself he 

eateth and drinketh 
Death and doom ! And from this preserve us, 

thou heavenly Pather ! 
Are ye ready, ye children, to eat of the bread of 

Atonement ? " 



FROM IflJSrJES OF THOUGHT, 469 

Thus with emotion he asked, and together an- 
swered the children, 
Yes ! with deep sobs interrupted. Then read he 

the due supplications, 
Eead the Porm of Communion, and in chimed 

the organ and anthem : 
" Holy Lamb of Grod, who takest away our 

transgressions. 
Hear us ! give us thy peace ! have mercy, have 

mercy upon us! " 
The old man, with trembling hand, and heavenly 

pearls on his eyelids, 
Filled now the chalice and paten, and dealt round 

the mystical symbols, 
0, then seemed it to me, as if Grod, with the 

broad eye of mid-day, 
Clearer looked in at the windows, and all the 

trees in the churchyard 
Bowed down their summits of green, and the 

grass on the graves 'gan to shiver ! 
But in the children (I noted it well ; I knew it) 

there ran a 
Tremor of holy rapture along through their icy- 
cold members. 
Decked like an altar before them, there stood the 

green earth, and above it 
Heaven opened itself, as of old before Stephen ; 

there saw they 
Eadiant in glory the Pather, and on his right 

hand the Redeemer. 
Under them hear they the clang of harpstrings, 

and angels from gold clouds 



470 sojsras of tsu soul; 

Beckon to tliein like brothers, and fan T\dth their 
pinions of purple. 

Closed was the teacher's task, and with heaven 

in their hearts and their faces 
Up rose the children all, and each bowed him, 

weeping fnll sorely, 
Downward to kiss that reverend hand ; but all of 

them pressed he. 
Moved, to his bosom, and laid, with a prayer, his 

hands full of blessings, 
Now on the holy breast, and now on the innocent 

tresses. 
Aebp. Teoneb, Trans, ly K, W, Longfellow, 



W^t SaJjtour 2.iJjes— ant< all is SEell 

r\ TE, who, Avith the silent tear 
^-^ And saddened step, assemble here, 
To bear these cold, these loved remains, 
AVhere dark and cheerless silence reigns ; 
Tour sorrows hush, your griefs dispel, 
The Saviour lives, — and " all is well!" 

Those eyes, indeed, are rayless now ; 
And pale that cheek, and chill that brow ; 
Yet, could that lifeless form declare 
The joys its soul is called to share, 
How would those lips rejoice to tell, 
" The Saviour Hves— ^ and aU is weU ! ' '' 

HiNE. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 471 

W^t i^0Oti ©III JHan is ^one. 

T SAAV an aged man upon his bier, 

His hair was thin and white, and on his brow 
A record of the cares of many a year ; — 

Cares that were ended and forgotten now. 
And there was sadness round, and faces bowed, 
And woman's tears fell fast, and children wailed 
aloud. 

Then rose another hoary man and said, 
In faltering accents, to that weeping train, 

" "Why mourn ye that our aged friend is dead ? 
Ye are not sad to see the gathered grain, 

Nor when their mellow fruit the orchards cast, 

ISTor when the yellow woods shake down the 
ripened mast. 

" Te sigh not when the sun, his course fuMled, 
His glorious course, rejoicing earth and sky. 

In the soft evening, when the winds are stiUed, 
Sinks where his islands of refr^eshment lie, 

And leaves the smile of his departure, spread 

O'er the warm-coloured heaven and ruddy moun- 
tain head. 

" AYhy weep ye then for him, who, having won 
The bound of man's appointed years, at last. 

Life's blessings all enjoyed, life's labours done, 
Serenely to his final rest has passed ; 

While the soft memory of his virtues, yet, 

Lingers like t^vilight hues, when the bright sun 
is set ? 



472 SOJ^GS OF TKU SOUL; 

" His youth was innocent : his riper age 

Marked with some act of goodness everj day ; 
And watched by eyes that loved him, cahn, and 
sage, 
Faded his late declining years away. 
Cheerful he gave his being up, and went 
To share the holy rest that waits a life well 
spent. 

" That life was happy ; every day he gave 
Thanks for the fair existence that was his ; 

For a sick fancy made him not her slave, 
To mock him with her phantom miseries. 

No chronic tortures racked his aged limb, 

For luxury and sloth had nourished none for 
him. 

" And I am glad that he has lived thus long, 
And glad that he has gone to his reward ; 
'Not can I deem that nature did him wrong. 

Softly to disengage the vital cord. 
For when his hand grew palsied, and his eye 
Dark Avith the mists of age, it was his time to 
die." 

W. G. Bbyakt. 



^1)2 ((Tall K jFollobj. 

f\ THOU great Arbiter of life and death ! 
^^ Nature's immortal, immaterial Sun ! 
Whose all-prolific beam late call'd me forth 
From darkness, teeming darkness, where I lay 



FROM MIJSTJES OF THOVGRT. 473 

The worm's inferior, and, in rank, beneath 
The dust I tread on, high to bear my brow, 
To drink the spirit of the golden day, 
And triumph in existence ; and could know 
No motive, but my bliss ; and hast ordain' d 
A rise in blessing ! with t\Q patriarcW s joy, 
Thy call I follow to the land unJcnoicn ; 
I trust in thee, and know in whom I trust ; 
Or life, or death, is equal ; neither weighs : 
All weight in this — let me live to thee ? 

Edwabd YoTJKa. 



W^t Hols (Citg. 

TEEIJSALEM, my happy home ! 

Name ever dear to me, 
"When shall my labours have an end, 
In joy, and peace, and thee ? 

Wlien shall these eyes thy heaven-built walls 

And pearly gates behold ? 
Thy bulwarks with salvation strong, 

And streets of shining gold ? 

O when, thou city of my God, 

Shall I thy courts ascend, 
Where congregations ne'er brake up. 

And sabbaths have no end ? 

There happier bowers than Eden's, bloom, 

Nor sin nor sorrow know : 
Blest seats ! through rude and stormy scenes, 

I onward press to you. 



474 SO^-^GS OF THE SOUL; 

"Why sliould I shrink at pain and woe, 

Or feel at death dismay ? 
I've Canaan's goodly land in view 

And realms of endless day. 

Apostles, martyrs, prophets, there, 

Around my Saviour stand ; 
And soon my friends in Christ below, 

"Will join the glorious band. 

Jerusalem ! my happy home ! 

My soul still pants for thee ; 
Then shall my labours have an end, 

When I thy joys shall see. 

Ats-qn. 



T^HEE will I love, my strength and tower, 

Thee will I love, my joy and crown ; 
Thee will I love with all my power. 
In all my works, and Thee alone ! 
Thee will I love, till that pure fire 
Fill my whole soul with chaste desire. 

In darkness wiUingly I stray' d ; 

I sought Thee, yet from Thee I roved ; 

Eor wide my wandering thoughts were spread, 

Thy creatures more than Thee I loved : 

And now, if more at length I see, 

'Tis through Thy light, and comes from Thee. 



FROM IIINES OF THOTTGHT. 475 

I tliank Thee, uncreated Sun, 

That Thy bright beams on me have shined ; 

I thank Thee, who hast overthrown 

Mj foes, and heal'd my wounded mind ; 

I thank Thee, whose enlivening voice 

Bids my freed heart in Thee rejoice. 

Give to my eyes refreshing tears, 

Give to my heart chaste, hallow' d fires ; 

Give to my soul, with filial fears. 

The love that aU heaven's host inspires ; 

That all my powers, with all their might, 

In Thy sole glory may unite. 

Thee will I love, my Joy, my Crown ! 
Thee will I love, my Lord, my God ! 
Thee will I love, thoiigh all may frown. 
And thorns and briars perplex my road ; 
Tea, when my flesh and heart decay, 
Thee shall I love in endless day. 

Feo]m the Germa:n". 



T IPT not thou the wailing voice, 

"Weep not, 't is a Christian dieth, — 
Up, where blessed saints rejoice, 

Eansom'd now, the spirit flieth ; 
High, in heaven's own light, she dwelleth, 
Eull the song of triumph swelleth ; 
Freed from earth, and earthly failing, 
Lift for her no voice of wailing ! 



476 SO was OF THE SOUL; 

Pour not thou the bitter tear ; 

Heaven its book of comfort opetb ; 
Eids thee sorrow not, nor fear, 

But, as one who alwav hopetb, 
Humbly here in faith relying, 
Peacefully in JEsrs dying. 
Heavenly joy her eye is flushing, — 
"Why should thine with tears be gushing ? 

They who die in Cheist are bless' d, — 
Ours be, then, no thought of grieving ! 

Sweetly with their GrOD they rest. 
All their toils and troubles leaving : 

So be ours the faith that saveth, 

Hope that every trial braveth, 

Love that to the end endureth, 

And, through Cheist, the crown secureth ! 

GEOEaE "W. DOAKE. 



Wqt (&tmu% of SEorsfjtp. 

T 0"\TE ! for the true heart's sacred love is its 
■^ Creator's will ! 

His glorious law of sympathy it labors to fuMl ; 
So work out in its smaller sphere, with faithful 

diligence. 
The mighty, universal schemes of his onmipo- 

tence. 
Love ! if ye can not learn to love your brother 

whom ye see, 



FB03I MINES OF TROUGRT, 477 

How shall ye grow in faith toward the unseen 

Deity ? 
A true heart's loye is worship. Indirectly it is 

praise, 
And prayer: for piety is not to cultivate one 

phase 
Of this anomalous being, with its wide capacity — 
Its vast illimitable range of power and fantasy : 
The length, the breadth, the height, the depth, 

of this which we call man, 
Grod hath made this to worship him, as nothing 

narrow can : 
Universality of gifts upon one creature shed. 
And to the Benefactor's praise shall all save one 

be dead ? 
Mind, soul, heart, strength, all else of good, of 

rich and beautiful, 
Lavished upon the human frame, yet every sense 

be duH 
Save one ! one only live to him of all this glori- 
ous tower ? — 
Forbid it. Honor, Truth ! JSTo ! work is piety of 

power ; 
Grenius is piety of mind ; Love piety of heart ; 
Eeligion piety of soul. It will not serve to 

part 
These elements of worship, and then blasphe- 
mously give 
The mutilated corpse to Him through whom the 

whole must live. 

Elise JusTiifE Bayaed. 



478 SOWGS OF THE SOUL; 

Wi}t cSa&tour ofttxiuQ Mmstlt to fits 

^^ CAY, heavenly powers, where shall we find 

^ such love ? 
Which of ye will be mortal to redeem 
Man's mortal crime, and just, the unjust to save ? 
Dwells in all heaven charity so dear ?" 
He asked, but all the heavenly quire stood mute. 
And silence was in heaven : on man's behalf 
Patron or intercessor none appeared. 
Much less that durst iipon his own head draw 
The deadly forfeiture, and ransom set. 
And now without redemption all mankind 
Must have been lost, adjudged to death and hell 
By doom severe, had not the Son of Grod, 
In whom the fulness dwells of love divine, 
His dearest mediation thus renewed : 
" Father, thy word is past, man shall find grace ; 
And shall grace not find means, that finds her way, 
The speediest of thy winged messengers, 
To visit all thy creatures, and to all 
Comes unprevented, unimplored, unsought ? 
Happy for man, so coming ! he her aid 
Can never seek, once dead in sins and lost ; 
Atonement for himself, or offering meet. 
Indebted and undone ! hath none to bring : 
Behold me then ! me for him, life for life 
I off"er ; on me let thine anger fall ; 
Account me man ; I for his sake will leave 
Thy bosom, and this glory next to Thee, 
Freely put off*, and for him lastly die 



FB03f MINES OF THOUGRT. 479 

Well pleased ; on me let death wreak all his rage ; 
Under his gloomy power I shall not long 
Lie vanquished ; Thou hast given me to possess 
Life in myself for ever ; by Thee I live, 
Though now to death I yield, and am his due, 
All that of me can die ; yet, that debt paid. 
Thou wilt not leave me in the loathsome grave 
His prey, nor suffer my unspotted soul 
For ever with corruption there to dwell ; 
But I shall rise victorious, and subdue 
My vanquisher, spoiled of his vaunted spoil ; 
Death his death' s-wound shall then receive, and 

stoop 
Inglorious, of his mortal sting disarmed. 
I through the ample air in triumph high. 
Shall lead hell captive, maugre hell ! and show 
The powers of darkness bound. Thou at the sight 
Pleased, out of heaven shalt look down and smile; 
While by Thee raised I ruin all my foes, 
Death last, and with his carcass glut the grave : 
Then with the multitude of my redeemed. 
Shall enter heaven, long absent, and return, 
Father ! to see thy face, wherein no cloud 
Of anger shall remain ; but peace assured. 
And reconcilement : wrath shall be no more 
Thenceforth, but in thy presence joy entire." 
His words here ended, but his meek aspect 
Silent yet spake, and breathed immortal love 
To mortal men, above which only shone 
Filial obedience : as a sacrifice, 
Glad to be offered, he attends the will 
Of his great Father. Admiration seized 



480 SOWGS OF THE SOUL; 

All heaveri, wliat this might mean, and wliither 

tend, 
Wondering ; bnt soon the Almighty thus replied: 
" Thon, in heaven and earth, the only peace 
Tonnd out for mankind under wrath ! O Thou, 
My sole complacence ! well Thou know'st how 

dear 
To me are all my works, nor man the least, 
Though last created : that for Him I spare 
Thee from my bosom and right hand, to save, 
By losing Thee awhile, the whole race lost. 
Thou therefore, whom Thou only canst redeem, 
Their nature also to thy nature join, 
And be Thyself man among men on earth, 
Made flesh, when time shall be, of virgin seed, 
By wondrous birth : be Thou in Adam's room. 
The head of all mankind, though Adam's son. 
As in him perish all men, so in Thee, 
As from a second root, shall be restored 
As many as are restored ; without Thee none. 
His crime makes guilty all his sons ; thy merit 
Imputed shall absolve them who renounce 
Their o^tl both righteous and unrighteous deeds, 
And live in Thee transplanted, and from Thee 
Eeceive new life. So man, as is most just. 
Shall satisfy for man, be judged, and die. 
And dying rise, and rising with him raise 
His brethren, ransomed with his own dear life. 
So heavenly love shall outdo hellish hate. 
Giving to death and dying to redeem. 
So dearly to redeem what hellish hate 
So easily destroyed, and still destroys. 



FROM MlJSrUS OF THOUGHT, 481 

In those who, when they may, accept not grace. 
'Nor shalt Thou, by descending to assume 
Man's nature, lessen or degrade thine own. 
Because Thou hast, though throned in highest 

bliss 
Equal to Grod, and equally enjoying 
Grodlike fruition, quitted all to save 
A world from utter loss, and hast been found, 
By merit more than birthright, Son of Grod, 
Found worthiest to be so by being good, 
Far more than great or high ; because in Thee 
Love hath abounded more than glory abounds ; 
Therefore thy humiliation shall exalt 
With Thee thy manhood also to this throne : 
Here shalt Thou sit incarnate, here shalt reign 
Both Grod and Man, Son both of Grod and Man, 
Anointed universal King ; all power 
I give Thee ; reign for ever, and assume 
Thy merits : under Thee, as head supreme. 
Thrones, princedoms, powers, dominions, I re- 
duce ; 
All knees to Thee shall bow, of them that bide 
In heaven, or earth, or under earth in hell. 
When Thou, attended gloriously from heaven, 
Shalt in the sky appear, and from Thee send 
The summoning archangels to proclaim 
Thy dread tribunal, forthwith from all winds 
The living and forthwith the cited dead 
Of all past ages, to the general doom 
ShaU hasten ; such a peal shall rouse their sleep: 
Then aU thy saints assembled, Thou shalt judge 

2i 



482 SO]!^aS OF THJE SOUL; 

Bad men and angels ; they arraigned, shall sink 
Beneath thy sentence ; hell, her numbers full, 
Thenceforth shall be for ever shut ; meanwhile 
The TTorld shall burn, and from her ashes spring 
jSTew heaven and earth, wherein the just shall 

dwell ; 
And, after all their tribulations long, 
See golden days, fruitful of golden deeds, 
With joy and love triumphing, and fair truth : 
Then Thou thy regal sceptre shalt lay by, 
Por regal sceptre then no more shalt need : 
Grod shall be all in all. But all ye G-ods 
Adore Him, who to compass all this dies : 
Adore the Son, and honour Him as Me." 

'No sooner had th' Almightj' ceased, but all 
The multitude of angels, with a shout 
Loud as from numbers without number, sweet 
As from blest voices, uttering joy, heaven rung 
"With jubilee, and loud hosannas filled 
The eternal regions ; lowly reverent 
Towards either throne they bow, and to the 

ground 
With solemn adoration down they cast 
Their crowns, inwove with amaranth and gold; 
Immortal amaranth ! a flower which once 
In Paradise, fast by the tree of life. 
Began to bloom ; but soon for man's offence 
To heaven removed, where first it grew, therd 

grows 
And flowers aloft, shading the fount of life ; 
And where the river of bliss through midst of 

heaven 



FBOM MINES OF THOUGHT. 483 

Eolls o'er Elysian flowers her amber stream : 
"With these, that never fade, the spirits elect 
Bind their resplendent locks, inwreathed with 

beams : 
Xow in loose garlands thick thrown off, the bright 
Pavement, that like a sea of jasper shone, 
Impurpled with celestial roses smiled. 
Then crowned again, their golden harps they 

took ; 
Harps ever tuned, that glittering by their side. 
Like quivers hung, and with preamble sweet 
Of charming symphony they introduce 
Their sacred song, and waken raptures high ; 
No voice exempt ; no voice but well could join 
Melodious part, such concord is in heaven. 

Thee, Father, first they sung, omnipotent, 
Immutable, immortal, infinite. 
Eternal King ; Thee, Author of all being, 
fountain of light. Thyself invisible 
Amidst the glorious brightness where thou sittest 
Throned inaccessible, but w^hen Thou shadest 
The full blaze of thy beams, and through a cloud 
Drawn round about Thee like a radiant shrine. 
Dark with excessive bright, thy skirts appear. 
Yet dazzle heaven, that brightest seraphim 
Approach not, but with both wings veil their 

eyes. 
Thee next they sang, of all creation first, 
Begotten Son, Divine Similitude ! 
In whose conspicuous countenance, without cloud 
Made visible, th' Almighty Father shines, 
Whom else no creature can behold : on Thee 



484 SOJVGS OF THU SOUL; 

Impressed, th' efFulgence of his glory abides, 
Transfused on Thee his ample spiiit rests. 
He heaven of heavens, and all the powers therein, 
Ey Thee created ; and by Thee threw down 
Th' aspiring dominations : Thou that day 
Thy Pather's dreadful thunder didst not spare, 
Nor stop thy flaming chariot- wheels, that shook 
Heaven's everlasting frame, while o'er the necks 
Thou drovest of warring angels disarrayed. 
Back from pursuit thy powers with loud acclaim 
Thee only extolled, Son of thy Father's might, 
To execute fierce vengeance on his foes. 
Not so on man ; him through their malice fallen, 
Father of mercy and grace! Thou didst not doom 
So strictly, but much more to pity incline : 
No sooner did thy dear and only Son 
Perceive Thee purposed not to doom frail man 
So strictly, but much more to pity incline : 
I He to appease thy wrath and end the strife 
j Of mercy and justice in thy face discerned, 
i Eegardless of the bliss wherein He sat 
j Second to Thee, offered Himself to die 
i; Por man's offence. unexampled love ! 
! j Love nowhere to be found less than Divine ! 
Hail, Son of Grod, Saviour of men ! Thy name 
Shall be the copious matter of my song 
Henceforth, and never shall my harp thy praise 
Porget, nor from thy Father's praise disjoin. 

Jo]&:n Miltoit. 



FROM MINES OF TROTTGHT, 485 

Sr|}2 JHercs, 5Lortr, is lite tije JHorning 
<Sun. 

XT AD not the milder hand of Mercy broke 
The furious violence of that fatal stroke 
Offended Justice struck, we had been quite 
Lost in the shadows of eternal night. 
Thy mercy, Lord, is like the morning sun, 
"Whose beams undo what sable night hath done ; 
Or like a stream, the current of whose course, 
Eestrained a while, runs with a swifter force. 
Oh ! let me glow beneath those sacred beams, 
And after bathe me in those silver streams ; 
To Thee alone my sorrows shall appeal : 
Hath earth a wound too hard for heaven to heal ? 
Feafcis Quarles. 



Wc^txt is Sog o&er ©ne Sinner tfjat 

r\ HATEFUL speU of Sin ! when friends are 
^ nigh. 

To make stern Memory tell her tale unsought. 
And raise accusing shades of hours gone by. 

To come between us and all kindly thought ! 

Chill'd at her touch, the self-reproaching soul 
riies from the heart and home she dearest loves 

To where lone mountains tower, or billows roll. 
Or to your endless depth, ye solemn groves. 



486 SOJVGS OF THJE SOUL; 

In vain : the averted cheek in loneliest dell 
Is conscious of a gaze it cannot bear, 

The leaves that rustle near us seem to tell 
Our heart's sad secret to the silent air. 

^N'or is the dream untrue ; for all around 
The heavens are watching with their thou- 
sand eyes, 

"We cannot pass our guardian angel's bound, 
Eesign'd or sullen, he will hear our sighs. 

He in the mazes of the budding wood 

Is near, and mourns to see our thanldess glance 
Dwell coldly, where the fresh green earth is 
strew'd 
With the first flowers that lead the vernal 
dance. 

In wasteful bounty shower' d, they smile unseen. 
Unseen by man — ^but what if purer sprights 

By moonlight o'er their dewy bosoms lean 
To adore the Pather of all gentle lights ? 

If such there be, O grief and shame to think 
That sight of thee should overcloud their joy, 

A new-born soul, just waiting on the brink 
Of endless life, yet wrapt in earth's annoy ! 

O turn, and be thou turn'd ! the selfish tear, 
In bitter thoughts of low-born care begun, 

Let it flow on, but flow refined and clear, 
The turbid waters brightening as they run. 



FROM IIINES OF THOUGHT. 487 

Let it flow on, till all tliine earthly heart 
In penitential drops have ebb'd awaj, 

Then fearless turn where Heaven hath set thy 
part, 
Xor shudder at the Eye that saw thee stray. 

lost and found ! all gentle souls below 

Their dearest welcome shall prepare, and prove 

Such joy o'er thee, as raptur'd seraphs know. 
Who learn their lesson at the Throne of Love. 

JoH]S' Keble. 



STeadj Mt to ©ntitrprife tfjts Hife. 

TTTAGrES of Sin is death : the day is come, 

Wherein the equal hand of death must sum 
The several items of man's fading glory 
Into the easy total of one story. 
The brows that sweat for kingdoms and renown, 
To glorify their temples with a crown, 
At length grow cold, and leave their honoured 

name 
To flourish in the uncertain blast of fame. 
This is the height that glorious mortals can 
Attain ; this is the highest pitch of man. 
The mighty conqueror of the earth's great ball, 
Whose unconfined limits Avere too small 
Eor his extreme ambition to deserve, — 
Six feet of length and three of breadth must serve. 
This is the highest pitch that man can fly ; 
While, after all his triumph, he must die. 



r 



488 sojsras of thu soul; 

Lives he in wealth ? Doth well-deserved store 
Limit his wish, that he can wish no more ? 
And does the fairest bounty of increase 
Crown him with plenty, and his days with peace ? 
It is a right-hand blessing : but supply 
Of Avealth cannot secure him ; he must die. 

Lives he in pleasure ? Does perpetual mirth 
Lend him a little heaven upon this earth ? 
Meets he no sudden care, no sudden loss 
To cool his joys ? Ereathes he without a cross ? 
"Wants he no pleasure that his wanton eye 
Can crave or hope from fortune ? He must die. 

Lives he in honour ? hath his fair desert 
Obtained the freedom of his prince's heart ? 
Or may his more famihar hands disburse 
His liberal favours from the royal purse ? 
Alas ! his honour cannot soar too high 
Por pale-faced Death to follow ; he must die. 

Lives he a conqueror ? and doth heaven bless 

His heart with spirit, that spirit with success ; 

Success with glory ; glory with a name 

To live with the eternity of fame ? 

The progress of his lasting fame may vie 

"With time ; but yet the conqueror must die. 

Great and good God! thou Lord of life and 

death. 
In whom the creature hath its being, breath ; 
Teach me to underprize this life, and I 
Shall find my loss the easier when I die. 



FE03I MINES OF THOUailT. 489 

So raise my feeble thouglits and dull desire, 
That, when these vain and weary days expire, 
I may discard my flesh with joy, and quit 
My better part of this false earth, and it 
Of some more sin ; and for this transitory 
And tedious life enjoy a life of glory. 

Prancis Qtjaeles. 



K\iZ Spirit of t!)e l^olg 1£be. 

TTOW calmly sinks the parting sun ! 

Yet twilight lingers still ; 
And beautiful as dream of Heaven 

It slumbers on the hill ; 
Earth sleeps, with all her glorious things. 
Beneath the Holy Spirit's wings, 
And, rendering back the hues above. 
Seems resting in a trance of love. 

Eound yonder rocks the forest-trees 

In shadowy groups recline. 
Like saints at evening bow'd in prayer 

Around their holy shrine ; 
And through their leaves the night-winds blow 
So calm and still, their music low. 
Seems the mysterious voice of prayer, 
Soft echo'd on the evening air. 

And yonder western throng of clouds, 

Retiring from the sky. 
So calmly move, so softly glow, 

They seem to fancy's eye, 



490 SO^'^GS OF TRE SOUL; 

Bright creatures of a better sphere, 
Come down at noon to worship here, 
And, from their sacrifice of love, 
Eeturning to their home ahove. 

The blue isles of the golden sea, 

The night-arch floating by, 
The flowers that gaze upon the heavens, 

The bright streams leaping by, 
Are living with religion — deep 
On earth and sea its glories sleep, 
And mingle with the starlight rays, 
Like the soft light of parted days. 

The spirit of the holy eve 

Comes through the silent aii' 
To feeling's hidden spring, and wakes 

A gush of music there ! 
And the far depths of ether beam 
So passing fair, we almost dream 
Tliat we can rise and wander through 
Their open paths of trackless blue. 

Each soul is fill'd with glorious dreams. 

Each pulse is beating wild ; 
And thouoht is soarino- to the shrine 

o o 

Of glory undefiled ! 
And holy aspirations start. 
Like blessed angels, from the heart. 
And bind — for earth's dark ties are riven — 
Our spirits to the gates of heaven. 

Geoege D. Pee^^tice. 



FBOM MINES OF THOUGHT, 491 

E!)e ^0ol3 Part tijat sfjall not &e 
fatten ^toag. 

OHE dwells by great Kenliawa's side, 

In valleys green and cool ; 
And all her hope and all her pride 
Are in the yillage school. 

Her soul, like the transparent air 

That robes the hills above, 
Though not of earth, encircles there 

All things with arms of love. 

And thus she walks among her girls 
With praise and mild rebukes ; 

Subduing e'en rude village churls 
By her angelic looks. 

She reads to them at eventide 

Of One who came to save ; 
To cast the captive's chains aside, 

And liberate the slave ; 

And oft the blessed time foretells 

"When all men shall be free ; 
And musical, as silver bells, 

Their falling chains shall be. 

And following her beloved Lord, 

In decent poverty. 
She makes her Hfe one sweet record 

And deed of charity. 



492 SOJSraS of the SOUL; 

For she was ricli, and gave up all 

To break the iron bands 
Of those who waited in her hall, 

And laboured in her lands. 

Long since beyond the Southern Sea 
Their outbound sails have sped, 

"While she, in meek humility, 
Now earns her daily bread. 

It is their prayers, which never cease. 
That clothe her with such grace ; 

Their blessing is the light of peace 
That shines upon her face. 

H. "W. LoiS'aEELLOW. 



W^t ffiospcl of Peace. 

OWEET Peace, where dost thou dwell? 
humbly crave 
Let me once know. 
I sought thee in a secret cave. 

And asked if peace were there, 
A hollow wind did seem to answer, " No ! 
Gro seek elsewhere." 

I did ; — and going, did a rainbow note : 

Surely, thought I, 
This is the lace of Peace's coat : 

I T\dll search out the matter. 
But while I looked, the clouds immediately 
Did break and scatter. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 493 

Then went I to a garden, and did spy 

A gallant flower, 
The crown imperial. " Sure,'' said I, 
" Peace at the root must dwell." 
But when I digged I saw a worm devour 
What showed so well. 

At length I met a reverend good old man ; 

"Whom when for peace 
I did demand, he thus began : 

" There was a prince of old 
At Salem dwelt, who lived with good increase 
Of flock and fold. 

" He sweetly lived ; yet sweetness did not save 

His life from foes. 
But after death out of his grave 

There sprang twelve stalks of wheat : 
Which many wond'ring at got some of those 
To plant and set. 

" It prospered strangely, and did soon disperse 

Through all the earth ; 
Tor they that taste it do rehearse, 
That virtues lie therein ; 
A secret virtue, bringing peace and mirth. 
By flight of sin. 

" Take of this grain which in my garden grows. 

And grows for you : 
Make bread of it ; and that repose, 
And peace which every where 
With so much earnestness do you pursue, 
Is only there." GtEOege Heebeet. 



494 SO was OF THE SOUL; 

W^t ^at!) of Sorrob). 

T^HE patli of sorrow, and that patli alone, 

Leads to the land where sorrow is iinknowTi ; 
Xo traveller ever reached that blest abode, 
Who found not thorns and briars in his road. 
The world may dance along the flowery plain, 
Cheered as they go by many a sprightly strain ; 
"Where IS'ature has her mossy velvet spread. 
With nnsnre feet they yet securely tread ; 
Admonished, scorn the caution and the friend, 
Bent all on pleasure, heedless of its end : 
But He, who knew what human hearts would 

prove. 
How slow to learn the dictates of his love. 
That, hard by nature and of stubborn will, 
A life of ease would make them harder still, 
In pity to the souls His gTace designed 
To rescue from the ruins of mankind, 
Called for a cloud to darken all their years, 
And said, " Gro, spend them in the vale of tears ! " 
balmy gales of soul reviving air ! 
O salutary streams, that murmur there ! 
These, flowing from the fount of grace above, 
Those, breathed from lips of everlasting love. 
The flinty soil indeed their feet annoys ; 
Chill blasts of trouble nip their springing joys ; 
An envious world will interpose its frown, 
To mar delights superior to its own ; 
And many a pang, experienced still within, 
Eeminds them of their hated inmate, Sin : 



FROM MINES OF TROTIGHT. 495 

But ills of every shape and every name, 
Transformed to blessings, miss their cruel aim ; 
And every moment's calm that soothes the breast. 
Is given in earnest of eternal rest. 

AViLLIAM CoVfPEB. 



^tje cSoul Ijas gone to Mm bafjo gibes 
it ^t%t 

5T^IS evening's hush : the first faint shades are 
creeping 

Thro' the still room, and o'er the curtained bed, 
Where lies a weary one, all calmly sleeping, 

Touched with the tmlight of the land of dread. 

Death's cold gray shadow o'er her features falling, 
IMarks her upon the threshold of the tomb ; 

Yet from within no sight nor sound appalling. 
Comes o'er her spirit with a thought of gloom. 

See — on her pallid lip bright smiles are wreathing, 
"WTiiie from the tranquil gladness of her breast, 

Sweet holy words in gentlest tones are breathing : 
'^ Come unto me and I will give you rest." 

Night gathers round — chill, moonless, yet with 
tender. 

Mild, radiant stars, like countless angel-eyes. 
Bending serenely from their homes of splendor. 

Above the couch where that meek dreamer lies. 



496 SOI^GS OF THE SOUL; 

The hours wear on: the shaded lamp bums 
dimmer, 
And ebbs that sleeper's breath as wanes the 
night, 
And still with looks of love those soft stars 
glimmer, 
Along their pathways of unchanging light. 
She slumbers still — and the pale, wasted fingers, 
Are gently raised, as if she dreamed of prayer ; 
And on that lip so wan the same smile lingers. 
And still those trustful words are trembling 
there. 

The night is done : the cold and solemn dawning 
With stately tread goes up the eastern sky ; 

But vain its power, and vain the pomp of morning. 
To lift the darkness from that dying eye. 

Yet Heaven's full joy is on that spirit beaming — 
The soul has found its higher, happier birth, 

And brighter shapes fiit thro' its blessed dreaming 
Than ever gather round the sleep of earth. 

The sun is high, but from those pale lips parted, 
jN"o more those words float on the languid 
breath, 

Tet still the expression of the happy-hearted 
Has triumphed o' er the mournful shades of death . 

Thro' the hushed room the midday ray has wended 
Its glowing pinion to a pulseless breast : 

The gentle sleeper's mortal dreams are ended — 
The soul has gone to Him who gives it rest. 
LuELLA J. B. Case. 



FROM MIJ^ES OF THOUGHT. 497 

T]^ dawn of life slie wisely sought her Grod, 

And the straight path of thorny virtue trod ; 
In bloom of beauty humbly turn'd aside. 
The incense flatt'ry offer' d to her pride. 
In others' griefs a tender part she bore, 
And all the needy shar'd her Uttle store ; 
Eond to oblige, too gentle to offend, 
Belov'd by all, to all the good a friend : 
The bad she censur'd by her life alone, 
Elind to their faults, severe upon her own. 
At distance view'd the world with pious dread. 
And to God's temple for protection fled ; 
There sought that peace which Heav'n alone can 

give. 
And learn' d to die ere others learn to live. 

Afo^. 



Efje l^mt in l^eart sfjall ^ui Ssain. 

TF yon bright stars which gem the night 

Be each a blissful dwelling sphere, 
"Where kindred spirits reunite, 

Whom death has torn asunder here ; 
How sweet it were at once to die, 

And leave this blighted orb afar — 
Mixed soul with soul, to cleave the sky, 
And soar away from star to star. 
2e: 



498 SO^^GS OF THE SOUL ; 

But, ! how dark, how drear, how lone 

Would seem the brightest world of bliss, 
If, wandering through each radiant one, 

"We fail'd to find the loved of this ! 
If there no more the ties should twine, 

Which death's cold hand alone can sever, 
Ah ! then these stars in mockery shine, 

More hateful, as they shine for ever. 

It cannot be ! each hope and fear 

That lights the eye or clouds the brow, 
Proclaims there is a happier sphere 

Than this bleak world that holds us now ! 
There is a voice which sorrow hears, 

When heaviest weighs Kfe's galling chain; 
'Tis heaven that whispers, " Dry thy tears : 

The pure in heart shall meet again !" 

William LsaaETT. 



E^t Poor Jean's ©ag. 

"DUT chiefly man the day of rest enjoys. 

Hail, Sabbath! thee I hail, the poor man's day; 
On other days the man of toil is doomed 
To eat his joyless bread lonely ; the ground 
Eoth seat and board ; screened from the winter's 

cold 
And summer's heat by neighbouring hedge or tree : 
But on this day, embosomed in his home. 
He shares the frugal meal with those he loves ; 



FBOJU: MINES OF THOUGHT. 499 

With those he loves he shares the heartfelt joy 
Of giving thanks to God, — not thanks of form, 
A word and a grimace, but reverently 
"With covered face, and upward earnest eye. 
Hail, Sabbath ! thee I hail, the poor man's day ; 
The pale mechanic now has leave to breathe 
The morning air, pure from the city's smoke, 
AYhile wandering slowly up the river's side, 
He meditates on Him whose power he marks 
In each green tree that proudly spreads the bough, 
As in the tiny dew-bent flowers that bloom 
Around its roots ; and while he thus surveys 
With elevated joy each rural charm. 
He hopes, yet fears presumption in the hope, 
That heaven may be one Sabbath without end. 
James Gteahame. 



STurntng to ffi^otJ. 

TF, gracious God, in life's gTcen, ardent year, 
-^ A thousand times thy patient love I tried ; 
With reckless heart, with conscience hard and 

sere, 
Thy gifts perverted, and thy power defied ; 
O, grant me, now that wintry snows appear 
Around my brow, and youth's bright promise 

hide, — 
Grant me with reverential awe to hear 
Thy holy voice, and in thy word confide I 



500 SO]}^GS OF TRIE SOUL; 

Blot from my book of life its early stain ! 
Since days misspent will never more return, 
My future path do thou in mercy trace ; 
So cause my soul with pious zeal to burn, 
That all the trust, which in thy name I place, 
Frail as I am, may not prove wholly vam ! 

PiETEO Bembo, Trans. Anon, 



W^^ SEill 6e ©one ! 

'I'^HY will be done ! O heavenly King, 
^ I bow my head to thy decree ; 
AJbeit my soul not yet may wing 

Its upward flight, great Grod, to thee ! 

Though I must still on earth abide. 
To toil, and groan, and suffer here, 

To seek for peace on sorrow's tide^ 
And meet the Vv'orld's unfeehng jeer. 

AVhen heaven seemed da-v^iiing on my view 
And I rejoiced my race was run, 

Thy righteous hand the bliss withdrew ; 
And still I say, " Thy mil be done !" 

And though the world can never more 
A world of sunshine be to me, 

Though all my fairy dreams are o'er, 
And Care pursues where'er I flee ; 



FROM MINES OF TKOJiaiLT, 501 

Though friends I loved — the dearest — best, 
"Were scattered by the storm away, 

And scarce a hand I warmly pressed 
As fondly presses mine to-day : 

Yet must I live — must live for those 
Who mourn the shadow on my brow, 

"Who feel my hand can soothe their woes, 
"Whose faithful hearts I gladden now. 

Yes, I will live — ^live to fulfil 

The noble mission scarce begun. 
And pressed mth grief to murmur still. 

All Wise ! AU Just ! " Thy will be done !" 
Ani^a Cora Mowatt. 



STfje ?lours are Uietoless Angels. 

'T^HE hours are vievvdess angels, 

That still go gliding by, 
And bear each minute's record up 

To Him who sits on high ; 
And we, Avho walk among them. 

As one by one departs. 
See not that they are hovering 

Eor ever round our hearts. 

Like summer-bees, that hover 

Around the idle flowers. 
They gather every act and thought, 

Those vicAvless angel-hours ; 



502 SOJSTGS OF THE SOUL ; 

The poison or tlie nectar 

The heart's deep flower-cnps yield, 
A sample still they gather swift 

And leave us in the field. 

And some flit by on pinions 

Of joyous gold and blue, 
And some flag on with drooping wings 

Of sorrow's darker hue ; 
But still they steal the record. 

And bear it far away ; 
Their mission-flight by day or night, 

No magic power can stay. 

And as we spend each minute 

That GrOi) to us hath given, 
The deeds are known before His throne, 

The tale is told in heaven. 
These bee-like hours we see not, 

Nor hear their noiseless wings ; 
We only feel, too oft, when flown, 

That they have left their stings. 

So teach me. Heavenly Father, 

To meet each flying hour. 
That as they go they may not show 

My heart a poison flower ! 
So, when death brings its shadows, 

The hours that linger last 
Shall bear my hopes on angel-wings. 

Unfetter' d by the past. 

C. P. Ceakch. 



FROM MINES OF THOTTGHT, 503 

SrJje Eepmtant Sinner. 

TF ever thou liast felt another's pain, 

If ever, v^hen lie sighed, hast sighed again, 
If ever on thy eyelid stood the tear 
That pity had engendered, drop one here. 
This man was happy — had the world's good word, 
And with it every joy it can afford ; 
Friendship and love seemed tenderly at strife. 
Which most should sweeten his untroubled life ; 
Politely learned, and of a gentle race, 
Good breeding and good sense gave all ^ grace, 
And whether at the toilet of the fair 
He laughed and trifled, made him welcome there ; 
Or if in masculine debate he shared. 
Ensured him mute attention, and regard, 
Alas, how changed ! expressive of his mind, 
His eyes are sunk, arms folded, head reclined ; 
Those awful syllables, heU, death, and sin, 
Though whispered, plainly tell what works 

within ; 
That conscience there performs her proper part, 
And writes a doomsday sentence on his heart. 
Forsaking and forsaken of all friends. 
He now perceives where earthly pleasure ends ; 
Hard task ! for one who lately knew no care. 
And harder still, as learned beneath despair ; 
His hours no longer pass unmarked away, 
A dark importance saddens every day ; 
He hears the notice of the clock perplexed. 
And cries, " Perhaps eternity strikes next." 



504 SOJ^GS OF THE SOUL; 

Sweet music is no longer music here, 
And laughter sounds like madness in his ear ; 
His grief the world of all her power disarms, 
"Wine has no taste, and beauty has no charms ; 
Grod's holy word, once trivial in his view, 
]^ow by the voice of his experience true. 
Seems as it is, the fountain whence alone 
Must spring that hope he pants to make his own, 
jN'ow let the bright reverse be knovm abroad ; 
Say man's a Avorm, and power belongs to Grod. 
As when a felon, whom his country's laws 
Have justly doomed for some atrocious cause, 
Expects in darkness and heart-chilling fears 
The shameful close of all his misspent years, 
If chance, on heavy pinions slowly borne, 
A tempest usher in the dreadful morn. 
Upon his dungeon walls the lightnings play, 
The thunder seems to summon him away, 
The warder at the door his key applies, 
Shoots back the bolt, and all his courage dies ; 
If then, just then, all thoughts of mercy lost. 
When hope, long lingering, at last yields up the 

ghost, 
The sound of pardon pierce his startled ear. 
He drops at once his fetters, and his fear ; 
A transport glows in all he looks and speaks. 
And the first thankful tears bedew his cheeks. 
Joy, far superior joy, that much outweighs 
The comfort of a few poor added days, 
Invades, possesses, and o'erwhelms the soul 
Of him whom hope has with a touch made 

whole. 



FROM MINJES OF THOUGHT, 505 

'Tis heaven, all heaven, descending on the wings 
Of the glad regions of the King of kings ; 
'Tis more : — 'tis God diffused through every part, 
'Tis Grod Himsolf triumphant in his heart ; 
Oh ! welcome now, the sun's once hated light, 
His noon- day beams were never half so bright 1 
]N'ot kindred minds alone are called to employ 
Their hours, their days, in listening to his joy ; 
Unconscious nature ! all that he surveys, 
Eocks, groves, and streams, must join him in his 
praise. William Cowper. 



CHE is empty: hark! she sounds: there's 
nothing there 

But noise to fill thy ear ; 
Thy vain inquiry can at length but find 

A blast of murmuring wind : 
It is a cask that seems as full as fair, 

But merely tunned with air. 
Fond youth, go build thy hopes on better grounds ; 

The soul that vainly founds 
Her joys upon this world, but feeds on empty 
sounds. 

She is empty : hark ! she sounds : there's nothing 
in't; 

The spark-engendering flint 
Shall sooner melt, and hardest raunce shall first 

Dissolve and quench the thirst, 



506 SO]\^GS OF THE SOUL; 

Ere tliis false world shall still tHy stormy breast 
"Witli smooth-faced alms of rest. 

Thou may'st as well expect meridian light 
Prom shades of black-mouthed Mght, 

As in this empty world to find a full delight. 

She is empty : hark ! she sounds : 'tis void and 
I vast ; 

I What if some flattermg blast 

Of flatuous honour should perchance be there. 

And whisper in thine ear ? 
It is but wind, and blows but where it list, 

And vanisheth like mist. 
Poor honour earth can give! What generous mind 

"Would be so base to bind 
Her heaven-bred soul, a slave to serve a blast of 
^dnd ? 

She is empty : hark ! she sounds : 'tis but a ball 

For fools to play mthal ; 
The painted film but of a stronger bubble, 

That's lined with silken trouble. 
It is a world whose work and recreation 

Is vanity and vexation : 
A hag, repaired with vice-complexioned paint, 

A quest-house of complaint, 
It is a saint, a fiend; worse fiend when most a 
saint. 

She is empty: hark! she sounds: 'tis vain and void. 

What's here to be enjoyed, 
But grief and sickness, and large bills of sorrow. 

Drawn now and crossed to-morrow ? 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 507 

Or, what are men but puiFs of dying breath, 

E-evived with living death ? 
Fond youth, build thy hopes on siu'er grounds 

Than what dull flesh propounds ; 
Trust not this hollow world : she is empty : hark ! 
she sounds. Peais'cis Quaeles. 



Centre of iLigJit antr (iHnergg. 

pEXTEE of light and energy ! thy way 

^ Is through the unknown void ; thou hast 

thy throne. 
Morning, and evening, and at noon of day, 
Far in the blue, untended and alone : 
Ere the first waken' d airs of earth had blown, 
On thou didst march, triumphant in thy light ; 
Then thou didst send thy glance, which still 
hath flown. 
Wide through the never-ending worlds of night. 
And yet thy full orb burns with flash as keen 
and bright. 

"We call thee Lord of Day, and thou dost give 

To earth the fire that animates her crust, 
And wakens all the forms that move and live, 

Erom the fine, viewless mould which lurks in 
dust. 

To him who looks to heaven, and on his bust 
Bears stamp' d the seal of GrOD, who gathers there 

Lines of deep thought, high feeling, daring trust 
In his OAvn center' d poAvers, who aims to share 
In all his soul can frame of wide, and great, and fair. 



508 SONGS OF THIS SOUL; 

Thy path is Ugh in heaven ; we cannot gaze 
On the intense of light that girds thj car ; 

There is a crown of glory in thy rays, 
Which bears thy pure divinity afar, 
To mingle with the equal light of star, — 

Por thou, so vast to us, art in the whole 
One of the sparks of night that fire the air, 

And, as around thy centre planets roll, 

So thou, too, hast thy path around the central soul. 

I am no fond idolater to thee. 

One of the countless multitude, who burn, 
As lamps, around the one Eternity, 

In whose contending forces systems turn 

Their circles round that seat of life, the urn 
Where all must sleep, if matter ever dies : 

Sight fails me here, but fancy can discern 
"With the wide glance of her all-seeing eyes, 
"Where, in the heart of worlds, the ruling Spirit 
lies. 

And thou, too, hast thy world, and unto thee 
We are as nothing ; thou goest forth alone, 

And movest through the wide, aerial sea, 
Glad as a conqueror resting on his throne 
Prom a new victory, where he late had shown 

Wider his power to nations ; so thy light 

Comes with new pomp, as if thy strength had 
grown 

With each revolving day, or thou, at night, 

Had lit again thy fires, and thus renew' d thy 
might. 



FROM MINES OF TROUGHT. 509 

Age o'er thee has no power : thou bring' st the 
same 

Light to renew the morning, as when first, 
If not eternal, thou, with front of flame. 

On the dark face of earth in glory burst, 

And warm' d the seas, and in their bosom nursed 
The earliest things of life, the worm and shell ; 

Till, through the sinking ocean, mountains 
pierced, 
And then came forth the land whereon we dwell, 
Eear'd, like a magic fane, above the watery swell. 

And there thy searching heat awoke the seeds 
Of all that gives a charm to earth, and lends 

An energy to nature ; all that feeds 

On the rich, mould, and then, in bearing, bends 
Its fruits again to earth, wherein it blends 

The last and first of life ; of all who bear 

Their forms in motion, where the spirit tends, 

Instinctive in their common good to share, 

Which lies in things that breathe, or late were 
living there. 

They live in thee : without thee, all were dead 
And dark ; no beam had lighted on the waste, 

But one eternal night around had spread 
Eunereal gloom, and coldly thus defaced 
This Eden, which thy fairy hand hath graced 

With such uncounted beauty ; all that blows 
In the fresh air of spring, and, groTsdng, braced 

Its form to manhood, when it stands and glows 

In the full-temper' d beam, that gladdens as it goes. 



510 SOJ^GS OF THJE SOUL; 

Thou lookest on the earth, and then it smiles ; 
Thy light is hid, and all things droop and 
mourn ; 
Laughs the wide sea around her budding isles, 
When through their heaven thy changing car 

is borne ; 
Thou wheel' st away thy flight, the woods are 
shorn 
Of all their waving locks, and storms awake ; 

All, that was once so beautiful, is torn 
Ey the wild winds which plough the lonely lake. 
And, in their maddening rush, the crested moun- 
tains shake. 

The earth lies buried in a shroud of snow ; 

Life lingers, and would die, but thy return 
Grives to their gladden' d hearts an overflow 

Of all the power that brooded in the urn 

Of their chill' d frames, and then they proudly 
spurn 
All bands that would confine, and give to air 

Hues, fragrance, shapes of beauty, till they burn, 
When, on a dewy morn, thou dart est there 
Eich waves of gold to wreathe with fairer light 
the fair. 

The vales are thine : and when the touch of spring 
Thrills them, and gives them gladness, in thy 
Hght 

They glitter, as the glancing swallow's wing 
Dashes the water in his winding flight. 
And leaves behind a wave that crinkles bright. 



FB03I MINES OF TROTIGRT. 511 

And widens outward to the pebbled shore, — 
The yales are thine ; and when they wake 
from night, 
The dews that bend the grass-tips, twinkling o'er 
Their soft and oosy beds, look upward, and adore. 

The hills are thine : they catch thy newest beam. 
And gladden in thy parting, where the wood 

Flames out in every leaf, and drinks the stream, 
That flows from out thy fulness, as a flood 
Bursts from an unknown land, and rolls the 
food 

Of nations in its waters ; so thy rays 
Flow and give brighter tints than ever bud, 

"When a clear sheet of ice reflects a blaze 

Of many twinkling gems, as every gloss' d bough 
plays. 

Thine are the mountains, where they purely lift 

Snows that have never wasted, in a sky 
"Which hath no stain ; belaw, the storm may drift 

Its darkness, and the thunder-gust roar by ; 

Aloft in thy eternal smile they lie. 
Dazzling, but cold; thy farewell glance looks 
there ; 

And when below thy hues of beauty die, 
Grirt round them, as a rosy belt, they bear, 
Into the high, dark vault, a brow that still is fair. 

The clouds are thine, and all their magic hues 
Are penciU'd by thee ; when thou bendest low, 

Or comest in thy strength, thy hand imbues 
Their waving fold with such a perfect glow 



512 SG^^GS OF THE SOUL; 

Of all pure tints, tlie fairy pictures throw 
Shame on the proudest art ; the tender stain 

Hung round the verge of heaven, that as a bow 
Grirds the wide world, and in their blended chain 
All tints to the deep gold that flashes in thy train : 

These are thy trophies, and thou bend'st thy arch, 
The sign of triumph, in a sevenfold twine, 

"Where the spent storm is hasting on its march, 
And there the glories of thy light combine, 
And form with perfect curve a lifted line, 

Striding the earth and air : man looks, and tells 
How peace and mercy in its beauty shine, 

And how the heavenly messenger impels 

Her glad wings on the path, that thus in ether 
swells. 

The ocean is thy vassal ; thou dost sway 

His waves to thy dominion, and they go 
"Where thou, in heaven, dost guide them on their 
way, 

Eising and falling in eternal flow ; 

Thou lookest on the waters, and they glow ; 
They take them wings and spring aloft in air. 

And change to clouds, and then, dissolving, 
throw 
Their treasures back to earth, and, rushing, tear 
The mountain and the vale, as proudly on they 

bear. 
I, too, have been upon thy rolling breast, 

Widest of waters ; I have seen thee lie 
Calm, as an infant pillow' d in its rest 

On a fond mother's bosom, when the sky. 



FEOM MINES OF THOUGHT. 513 

Xot smootlier, gave tlie deep its azure dye, 
Till a new heaven was arcli'd and glass' d below ; 

And then the clouds, that, gay in sunset, fly, 
Cast on it such a stain, it kindled so. 
As in the cheek of youth the living roses grow. 

I, too, have seen thee on thy surging path, 
"When the night-tempest met thee : thou didst 
dash 

Thy white arms high in heaven, as if in wrath, 
Threatening the angry sky ; thy waves did lash 
The labouring vessel, and with deadening crash 

Eush madly forth to scourge its groaning sides ; 
Onward thy billows came, to meet and clash 

In a wild warfare, till the lifted tides 

Mingled their yesty tops, where the dark storm- 
cloud rides. 

In thee, first light, the bounding ocean smiles. 

When the quick winds uprear it in a swell. 
That rolls, in glittering green, around the isles, 

Where ever- springing fruits and blossoms 
dwell ; 

! with a joy no gifted tongue can tell, 
I hurry o'er the waters, when the sail 

Swells tensely, and the light keel glances well 
Over the curling billow, and the gale 
I Comes off" the spicy groves to tell its winning tale. 

. The soul is thine : of old thou wert the power 
Who gave the poet life ; and I in thee 

iPeel my heart gladden at the holy hour 
When thou art sinking in the silent sea ; 
2 L 



514 sojsras of thu soul; 

Or when I climb tlie height, and wander free 
In thy meridian glory, for the air 

Sparkles and burns in thy intensity, 
I feel thy light within me, and I share 
In the full glow of soul thy spirit kindles there. 
James G. Peeciyal. 



Wi}t Sog of cSoctal SEors!jtp> 

nPHEEE is a joy, which angels well may prize : 

To see, and hear, and aid Grod's worship, when 

Unnumbered tongues, a host of Christian 

men, 

Youths, matrons, maidens, join. Their sounds 

arise, 
" Like many waters ; " now glad symphonies 
Of thanks and glory to our God ; and then, 
Seal of the social prayer, the loud Amen, 
Paith's common pledge, contrition's mingled cries. 
Thus, when the Church of Christ was hale and 
young. 
She called on Grod, one spirit and one voice; — 
Thus from corruption cleansed, with health new 
strung. 
Her sons she nurtured. Oh ! be theirs, by 
choice. 
What duty bids, to worship, heart and tongue ; 
At once to pray, at once in God rejoice ! 
Bishop Ma^^t. 



FBOM MIJVUS OF THOUGHT. 515 

K\)t iSreatlj of l^eaben must Sixiell 
tt)e Sail 

TT7EAK and irresolute is man ; 

The purpose of to-day, 
"Woven T\'itli pains into his plan, 
To-morrow rends away. 

The bow well-bent, and smart the spring, 

Vice seems already slain ; 
But passion rudely snaps the string, 

And it revives again. 

Some foe to his upright intent 

Einds out his weaker part ; 
Virtue engages his assent. 

But pleasure wins his heart. 

'Tis here the folly of the wise 
Through all his art we view ; 

And while his tongue the charge denies, 
His conscience owns it true. 

Bound on a voyage of awful length, 

And dangers little known, 
A stranger to superior strength, 

Man vainly trusts his own. 

But oars alone can ne'er prevail. 

To reach the distant coast ; 
The breath of heaven must swell the sail 

Or all the toil is lost. 

"William Cowpee. 



516 SOWGS OF THE SOUL; 

Cfjou ffit&er of all lEartljlg ^ootr. 

n^HOU Griver of all earthly good — 
-^ Thou wonder-working Power, 
"Whose spmt smiles in every star, 

And breathes in every flower : 
How gratefully we speak thy name- 
How gladly own thy sway ! 
How thrillingly thy presence feel, 
"When mid thy works we stray ! 

"VVe may forget thee for a time, 

In scenes with tumult rife, 
Where worldly cares or pleasures claim 

Too large a share of life ; 
But not in Nature's sweet domain, 

"Where everything we see, 
Trom loftiest mount to lowliest flower, 

Is eloquent of thee. 

"Where waves lift up their tuneful voice. 

And solemn anthems chime ; 
"Where winds through echoing forests peal 

Their melodies sublime ; 
Where e'en insensate objects breathe 

Devotion's grateful lays — 
Man can not choose but join the choir 

That hymns his Maker's praise. 

Beneath the city's gilded domes, 

In temples decked with care. 
Where Art and Splendor vie to make 

Thine earthly mansions fair, 



FROM MINES OF THOUaHT. 517 

Our forms may lowly bend, our lips 

May breathe a formal lay, 
The whilst our wayward hearts refuse 

These holy rites to pay. 

But in that grander temple, reared 

By thine Almighty hand, 
"Where glorious beauty bids the mind's 

Diviner powers expand, 
Our thoughts, like grateful vassals, give 

An homage glad and free ; 
Our souls in adoration bow, 

And mutely reverence Thee. 

Emeliis'e S. Smith. 



GrAT, guiltless pair, 
What seek ye from the fields of heaven ? 

Ye have no need of prayer, 
Te have no sins to be forgiven. 

AVhy perch ye here, 
Where mortals to their Maker bend ? 

Can your pure spirits fear 
The Grod ye never could offend ? 

Te never knew 
The crimes for which we come to weep : 

Penance is not for you, 
Blessed wanderers of the upper deep. 



518 SOJ^GS OF THE SOUL; 

To you 'tis given 
To wake sweet Nature's untaught lays ; 

Beneath tlie arch of heaven 
To chirp away a life of praise. 

Then spread each wing, 
Far, far above, o'er lakes and lands, 

And join the choirs that sing 
In yon blue dome not reared with hands. 

Or if ye stay 
To note the consecrated hour. 

Teach me the airy way, 
And let me try your envied power. 

Above the crowd, 
On upward wings could I but fly, 

I'd bathe in yon bright cloud, 
And seek the stars that gem the sky. 

'Twere heaven indeed, 
Through fields of trackless light to soar, 

On IN'ature's charms to feed, 
And Nature's own great Grod adore. 

ChAELES SPRAaiJE. 



Wc^t future ILife. 

TTOW shall I know thee in the sphere which 
keeps 

The disembodied spirits of the dead, 
When all of thee that time could wither sleeps 

And perishes among the dust we tread ? 



FBOM MINES OF TIIOVGHT. 519 

For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain 
If there I meet thy gentle presence not ; 

Nor hear the voice I love, nor read again 
In thj serenest eyes the tender thought. 

Will not thine own meek heart demand me there ? 

That heart whose fondest throbs to me were 
given ? 
My name on earth was ever in thy prayer, 

Shall it be banish'd from thy tongue in heaven ? 

In meadows framed by heaven's life-breathing 
wind, 

In the resplendence of that glorious sphere, 
And larger movements of the unfetter' d mind, 

Wilt thou forget the love that joined us here ; 

The love that lived through all the stormy past. 
And meekly with my harsher nature bore, 

And deeper grew, and tenderer to the last, — 
Shall it expire with life, and be no more ? 

A happier lot than mine, and larger light, 

Await thee there; for thou hast bow'd thy 
will 

In cheerful homage to the rule of right, 
And lovest aU, and renderest good for ill. 

For me, the sordid cares in which I dwell 

Shrink and consume the heart, as heat the 
scroll ; 

And wrath has left its scar — that fire of heU 
Has left its frightful scar upon my soul. 



520 SOI^GS OF TSU SOUL; 

Tet, tliougli thou wear'st the glory of the sky, 
Wilt thou not keep the same beloved name, 

The same fair thoughtful brow, and gentle eye. 
Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate, yet the 
same ? 

Shalt thou not teach me in that calmer home 
The wisdom that I learned so ill in this — • 

The wisdom which is love — till I become 
Thy fit companion in that land of bliss ? 

W. C. Beyajs^t. 



Wi)t Erue Vint. 

T^ATHEE of heaven ! if by thy mercy's grace 

A living branch I am of that true vine 
"Which spreads o'er all, — and would we did resign 
Ourselves entire by faith to its embrace ! — 
In me much drooping, Lord, thine eye will trace. 
Caused by the shade of these rank leaves of mine. 
Unless in season due thou dost refine 
The humour gross, and quicken its dull pace. 
So cleanse me, that, abiding e'er with thee, 
I feed me hourly with the heavenly dew, 
And with my falling tears refresh the root. 
Thou saidst, and thou art truth, thou'dst with 

me be : 
Then willing come, that I may bear much fruit. 
And worthy of the stock on which it grew. 

YiTTOEiA CoLONNA, Trans. Anon. 



FBOM MINES OF THOTIGRT. 521 

COPT as the balm the gentlest gale distils, 

Sweet as the fragrance of the new mown hills ; 
Her op'ning mind a thousand charms reveal' d, 
Proofs of those thousands which were yet 

conceal' d : 
The loveliest flow'r in nature's garden plac'd, 
Permitted just to bloom, then pluckt in haste ; 
Angels beheld her ripe for joys to come, 
And call'd by Grod's command their sister home. 

Anon. 



Efjou, ^wat Euler, ILorij o! ^U I 

T>UT chiefly Thou, Great Euler ! Lord of all ! 
Before whose throne archangels prostrate 
fall. 
If at thy nod, from discord, and from night, 
Sprang Beauty, and yon sparkling worlds of light; 
Exalt e'en me ; all inward tumults quell ; 
The clouds and darkness of my mind dispel. 
Thy pow'r, my weakness may I ever see, 
And wholly dedicate my soul to thee ! 
"Who decks the maiden Spring with flow'ry pride ! 
Who calls forth Summer like a sparkling bride ! 
Who joys the mother Autumn^s bed to crown ; 
And bids old Winter lay her honours down ! 
O, may my understanding ever read 
This glorious volume, which thy wisdom made ! 
May sea and land, and earth and heaven be join'd, 



522 SOJ^aS OF THU SOUL; 

To bring th' eternal Author to my mind ; 
"WTien oceans roar, or awful thunders roll, 
May thoughts of thy dread vengeance shake my 

soul ! 
"When earth's in bloom, or planets proudly shine, 
Adore, my heart, the Majesty Divine ; 
Thro' ev'ry scene of life, or peace, or v^ar, 
Plenty, or want, thy glory be my care ! 
Shine we in arms, or sing beneath our vine ? 
Thine is the vintage, and the conquest thine ; 
Thy pleasure points the shaft and bends the bow, 
The cluster blasts, or bids it brightly flow ! 
O thou ! whose balance does the mountain weigh, 
AYhose -will the wild tumultuous seas obey, 
AVhose breath can turn those wat'ry worlds to 

flame. 
That flame to tempest and that tempest tame ; 
Earth's meanest son, all trembling, prostrate falls, 
And on the bounties of thy goodness calls. 
Grrant I ma}^ ever, at the morning's ray, 
Open with pray'r the consecrated day ; 
Tune thy great praise, and bid my soul arise, 
And with the mountain sun ascend the skies ! 
As that advances, let my zeal improve. 
And glow^ Avith ardour of consummate love : 
JSTor cease at eve, but with the setting sun 
My endless w^orship shall be still begun. 
And oh ! permit the gloom of solemn night 
To sacred thought may forcibly invite. 
Thou, w^ho canst still the raging of the flood, 
Restrain the various tumults of my blood. 
Thou, who canst shake the centre, oh, control, 



FROM MINES OF THOVGRT. 523 

Subdue by force, tlie rebel in my soul ; 
Teach me with equal firmness to sustain 
Alluring pleasure and assaulting pain : 
My love be warm to succour the distress' d, 
And lift the burthen from the soul oppressed. 
0, may I pant for Thee, in each desire, 
And with strong faith foment the holy fire ! 
Stretch out, my soul, in hope, and grasp the prize, 
Which in eternity's deep bosom lies ! 
At the great day of recompence, behold, 
Devoid of fear, the fatal book unfold 1 
Then, wafted upward to the blissful seat, 
From age to age my grateful song repeat ! 
My Light, my Life, my GTod, my Saviour see. 
And rival angels in the praise of Thee 1 

Edwaed Yotjk&. 



CEE how the orient dew. 

Shed from the bosom of the morn 

Into the blowing roses, 
Yet careless of its mansion new, 
Eor the clear region where 'twas born, 

Kound it itself incloses ; 
And in its little globe's extent 
Erames as it can, its native element. 

How it the purple flower does slight, 
Scarce touching where it lies ! 
But, gazing back upon the skies. 

Shines with a mournful light : 



524 sojsras of the soul; 

Like its own tear, 

Because so long divided from the sphere. 

E^estless it rolls and insecure, 

Trembling, lest it grow impure ; 

Till the warm sun pities its pain, 

And to the skies exhales it back again. 

So the soul, that drop, that ray. 
Of the clear fountain of eternal day. 

Could it within the human flower be seen, 
E/emembering still its former height. 

Shuns the sweet leaves and blossoms green ; 
And recollecting its own light. 
Does, in its pure and circling thoughts, express 
The greater heaven in an heaven less. 
In how coy a figure wound, 

Every way it turns away ! 
To the world excluding round, 

Yet receiving in the day ; 
Dark beneath, but bright above ; 
He^^e disdaining, t7ie7'e in love. 
How loose and easy hence to go ; 

How girt and ready to ascend : 
Moving but on a point below, 

In aU about does upwards bend. 
Such did the manna's sacred dew distil, 
White and entire, although congealed and 

chill- 
Congealed on earth ; but does, dissolving, run 
Into the glories of the Almighty sun. 

AlS'DBEW MaHYELL. 



FROM MINES OF TROVGHT, 525 

W(it SHitfoto of l^mu. 

"TITEEP not, O mother, sounds of lamentation ; 
AVeep not, widow, weep not hopelessly ! 
Strong is his arm, the bringer of salvation ! 
Strong is the word of Grod to succour thee ! 

Bear forth the cold corpse, slowly, slowly bear him ; 

Hide his pale features with the sable pall ; 
Chide not the sad one wildly weeping o'er him ; 

Widowed and childless, she has lost her all. 

"Why pause the mourners, who forbids our 
weeping ? 
"Who the dark pomp of sorrow has delayed ? 
" Set do^vn the bier — he is not dead, but sleeping ! 
Young man, arise ! " He spake, and was 
obeyed ! 

Change then, sad one, grief to exultation ; 

Worship and fall before Messiah's knee. 
Strong was his arm, the bringer of salvation ! 

Strong was the Word of God to succour thee ! 
EisHOP Hebee. 



Wc^t KViXit to Sxffjidj i\}t planets Eolletr. 

HTHE Eather spake ! In grand reverberations 
Through space rolled on the mighty music- 
tide. 
While to its Ioav, majestic modulations, 
The clouds of chaos slowly swept aside. 



526 SOjS^GS of TRJE SOUL; 

The Pather spake — a dream, that had been lying 
Hushed from eternity in silence there, 

Heard the pure melody, and low replying, 
Grew to that music in the wondering air — 

Grew to that music — slowly, grandly waking, 
Till bathed in beauty — it became a world ! 

Led by his voice, its spheric pathway taking, 
"While glorious clouds their wings around it 
furled. 

JNTor yet has ceased that sound — his love revealing, 
Though, in response, a universe moves by ! 

Throughout eternity, its echo pealing — 
AVorld after world awakes in glad reply ! 

And wheresoever, in his rich creation. 

Sweet music breathes — in wave, or bird, or 
soul — 
'Tis but the faint and far reverberation 

Of that great tune to which the planets roll ! 
Feais-cis S. Osgooi). 



K\itxt is a SHorltr ^feobe, ixifjere 
5^artmg is ©nftnoion. 

T) EYOXD the flight of tim.e,— 
Beyond the reign of death, — 
There surely is some blessed clime, 

Where life is not a breath ; 
jN'or life's affections transient fire, 
Whose sparks fly upwards and expire. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 527 

There is a world above, 

"Where parting is unkno^vn, 
A long eternity of love, 

Formed for the good alone ; 
And faith beholds the dying here 
Translated to that glorious sphere. 

Thus star by star declines, 

Till all are passed away ; 
As morning high and higher shines 

To pure and perfect day : 
JS'or sink those stars in empty night, 
But hide themselves in heaven's own light. 
James Mot^j^tgomebt. 



Elje Uogase of Htfe. 

A MOjNTGt our hills and valleys, I have known 
~^^ AVise and grave men, who, while their dili- 
gent hands 
Tended or gather' d in the fruits of earth, 
Were reverent learners in the solemn school 
Of JSTature. Not in vain to them were sent 
Seed-time and harvest, or the vernal shower 
That darken' d the brown tilth, or snow that beat 
On the white winter's hills. Each brought, in 

turn. 
Some truth ; some lesson on the life of man, 
Or recognition of the Eternal Mind, 
Who veils his glory with the elements. 



528 SOJ^GS OF THE SOUL; 

One such I knew long since, a white-liair'dman, 
Pithy of speech, and merry when he would ; 
A genial optimist, who daily drew 
From what he saw his quaint moralities. 
Kindly he held communion, though so old, 
AVith me, a dreaming boy, and taught me much, 
That books tell not, and I shall ne'er forget. 

The sun of May was bright in middle heaven, 
And steep' d the sprouting forests, the green 

hiUs, 
And emerald wheat-fields, in his yellow light. 
Upon the apple-tree, where rosy buds 
Stood cluster' d, ready to burst forth in bloom, 
The robin warbled forth his full, clear note 
For hours, and wearied not. Within the woods. 
Whose young and half-transparent leaves scarce 

cast 
A shade, gay circles of anemones 
Danced on their stalks ; the shad-bush, white 

with flowers. 
Brighten' d the glens ; the new-leaved butternut, 
And quivering poplar, to the roving breeze 
Gave a balsamic fragrance. In the fields, 
I saw the pulses of the gentle wind 
On the young grass. My heart was touch' d 

with joy. 
At so much beauty, flushing every hour 
Into a fuller beauty ; but my friend. 
The thoughtful ancient, standing at my side, 
Gazed on it mildly sad. I ask'd him why. 
" Well may'st thou join in gladness," he replied. 



FEOM MINES OF TROTIGHT. 529 



" "With the glad earth, her springing plants and j 

flowers, 
And this soft T^Tiid, the herald of the green, I 

Luxuriant summer. Thou art young, hke them, 
And well mayst thou rejoice. But while the ; 

flight 
Of seasons fills and knits thy spreading frame, 
It withers mine, and thins my hair, and dims 
These eyes, whose fading light shall soon be i 

quench' d 
In utter darkness. Hearest thou that bird ? " ! 

I listen' d, and from midst the depth of woods j 
Heard the low signal of the gTouse, that wears 
A sable ruff around his mottled neck : ! 

Partridge they call hhn by our northern streams, j 
And pheasant by the Delaware. He beat | 

'Gainst his barr'd sides his speckled wings, and | 
made : 

A sound like distant thunder ; slow the strokes 
At first, then fast and faster, till at length 
They pass'd into a murmur, and were still. 

'' There hast thou," said my friend, " a fitting 

type 
Of human life. 'Tis an old truth, I know, 
But images like these will freshen truth. 
Slow pass our days in childhood, every day 
Seems Eke a century ; rapidly they glide 
In manhood, and in life's decline they fly ; 
Till days and seasons flit before the mind 
As flit the snow-flakes in a winter's storm, 
231 



530 SOI^GS OF TRU SOUL; 

Seen rather than distinguish' d. Ah ! I seem 

As if I sat within a helpless bark, 

Bj swiftly-running waters hurried on 

To shoot some mighty cliff. Along the banks 

G-rove after grove, rock after frowning rock, 

Bare sands, and pleasant homesteads ; flowery 

nooks. 
And isles and whirlpools in the stream, appear 
Each after each ; but the devoted skiff 
Darts by so swiftly, that their images 
Dwell not upon the mind, or only dwell 
In dim confusion ; faster yet I sweep 
By other banks, and the great gulf is near. 

" "Wisely, my son, while yet thy days are long, 
And this fair change of seasons passes slow, 
Grather and treasure up the good they yield — 
All that they teach of virtue, of pure thoughts, 
And kind affections, reverence for thy GrOD, 
And for thy brethren ; so, when thou shalt come 
Into these barren years that fleet away 
Before their fruits are ripe, thou mayst not bring 
A mind unfurnish'd, and a \\dther'd heart." 

Long since that white-hair' d ancient slept — but 

still, 
"When the red flower-buds crowd the orchard 

bough. 
And the ruff'd grouse is drumming far within 
The woods, his venerable form again 
Is at my side, his voice is in my ear. 

W. C. Bet ANT. 



FROM MINES OF TROVGRT. 531 

'X/'E many twinkling stars, who yet do tread 

Tour brilliant places in the sable vault 
Of night's dominions! planets and central orbs 
Of other systems, big as the burning sun 
Which lights this nether globe, yet to oiu' eye 
Small as the glow-worm's lamp ! to you I raise 
My lowly orisons, while, all bewildered. 
My vision strays o'er your ethereal hosts, 
Too vast, too boundless for our narrow mind, 
Warped with low prejudices, to unfold. 
And sagely comprehend. Thence higher soaring. 
Through ye I raise my solemn thoughts to Him, 
The mighty Founder of this wondrous maze, 
The great Creator ; Him, who now sublime, 
Wrapped in the solitary amplitude 
Of boundless space, above the rolling spheres, 
Sits on his silent throne and meditates. 

Th' angelic hosts, in their inferior heaven. 
Hymn to the golden harps his praise sublime, 
Eepeating loud, " The Lord our G-od is great," 
In varied harmonies : the glorious sounds 
Eoll o'er the air serene. Th' ^olian spheres, 
Harping along their viewless boundaries, 
Catch the full note and cry, " The Lord is great ! " 
Responding to the seraphim. O'er all, 
Prom orb to orb, to the remotest verge 
Of the created world, the sound is borne, 
Till the whole universe is full of Him. 



532 SOJSTGS OF THE SOUL; 

Oh ! 'tis this heavenly harmony which now 
In fancy strikes upon my listening ear, 
And thrills my inmost soul. It bids me smile 
On the vain world and all its bustling cares, 
And gives a shadowy glimpse of future bliss. 
Oh ! what is man, when at ambition's height. 
What e'en are kings, when balanced in the scale 
Of these stupendous worlds ! Almighty God ! 
Thou, the dread Author of these wondrous works, 
Say, canst thou cast on me, poor passing worm. 
One look of kind benevolence ? Thou canst ; 
Por thou art full of universal love, 
And in thy boundless goodness wilt impart 
Thy beams as well to me as to the proud, 
The pageant insects of a glittering hour ! 

Oh ! when reflecting on these truths sublime, 
How insignificant do all the joys, 
The gauds, and honours of the world, appear ! 
How vain ambition! "Why has my wakeful 

lamp 
Outwatched the slow-paced night ? Why on the 

page, 
The schoolman's laboured page, have I employed 
The hours devoted by the world to rest. 
And needful to recruit exhausted nature r 
Say, can the voice of narrow fame repay 
The loss of health ? Or can the hope of glory 
Lend a new throb unto my languid heart, 
Cool, even now, my feverish aching brow, 
Eelume the fires of this deep sunken eye, 
Or paint new colours on this pallid cheek ? 



FROM MINES OF THOUQHT. 533 

Say, foolish one, can tliat unbodied fame, 
For which thou barterest health and happiness, 
Say, can it soothe the slumbers of the grave — 
Grive a new zest to bliss, or chase the pangs 
Of everlasting punishment condign ? 
Alas ! how vain are mortal man's desires ! 
How fruitless his pursuits ! Eternal Grod, 
Gruide thou my footsteps in the way of truth, 
And, oh ! assist me so to live on earth, 
That I may die in peace, and claim a place 
In thy high dwelling. All but this is folly, 
The vain illusions of deceitful life. 

Henet Kikke "White. 



^Ije ©xt of %x\x^ from JHines of 
^ijousfjt. 

^HE heart has tendrils, like the vine, 

^ "Which round another's bosom twine, 

Outspringing from the parent tree 

Of deeply-planted sympathy, 

"Whose flowers are hope, its fruits are bliss, 

Beneficence its harvest is. — 

There are some bosoms dark and drear, 
"Which an unwatered desert are ; 
Yet there a curious eye may trace 
Some silent spot, some verdant place, 
"Where little flowers, the weeds between, 
Spend their soft fragrance all unseen. 



534 SOJSJ-GS OF THE SOUL; 

Despise them not — for wisdom's toil 
Has ne'er disturbed that stubborn soil ; 
Yet care and culture might have brought 
The ore of truth from mines of thought ; 
And fancy's fairest f[o^Yers had bloomed 
Where truth and fancy lie entombed. — 

Insult him not — ^his blackest crime 
May, in his Maker's eye sublime, 
In spite of all thy pride, be less 
Than e'en thy daily Avaywardness : 
Than many a sin, and many a stain, 
Forgotten, and impressed again. — 

There is, in every himian heart, 
Some not completely barren part, 
"Where seeds of love and truth might grow, 
And flowers of generous virtue blow ; 
To plant, to watch, to water there, — 
This be our duty — be our care ! 

And sweet it is the growth to trace 
Of worth, of intellect, of grace, 
In bosoms where our labours first 
Bid the young seed of spring-time burst ; 
And lead it on, from hour to hour, 
To ripen into perfect flower. 

Hast thou e'er seen a garden clad 

In all the robes that Eden had ! — 

Or vale o'erspread with streams and trees,— 

A paradise of mysteries ! 

Plains, with green hills adorning them, 

Like jewels in a diadem ? 



FROM MINES OF THOTIGHT, 535 

These gardens, vales, and plains, and hills, 
"Which beauty gilds and music fills. 
Were once but deserts — cultiu^e's hand 
Has scattered verdure o'er the land ; 
And smiles and fragrance rule, serene, 
Where barren wilds usurped the scene. 

And such is man ! a soil which breeds 
Or sweetest flowers, or vilest weeds : 
Elowers lovely as the morning's light ! — 
Weeds deadly as the aconite ; 
Just as his heart is trained to bear 
The poisonous weed, or floweret fair. 

Elow, then, pure knowledge ! ever flow ! 
Change nature's face to man below ; 
A paradise once more disclose — 
Make deserts bloom with Sharon's rose ; 
And, through a Saviour's blood once shed, 
Eaise his forlorn and drooping head. 

BowRii^^a. 



W^t 1Lts!)t of Stars. 

T^HE night is come, but not too soon ; 

And sinking silently. 
All silently, the little moon ^ 

Drops down behind the sky. 

There is no light in earth or heaven, 

But the cold light of stars ; 
And the first watch of night is given 

To the red planet Mars. 



536 SONGS OF THE SOUL; 

Is it the tender star of love ? 

The star of love and dreams ? 
Oh, no ! from that blue tent above, 

A hero's armour gleams. 

And earnest thoughts within me rise, 

"When I behold afar, 
Suspended in the evening skies. 

The shield of that red star. 

star of strength ! I see thee stand 
And smile upon my pain ; 

Thou beckonest with thy mailed hand, 
And I am strong again. 

"Within my breast there is no light, 
But the cold light of stars ; 

1 give the first watch of the night 
To the red planet Mars. 

The star of the unconquered ^vill. 

He rises in my breast, 
Serene, and resolute, and still, 

And calm, and self-possessed. 

And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art, 

That readest this brief psalm, 
As one by one thy hopes depart, 

Be resolute and calm. 

Oh, fear not in a world like this. 
And thou shalt know ere long, 

Know how sublime a thing it is 
To suffer and be strong. 

Heney "W. Lois'ai'ELLOW. 



FROM MINES OF TROUGRT, 537 



Wc^t mtW of Sacolr. 

TTEEE, after Jacob parted from his brother, 
-'"^ His daughters linger' d round this well, new- 
made ; 
Here, seventeen centuries after came another, 

And talk'd with jEsrs, wondering and afraid. 
Here, other centuries past, the emperor's mother 

Shelter' d its w^aters with a temple's shade. 
Here, mid the fallen fragments, as of old, 
The girl her pitcher dips within its waters cold. 

And Jacob's race grew strong for many an hour, 
Then torn beneath the Eoman eagle lay ; 

The Eoman's vast and earth-controlling power 
Has crumbled like these shafts and stones away ; 

But still the waters, fed by dew and shower. 
Come up, as ever, to the light of day. 

And still the maid bends downward vrith her urn. 

Well pleased to see its glass her lovely face re- 
turn. 

And those few words of truth, first utter' d here. 
Have sunk into the human soul and heart ; 

A spiritual faith dawns bright and clear, 
Dark creeds and ancient mysteries depart ; 

The hour for Gob's true worshippers draws near ; 
Then mourn not o'er the wrecks of earthly art : 

Kingdoms may fall, and human works decay, 

Nature moves on unchanged — Trif^tJis never pass 
away. 

James P. Claeke. 



538 SOJ}^GS OF TRF SOUL; 

STfje future Hife. 

A EE there (still more amazing) who resist 

The rising thought? who smother in its birth 
The glorious truth ? who struggle to be brutes ? 
"Who through this bosom-barrier burst their way. 
And with reversed ambition strive to sink ? 
"WTio labour downwards through the opposing 

powers 
Of instinct, reason, and the world against them, 
To dismal hopes, and shelter in the shock 
Of endless night ? night darker than the graves ? 
Who fight the proofs of immortalit j ? 
To contradict them see all nature rise 1 
What object, what event, the moon beneath, 
But argues, or endears an after scene ? 
To reason proves, or weds it to desire ? 
All things proclaim it needful, some advance 
One precious step beyond, and prove it sure, 
A thousand argniments swarm round my pen, 
From heaven, and earth, and man. Indulge a 

few, 
By nature as her common habit worn. 
Thou ! whose all-providential eye surveys, 
Whose hand directs, whose spmt fills and warms 
Creation, and holds empire far beyond ! 
Eternity's inhabitant august ! 
Of two eternities amazing Lord ! 
One past ere man's, or angel's, had begun ; 
Aid, while I rescue from the foes' assault, 
Thy glorious immortality in man ! 

EnWAED TOTJI^&. 



FROM MINES OF TROTTGHT. 539 

Efie ^Possession of tfje Kx\xz JFeltcittes. 

TITITH aspect mild, and elevated eye, 

Behold him seated on a mount serene, 
Above the fogs oi sense, smd passion's storm; 
All the black cares, and tumults, of this life. 
Like harmless thunders, breaking at his feet, 
Excite his pity, not impair his peace. 
FartFs genuine sons, the sceptred, and the slave, 
A mingled mob ! a wandering herd ! he sees, 
Be^dlder'd in the vale ; in all unlike ! 
His full reverse in all ! what higher praise ? 
What stronger demonstration of the right ? 

The present all tJieir care ; the future, Ms. 
When public welfare caUs, or private want, 
Tliey give to fame ; his bounty lie conceals. 
Their virtues varnish nature ; his exalt. 
Mankind's esteem thei/ court ; and he, his own. 
Theirs, the wild chase oi false felicities ; 
Sis, the compos'd possession of the true. 
Alike throughout is his consistent peace, 
All of one colour, and an even thread ; 
While party-colour' d shreds of happiness, 
AVith hideous gaps between, patch up for them 
A madman's robe ; each piiff oi fortune blows 
The tatters by, and shows their nakedness. 

He sees with other eyes than theirs : where they 
Behold a si0i, he spies a Deiti/ : 
What makes them only smile, makes him adore. 
Where they see onoimtains, he but atoms sees ; 
An empire, in his balance, weighs a grain. 



540 SOJSraS of TRE SOUL; 

They things terrestrial worship, as divine : 
His hopes immortal blow them by, as dust, 
That dims his sight and shortens his survey, 
Which longs, in infinite, to lose all bonnd. 
Titles and honours (if they prove his fate) 
Se lays aside to find his dignity ; 
Iso dignity tliey find in aught besides. 
They triumph in externals (which conceal 
Man's real glory), proud of an eclipse. 
Himself too much he prizes to be proud, 
And nothing thinks so great in man, as man. 
Too dear he holds his interest, to neglect 
Another's welfare, or his right invade ; 
Their interest, like a lion, lives on prey. 
They kindle at the shadow of a wrong ; 
"Wrong he sustains with temper, looks on Heaven, 
!N'or stoops to think his injurer his foe ; 
Nought, but what wounds his virtue, wounds his 

peace. 
A cover' d heart their character defends ; 
A cover' d heart denies him half his praise. 
With nakedness his innocence agrees ; 
WTiile their broad foliage testifies their fall. 
Their no-joys end, where his full feast begins : 
Sis jojs create, theirs murder, future bliss. 
To triumph in existence, his alone ; 
And his alone, triumphantly to think 
His true existence is not yet begun. 
His glorious course was, yesterday, complete ; 
Death, then, was welcome ; yet life still is sweet. 

EnwAED ToTJNa. 



FROM MINES OF THOTIGRT. 541 



W^txt is a ©ag of Sunng Eest 

/^H, deem not thej are blest alone 

Whose lives a peaceful tenor keep ; 
The Power who pities man, has shown 
A blessing for the eyes that weep. 

The light of smiles shall fill again 
The lids that overflow with tears ; 

And weary hours of woe and pain 
Are promises of happier years. 

There is a day of sunny rest 

For every dark and troubled night ; 

And grief may bide an evening guest, 
But joy shall come with early light. 

And thou, who, o'er thy friend's low bier, 
Sheddest the bitter drops like rain, 

Hope that a brighter, happier sphere 
"Will give him to thy arms again. 

Nor let the good man's trust depart, 
Though life its common gifts deny, — 

Though with a pierced and broken heart, 
And spurned of men, he goes to die. 

For Grod has marked each sorrowing day 
And numbered every secret tear. 

And heaven's long age of bliss shall pay 
For all his children suffer here. 

W. C. Betant. 



542 SOJ}fGS OF TRE SOUL; 

^^t Blessins of ISarlg Etsing. 

O OET slumbers now mine eyes forsake, 

My powers are all renewed ; 
May my freed spirit too awake, 

With heavenly strength endued. 
Thou silent murderer, Sloth, no more 

My mind imprisoned keep ; 
Nor let me waste another hour 

With thee, thou felon Sleep. 

Think, my soul, could dying men 

One lavished hour retrieve. 
Though spent in tears, and passed in pain. 

What treasures would they give ! 

But seas of pearls, and mines of gold, 

Were offered then in vain ; 
Their pearl of countless price is sold, 

And Where's the promised gaia ? 
Lord, when thy day of dread account, 

Por squandered hours shall come. 
Oh ! let not this increase th' amount. 

And swell the former sum. 
Teach me in health each good to prize, 

I dying shall esteem ; 
And every pleasure to despise, 

I then shall worthless deem. 
For all thy wondrous mercies past 

My grateful voice I'll raise, 
"While thus I quit my bed of rest. 

Creation's Lord to praise. 

Hais-jstah Moee. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 543 

^npWAS so — I saw thy birth : that drowsy lake 
^ From her faint bosom breath' d thee, the 
disease 
Of her sick waters and infectious ease ; 
Eut now, at even. 
Too gross for heaven. 
Thou fall'st in tears, and weep'st for thy mistake. 

Ah ! it is so with me ! oft have I pressed 
Heaven with a lazy breath, but fruitless this 
Pierc'd not ; love only can with quick access 

Unlock the way, 

When all else stray — 
The smoke and exhalations of the breast. 

Tet, if as thou doest melt, and with thy train 
Of drops make soft the earth, my eyes could weep 
O'er my hard heart, that's bound up and asleep ; 

Perhaps at last 

(Some such showers past,) 
My Grod would give a sunshine after rain. 

Heis^et Vatjghan. 



I 



W^t Spirit of Erutfj. 

DEEAMED that I saw, on the fair brow of 
heaven. 

The star-jewelled veil of a midsummer even ; 
I looked, and, as quick as a meteor's birth, 
A beautiful Spirit descended to earth. 



544 SOJSTGS OF TRIE SOUL; 



Her brow wore a halo of liglit, and lier eye 
"Was bright as the stars, and as blue as the sky ; 
Her low, silvery voice trembled soft as a spell, 
To the innermost chords of the heart, as it fell. 

One hand held a banner inscribed with " accoed," 
The other, the glorious word of the Lord : 
Then, softly, the beautiful vision did glide 
To the palace a rich man had reared in his pride. 

Through curtains of crimson the sun's mellow 

beam 
Fell, soft as the tremulous light of a dream, 
On all that was gorgeous in nature and art — 
On all that could gladden the eye or the heart. 

The rich man was clad in fine purple and gold, 
The wealth in his coffers might never be told ; 
The brows of the servants that waited around 
Grew bright when he smiled, and grew pale 
when he frowned. 

Then did that proud nobleman tremble and start, 
As the bright Spirit whispered these words to 

his heart : 
" If thou wouldst have wealth when life's joiu-ney 

is o'er. 
Sell all that thou hast, and divide with the poor." 

She stood in the cell, where the death-breathing 

air 
"Was rife with the groans of the prisoner's despair, 
As sadly he looked, through the long lapse of time. 
To days when his soul was unstained by a crime. 



FROM MINES OF TROTTGHT. 545 

She pointed away to his Father above — 
She soothed him in accents of pity and love, 
And said, as she severed the links of his chain, 
"Thy sins are forgiven, transgress not again." 

She came in her strength, and the gallows that 

stood 
Por ages, all reeking and blackened with blood. 
Like a lightning-scared fiend, pointing up to the 

sky, 

Fell prostrate to earth, at the glance of her eye. 

She spoke ! old earth heard, and her pulses were 

still : 
" Grod's holy commandment forbiddeth to kill." 
That spirit of beauty, that spirit of might. 
Went forth, till the earth was illumined with 

her light. 

The strong one relenting, was fain to restore 
The spoil he had wrenched from the hand of the 

poor : 
Injustice, oppression, and wrong, fled away, 
Before the pure light of millennial day. 

The turbulent billows of faction grew calm ; 
The lion laid down in the fold Avith the lamb ; 
The ploughshare was forged from the sabre and 

sword, 
And the mighty bowed down to the sway of the 

Lord. 

2^ 



546 SOJVGS OF THE SOUL; 

The lieatlien with, joy cast his idols away, 

And knelt 'neath his own vine and fig tree to 

pray. 
By every kindred, and nation, and tongne, 
Grlad anthems of praise to Jehovah were snng. 
Saeah T. Boltois^. 



W^tn to!js[, tng Soul, trost tfjou 
Complain ? 

GrOD, whose thunder shakes the sky ; 
Whose eye this atom globe surveys ; 
To Thee, my only rock, I fly. 
Thy mercy in thy justice praise ; 







The mystic mazes of thy will, 
The shadows of celestial light, 

Are past the power of human skill — 
But what the Eternal acts is right. 

O teach me in the trying hour, 

When anguish swells the dewy tear. 

To stin my sorrows, own thy power. 
Thy goodness love, thy justice fear. 

If in this bosom aught but Thee 

Encroaching sought a boundless sway, 

Omniscience could the danger see, 
And Mercy took the cause away. 



FROM MINES OF THOVGHT. 547 

Then why, my soul, dost thou complain ? 

Why, drooping, seek the dark recess ? 
Shake oif the melancholy chain, 

For Grod created all to bless. 

But ah ! my breast is human still ; 

The rising sigh, the falling tear, 
My languid vitals' feeble rill. 

The sickness of my soul declare. 

But yet, with fortitude resigned, 
I'll thank the inflictor of the blow ; 

Forbid the sigh, compose my mind, 
Nor let the gush of misery flow. 

The gloomy mantle of the night, 
Which on my sinking spirit steals, 

Will vanish at the morning light. 

Which G-od, my East, my Sun, reveals. 
Chatteetojst. 



T^HE rose was in rich bloom on Sharon's plain, 
"When a young mother, with her first-born, 
thence 
Went up to Zion ; for the boy was vowed 
Unto the temple service. By the hand 
She led him, and her silent soul, the while, 
Oft as the dewy laughter of his eye 
Met her sweet serious glance, rejoiced to think 
That aught so pure, so beautiful, was hers, 
To bring before her Grod. 



548 SOJS^'GS OF THU SO UL ; 

So passed they on 
O'er Judah's hills ; and wheresoe'er the leaves 
Of the broad sycamore made sounds at noon, 
Like lulling raindrops, or the olive-boughs 
With their cold dimness crossed the sultry blue 
Of Syria's heaven, she paused, that she might rest ; 
Yet from her own meek eyelids chased the sleep 
That weighed their dark fringe down, to sit and 

watch 
The crimson deepening o'^er his cheeks' repose, 
As at a red flower's heart : and where a fount 
Lay, like a twilight star, midst palmy shades. 
Making its banks green gems along the wild. 
There too she lingered^ from the diamond wave 
Drawing clear water for his rosy lips. 
And softly parting clusters of jet curls 
To bathe his brow. 

At last the Eane was reached. 
The earth's One Sanctuary ; and rapture hushed 
Her bosom, as before her, through the day 
It rose, a mountain of white marble, steeped 
In light like floating gold. But when that hour 
AVaned to the farewell moment, when the boy 
Lifted through rainbow-gleaming tears his eye 
Beseechingly to hers, and, half in fear. 
Turned from the white-robed priest, and round 

her arm 
Clung even as ivy clings ; the deep spring-tide 
Of nature then swelled high ; and o'er her child 
Bending, her soul brake forth, in mingled sounds 
Of weeping and sad song. — " Alas ! " she cried. 



M 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 549 

" Alas, my boy ! thy gentle grasp is on me, 
The bright tears quiver in thy beaming eyes. 

And now fond thoughts arise, 
And silver chords again to earth have won me, 
And like a vine thou claspest my full heart — 

How shall I hence depart ? 

" How the lone paths retrace, where thou wert 

playing 
So late among the mountains at my side ; 

And I, in joyous pride. 
By every place of flowers my course delaying, 
Wove, e'en as pearls, the lilies round thy hair, 

Beholding thee so fair ! 

" And, oh ! the home whence thy bright smile 

hath parted ! 
"Will it not seem as if the sunny day 

Turned from its door away, 
WTiile, through its chambers wandering weary- 
hearted, 
I languish for thy voice, which past me still, 
Went like a singing rill ? 

" Under the palm-trees thou no more shalt meet 

me, 
When from the fount at evening I return, 

A¥ith the full water-urn ! 
Nor will thy sleep's low, dove-like murmurs 

greet me. 
As midst the silence of the stars I wake, 
And watch for thy dear sake. 



550 SOJVGS OF THE SOUL; 



" And thou, mil slumber's dew)^ cloud fall round 

thee, 
Without thj mother's hand to smooth thy bed ? 

Wilt thou not vainly spread 
Thine arms, when darkness as a veil hath wound 

thee, 
To fold my neck, and lift up, in thy fear, 
A cry which none shall hear ? 

" "What have I said, my child ? will He not hear 

thee, 
Who the young ravens heareth from their nest ? 

Will He not guard thy rest. 
And in the hush of holy midnight near thee, 
Breathe o'er thy soul, and fill its dreams with joy ? 

Thou shalt sleep soft, my boy 1 

" I give thee to thy Grod ! the God that gave thee, 
A well-spring of deep gladness to my heart ! 

And precious as thou art. 
And pure as dew of Hermon, He shall have thee, 
My own, my beautiful, my undefiled ! 

And thou shalt be His child. 

" Therefore, farewell ! — I go ; my soul may fail 

me. 
As the stag panteth for the water-brooks, 

Yearning for thy sweet looks ; 
But thou, my first-born, droop not, nor bewail 

me ! 
Thou, in the shadow of the rock shalt dwell 
The Eock of Strength— farewell ! " 

Pelicia Hemais^s. 



FROM MINJES OF THOTTGHT, 551 



Ef)e cStream of %\mt. 

/^HILD of the dust ! if e'er thine eye 

Has watch' d the torrent's flow, 
Where, distant from its source on high, 

It sweeps the vale below. 
Then hast thou seen a silent force 

Pervade its current strong ; 
IS'o sound, no ripple, marks its course. 

And yet it speeds along. 

'Tis noiseless thus, yet swift as thought 

The stream of time rolls by ; 
And thus, though man regards them not, 

His precious moments fly. 
A few brief days, in splendour bright, 

Ton glorious orb has shone ; 
Add next a few returns of night, 

And, lo ! a year is gone. 

Lord ! grant me grace these seasons fleet 

To Thee alone to spend, 
That I with joy Thy face may meet. 

When life's short course shall end: 
And teach me on that Saviour's love 

To build my only trust. 
Who, though He fills a throne above, 

Was once allied to dust. 

Oh then, while days and years shall glide 

In silent speed away. 
My soul shall view the ebbing tide 

But know no sad dismay ; 



552 SO]}^GS OF THE SOUL; 



For still my Saviour- Grod shall be 
At hand, though iinperceived, 

And I salvation nearer see 
Than when I first believed. 



Hike. 







C!je 1^ol2 Scriptures. 

H Book ! infinite sweetness ! let mj heart 

Suck every letter, and a honey gain 
Precious for any grief in any part. 
To clear the breast, to mollify all pain. 

Thou art all health, health thriving till it make 

A full eternity : thou art a mass 

Of strange delights, where we may wish and 
take. 
Ladies, look here ; this is the thankful glass 

That mends the looker's eyes : this is the well 
That washes Avhat it shows. Who can endear 
Thy praise too much ? thou art heaven's lieger 
here, 

Working against the states of death and hell. 

Thou art joy's handsel : heaven lies flat in thee, 
Subject to every mounter's bended knee. 

Oh that I knew how all thy lights combine, 
And the configurations of their glory ! 
Seeing not only how each verse doth shine, 

But all the constellations of the story. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 553 

This verse marks that, and both do make a motion 
Under a third, that ten leaves off doth lie. 
Then, as dispersed herbs do watch a potion, 

These three make up some Christian's destiny. 

Such are thy secrets, which my life makes good, 
And comments on thee : for in ev'ry thing 
Thy words do find me out, and parallels bring. 

And in another make me understood. 

Stars are poor books, and oftentimes do miss : 
This book of stars lights to eternal bliss. 

GrEOEaE Heebert. 



Wc^t ^!)2Stctan ©tes to make ijts 
patient Htbe. 

TTrilEN I remember Christ our burden 
bears, 
I look for glory, but find misery ; 
I look for joy, but find a sea of tears ; 

I look that we should live, and find Him die ; 
I look for angels' songs, and hear Him cry : 
Thus what I look, I cannot find so well ; 
Or, rather, what I find I cannot tell ; 
These banks so narrow are, these streams so 
highly swell. 

Christ suffers, and in this his tears begin ; 
Suffers for us — and our joys spring in this ; 

Suffers to death — here is his manhood seen ; 
Suffers to rise — and here his Godhead is : 
Por man, that could not by himself have ris', 



554 SOJVaS OF THE SOUL; 

Out of the grave dotli bj tlie Grodhead rise : 
And lived, tliat could not die, in manliood dies, 
That we in both might live by that sweet sacrifice. 

A tree was first the instrument of strife, 

Where Eve to sin her soul did prostitute ; 
A tree is now the instrument of life. 

Though ill that trunk and this fair body suit : 
Ah ! fatal tree, and yet blessed fruit ! 
That death to Him, this life to us doth give ; 
Strange is the cure, when things past cure revive, 
And the Physician dies to make his patient live. 

Sweet Eden was the arbour of delight. 

Yet in his honey flowers our poison blew ; 
Sad G-ethsemane, the bower of baleful night, 
AYhere Christ a health of poison for us drew. 
Yet all our honey in that poison grew : 
So we from sweetest flowers could suck our bane. 
And Christ from bitter venom could again 
Extract life out of death, and pleasure out of 
pain. 

A man was first the author of our fall, 

A Man is now the author of our rise : 
A garden was the place we perished all, 
A garden is the place He pays our price : 
And the old serpent, with a new device, 
Hath found a way himself for to beguile ; 
So he, that all men tangled in his wile. 
Is now by one Man caught, beguiled with his 
own guile. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 555 

The dewy niglit had Avith her frosty shade 

Immantled all the world, and the stiff ground 
Sparkled in ice ; only the Lord that made 
All for Himself, Himself dissolved found, 
Sweat without heat, and bled without a 
wound ; 
Of heaven and earth, and God and man forlore, 
Thrice begging help of those whose sins he bore, 
And thrice denied of one, not to deny had swore. 

GrILES ElETCHEE. 



TTAIL ! King of glory, clad in robes of light. 

Outshining all we here call bright ! 
Hail, light's divinest galaxy! 
Hail, express image of the Deity ! 
Could now thy amorous spouse thy beauties view, 
How would her wounds all bleed anew ! 
Lovely thou art, all o'er and bright, 
Thou Israel's glory, and thou Gentile's light. 

But whence this brightness, whence this sudden 

day? 
Who did thee thus with light array ? 
Did thy divinity dispense 
To its consort a more liberal influence ? 
Or did some curious angel's chymic art 
The spirits of purest light impart. 
Drawn from the native spring of day, 
And wrought into an organized ray. 



556 so:^^as of the sottl; 



Howe'er 'twas done, 'tis glorious and divine ; 
Thou dost with radiant wonders shine : 
The sun, with his bright company, 
Are all gross meteors, if compared to thee : 
Thou art the fountain w^hence their light does flow, 
But to thy mil thine own dost owe ; 
For (as at first) Thou didst but say, 
"Let there be light," and straight sprang forth 
this wondrous day. 

Let now the eastern princes come, and bring 
Their tributary offering. 
There needs no star to guide their flight ; 
They'll find Thee now, great King, by thine own 

light. 
And thou, my soul, adore, love, and admire, 
And follow this bright guide of fire. 
Do thou thy hymns and praises bring, 
Whilst angels, with veil'd faces, anthems sing. 

Joh:s^ Xoreis. 



K\}t ^ngel on ISartfj. 

A LITTLE child on a sunny day, 
Sat on a flowery bank at play : 
The gentle breath of the summer air 
Waved the curls of her golden hair. 
And ever her voice rang merrily out 
In a careless laugh or a joyous shout. 

Beautiful was she as early morn. 
When the dew is fresh on the blossoming thorn; 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 557 



And metliouglit as I looked on lier fair young face, 
Beaming with beautj and truth and grace, 
How cold and heartless the world must be, 
That could sully such spotless purity ! 

Tears rolled by : in her maiden pride 
She stood, a gentle and trusting bride — 
How beautiful still ! though a softening shade 
O'er the dazzling hue of that beauty played, 
"While the tender glance of her soft blue eye 
Told of a love that could not die : 
And I prayed as I gazed on her placid brow, 
Pure as a wreath of new-fallen snow, 
That sorrow, the sorrow that comes to all, 
Lightly and gently on her might fall. 

Again I saw her : Time had been there, 
Tipping with silver her golden hair ; 
He had breathed on her cheek, and its rosy hue 
Was gone, but her heart was pure and true, 
As when first I met her a budding flower. 
Or a gentle maid in her bridal hour. 
As mother and wife she had borne her part, 
AYith the faith and hope of a loving heart ; 
And now when nature, with years opprest, 
Looks and longs for her quiet rest. 
With holy trust in her father's love. 
Awaiting a summons from above. 
She lingers with us, as if to show 
To the faint and weary ones below. 
How oft to the faithful soul 'tis given 
To taste on earth of the joys of heaven. 

Mae&aeet L. Eailet. 



558 SO^^GS OF TRJE SOUL ; 

Cfjts s!)all ms lEmplcgment &e. 

"lY/TAX is a busy thing, and he 

"Will deal in all sorts of aiFairs, 
"Weighty and trivial ; each may be, 
The subject of his greatest cares: 
But this shall my employment be, 
Still to be busied, Lord, with thee. 

Some are all spirit, and will fly 

At nothing lower than a throne ; 

The proudest spires of dignity 

They, in their hopes, have made their own ; 

But this shall my employment be. 

To seek my honour all from thee. 

Some that are sprung from coarser clay 

Adore a paint-disguised face. 

And daily their devotion pay 

To spotted beasts, or else as base : 

But this- shall my employment be, 

Duly to serve and wait on thee. 

Some so enhance the price of gold, 
They judge their souls to be but dross ; 
And are so saving, that they hold 
The air, the breath, a mighty loss : 
But this shall my employment be, 
I will love nothing like to thee. 

Some are so loyal to the book 
Till they can criticise, and tell 
How many steps old Time has took 
Since our o^reat father Adam fell : 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT, 559 

Eut this shall mj employment be, 
Better to know myself and thee. 



W(^t Htcjijtmg of ^z ILamps. 

IVrOW the stars are lit in heaven, 

"We miist light our lamps on earth : 
Every star a signal given 

Erom the Grod of our new birth : 
Every lamp an answer faint, 
Like the prayer of mortal Saint, 

Mark the hour and turn this way, 
Sons of Israel, far and near ! 

Wearied with the World's dim daj^, 
Turn to Him whose eyes are here, 

Open, watching day and night, 

Beaming unapproached light ! 

With sweet oil- drops in His hour 
Eeed the branch of many lights, 

Token of protecting power, 
Pledg'd to faithful Israelites, 

Emblem of the anointed Home, 

When the glory deigns to come. 

Watchers of the sacred flame. 
Sons of Aaron ! serve in fear, — 

Deadly is th' avenger's aim. 

Should th' unhaUowed enter here ; 

Keen His fires, should recreants dare 

Breathe the pure and fragrant air. 



560 SO^^GS OF THJE SOUL; 

There is One will bless your toil — 
He wlio comes in Heaven's attire. 

Morn by morn, with holy oil ; 
Eve by eve, with holy fire ! 

Pray ! — your prayer will be allowed, 

Mingling with His incense cloud ! 



Clje J^ogal ©ffsprmg of a cSecontr 

CO now the soul's sublimed, her sour desires 
Are recalcined in heaven's well tempered 
fires ; 
The heart restored, and purged from drossy 

nature, 
JN'ow finds the freedom of a new-born creature ; 
It lives another life, it breathes new breath, 
It neither fears nor feels the sting of death. 
Like as the idle vagrant, (having none,) 
That bold adopts each house he views his own. 
Makes every purse his chequer, and at pleasure. 
Walks forth and taxes all the world like Caesar ; 
At length, by virtue of a just command, 
His sides are lent to a severer hand ; 
"Whereon his pass, not fully understood. 
Is taxed in a manuscript of blood ; 
Thus passed from town to town, until he come, 
A sore repentant to his native home : 
E'en so the rambling heart, that idly roves 
Erom crimes to sin, and uncontrolled, removes 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 561 

Erom lust to lust, when wanton flesh invites, 
From old worn pleasures, to new choice delights, 
At length, corrected by the filial rod 
Of his offended, and his gracious God, 
And lashed from sins to sighs, and by degrees 
Prom sighs to vows, from vows to bended knees ; 
Prom bended knees, to a true pensive breast ; 
From thence to torments, not by tongues exprest, 
Returns ; and (from his sinful self exiled,) 
Finds a glad Father ; He, a welcome child : 
Oh ! then it lives ! Oh ! then it lives involved 
In secret raptures ; pants to be dissolved : 
The rojal ofispring of a second birth, 
Sets ope to heaven, and shuts the door to earth. 
If love-sick Jove commanded clouds should hap 
To rain such showers as quickened Danae's lap ; 
Or dogs, (far kinder than their purple master,) 
Should lick his sores, he laughs nor weeps the 

faster. 
If earth, heaven's rival, dart her idle ray. 
To heaven 'tis wax, and to the world 'tis clay. 
If earth present delights, it scorns to draw ; 
But like the jet unrubbed, disdains that straw ; 
No hope deceives it, and no doubt divides it, 
ISTo grief disturbs it, and no error guides it, 
No good contemns it, and no virtue blames it, 
No guilt condemns it, and no folly shames it, 
No sloth besots it, and no lust enthrals it, 
No scorn afflicts it, and no passion galls it ; 
It is a carcanet of immortal life. 
An ark of peace, the lists of sacred strife, 

2 o 



562 SOJSTGS OF THU SOUL; 

A purer piece of endless transitory, 
A shrine of grace, a little tlnrone of glory, 
A heaven-born offspring of a new-born birth. 
An earthly heaven, an ounce of heavenly earth. 
Pra:s'cis Qtjaeles. 



f\ LOE/D ! another day is flovni, 

And we, a lonely band. 
Are met once more before Thy throne, 
To bless Thy fostering hand. 

And wilt Thou bend a listening ear, 

To praises low as ours ? 
Thou mlt ! for Thou dost love to hear 

The song which meekness pours. 

And Jesus, Thou Thy smiles wilt deign. 

As we before Thee pray ; 
Tor Thou didst bless the infant train, 

And we are less than they. 

Oh ! let Thy grace perform its part. 

And let contention cease ; 
And shed abroad in every heart 

Thine everlasting peace ! 

Thus chastened, cleansed, entirely thine, 

A flock by Jesus led ; 
The Sun of Holiness shall shine, 

In glory on our head. 



FROM 3£IJSrJES OF THOUGHT, 563 

And Thou wilt turn our wandering feet, 

And Thou wilt bless our way ; 
Till Avorlds shall fade, and faith shall greet 

The dawn of lasting day. 

He:n^iiy Kieke White. 



Winiiitxml Beautg. 

T IKE IS'ature's law, no eloquence persuades, 

The mute harangue our every sense invades ; 
The apparent precepts of the eternal will, 
His every work, and every object fill; 
E/Ound with our eyes his revelation wheels, 
Our every touch his demonstration feels. 
And, Supreme! whene'er we cease to know 
Thee, the sole source whence sense and science 

flow ; 
Then must all faculty, all knowledge fail. 
And more than monster o'er the man prevail. 

JN'ot thus he gave our optics' vital glance, 
Amid omniscient art, to search for chance. 
Blind to the charms of Nature's beauteous frame; 
JN'or made our organ vocal to blaspheme : 
Nor thus he ^soiled the creatures of his nod, 
And made the mortal to unmake his Grod ; 
Breathed on the globe, and brooded o'er the wave, 
And bid the wide obsequious world conceive ; 
Spoke into being myriads, myriads rise. 
And, with young transport, gaze the novel skies : 



564 SOJSTGS OF TRE SOUL; 

Grlance from the surge, beneatli the surface scud, 
Or cleave enormous the reluctant flood : 
Or roll yermicular, their wanton maze, 
And the bright path with wild meanders glaze ; 
Frisk in the vale, or o'er the mountains bound, 
Or in huge gambols shake the trembling ground : 
Swarm in the beam, or spread the plumy sail — 
The plume creates, and then directs the gale ; 
While active gaiety, and aspect bright, 
In each expressive, sums up all delight. 

Henet Beooke. 



Ftrtue. 

C WEET day ! so cool, so calm, so bright, 

The bridal of the earth and sky. 
The dew shall weep thy fall to night ; 

Eor thou must die. 

Sweet rose ! whose hue, angry and brave, 

Eids the rash gazer wipe his eye, 
Thy root is ever in the grave ; 

And thou must die. 
Sweet spring ! full of sweet days and roses, 

A box where sweets compacted lie, — 
My music shows you have your closes, 

And all must die. 
Only a sweet and virtuous soul 

Like seasoned timber never gives ; 
Eut though the whole world turn to a coal. 
Then chiefly lives. 

GrEOEGE HeEBEET. 



FBOM MINES OF THOUGHT. 565 

'T'HE summer day is closed — the sun is set ; 

AVell thev hare done their office, those bright 
hours, 
The latest of whose train goes softly out 
In the red West. The green blade of the ground 
Has risen, and herds have cropped it ; the young 

twig 
Has spread its plaited tissues to the sun ; 
Flowers of the garden and the waste have blown 
And Tv-ithered ; seeds have fallen upon the soil, 
From bursting cells, and in their graves await 
Their resurrection. Insects from the pools 
Have filled the air awhile with humming wings, 
That now are still for ever ; painted moths 
Have wandered the blue sky, and died again ; 
The mother-bird have broken for her brood 
Their prison shell, or shoved them from the nest, 
Plumed for their earliest flight. In bright alcoves, 
In woodland cottages with barky walls, 
In noisome cells of the tumultuous town, 
Mothers have clasped with joy the new-born babe. 
G-raves by the lonely forest, by the shore 
Of rivers and of ocean, by the ways 
Of the thronged city, have been hollowed out 
And filled, and closed. This day hath parted 

friends 
That ne'er before were parted ; it hath knit 
Xew friendships ; it hath seen the maiden plight 
Her faith, and trust her peace to him who long 



566 SOI^GS OF THE SOUL; 

Had wooed ; and it hath heard from lips which 

late 
Were eloquent of love, the first harsh word, 
That told the wedded one her peace was flown. 
Earewell to the sweet sunshine ! One glad day 
Is added now to Childhood's merry days. 
And one calm day to those of quiet Age. 
Still the fleet hours run on ; and as I lean. 
Amid the thickening darkness, lamps are lit, 
By those who watch the dead, and those who 

twine 
Plowers for the bride. The mother from the eyes 
Of her sick infant shades the painful light, 
And sadly listens to his quick- drawn breath. 

Oh thou great Movement of the Universe, 
Or Change, or Elight of Time — for ye are one ! 
That bearest, silently, this visible scene 
Into night's shadow and the streaming rays 
Of starlight, whither art thou bearing me ? 
I feel the mighty current sweep me on. 
Yet know not whither. Man foretells afar 
The courses of the stars ; the very hour 
He knows when they shall darken or grow bright ; 
Yet doth the eclipse of Sorrow and of Death 
Come unforewarned. AYho next, of those I love. 
Shall pass from life, or, sadder yet, shall fall 
Trom virtue ? Strife with foes, or bitterer strife 
With friends, or shame and general scorn of 

men — 
"Which who can bear? — or the fierce rack of pain. 
Lie they within my path ? Or shall the years 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 567 

Pusli me, with soft and inoffensive pace, 

Into the stilly twilight of my age ? 

Or do the portals of another life 

Even now, while I am glorying in my strength. 

Impend around me ? Oh ! beyond that bourne. 

In the vast cycle of being which begins 

At that broad threshold, with what fairer forms 

Shall the great law of change and progress clothe 

Its workings ? Grently — so have good men 

taught — 
G-ently, and without grief, the old shall glide 
Into the new ; the eternal flow of things. 
Like a bright river of the fields of heaven, 
Shall journey onward in perpetual peace. 

W. C. Bexat^t. 



iJogage of t|je <SouL 

The high-born soul 

Disdains to rest her heaven-aspiring wing 
Beneath its native quarry. Tired of earth 
And this diurnal scene, she springs aloft, 
Through fields of air : pursues the flying storm ; 
E/ides on the volleyed lightning through the 

heavens ; 
Or, yoked with whirlwinds and the northern blast, 
Sweeps the long tract of day. Then high she soars. 
The blue profound, and hovering round the sun. 
Beholds him pouring the redundant stream 



568 SOJVGS OF THE SOUL; 

Of light ; beholds his unrelenting sway 
Bend the reluctant planets to absolve 
The fated rounds of Time. Thence far effused 
She darts her STSTftness up the long career 
Of devious comets ; through its burning signs 
Exulting measures the perennial wheel 
Of Xatiu^e, and looks back on all the stars, 
AVhose blended light, as with a milkv zone, 
Invests the orient. jSTow amazed she views 
The empyreal waste, where happy spirits hold, 
Beyond this concave heaven, their calm abode ; 
And fields of radiance, whose unfading light 
Has travelled the profound six thousand years, 
Nor yet arrives in sight of mortal things. 
Even on the barriers of the world untired, 
She meditates the eternal depth below ; 
Till, half recoiling, down the headlong steep 
She plunges ; soon o'erwhelmed and swallowed 

up 
In that iinmense of being. There her hopes 
Eest at the fated goal. Eor from the birth 
Of mortal man, the sovereign Maker said, 
That not in humble nor in brief delight, 
Not in the fading echoes of renown. 
Power's purple robes, nor Pleasure's flowery lap, 
I The soul should find enjoyment ; but from these. 
Turning disdainful to an equal good, 
Through all the ascent of things enlarge her view, 
Till every bound at length should disappear. 
And infinite perfection close the scene. 

Akexside. 



FROM MINES OF TROVGHT, 569 



SEi^at in C!)2 Hobe possess 1 Not? 

TTTHAT in Thy love possess I not ? 

* ^ My star by night, my sun by day, 
My spring of life when parch' d with drought, 

My wine to cheer, my bread to stay ; 
My strength, my shield, my safe abode, 
My robe before the throne of Grod ! 

Ah love ! thy influence withdrawn. 
What profits me that I am born ? 

All my delight, my joy is gone, 

JN'or know I peace 'till Thou return : 

Thee may I seek 'till I attain ; 

And never may we part again. 

From all eternity with love 

Unchangeable Thou hast me view'd ; 

Ere knew this beating heart to move, 
Thy tender mercies me pursu'd: 

Ever with me may they abide. 

And close me in on every side. 

JoH^ Wesley. 



Wt are Spirits clatr in Uetls. 

'T'HOUaHT is deeper than aU speech ; 

Feeling deeper than all thought : 
Souls to souls can never teach 

What unto themselves was taught. 



)70 SO^''GS OF THE SOUL; 

We are spirits clad in veils : 

Man hj man was never seen : 
All our deep communing fails 

To remove the shadowy screen. 

Heart to heart was never knoAvn : 
Mind with mind did never meet : 

We are columns left alone, 
Of a temple once complete. 

Like the stars that gem the sky, 
Par apart, though seeming near, 

In our Hght we scatter' d lie ; 
All is thus but starlight here. 

"Wliat is social company 

But a babbling summer-stream ? 

"What our wise philosophy 
But the glancing of a dream ? 

Only when the sun of love 

Melts the scatter' d stars of thought. 
Only when we Hve above 

What the dim-eyed world hath taught, 

Only when our souls are fed 

By the Eount which gave them birth, 
And by inspiration led 

AYhich they never drew from earth ; 

We, like parted drops of rain. 
Swelling till they meet and run, 

Shall be all absorb'd again. 
Melting, flowing into one. 

C. P. Cea^^ch. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 571 

Wt are as Barfts afioat upon tfje <Sea> 

r^UE thouglits are boundless, thougli our frames 
^-^ are frail, 

Our souls immortal, tliougli our limbs decay ; 
Though darken' d in this poor life by a veil 

Of suffering, dying matter, we shall play 

In truth's eternal sunbeams ; on the way 
To heaven's high capitol our cars shall roll ; 

The temple of the Power whom all obey. 
That is the mark we tend to, for the soul 
Can take no lower flight, and seek no meaner goal. 

I feel it — though the flesh is weak, I feel 
The spirit has its energies untamed 

By all its fatal wanderings ; time may heal 
The wounds which it has suffer' d ; folly claim' d 
Too large a portion of its youth ; ashamed 

Of those low pleasures, it would leap and fly, 
And soar on wings of lightning, like the famed 

Elijah, when the chariot, rushing by, 

Bore him with steeds of fire triumphant to the sky. 

We are as barks afloat upon the sea, 

Helmless and earless, when the light has fled, 

The spirit, whose strong influence can free 
The drowsy soul, that slumbers in the dead 
Cold night of mortal darkness ; from the bed 

Of sloth he rouses at her sacred call. 

And, kindling in the blaze around him shed, 

Eends with strong effort sin's debasing thrall. 

And gives to Gron his strength, his heart, his 
mind, his all. 



572 SOJ^GS OF THE SOUL; 

Our home is not on earth ; although we sleep, 

And sink in seeming death a while, yet, then, 
The awakening voice speaks loudly, and we leap 

To life, and energy, and light, again ; 

We cannot slumber always in the den 
Of sense and selfishness ; the day will break, 

Ere we forever leave the haunts of men ; 
Even at the parting hour the soul will wake, 
JSTor, like a senseless brute, its unknown journey 
take. 

How awful is that hour, when conscience stings 
The hoary wretch, who, on his death-bed hears. 
Deep in his soul, the thundering voice that rings. 
In one dark, damning moment, crimes of years 
And, screaming like a vulture in his ears, 
Tells, one by one, his thoughts and deeds of 
shame, 
How wild the fury of his soul careers ! 
His swart eye flashes with intensest flame. 
And like the torture's rack the wrestling of his 
frame. 

James Gr. Perciyal, 



SEijat is ^rager ? 

T)I^ATER is the soul's sincere desire. 

Uttered or unexpressed ; 
The motion of a hidden fire. 
That trembles at the breast. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 573 

Prayer is the burden of a sigli, 

The falling of a tear ; 
The upAvard glancing of an eye, 

"When none but Grod is near. 

Prayer is the simplest form of speech 

That infant lips can try ; 
Prayer, the sublimest strains that reach 

The Majesty on high. 

Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, 

The Christian's native air; 
His watchword at the gates of death — 

He enters heaven by prayer. 

Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice, 

Returning from his ways ; 
While angels in their songs rejoice, 

And cry, " Behold, he prays 1" 

The saints in prayer appear as one, 

In word, and deed, and mind ; 
While with the Father and the Son, 

Sweet fellowship they find. 

Nor prayer is made on earth alone : 

The Holy Spirit pleads ; 
And Jesus on the eternal throne 

Por mourners intercedes. 

Thou ! by whom we come to Grod, 

The life, the truth, the way ! 
The path of prayer thyself hast trod : 

Lord, teach us how to pray. 

James MoNTaoMEBT. 



574 SOJ^GS OF THU SOUL; 

M^m Spring ©nlocj^s tije JFIoijjers. 

TT7HEN Spring unlocks the flowers, to paint 

' the laughing soil ; 
"WTien Summer's balmy showers refresh the 

mower's toil ; 
When "Winter binds in frosty chains the fallow 

and the flood, 
In Grod the earth rejoiceth still, and owns his 

Maker good. 

The birds that wake the morning, and those that 

love the shade ; 
The winds that sweep the mountain, or lull the 

drowsy glade ; 
The sun that from his amber bower rejoiceth on 

his way. 
The moon, and stars, their Maker's name in 

silent pomp display. 

Shall man the lord of natiu^e, expectant of the 

sky,— 
Shall man alone unthankful, his little praise 

deny ? 
]N"o, — ^let the year forsake his course, the seasons 

cease to be, 
Thee, Master, must we always love ; and, Saviour, 

honour Thee. 

The flowers of Spring may wither, — the hope of 
Summer fade, — 

The Autumn droop in Winter, — the birds for- 
sake the shade, — 



FROM MINES OF THOTTGHT. 575 

The wind be lulled, — the sun and moon forget 

their old decree, — 
But we in nature's latest hour, O Lord! will 

cling to Thee. 

Bishop Hebee. 



SEtnter Saftbatfj MM. 

TTOW dazzling white the snowy scene ; deep, 

deep, 
The stillness of the winter Sabbath-day, — 
Not even a foot-fall heard. Smooth are the fields, 
Each hollow pathway level with the plain : 
Hid are the bushes, save that here and there 
Are seen the topmost shoots of brier or broom. 
High ridged the whirled drift has almost reached 
The powdered key- stone of the churchyard porch ; 
Mute hangs the hooded bell ; the tombs lie buried : 
JSTo step approaches to the house of prayer : 
The flickering fall is o'er ; the clouds disperse. 
And show the sun hung o'er the welkin's verge, 
Shooting a bright but inefiectual beam 
On all the sparkling waste. Now is the time 
To visit natiu'e in her grand atth*e ; 
Though perilous the mountainous ascent, 
A noble recompense the danger brings. 
How beautiful the plain stretched far below, 
Unvaried though it be, save by yon stream 
With azure vdndings, or the leafless wood. 



576 SOJS^GS OF THJE SOUL; 

But what tlie beaut j of tlie plain, compared 
To that sublimity whicb reigns enthroned, 
Holding joint rule with solitude divine, 
Among yon rocky fells that bid defiance 
To steps the most adventurously bold ! 
There silence dwells profound ; or if the cry 
Of high-poised eagle break at times the calm, 
The mantled echoes no response return. 
But let me now explore the deep sunk dell : 
IN'o foot-print, save the covey's or the flock's, 
Is seen along the rill, where marshy springs 
Still rear the grassy blade of vivid green. 
Beware, ye shepherds, of these treacherous haunts, 
Nor linger there too long : the wintry day 
Soon closes, and full oft a heavier fall. 
Heaped by the blast, fills up the shelter' d glen. 
AVhile gurgling deep below the buried rill 
Mines for itself a snow-coved way. Oh ! then 
Tour helpless charge drive from the tempting spot. 
And keep them on the bleak hill's stormy side, 
Where night-winds sweep the gathermg drift 
away : 

So the Great Shepherd leads the heavenly flock 
From faithless pleasures full into the storms 
Of life, where long they bear the bitter blast. 
Until at length the vernal sun looks forth, 
Bedimmed with showers ; then to the pastures 

green 
He brings them where the quiet waters glide, 
The streams of life, the Siloah of the soul. 

James Geahame. 



FE03I MINES OF THOUGHT, 577 

SEIjo is t|)e Itinfl of (^lorg? 

TTE AE/, O ye nations ! hear it, O ye dead 1 
-^-^ He rose ! lie rose ! he burst the bars of death. 
Lift np your heads, ye everlasting gates ! 
And give the King of glory to come in. 
Who is the King of glory ? he who left 
His throne of glory, for the pang of death ! 
Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates ! 
And give the King of glory to come in. 
Who is the King of glory ? he who slew 
The ravenous foe, that gorg'd all human race ! 
The King of glory, he, whose glory fill'd 
Heaven with amazement at his love to man ; 
And with divine complacency beheld 
Fowers most illumin'd wilder' d in the theme. 

The theme, the joy, how then shall man sustain? 
Oh the bin"st gates! crush' d sting! demolish' d 

throne ! 
Last gasp ! of vanquish' d Death. Shout Earth 

and Heaven ! 
This sum of good to man. Whose nature, then. 
Took wing, and mounted with him from the tomb ! 
Then, then, I rose ; then first humanity 
Triumphant pass'd the crystal ports of light, 
(Stupendous guest !) and seiz'd eternal youth, 
Seiz'd in our name. E'er since, 't is blasphemous 
To call man mortal. Man's mortality 
Was, then, transferr'd to death ; and Heaven's 

duration 
"[Inalienably seal'd to this frail frame, 
2 p 



578 SOJVGS OF THE SOUL; 

This child of dust — Man, all immortal ! liail ; 
Hail, Heaven! all layish. of strange gifts to man ! 
Thine all the glory; man's the boundless bliss. 
Where am I rapt by this triumphant theme, 
On Christian joy"' s exulting wing, above 
Th' Aonian mount ? Alas I small cause for joy ! 
What if to pain immortal ? if extent 
Of being, to preclude a close of woe ? 
Where, then, my boast of immortality ? 
I boast it still, though cover' d o'er with guilt ; 
For guilt, not innocence, his life he pour'd, 
'T is guilt alone can justify his death ! 
JSTor that, unless his death can justify 
Relenting guilt in Heaven's indulgent sight. 
If, sick of folly, I relent ; he writes 
My name in Heaven, with that inverted spear 
(A spear deep-dipt in blood!) which pierc'd his 

side. 
And opened there a font for all mankind. 
Who strive, who combat crimes, to drink, and 

live: - 
This, only this, subdues the foar of death. 

And what is this? — Survey the wondrous cure : 
And at each step, let higher wonder rise ! 
" Pardon for infinite offence I and pardon 
Through means that speak its value infinite ! 
A pardon bought with blood ! with blood divine ! 
With blood divine of him I made my foe ! 
Persisted to provoke ! though wooM, and aw'd, 
Blest, and chastised, a fiagrant rebel still! 
A rebel, 'midst the thunders of his throne ! 
Nor I alone 1 a rebel universe ! 



FEOM MINES OF THOUGRT. 579 

My species up in arms ! not one exempt ! 
Yet for tlie foulest of the foul he dies, 
Most joy'd, for the redeem' d from deepest guilt I 
As if our race were held of highest rank ; 
And godhead dearer, as more kind to man !" 

Bound, every heart ! and every bosom burn ! 
O what a scale of miracles is here ! 
Its lowest round, high planted on the skies ; 
Its towering summit lost beyond the thought 
Of man or angel ! O that I could climb 
The Avonderful ascent, with equal praise ! 
Fraise ! flow for ever (if astonishment 
"Will give thee leave :) my praise ! for ever flow ; 
Praise ardent, cordial, constant, to high Heaven 
More fragrant, than Arabia sacrific'd. 
And all her spicy mountains in a flame. 

So dear, so due to Heaven, shall^m^>c descend, 
"With her soft plume (from 'plausive angel's wing 
rirst pluck' d by man) to tickle mortal ears, 
Thus diving in the pockets of the great ? 
Is praise the perquisite of every paw. 
Though black as Hell, that grapples well for 

gold? 
Oh love of gold ! thou meanest of amours ! 
^]id^ jpraise her odours waste on virtue's dead. 
Embalm the base, perfume the stench of guilt, 
Earn dirty bread by washing Ethiops fair, 
Removing filth, or sinking it from sight, 
A scavenger in scenes, where vacant posts, 
Like gibbets yet untenanted, expect 
Their future ornaments ? Prom courts and 
thrones. 



580 SO^^GS OF THE SOUL; 

^Return, apostate Praise ! thou vagabond ! 
Thou prostitute ! to thy first love return, 
Thy first, thy greatest, once unrivall'd theme. 

There flow redundant ; like Meander flow 
Back to thy fountain ; to that Parent Power, 
Who gives the tongue to sound, the thought to 

soar, 
The soul to he. Men homage pay to men. 
Thoughtless beneath whose dreadful eye they bow 
In mutual awe profound of clay to clay, 
Of guilt to guilt ; and turn their back on thee, 
Great Sire! whom thrones celestial ceaseless 

sing: 
To prostrate angels, an amazing scene ! 
O the presumption of man's awe for man ! 
Man's Author ! End ! Eestorer ! Law ! and 

Judge ! 
Thine, all; day thine, and thine this gloom of 

nigJit, 
With all her wealth, with all her radiant worlds : 
What, night eternal, but a frown from thee ? 
AYhat, Heaven's meridian glory, but thy smile ? 
And shall not praise be thine, not human praise ? 
AVhile Heaven's high host on liallehijaJis live ? 

may I breathe no longer than I breathe 
My soul in praise to him, who gave my soul, 
And all her infinite of prospect fair. 
Cut through the shades of Hell, great love ! by 

thee, 
O most adorable ! most unador'd. 
Where shall that praise begin, which ne'er should 

end? 



FROM Mi:^i:S OF THOUGHT. 581 

Where'er I turn, wliat claim on all applause! 
How is nighfs sable mantle laboured o'er, 
How rieblj wrought with attributes divine ! 
^^Hiat wisdom shines ! what love ! this midnight 

pomp, 
This gorgeous arch, with golden worlds inlay' d! 
Built mth divine ambition ! nought to thee ; 
For others this profusion : thou, apart, 
Above ! beyond ! O tell me, might j Mind ! 
AVTiere art thou ? shall I dive into the deei^ ? 
Call to the ^un^ or ask the roaring icinds, 
For their Creator ? Shall I question loud 
The thunder, if in that th' Almighty dwells ? 
Or holds he furious storms in straiten' d reins, 
And bids fierce ivhirlwinds wheel his rapid car ? 
"What mean these questions ? Trembling, I 

retract ; 
My prostrate soul adores the present God: 
Praise I a distant deity ? He tunes 
My voice (if tun'd) ; the nerve, that writes, 

sustains : 
AYrapt in his being, I resound his praise : 
But though past all diffus'd, Avithout a shore, 
His essence ; local is his throne, (as meet,) 
To gather the disperst, (as standards call 
The listed from afar) : to fix a point, 
A central point, collective of his sons, 
^mcejinite every nature but his own. 

The nameless He, whose nod is Nature's birth ; 
And Xat lire's shield, the shadow of his hand ; 
Her dissolution, his suspended smile ! 
The great First- Last I pavilion' d high he sits, 



582 SOJSTGS OF THE SOUL; 

In darkness from excessive splendour borne, 
By gods unseen, unless through lustre lost. 
His glory, to created glory, bright, 
As that to central horrors ; he looks down 
On all that soars ; and spans immensity. 

Edwaed ToiJKa. 



latt in ?lope: tlje Hormns ©atonetfj. 

■p VEET day hath toil and trouble. 

Every heart hath care : 
Meekly bear thine own full measure, 
And thy brother's share. 

Eear not, shrink not, though the burden 

Heavy to thee prove ; 
Grod shall fill thy mouth with gladness, 

And thy heart with love. 

Patiently enduring, ever 

Let thy spirit be 
Bound by links, that can not sever. 

To humanity. 

Labor — wait ! thy Master perished 

Ere his task was done ; 
Count not lost thy fleeting moments, 

Life hath but begun. 

Labor ! and the seed thou sowest 

AYater with thy tears ; 
Grod is faithful — he will give thee 

Answer to thy prayers. 



FROM MINES OF TROTTGRT. 583 

Wait in hope ! though yet no verdure 

Grlad thy longing eyes, 
Thou shalt see the ripened harvest 

Grarnered in the skies. 

Labor — ^wait ! though midnight shadows 

G-ather round thee here, 
And the storms above thee lowering 

Fill thy heart with fear — 

AVait in hope : the morning dawneth 

When the night is gone, 
And a peaceful rest awaits thee 

When thy work is done. 

MAEaABET L. Bailey. 



SHlstrom, IPotoer, antr ILO&0 of ffiotr. 

TXriSDOM took up her harp, and stood in place 
Of frequent concourse, stood in every gate, 
By every way, and walked in every street ; 
And lifting up her voice, proclaimed : " Be wise, 
Te fools ! be of an understanding heart ; 
Forsake the wicked, come not near his house, 
Pass by, make haste, depart and turn away. 
Me follow — me, whose ways are pleasantness. 
Whose paths are peace, whose end is perfect joy." 
The seasons came and went, and went and came, 
To teach men gratitude ; and as they passed. 
Grave warning of the lapse of time, that else 
Had stolen unheeded by. The gentle flowers 



584 SOJSTGS OF TKB SOUL; \ 

Eetired, and stooping o'er tlie wilderness, 

Talked of humility, and peace, and love. j 

The dews came down nnseen at erening-tide, 

And silently their bounties shed, to teach 

Mankind unostentatious charity. 

"^^^ith arm in arm the forest rose on high, 

And lesson gave of brotherly regard. 

And on the rugged mountain-brow exposed. 

Bearing the blast alone, the ancient oak 

Stood, lifting high his mighty arm, and still 

To courage in distress exhorted loud. 

The flocks, the herds, the birds, the streams, the 

breeze. 
Attuned the heart to melody and love. 
Mercy stood in the cloud, ^\-ith eye that wept 
Essential love ! and from her glorious bow. 
Bending to kiss the Earth in token of peace, 
With her own lips, her gracious lips, which Grod 
Of sweetest accent made, she whispered still, 
She whispered to Eevenge, Eorgive, forgive. 
The Sun, rejoicing round the earth, announced 
Daily the wisdom, power, and love of Grod. 
The ]Moon awoke, and from her maiden face, 
Shedding her cloudy locks, looked meekly forth, 
And with her virgin stars walked in the heavens, 
AValked nightly there, conversing, as she walked, 
Of purity, and holiness, and Grod. 
In dreams and visions, sleep instructed much. 
Day uttered speech to day, and night to night 
Taught knowledge. Silence had a tongue ; the 

grave. 
The darkness, and the lonely waste, had each 



FBOM MINES OF THOUGHT. 585 

A tongue tliat ever said, Man ! think of Grod ! 

Think of thyself ! think of eternity ! 

Fear Grod, the thunder said — Eear Grod, the 

waves ; 
Fear Grod, the lightning of the storm replied ; 
Fear Grod, deep loudly answered back to deep. 
And in the temples of the Holy One, 
Messiah's messengers, the faithful few, 
Faithful 'mong many false, the Bible opened. 
And cried, Kepent ! repent, ye sons of men ! 

EoEERT Pollok:. 



SEitfjout t!)2 ^r^setice llea&en's no 
^eaben for me. 

T LOVE (and have some cause to love,) the 
earth, 
She is my Maker's creature, therefore good : 
She is my mother, for she gave me birth ; 
She is my tender nurse, she gives me food : 
But what's a creature. Lord, compared with Thee ? 
Or what's my mother or my nurse to me ? 

I love the air ; her dainty fruits refresh 

My drooping soul, and to new sweets in- 
vite me ; 
Her shrill-mouthed choirs sustain me with 
their flesh, 
And with their polyphonian notes delight 
me : 



586 SO^^GS OF THE SOUL; 

Eut what's tlie air, or all the sweets that she 
Can bless mj soul withal, compared to Thee ? 

I love the sea ; she is my fellow creature, 

My careful purveyor, she provides me store ; 
She walls me round; she makes my diet 
greater ; 
She wafts my treasure from a foreign shore ; 
But, Lord of oceans, when compared with Thee, 
What is the ocean or her wealth to me ? 

To heaven's high city I direct my journey, 

TiHiose spangled suburbs entertain mine eye; 
Mine eye, by contemplation's great attorney, 
Transcends the crystal pavement of the sky ; 
But what is heaven, great Grod, compared with 

Thee? 
Without thy presence, heaven's no heaven to me. 

Without thy presence, earth gives no refection ; 
"Without thy presence, sea affords no trea- 
sure; 
Without thy presence, air's a rank infection ; 
Without thy presence, heaven itself no 
pleasure ; 
If not possessed, if not enjoyed in Thee, 
What's earth, or sea, or air, or heaven to me ? 

The highest honour that the world can boast, 

Are subjects far too low for my desire ; 
Its brightest beams of glory are at most 
But dying sparkles of thy living fire ; 
The proudest flames that earth can kindle, be 
But nightly glowworms if compared to Thee. 



FROM MINES OF THOTTGHT, 587 

Without tiiy presence, wealth is bags of care ; 

Wisdom but folly ; joy, disquiet sadness ; 

Friendship is treason, and delights are snares ; 

Pleasures but pain, and mirth but pleasing 

madness. 

Without Thee, Lord, things be not what they be, 

Nor have their being when compared with Thee. 

In having all things and not Thee, what have I ? 
Not having Thee, what have my labours got ? 
Let me enjoy but Thee, what further crave I ? 
And having Thee alone, what have I not ? 
I wish not sea nor land ; nor would I be 
Possessed of heaven, heaven unpossessed of Thee. 
Peais^cis Quaeles. 



^^T OVE Grod, love truth, love virtue, and be 
-^ happy;" 

These were the words first uttered in the ear 
Of every being rational made, and made 
Por thought, or word, or deed accountable. 
Most men the first forgot, the second none. 
Whatever path they took, by hill or vale, 
By day or night, the universal wish. 
The aim and sole intent was happiness. 
But, erring from the heaven-appointed path. 
Strange tracks indeed they took through barren 

wastes. 
And up the sandy mountain climbing toiled, 



5S8 SOJ}^GS OF THE SOUL; 

"WTiich pining lay beneath the curse of- God. 

And nought produced. Yet did the traveller look 

And point his eye before liim greedily. 

As if he saw some verdant spot, where grew 

The heavenly flower, where sprang the well of life, 

"WTiere undistm^bed felicity reposed ; 

Though "Wisdom's eye no vestige could discern. 

That happiness had ever passed that way. 

AYisdom was ri2;ht. for still the terms remained 
TJnchano-ed, unchan2:eable — ^the terms on which 
True peace was given to man, unchanged as God, 
AYho, in His own essential nature, binds 
Eternally to virtue happiness, 
Isov lets them part through all His universe. 

EoBEET Polloe:. 



5Bi)crc Cixro or €l)rcc arc Gatfjcrrti 
to(jrt]^cr> 

TT is the Sabbath bell, which calls to prayer, 
Even to the House of God, the hallowed dome, 
AYhere He who claims it bids his people come 
To bow before his throne, and serve Him there 
AVith prayers, and thanks, and praises. JSome 
there are 
AYho hold it meet to linger now at home, 
And some o'er fields and the wide hills to roam, 
And worship in the temple of the air ! 



FROM MINi:S OF TROVGHT, 589 

For me, not heedless of the lone address, 
JSTor slack to greet my Maker on the height, 

By wood, or living stream ; yet not the less 
Seek I his presence in each social rite 

Of his own temple : that He deigns to bless, 
Tliere still he dwells, and there is his delight. 

Bishop Maist. 



'm^m art Cijou, |Mtg!)t9 ©ne? 

TT7IIAT art Thou, mighty One ? and where 
^ ^ thy seat ? 
Thou broodest on the calm that cheers the 

lands. 
And thou dost bear within thy awful hands 
The rolling thunders and the lightnings fleet ; 
Stern on thy dark-wrought car of cloud and wind 
Thou guid'st the northern storm at night's 

dread noon. 
Or on the red wing of the fierce monsoon 
Disturb' st the sleeping giant of the Ind. 
In the drear silence of the polar span 

Dost Thou repose ? or in the solitude 
Of sultry tracks, where the lone caravan 

Hears nightly howl the tiger's hungry brood ? 
Vain thought ! the confines of his throne to trace. 
Who glows through all the fields of boundless 
space. 

He]s^iit Kieke White. 



590 SOJSTGS OF THE SOUL; 

Matd)mg for i^t Son of fHatx. 

T? VEI^ thus, amid thy pride and luxury, 

O earth ! shall that last coming burst on 
thee, 
That secret coming of the Son of Man, 
"When all the cherub-thronging clouds shall shine 
Irradiate with his bright advancing sign : 

When that great Husbandman shall wave his 
fan, 
STreeping like chaff, thy wealth and pomp away : 
Still to the noontide of that nightless day, 

Shalt thou thy wonted dissolute course main- 
tain. 
Along the busy mart and crowded street. 
The buyer and the seller still shall meet, 

And marriage feasts begin their jocund strain : 
Still to the pouring out the cup of woe ; 
Till earth, a drunkard, reeling to and fro, 
And mountains molten by His burning feet. 
And heaven His presence own, all red with 
furnace heat. 

The hundred-gated cities then. 

The toAvers and temples named of men 

Eternal and the thrones of kings ; 
The gilded summer-palaces. 
The courtly bowers of love and ease. 

Where stiU the bird of pleasure sings ; 
Ask ye the destiny of them ? 
Go, gaze on faUen Jerusalem ! 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 591 

Tea, miglitier names are in the fatal roll, 

'Gainst earth and heaven God's standard is 
unfurled, 
The skies are shrivelled like a burning scroll. 
And the vast common doom ensepulchres the 
world. 

Oh ! who shall then survive ? 
Oh ! who shall stand and live ? 
"When all that hath been is no more : 
When for the round earth hung in air, 
With all its constellations fair, 
In the sky's azure canopy ; 
When all the breathing earth and sparkluig sea, 

Is but a fiery deluge without shore, 
Heaving along the abyss profound and dark, 
A fiery deluge, and without an ark. 

Lord of all power, when Thou art there alone. 
On thy eternal, fiery wheeled throne, 
That in its high meridian noon 
JSTeeds not the perished sun nor moon : 
When Thou art there in Thy presiding state, 
AVide-sceptered monarch o'er the realm of 
doom. 
When from the sea- depths, from earth's darkest 

womb. 
The dead of all the ages round Thee wait ; 
And when the tribes of Avickedness are strown. 

Like forest leaves in the autunm of Thine ire : 
raithful and true ! Thou still wilt save Thine own ! 
The saints shall dwell within th' unharming 
fire, 



592 SONGS OF THE SOUL; 

Eacli wliite robe spotless, blooming every palm. 
Even safe as we by tbis still fountain side, 
So sball tbe Chnrcb, Tby brigbt and mystic 
Bride, 

Sit on tbe stormy gTibf a balcyon bird of calm. 
Yes, 'mid yon angry and destroying signs, 
O'er ns tbe rainbow of Tby mercy sbines ; 

We bail, we bless tbe covenant of its beam, 

Almigbty to avenge, Almigbtiest to redeem ! 
He2>'ey Haet Milma]??^. 



5Ef)m Strrants of iLibmg ^Mmx 3aun. 

ll/rETHINKS, wben on tbe languid eye 

Life's autnmn scenes grow dim ; 
"Wben evening's sbadows veil tbe sky, 

Ajid Pleasure's syren bymn 
Grows fainter on tbe tuneless ear, 
Like ecboes from anotber spbere, 

Or dream of serapbim, 
It were not sad to cast away 
Tbis dull and cumbrous load of clay. 

It were not sad to feel tbe beart 

Grrow passionless and cold ; 
To feel those longings to depart 

Tbat cbeer'd tbe good of old ; 
To clasp tbe faitb wbicb looks on bigb, 
Wbicb fires tbe Cbristian's dying eye, 

And makes tbe curtain-fold 



FROM MIJSrES OF THOTTGHT, 593 

Tliat falls upon his wasting breast 
The door that leads to endless rest. 

It were not lonely thus to lie 

On that triumphant bed, 
Till the pure spirit mounts on high, 

By white- wing' d seraphs led : 
"Where glories earth may never know 
O'er "many mansions" lingering glow, 

In peerless lustre shed ; 
It were not lonely thus to soar, 
AYhere sin and grief can sting no more. 

And, though the way to such a goal 

Lies through the clouded tomb, 
If on the free, unfetter' d soul 

There rest no stains of gloom, 
How should its aspirations rise 
Par through the blue unpillar'd skies, 

Up, to its final home ! 
Beyond the journeyings of the sun, 
"Where streams of living waters run. 

Willis Gr. Claek. 



SEatrfj, antr ^rag. 

nnO him who in the love of JSTature holds 
-^ Communion ^^ith her visible forms, she speaks 
A various language ; for his gayer hours 
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile 
2 Q 



594 SO^^GS OF TSE SOUL; 

And eloqiienee of beauty, and she glides 
Into his darker musings, with a mild 
And healing sympathy, that steals away 
Their sharpness, ere he is aware. "When thoughts 
Of the last bitter hour come like a blio'ht 

o 

Over thy spirit, and sad images 

Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, 

And breathless darkness, and the narrow house, 

Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart ; — 

Go forth, under the open sky, and list 

To Nature's teachings, while from all around — 

Earth and her waters, and the depths of air, — 

Comes a still voice — Tet a few days, and thee 

The all-beholding sun shall see no more 

In all his course ; nor yet in the cold ground, 

"Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, 

jS'or in the embrace of ocean, shaU exist 

Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall 

claim 
Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again. 
And, lost each human trace, surrendering up 
Thine individual being, shalt thou go 
To mix for ever with the elements. 
To be a brother to the insensible rock 
And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain 
Turns ydth. his share, and treads upon. The oak 
Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould. 

Yet not to thine eternal resting-place 
Shalt thou retire alone — nor couldst thou wish 
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down 
With patriarchs of the infant world — with kings, 



FBOM MINES OF THOUGHl, 595 

The powerful of the earth — the wise, the good, 
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past. 
All in one mighty sepulchre. — The hiUs 
Eock-ribbed and ancient as the sun, — the vales 
Stretching in pensive quietness between ; 
The venerable woods — rivers that move 
In majesty, and the complaining brooks 
That make the meadows green; and, poured 

round aU, 
Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste, — 
Are but the solemn decorations all 
Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun, 
The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, 
Are shining on the sad abodes of death. 
Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread 
The globe are btit a handful to the tribes 
That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings 
Of morning — and the Barcan desert pierce, 
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods 
Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound. 
Save his own dashings — ^yet — the dead are there ; 
And millions in those solitudes, since first 
The fiight of years began, have laid them down 
In their last sleep — the dead reign there alone. 
So shalt thou rest — and what if thou withdraw 
Unheeded by the living, and no friend 
Take note of thy departure ? All that breathe 
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh 
"When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care 
Plod on, and each one as before will chase 
His favourite phantom ; yet aU these shall leave 



596 SOJSTGS OF THU SOUL; 

Their mirtli and their employments, and shall 

come, 
And make their bed with thee. As the long train 
Of ages glide away, the sons of men, 
The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes 
In the full strength of years, matron, and maid, 
And the sweet babe, and the gray-headed man, — 
Shall one by one be gathered to thy side, 
By those, who in their turn shall follow them. 

So Hve, that when thy summons comes to join 
The innumerable caravan, that moves 
To that mysterious realm, where each shaU take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death. 
Thou go not like the quarry-slave at night, 
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and 

soothed 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave. 
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
About him, and Hes down to pleasant dreams. 

W. C. Betaft. 



MM in ^t ILisfjt 

TirrALK in the light ! so shalt thou know 

That fellowship of love, 
His Spirit only can bestow 

Who reigns in light above. 
Walk in the light ! and sin abhorred 

Shall ne'er defile again ; 
The blood of Jesus Christ the Lord, 

ShaU cleanse from every stain. 



FROM MINES OF THOUGHT. 597 

Walk in the light ! and thou shalt find 

Thy heart made truly His, 
"Who dwells in cloudless light enshrined, 

In whom no darkness is. 
Walk in the light ! and thou shalt own 

Thy darkness passed away, 
Eecause that light hath on thee shone, 

In which is perfect day. 

Walk in the light ! and e'en the tomb 

No fearful shade shall wear ; 
Grlory shall chase away its gloom, 

Tor Christ hath conquer' d there ! 
Walk in the light ! and thou shalt see 

A path, though thorny, bright ; 
Por Grod, by grace, shall dwell in thee, 

And Grod Himself is light. 

Ai^OK. 



SSaijat ^t WAm toe ftnoto is ^ure 

f^ OD is not great because omnipotent ! 

But because power in Him is understood 
And felt, and proved to be benevolent. 

And wise, and holy ; — thus it ever should ! 

For what He wills we know is pure and good, 
And has in view the happiness of all : 

Hence love and adoration : — ^never could 
The contrite spirit at his footstool faU, 
If power, and power alone, its feelings did appall I 



598 sojsras of tsu soul; 

If fhen divinest power be truly so, 
Because its proper object is to bless ; 

It follows, that all power wbicb man can know, 
The highest even monarchs can possess, 
Display alone their "less than littleness," 

Unless it seek the happiness of man 

And glory of the Highest ; — ^nothing less 

Than such a use of power one moment can 

Make its possessor great, on wisdom's God-Kke 
plan. 

Beekaed Baeto:n^. 



SMfjen l^intJreti iEintfS tfjetr ®Eotr 
pursue. 

T'M borne aloft, and leave the crowd, 
I sail upon a morning cloud. 

Skirted with dawning gold : 
Mine eyes beneath the opening day 
Command the globe with "v^dld survey, 
"Where ants in busy millions play, 

And try and heave the mould. 

" Are these the things " (my passion cried,) 
" That we caU men ? Are these allied 

To the fair worlds of light ? 
They have rased out their Maker's name. 
Graven on their minds with pointed flame, 

In strokes divinely bright. 



FROM MINES OF THOTIGHT. 599 

" AYretches ! they hate their native skies ; 
If an ethereal thought arise, 

Or spark of virtue shine, 
"With cruel force they damp its plumes, 
Choke the young fire with sensual fumes, 

With business, lust, or wine. 

" Lo ! how they throng with panting breath 

The broad descending road, 
That leads unerring down to death, 

Nor miss the dark abode." 
Thus while I drop a tear or two 
On the wild herd, a noble few 
Dare to stray upward, and pursue 

The unbeaten way to Grod. 

I meet Myrtillo mounting high^ 

I know his candid soul afar ; 
Here Dorylis and Thyrsis fiy. 

Each like a rising star ; 
Charin I see, and Eidea there, 
I see them help each other's flight, 

And bless them as they go : 
They soar beyond thy labouring sight. 
And leave their loads of mental care. 

But not their love, below. 
On heaven, their home, they fi:s: their eyes. 

The temple of their Grod : 
With morning incense up they rise, 
Sublime, and through the lower skies. 

Spread their perfumes abroad. 



600 SOI^GS OF THU SOUL; 

Across tlie road a seraph flew, 
" Mark,'' (said he), " that happy pair, 
Marriage helps devotion there : 
When kindred minds their God pursue, 
They break with double vigour through 
The dull incumbent air." 

Charmed with the pleasure and surprise, 
My soul adores and sings — 
" Elest be the power that springs their flight. 
That streaks their path with heavenly light, 
That turns their love to sacrifice, 
And joins their zeal for wings." 

Isaac "V/atts. 



C TEANGrE scene of glory ! am I well awake. 

Or is't my fancy's wild mistake ? 
It cannot be a dream ; bright beams of light 
riow from the visions fair, and pierce my tender 

sight — 
'No common vision this ; I see 
Some marks of more than human majesty. 
Who is this mighty Hero, who 
With glories round his head, and terror in his 

brow ? 
From Bozrah, lo ! He comes : a scarlet dye 
O'erspreads his clothes, and does outvie 
The blushes of the morning sky. 
Triumphant and victorious He appears. 
And honour in his looks and habit wears : 



FEOM MINES OF THOUGHT, 601 

How strong He treads, how stately does He go ! 
Pompous and solemn is his pace, 
And full of majesty as his face, 
Who is this mighty Hero, who ? 

'Tis I who to my promise faithful stand ; 

I who the powers of death, hell, and the grave, 
Have foiled with this all-conquering hand ; 

I who most ready am and mighty too, to save. 

Why wearest Thou then this scarlet dye ? 
Say, mighty Hero, why ? 
Why do thy garments look all red. 
Like them that in the wine-vat tread ? 

The wine-press I alone have trod : 
That vast unwielding frame, which long did 

stand 
Unmoved, and which no mortal force could 

e'er command. 
That ponderous mass I plied alone, 
Amd with me to assist were none. 
A mighty task it was, worthy the Son of Grod ; 
Angels stood trembling at the dreadful sight, 
Concerned with what success I should go 

through 
The work I undertook to do ; 
Enraged I put forth aU my might. 
And down the engine pressed ; the violent force 
Disturbed the universe, put nature out of course ; 
The blood gushed out in streams, and checkered 

o'er 
My garments vdth its deepest gore ; 
With ornamental drops bedecked I stood. 



602 SOJ^aS OF THJE SO VL ; 

And writ my victor j with, my enemy's blood. 
The day, the signal day is come 

"When of my enemies I must yengeance take ; 
The day when death shall have its doom, 

And the dark kingdom with its power shall shake. 

Pate in her calendar marked out this day with red, 

She folded down the iron leaf, and thus she said : 

" This day, if aught I can divine be true, 
Shall for a signal victory, 
Be celebrated to posterity : 
Then shall the Prince of light descend. 
And rescue mortals from the infernal fiend ; 

Break through his strongest forts, and all his 
hosts subdue." 
This said, she shut the adamantine volume close, 
And wished she might the crowding years 

transpose ; 
So much she longed to have the scene display. 
And see the vast event of this important day. 

And now in midst of the revolving years, 

This great, this mighty One appears : 

The faithful traveller, the sun. 

Has numbered out the days, and the set 

period run. 
I looked, and to assist was none ; 
My angelic guards stood trembling by, 
But durst not venture nigh. 
In vain, too, from my Pather did I look 
Por help, my Pather me forsook. 
.Amazed I was to see, 

How all deserted me. 



FROM MINES OF TROTTGRT, 603 

I took mj far J for mj sole support, 
And with mj single arm the conquest won. 
Loud acclamations filled all heaven's court : 
The hymning guards above, 
Strained to an higher pitch of joy and love, 
The great Jehovah praised, and his victorious Son. 
Isaiah 63. — Johk IS'oeeis. 



SSafjat is rtjat, JKotfjer? 

WHAT is that, Mother ?— The lark, my 
^^ child!— 

The morn has but just look'd out, and smiled, 
When he starts from his humble grassy nest. 
And is up and away, with the dew on his breast, 
And a hymn in his heart, to yon pure, bright 

sphere. 
To warble it out in his Maker's ear. 

Ever, my child, be thy morn's first lays 
Tuned, like the lark's, to thy Maker's praise. 

"What is that, Mother ? — The dove, my son! — 
And that low, sweet voice, like a widow's moan. 
Is flowing out from her gentle breast. 
Constant and pure, by that lonely nest. 
As the wave is pour'd from some crystal urn, 
Eor her distant dear one's quick return : 
Ever, my son, be thou like the dove. 
In friendship as faithful, as constant in love. 



604 SONGS OF THE SOUL, ETC, 

"What is that, Mother ?— The eagle, boy !— 
Proudly careering his course of joy ; 
Firm, on his own mountain vigour relying, 
Breasting the dark storm, the red bolt def}dng, 
His wing, on the wind, and his eye on the sun, 
He swerves not a hair, but bears onward, right on. 
Boy, may the eagle's flight ever be thine. 
Onward, and upward, and true to the line. 

What is that. Mother ? — The swan, my love ! 
He is floating down from his native grove, 
ISTo loved one now, no nestling nigh, 
He is floating down, by himself to die ; 
Death darkens his eye, and unplumes his wings. 
Yet his sweetest song is the last he sings. 

Live so, my love, that when death shall 

COME, 

Swan-like and sweet, it may waft thee 

HOME, 

GrEOBaE W. D0A2fE. 



LIST OF AUTHORS. 



BOEK. DIED. 

ADDISON, Joseph .... 1672 1719 

Akenside, Mark 1721 1770 

Argensola, Bartolome Leonardo, Sjpanish 1566 1663 

BARBAULD, Anna Letitia . . . 1743 1825 
Barton, Bernard, a member of the Society 
of Friends. 

Burns, Robert 1759 1796 

Bryant, William Cullen, American . 1794 

Brainard, John G-. C 1796 1828 

Burleigh, WilHam H., American . • 1812 

Brooks, Maria, American . . . . 1795 1845 

Brooks, Mary E., American, still living. 

Bailey, Margaret L., American . . 1812 

Bayard, EHse Justine, American. 

Bembo, Pietro, Italian . . . , 1470 1547 

Buonarotti, Michel Angelo . . . 1474 1563 

CAREW, Thomas .... 

Coleridge, Samuel Taylor • 

Cotton, Nathaniel . , • . 

Cowper, Wilham . . . . . 1731 

Cowley, Abraham • • • . 

Campbell, Thomas .... 

Chatterton, Thomas . • • . 

Clark, W. Gr., American 

Clarke, James Freeman, American 

Cranch, C. P., American 

Case, Luella J. B., American, 

Carey, Alice and Phoebe, American. 



1577 


1639 


1772 


1834 




1788 


1731 


1800 


1618 


1667 




1845 


1752 


1770 


1810 


1841 


1810 




1815 





606 LIST OF AUTROBS. 






BOEIs-. 


DIED. 


Colonna, Yittoria, Italian^ about the 


year 


1490 


1547 


DAViES, Sir John 




1570 


1626 


Drummond, Wilham, of Hawthomden . 


1585 


1649 


Dryden, John . ... 


, 


1631 


1700 


Dwight, Timothy, American 


. 


1752 


1817 


Dana, Eichard Henry, American . 


. 


1787 




Doane, Bishop, American . 


. 


1799 




Dawes, Eufus, American 




1803 




Day, Martha, American, died when ; 


^oung 






Dach, Simon, German 


, 


1605 


1659 


De Leon, Luis Ponce, SpanisJi 


• 


1527 


1590 


ESLlNGr, Catherine H., American, 


stiU 






hying 


• • 


1812 




FLATMAlSr, Thomas . 


. 


1633 


1688 


Fuller, Margaret S., American. 








gRATTA^^IE, James 


• • 


1765 


1811 


HEBEE, Bishop Eeginald' . 




1783 


1826 


Hemans, Eehcia . . . 


, , 




1835 


Habington, Wihiam , , 




1605 


1654 


Herbert, George . . . 


. . 


1593 


1632 


Herrick, Eobert . . . . 




1591 


unk''. 


Heywood, Thomas, Temp. EHzabeth 


James, Charles I. 1 1 


Howitt, Wilham and Mary^ members of 






the Society of Eriends. 








Hooper, Lucy, American . 


• . 


1816 


1841 


Howe, Juha Ward, American, 








Hebel, Johann Peter, German 


• 


1760 


1826 


JONSON, Ben. 


• • 


1574 


1637 



LIST OF AUTHORS, 


607 




BOEN. 


DIED. 


Judson, Emily, American. 






KNOX, Willmm ., ., ., . 


1790 


1825 


King, Henry . . .^ ., . . 


1669 


1748 


Kiugo, Thomas, Danish . . . 


1634 


1723 


Klopstock, Frederick Grottleib . , . 


1724 


1803 


Kamphuyzen, Dirk Kafael, Hollander . 


1586 


1626 


LEaaETT, William, American . 


1802 


1840 


Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, American 


1807 




Landon, Letitia Elizabeth. This lady^s 






poems loere published under the initials 






L.E.L.,, . . 




1838 i 


Logan, John . . . . . . 


1748 


1788 


Lawson, Mary Lockhart, American. 






Luther, Martin ..... 


1483 


1546 


Lamartine, Alphonse 4© . . • • 


1792 




MEERICK, James , . . 


1728 


1766 


More, Hannah . . . . . . 


1745 


1833 


Marvell, Andrew 


1620 


1678 


Milton, John 


1608 


1674 


More, Henry 


1614 


1687 


Mowatt, Anna Cora, American, born at 






Bourdeaux. 






Mayo, Sarah E., American , . . 


1819 


1848 


Medici, Lorenzo de* . • . • 


1448 


1492 


NOERIS, John . . 


1657 


1711 


Norton, Andrews, Am§ricar\ . . 


1786 


1853 


OAKES-SMITH, EHzaheth, American, 






still hying. 






OHver, Helen S., American, still living , 


1811 





608 LIST OF A UTSOES. 




BOEN. 


DIED. 


Osgood, Frances S., American^ still living. 






PAEXELL, Thomas .... 


167^ 


1717 


Pollok, Eobeii; 


1799 


1827 


Prior, Matthew . • . • . 


1664 


1721 


Pierpoint, John, American , 


1785 




Percival, James Grate, American . , 


1795 




Peabodj, Wilham B. 0., American 


1799 


1847 


Prentice, Greorge D., American . . • 


1804 




Pindar, Susan, American, 






QUAELES, Francis .... 


1592 


1644 


Q.uarles, Jolm 


1624 


1665 


SMAET, Christopher .... 


1722 


1770 


Sonthey, Eobert, Poet Laureate . . 


1774 


1843 


Sandys, Greorge 


1587 


1643 


Southwell, Eobert 


1560 


1595 


Spenser, Edmund . . • • . 


1553 


1599 


Sprague, Charles, American . • , 


1791 




St. Leon Loud, Margaret, American, 






Sawyer, Caroline M., American. 






Smith, Emeline S., American, 






Sjorgen, Eric, Sivedish .... 


1794 


1828 


Salis, Johann Graudenz Yon, German 


1762 


1834 


THOMSON, James .... 


1700 


1748 


Townsend, Eliza, American^ still hving. 






Tullim, Christian Brauman , . . 


1728 


1765 


Tegner, Bishop Esaias . . • . 


1782 




UHLAND, Johann Ludwig • • • 


1787 




YAUaHAN, Henry .... 


1621 


1667 



LIST OF AUTHORS. 


609 




BOEX. 


DIED. 


Voss, Johaun Heinrich, German . . 


1751 


1826 


Yalois, Marguerite de, Reine de Navarre 


1492 


1549 


Valasco, Francisco de, Spanish. 






Yaldes, Juan Melendez, Spanish . 


1754 


1817 


WATTS, Isaac ...... 


1674 


1748 


White, Henry Kirke .... 


1785 


1807 


Wordsworth, William . . . . 


1770 


1850 


Wilcox, Carlos, American 


1794 


1827 


Ware, Henry, American . . . . 


1794 


1843 


WiUis, jS". p., American .... 


1807 




Worthington, Jane J., American . . 




1847 


Welby, Ameha B., American . ^ 


1821 




YOUNa, Edward ..... 


1681 


1765 


:P^- 






^^i^^^Jha^^. 






^^^k^^^^^^^s^ 












London: J. & W. Ridee, Printers, 14, Bartholomew Close. 






** 









■^ y^'r^^^ 



''i'^ i^'^-^-^'y ^0 










,->• "'■- 



.^ - 









-V 



.5 -r:-. 



^^ / c S 






-S-. 



.0 ^ 



. \^^ '<<.^ ,. '^ 



•^^ -:<w^^^ 









/-• * 3 N ■ > V -> . V 



"'-/■. .A 



\" <. r0' 






^ 






>->?-, "^ 



- ^ N ^ v^^ <? • ^ ^ 



%.^' 






o"^ 



0>' s ^ ^ ^ ^ . ^