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HEAVENWARD 
 
 COLLECTION   OV    HYMN'S   AND  POEMS  OF 
 CONSOLATION. 
 
 And   I  said.  Oil  that  I  had  wings  like  u  dove! 
 For  then  would  I  riV  away,  and  be  at  rest. — Psu.vt. 
 
 NEW     YO K  K  : 
 
 A  N  S  0  N    I) .    V  .    II  A  NDOLPH 
 No.    77  0    BRO  A  1)  W  A  Y  . 
 
 Corner  of  Ninth   Stn-vt. 
 
 1  5<  H  0  . 
 
Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1S66. 
 
 By    ANSON  D.   F.  RANDOLPH, 
 
 In  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
 Southern  District  of  New  York. 
 
 NEW    YORK  : 
 
 EDWARD    O.     JENKINS,    PRINTER, 
 
 20    NORTH  WILLIAM    ST. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PART    I. 
 
 HEAVEN ' 1 
 
 DEATH  AND   RESURRECTION 59 
 
 IMMORTALITY 161 
 
 PART    II. 
 
 REVERIES  AND  RETROSPECTIONS 239 
 
Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
 
 in  2012  with  funding  from 
 
 Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 
 
 http://archive.org/details/heavenwardOOnewy 
 
IN    MEMORIAM. 
 
 I  sometimes  hold  it  half  a  sin 
 
 To  put  in  words  the  grief   I  feel  ; 
 
 For  words,  like  Nature,  half  reveal 
 And  half  conceal,  the  soul  within. 
 
 But  for  the  unquiet  heart  and  brain, 
 
 A  use  in  measured  language  lies  ; 
 
 The  sad  mechanic  exercise — 
 Like  dull  narcotics,  numbing  pain. 
 
 In  words  like  weeds,  I'll  wrap  me  o'er, 
 Like  coarsest  clothes  against  the  cold; 
 But  that  large  grief  which  these  enfold, 
 
 Is  given  in  outline,  and  no  more. 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
TO    MY    CHILDREN. 
 THESE    SELECTIONS,  CULLED   FOR   THEM, 
 ARE   OFFERED,    WITH    A   MOTHER'S 
 TRUE   LOVE.    ' 
 
 Sept.,  1866. 
 
This  selection  of  gems  from  the  rich  mine  of 
 Sacred  Poetry,  which  was  made  to  beguile  the 
 weary  hour  in  a  season  of  sorrow,  is  now  pre- 
 sented to  mourning  hearts,  in  the  hope  that 
 it  may  he  of  benefit  in  ministering  consolation 
 in  trials,  in  soothing  the  distressed,  and  in 
 cheering  the  heavy-laden  in  their  aspirations 
 Heavenward. 
 
Umben. 
 
HEAVEN'S    GLORIES. 
 
 ©ax&inal  Samtani. 
 1003-1072. 
 
 In  the  Fount  of  life  perennial,  the  parched  heart  its  thirst 
 
 would  slake, 
 And  the  soul,  in  flesh  imprison?d,  longs  its  prison  walls  to 
 
 break — 
 Exile,  seeking,  sighing,  yearning,  in  her  Fatherland  to  wake. 
 
 When  with  cares  oppressed  and  sorrows,  only  groans  her 
 
 grief  can  tell, 
 Then  she  contemplates  the  glory  which  she  lost,  when  first 
 
 she  fell  ; 
 Present  evil  but  the  memory  of  the  vanished  good  can  swell. 
 
 Who  can  utter  what  the  pleasures  and  the  peace  unbroken 
 are,  * 
 
 Where  arise  the  pearly  mansions,  shedding  silvery  light 
 afar? 
 
 Festive  seats  and  golden  roofs,  which  glitter  like  the  even- 
 ing star ! 
 
 Wholly  of  fair  stones  most  precious  are  those  radiant  struc- 
 tures made  ; 
 
 With  pure  gold,  like  glass  transparent,  are  those  shining 
 streets  inlaid  : 
 
 Nothing  that  defiles  can  enter,  nothing  that  can  soil  or  fade. 
 1 
 
2  HEAVEN'S   GLORIES. 
 
 Stormy  Winter,  burning  Summer,  rage  within  those  regions 
 never, 
 
 But  perpetual  bloom  of  roses,  and  unfading  Spring  for- 
 ever ; — 
 
 Lilies  gleam,  the  crocus  glows,  and  dropping  balms  their 
 scents  deliver. 
 
 Honey  pure,  and  greenest  pastures,  this  the  land  of  prom- 
 ise is  ; 
 
 Liquid  odors  soft  distilling,  perfumes  breathing  on  the 
 breeze  ; 
 
 Fruits  immortal  cluster  always,  on  the  leafy,  fadeless  trees. 
 
 There  no  moon  shines  chill  and  changing,  there  no  stars 
 
 with  twinkling  ray, 
 For  the  Lamb  of  that  blest  city  is  at  once  the  Sun  and  Day; 
 Night  and  time  are  known  no  longer,  day  shall  never  fade 
 
 away. 
 
 There,  the  saints  like  suns  are  radiant,  like  the  sun  at  dawn 
 
 they  glow  ; 
 Crowned  victors  after  conflict,  all  their  joys  together  flow, 
 And  secure  they  count  the  battles  where  they  fought  the 
 
 prostrate  foe. 
 
 Every  stain  of  flesh  is  cleansed,  every  strife  is  left  behind, 
 Spiritual  are  their  bodies,  perfect  unity  of  mind  ; 
 Dwelling  in  deep  peace  forever,  no  offence  or  grief  they  find. 
 
heaven's  glories.  •         3 
 
 Putting  off  their  mortal  vesture,  in  their  Source  their  souls 
 they  steep — 
 
 Truth  by  actual  vision  learning,  on  its  form  their  gaze  they 
 keep — 
 
 Drinking  from  the  living  Fountain  draughts  of  living  wa- 
 ters deep. 
 
 Time,  with  all  its  alternations,  enters  not  those  hosts  among  ; 
 Glorious,  wakeful,  blest, — no  shade  of  change  o'er  them  is 
 
 flung  ; 
 Sickness  cannot  touch  the  deathless,  nor  old  age  the  ever 
 
 young. 
 
 There,  their  being  is  eternal,  things  that  cease  have  ceased 
 
 to  be  ; 
 All  corruption  there  has  perish'd,  there  they  flourish  strong 
 
 and  free  : 
 Thus  mortality  is  swallowed  up  of  life  eternally. 
 
 Naught  from  them  is  hidden,  knowing  Him  to  whom  all  is 
 
 known. 
 All  the  spirit's  deep  recesses,  sinless  to  each  other  shown. — 
 Unity  of  will  and  purpose,  heart  and  mind  forever  one. 
 
 Divers  as  their  varied  labors,  the  rewards  to  each  that  fall. 
 But  Love,  what  she  loves  in  others,  evermore  her  own  doth 
 
 call ; 
 Thus  the  several  joy  of  each  becomes  the  common  joy  of  all. 
 
Where  the  body  is,  there  ever  are  the  eagles  gathered  ; 
 For  the  saints  and  for  the  angels,  one  most  blessed  feast  is 
 
 spread, — 
 Citizens  of  either  country  living  on  the  self-same  bread. 
 
 Ever  filled,  and  ever  seeking,  what  they  have  they  all  desire  : 
 Hunger  there  shall  fret  them  never,  nor  satiety  shall  tire, — 
 Still  enjoying  whilst  aspiring,  in  their  joy  they  still  aspire. 
 
 There  the  new  song,  new  forever,  those  melodious  voices 
 
 sing, 
 Ceaseless  streams  of  fullest  music  through  those  blessed 
 
 regions  ring  ; 
 Crowned  victors  ever  bringing  praises  worthy  of  the  King  ! 
 
 Blessed  who  the  King  of  Heaven  in  His  beauty  thus  behold, 
 And  beneath  His  throne  rejoicing  see  the  universe  unfold. — 
 Sun  and  moon,  and  stars  and  planets,  radiant  in  His  light 
 unrolFd ! 
 
 Christ,  the  Palm  of  faithful  victors!  of  that  city  make  me 
 
 free  ; 
 When  my  warfare  is  accomplished,  to  its  mansions  lead 
 
 Thou  me,  — 
 Grant  me,  with  its  happy  inmates,  sharer  of  Thy  gifts  to  be. 
 
 Let  Thy  soldier,  yet  contending,  still  be  with  Thy  strength 
 
 supplied  ; 
 Thou  wilt  not  deny  the  quiet,  when  the  arms  are  laid  aside  ; 
 Make  me  meet  with  Thee  forever,  in  that  countrv  to  abide ! 
 
HE  A  VEN'S    JO  VS. 
 
 &j)omas-a-lUmpts. 
 1380-1471. 
 
 High  the  angel  choirs  are  raising 
 Heart  and  voice  in  harmony  ; 
 
 The  Creator  King,  still  praising,  ,. 
 
 Whom  in  beauty  there  they  see. 
 
 Sweetest  strains  from  soft  harps  stealing  ; 
 Trumpets,  notes  of  triumph  pealing  ; 
 Radiant  wings,  and  white  stoles  gleaming, 
 Up  the  steps  of  glory  streaming  ; 
 Where  the  heavenly  bells  are  ringing  ; 
 Holy,  holy,  holy !  singing — 
 
 To  the  mighty  Trinity  ! 
 Holy,  holy,  holy !  crying  ; 
 For  all  earthly  care  and  sighing 
 
 In  that  city  cease  to  be ! 
 
 Every  voice  is  there  harmonious, 
 Praising  God  in  hymns  symphonious  ; 
 Love  each  heart  witli  light  unfolding, 
 As  they  stand  in  peace  beholding 
 
HEAVEN  S   JOYS. 
 
 There  the  Triune  Deity  ! 
 Whom  adore  the  seraphim 
 
 Aye.  with  love  eternal  burning  : 
 Venerate  the  cherubim, 
 
 To  their  Fount  of  honor  turning  : 
 Whilst  angelic  thrones  adoring, 
 Gaze  upon  His  majesty. 
 
 0  how  beautiful  that  region ! 
 And  how  fair  that  heavenly  legion. 
 
 Where  thus  men  and  angels  blend  ! 
 Glorious  will  that  city  be. 
 Full  of  deep  tranquillity. 
 
 Light  and  peace  from  end  to  end ! 
 All  the  happy  dwellers  there 
 
 Shine  in  robes  of  purity. 
 
 Keep  the  laws  of  charity. 
 
 Bound  in  firmest  unity  : — 
 Labor  finds  them  not.  nor  care. 
 
 Ignorance  can  ne'er  perplex. 
 
 Nothing  tempt  them,  nothing  vex  : — 
 
 Joy  and  health  their  fadeless  bless  in  2' 
 
 Always  all  things  good  possessing  ! 
 
THE    CELESTIAL     COUNTRY. 
 Staaxfc,  of  Glugnp,  ^totlftS  Crnturp. 
 
 Translated  by  Dk.  Nkale. 
 
 Brief  life  is  here  our  portion, 
 Brief  sorrow,  short-lived  care 
 
 The  life  that  knows  no  ending — 
 
 e 
 
 The  tearless  life,  is  There. 
 
 And  now  we  fight  the  battle, 
 
 But  then  shall  wear  the  crown, 
 Of  full  and  everlasting 
 
 And  passionless  renown : 
 And  now  we  watch  and  struggle, 
 
 And  now  Ave  live  in  hope, 
 And  Syon,  in  her  anguish. 
 
 With  Babylon  must  cope  ; — 
 But  He  whom  now  we  trust  in 
 
 Shall  then  be  seen  and  known. 
 And  they  that  know  and  see  Him, 
 
 Shall  have  Him  for  their  own. 
 
 There  Jesus  shall  embrace  us, 
 There  Jesus  be  embraced — 
 
THE    CELESTIAL   COUNTRY. 
 
 That  spirit's  food  and  sunshine 
 Whence  earthly  love  is  chased. 
 
 Amidst  the  happy  chorus, 
 A  place  however  low, 
 
 Shall  show  Him  us,  and,  showing, 
 Shall  satiate  evermo. 
 
 For  thee,  0  dear,  dear  Country ! 
 
 Mine  eyes  their  vigils  keep  : 
 For  very  love,  beholding 
 
 Thy  happy  name,  they  weep. 
 The  mention  of  thy  glory 
 
 Is  unction  to  the  breast, 
 And  medicine  in  sickness, 
 
 And  love,  and  life,  and  rest. 
 
 0  one,  0  only  Mansion, 
 
 0  Paradise  of  Joy  ! 
 Where  tears  are  ever  banished. 
 
 And  smiles  have  no  alloy. 
 Beside  thy  living  waters 
 
 All  plants  are,  great  and  small  — 
 The  cedar  of  the  forest, 
 
 The  hyssop  of  the  wall ; — 
 With  jaspers  glow  thy  bulwarks, 
 
 Thy  streets  with  emeralds  blaze, 
 The  sardius  and  the  topaz 
 
 Unite  in  thee  their  rays  ; 
 
THE    CELESTIAL    COUNTRY. 
 
 Thine  ageless  walls  are  bonded 
 With  amethyst  unpriced  ; 
 
 Thy  Saints  build  up  its  fabric. 
 And  the  corner-stone  is  Christ. 
 
 Thou  hast  no  shore,  fair  ocean  ! 
 
 Thou  hast  no  Time,  bright  day  ! 
 Dear  Fountain  of  refreshment 
 
 To  pilgrims  far  away ! 
 Upon  the  Rock  of  Ages 
 
 They  raise  thy  holy  Tower  ; 
 Thine  is  the  victor's  laurel, 
 
 And  Thine  the  golden  dower. 
 
 Jerusalem  the  Golden ! 
 
 .  With  milk  and  honey  blest, 
 Beneath  thy  contemplation 
 
 Sink  heart  and  voice  oppressed. 
 I  know  not,  0  I  know  not, 
 
 What  social  joys  are  There  ! 
 What  radiancy  of  glory, 
 
 What  Light  beyond  compare  ! 
 
 They  stand,  those  halls  of  Syon, 
 
 Conjubilant  with  song, 
 And  bright  with  many  an  angel, 
 
 And  all  the  martyr  throng  ; 
 The  Prince  is  ever  in  them, — 
 
 The  daylight  is  serene  ; 
 The  pastures  of  the  blessed 
 
 Are  decked  in  glorious  sheen. 
 
10  THE    CELESTIAL    COUNTRY. 
 
 There  is  the  throne  of  David, 
 
 And  There,  from  toil  released. 
 The  song  of  them  that  triumph. 
 
 The  shout  of  them  that  feast ; 
 And  they,  who  with  their  Leader, 
 
 Have  conquered  in  the  fight, 
 Forever  and  forever 
 
 Are  clad  in  robes  of  white ! 
 
 Jerusalem  the  glorious ! 
 
 The  glory  of  tV  Elect! 
 0  dear  and  future  vision 
 
 That  eager  hearts  expect ! 
 Even  now  by  faith  I  see  thee — 
 
 Even  here  thy  Avails  discern  ; 
 To  thee  my  thoughts  are  kindled. 
 
 And  strive,  and  pant,  and  yearn. 
 
 Jerusalem  the  onely  ; 
 
 That  look'st  from  Heaven,  below 
 In  thee  is  all  my  glory, 
 
 In  me  is  all  my  woe  ; 
 And  though  my  body  may  not. 
 
 My  spirit  seeks  thee  fain — 
 Till  flesh  and  earth  return  me 
 
 To  earth  and  flesh  again. 
 
 0  mine,  my  golden  Syon  ! 
 0  lovelier  far  than  a-old. 
 
HERE    AND    THERE.  '  11 
 
 With  laurel-girt  battalions 
 And  safe  victorious  fold  ! 
 
 0  sweet  and  blessed  Country, 
 Shall  I  ever  win  thy  grace  ? 
 
 1  have  the  hope  within  me 
 
 To  comfort  and  to  bless  ! 
 Shall  I  ever  win  the  prize  itself? 
 0  tell  me,  tell  me,  yes ! 
 
 HERE    AND    THERE. 
 
 What  no  human  eye  hath  seen. 
 
 What  no  mortal  ear  hath  heard, 
 What  on  thought  has  never  been 
 
 In  its  noblest  flights  conferred — 
 This  has  God  prepared  in  store 
 For  His  people  evermore ! 
 
 When  the  shaded  pilgrim-land 
 Fades  before  my  closing  eye, 
 
 Then  revealed  on  either  hand, 
 
 Heaven's  own  scenery  shall  lie  ; — 
 
 Then  the  veil  of  flesh  shall  fall, 
 
 Now  concealing,  darkening  all. 
 
 Heavenly  landscapes,  calmly  bright, 
 Life's  pure  river,  murmuring  low  ; 
 
12  HERE   AND    THERE. 
 
 Forms  of  loveliness  and  light 
 
 Lost  to  earth  long  time  ago  ; 
 Yes,  mine  own  lamented  long, 
 Shine  amid  the  angel  throng ! 
 
 Many  a  joyful  sight  was  given, 
 Many  a  lovely  vision  here — 
 
 Hill,  and  vale,  and  starry  even, 
 
 Friendship's  smile, — affection's  tear  ; 
 
 These  were  shadows  sent  in  love, 
 
 Of  realities  above ! 
 
 When  upon  my  wearied  ear 
 Earth's  last  echoes  faintly  die, 
 
 Then  shall  angel-harps  draw  near, — 
 All  the  chorus  of  the  sky  ; 
 
 Long-hushed  voices  blend  again 
 
 Sweetly  in  that  welcome  strain ! 
 
 Here,  were  sweet  and  varied  tones — 
 Bird,  and  breeze,  and  fountain's  fall  ; 
 
 Yet  creation's  travail-groans 
 Ever  sadly  sighed  through  all. 
 
 There  no  discord  jars  the  air — 
 
 Harmony  is  perfect  There ! 
 
 When  this  aching  heart  shall  rest, 
 
 All  its  busy  pulses  o'er, 
 From  her  mortal  robes  undrest 
 
 Shall  my  spirit  upward  soar. 
 
HERE    AND   THERE.  •       13 
 
 Then  shall  unimagined  joy 
 
 All  my  thoughts  and  powers  employ. 
 
 Here,  devotion's  healing  balm, 
 Often  comes  to  soothe  my  breast. 
 
 Hours  of  deep  and  holy  calm — 
 Earnests  of  eternal  rest. 
 
 But  the  bliss  is  here  unknown, 
 
 Which  shall  There  be  all  my  own ! 
 
 Jesus  reigns,  the  Life,  the  Sun 
 
 Of  that  wondrous  world  above  ; 
 All  the  storms  and  clouds  are  gone, 
 
 .All  is  light,  and  all  is  love  ; 
 All  the  shadows  melt  away 
 In  the  blaze  of  perfect  day  ! 
 
 THE    DWELLING-PLACE    ABOVE 
 
 iMsfiop  ittant. 
 
 There  is  a  dwelling-place  above  ; 
 Thither,  to  meet  the  God  of  love, 
 
 The  poor  in  spirit  go  ; 
 There  is  a  paradise  of  rest  ; 
 For  contrite  hearts  and  souls  distrest 
 
 Its  streams  of  comfort  flow. 
 
14  THE   DWELLING-PLACE   ABOVE. 
 
 There  is  a  goodly  heritage, 
 
 Where  earthly  passions  cease  to  rage ; 
 
 The  meek  that  haven  gain. 
 There  is  a  board,  where  they  who  pine, 
 Hungry,  athirst,  for  grace  divine, 
 
 Many  feast,  nor  crave  again. 
 
 There  is  a  voice  to  mercy  true  ; 
 To  them  who  mercy's  path  pursue 
 
 That  voice  shall  bliss  impart — 
 There  is  a  sight  from  man  concealed, 
 That  sight— the  face  of  God  revealed 
 
 Shall  bless  the  pure  in  heart. 
 
 There  is  a  name,  in  Heaven  bestowed, 
 That  name,  which  hails  them  "  Sons  of  God 
 
 The  friends  of  peace  shall  know  : 
 There  is  a  kingdom  in  the  sky, 
 Where  they  shall  reign  with  God  on  high, 
 Who  serve  him  best  below. 
 
 Lord,  be  mine  like  them  to  choose 
 The  better  part,— like  them  to  use 
 
 The  means  Thy  love  hath  given. 
 Be  holiness  my  aim  on  earth, 
 That  Death  be  welcome  as  a  birth 
 
 To  life  and  bliss  in  Heaven ! 
 
THE    GOODLY  LAXD  ! 
 
 iHrs.  Hunt  Stfrlc. 
 
 Far  from  these  narrow  scenes  of  night 
 
 Unbounded  glories  rise 
 And  realms  of  infinite  delight. 
 
 Unknown  to  mortal  eyes. 
 
 Far  distant  land  !  could  mortal  eyes 
 
 But  half  its  joys  explore, 
 How  would  our  spirits  long  to  rise 
 
 And  dwell  on  earth  no  more ! 
 
 There,  pain  and  sickness  never  come. 
 
 And  grief  no  more  complains  : 
 Health  triumphs  in  immortal  bloom — 
 
 And  endless  pleasure  reigns. 
 
 From  discord  free,  and  war's  alarms. 
 
 And  want,  and  pining  care, 
 Plenty  and  peace,  unite  their  charms, 
 
 And  smile  unchanging  There. 
 
 There,  rich  varieties  of  joy, 
 
 Continual  feast  the  mind  ; 
 Pleasures  which  fill,  but  never  cloy — 
 
 Immortal  and  refined ! 
 
16  THE   GOODLY    LAND  ! 
 
 No  factious  strife,  no  envy  there, 
 
 The  sons  of  peace  molest ; 
 But  harmony,  and  love  sincere 
 -     Fill  every  happy  breast. 
 
 No  clouds  those  blissful  regions  know, 
 Forever  bright  and  fair  ! 
 
 For  sin,  the  source  of  mortal  woe 
 Can  never  enter  There. 
 
 There,  no  alternate  night  is  known, 
 Nor  sun's  faint  sickly  ray  ; 
 
 But  glory,  from  the  Sacred  Throne 
 Spreads  everlasting  day. 
 
 The  glorious  Monarch,  There  displays 
 His  beams  of  wondrous  grace  ; 
 
 His  happy  subjects  sing  His  praise, 
 And  bow  before  His  face. 
 
 Oh,  may  the  heavenly  prospect  fire 
 Our  hearts  with  ardent  love, 
 
 Till  wings  of  faith  and  strong  desire, 
 Bear  every  thought  above. 
 
 Prepare  us,  Lord,  by  grace  divine, 
 For  Thy  bright  courts  on  high  ; 
 
 Then  bid  our  spirits  rise  and  join, 
 The  chorus  of  the  sky  ! 
 
THE    NEW  JERUSALEM. 
 
 "  BLpra  Upostoltca." 
 
 The  Holy  Jerusalem 
 From  highest  Heaven  descending 
 
 And  crowned  with  a  diadem 
 Of  angel  bands  attending. 
 The  Living  City  built  on  high 
 Bright  with  celestial  jewelry ! 
 
 She  comes  the  Bride,  from  Heaven's  gate, 
 In  nuptial  new  adorning, 
 
 To  meet  the  Immaculate 
 Like  coming  of  the  morning. 
 Her  streets  of  purest  gold  are  made — 
 Her  walls,  a  diamond  palisade. 
 
 There  with  pearls  the  gates  are  dight 
 Upon  that  Holy  Mountain  ; 
 
 And  thither  come  forth  day  and  night, 
 Who  in  the  Living  Fountain 
 Have  washed  their  robes  from  earthly  stain, 
 And  borne  below  Christ's  lowly  chain. 
 
 By  the  hand  of  the  Unknown, 
 The  living  stones  are  moulded 
 
 To  a  glorious  shrine  All  One, 
 Full  soon  to  be  unfolded  : 
 
 2 
 
lg  THE   SEAT   OF   GLORY. 
 
 The  building  wherein  God  doth  dwell 
 The  Holy  Church  Invisible. 
 
 Glory  be  to  God,  who  layed 
 In  Heaven  the  foundation  ; 
 
 And  to  the  Spirit  who  hath  made 
 The  walls  of  our  salvation 
 To  Christ  Himself,  its  Corner  Stone  ; 
 Be  glory  to  the  Three  in  One. 
 
 THE     SEAT     OF     GLORY. 
 
 ©rummoitti. 
 
 If  with  such  passing  beauty,  choice  delights, 
 The  Architect  of  this  great  round,  did  frame 
 This  palace  visible,  short  lists  of  fame, 
 And  silly  mansion  of  but 'dying  wights  ; 
 How  many  wonders,  what  amazing  lights. 
 Must  that  triumphing  Seat  of  Glory  claim, 
 That  doth  transcend  all  this  All's  vastly  heights. 
 
 Of  whose  bright  sun,  ours  here  is  but  a  beam  ! 
 
 0  blest  abode!  0  happy  dwelling-place  ! 
 
 Where  visibly  th'  Invisible  doth  reign  ; 
 
 Blest  people,  who  do  see  true  Beauty's  face, 
 
 With  whose  far  shadows,  scarce  He  earth  cloth  deign 
 
 All  Jov  is  but  annoy,  all  concord  strife. 
 
 Matched  with  your  endless  bliss  and  happy  life. 
 
THAT    LAND. 
 Wan*. 
 
 There  is  a  land  where  beauty  will  not  fade,  / 
 
 Nor  sorrow  dim  the  eye  ; 
 Where  true  hearts  will  not  sink  nor  be  dismayed, 
 
 And  Love  will  never  die. 
 Tell  me — I  fain  would  go — 
 For  I  am  burdened  with  a  heavy  woe  : 
 The  beautiful  have  left  me  all  alone  ; 
 The  true,  the  tender,  from  my  path  have  gone. 
 And  I  am  weak  and  fainting  with  despair  ; 
 Where  is  it  ?  tell  me  where  ? 
 
 Friend,  thou  must  trust  in  Him,  who  trod  before 
 
 The  desolate  path  of  life  ; 
 Must  bear  in  meekness,  as  He  meekly  bore 
 
 Sorrow,  and  toil,  and  strife. 
 Think  how  the  Son  of  God 
 These  thorny  paths  has  trod  ; 
 Yet  tarried  out  for  thee  the  appointed  woe  : 
 Think  of  His  loneliness  in  places  dim, 
 When  no  man  comforted  or  cared  for  Him  ; — 
 Think  how  He  prayed,  unaided  and  alone. 
 In  that  dread  agony,  "  Thy  will  be  done !" 
 Friend,  do  thou  not  despair, 
 Christ,  in  his  Heaven  of  Heavens,  will  hear  thy  prayer. 
 
THE    FATHER-LAXD. 
 
 JFrom  ifoi  German,  im  Sr.  £b"UlI=. 
 
 Know  ye  the  land? — On  earth  'twere  vainly  sought 
 To  which  the  heart  in  sorrow?  turns  its  thought  : 
 Where  no  complaint  is  heard — tears  never  flow — 
 The  good  are  blest — the  weak  with  vigor  glow ! 
 Know  ye  it  well  ? 
 
 For  this,  for  this 
 All  earthly  wish  or  care,  my  friends,  dismiss  ! 
 
 Know  ye  the  way — the  rugged  path  of  thorns  ? 
 His  lagging  progress  there,  the  traveler  mourn-  : 
 He  faints,  lie  sinks. — from  dust  lie  cries  to  God — 
 ••  Relieve  me.  Father,  from  the  weary  road  !  " 
 Know  ye  it  well  ? 
 
 It  guides,  it  guides. 
 To  that  dear  land,  where  all  we  hope  abides. 
 
 Know  ye  that  Friend  ? — In  Him  a  man  you  see  : 
 Yet  more  than  man.  more  than  all  men  is  He  : 
 Himself  before  us  trod  the  path  of  thorns. 
 To  pilgrims  now  His  heart  with  pity  turns. 
 Know  ye  Him  well  ? 
 
 His  hand.  His  hand 
 Will  safelv  bring  as  to  that  Father-Land. 
 
PIL  GRIM    SONG. 
 
 (GccrjPiarJtr  (Eerstccjcrt. 
 
 Come,  brothers,  let  us  onward — 
 
 Night  comes  without  delay, 
 And  in  this  howling  desert 
 
 It  is  not  good  to  stay. 
 
 Take  courage,  and  be  strong, 
 We  are  hasting  on  to  Heaven  ; 
 Strength  for  warfare  will  be  given, 
 
 And  glory  won  ere  long. 
 
 The  Pilgrim's  path  of  trial 
 
 We  do  not  fear  to  view  : 
 We  know  His  voice  who  calls  us, 
 
 We  know  Him  to  be  true. 
 
 Then,  let  who  will  contemn  ; — 
 Strong  in  His  Almighty  grace. 
 Come,  every  one,  with  steadfast  face 
 
 On  to  Jerusalem ! 
 
 Here,  all  unknown  we  wander, 
 Despised  on  every  hand  ; 
 
 Unnoticed,  save  when  slighted — 
 As  strangers  in  the  land. 
 
22  PILGRIM   SONG. 
 
 Our  joys  they  will  not  share- 
 Yet  sing,  that  they  may  catch  the  song 
 Of  Heaven,  and  the  happy  throng 
 
 That  now  await  us  there ! 
 
 Come,  gladly,  let  us  onward- 
 Hand  in  hand  still  go, 
 
 Each  helping  one  another 
 Through  all  the  way  below. 
 One  family  of  love, — 
 
 Oh,  let  no  voice  of  strife  be  heard, 
 
 No  discord,  by  the  angel-guard 
 Who  watch  us  from  above  ! 
 
 0  brothers  !  soon  is  ended 
 
 The  journey  we've  begun— 
 Endure  a  little  longer, 
 
 The  race  will  soon  be  won  ! 
 
 And  in  the  land  of  rest, 
 In  yonder  bright,  eternal  home, 
 Where  all  the  Father's  loved  ones  come 
 
 We  shall  be  safe  and  blest ! 
 
NOT    VERY    FAR. 
 
 loonar. 
 
 Surely  yon  Heaven,  where  angels  see  God's  face, 
 
 Is  not  so  distant  as  we  deem 
 From  this  low-  earth  ! — 'Tis  but  a  little  space, 
 
 The  narrow  crossing  of  a  slender  stream  : — 
 Tis  but  a  mist  which  winds  might  blow  aside. 
 Yes,  these  are  all  that  us  of  earth  divide 
 From  the  bright  dwellings  of  the  glorified  ; — 
 
 The  Land  of  which  I  dream. 
 
 These  peaks  are  nearer  Heaven  than  earth  below, 
 These  hills  are  higher  than  they  seem  ; 
 
 Tis  not  the  clouds  they  touch,  nor  the  soft  brow 
 Of  the  o'erbending  azure,  as  we  deem  : 
 
 'Tis  the  blue  floor  of  Heaven  that  they  upbear, 
 
 And,  like  some  old  and  wildly  rugged  stair. 
 
 They  lift  us  to  the  land  where  all  is  fair. — 
 The  Land  of  which  I  dream. 
 
 These  ocean  waves,  in  their  unmeasured  sweep, 
 Are  brighter,  bluer  than  they  seem  : 
 
 True  image  here  of  the  celestial  deep. 
 
 Fed  from  the  fullness  of  the  unfailing  stream  ; 
 
24  NOT   VERY    FAR. 
 
 Heaven's  glassy  sea  of  everlasting  rest, 
 With  not  a  breath  to  stir  its  silent  breast, 
 The  sea  that  laves  the  land  where  all  are  blest, — 
 The  Land  of  which  I  dream. 
 
 And  these  keen  stars,  the  bridal  gems  of  night, 
 
 Are  purer,  lovelier  than  they  seem  ; 
 Filled  from  the  inner  fountain  of  deep  light, 
 
 They  pour  down  Heaven's  own  beam  ; 
 Clear,  sparkling,  from  their  throne  of  glorious  blue, 
 In  accents  ever  ancient,  ever  new, 
 Of  the  glad  home  above,  beyond  my  view, — 
 
 The  Land  of  which  I  dream. 
 
 This  life  of  ours,  these  lingering  years  of  earth, 
 
 Are  briefer,  swifter,  than  they  seem  ; 
 A  little  while,  and  the  great  second  birth 
 
 Of  Time  shall  come, — the  prophets'  ancient  theme. 
 Then  He,  the  King,  the  Judge,  at  length  shall  come, 
 And  from  this  desert,  where  we  sadly  roam, 
 Shall  give  the  Kingdom,  for  our  endless  home, — 
 The  Land  of  which  I  dream  ! 
 
THAT    CITY! 
 
 I  know  the  walls  are  jasper, 
 
 The  palaces  are  fair, 
 And  to  the  sounds  of  harpings 
 
 The  saints  are  singing  There  ; 
 I  know  that  living  waters 
 
 Flow  under  fruitful  trees  ; 
 But  oh,  to  make  my  heaven, 
 
 It  needeth  more  than  these  ! 
 
 Read  in  the  sacred  story, 
 
 What  more  doth  it  unfold, 
 Beside  the  pearly  gateways 
 
 And  streets  of  shining  gold  ? 
 No  temple  hath  That  city, 
 
 For  none  is  needed  There, 
 No  sun  nor  moon  enlighteneth  ;— 
 
 Can  darkness  then  be  fair  ? 
 
 Ah,  now  the  bright  revealing, 
 The  crowning  joy  of  all ! 
 
 What  need  of  other  sunshine 
 Where  God  is  all  in  all  ? 
 
•_>,-  THAT    CITY'. 
 
 He  fill?  the  wide  ethereal 
 With  glory  all  His  own.— 
 
 He.  whom  my  soul  adoreth, 
 The  Lamb  amidst  the  throne  ! 
 
 0  Heaven,  without  my  Saviour, 
 
 Would  be  no  heaven  to  me  : 
 Dim  were  the  walls  of  jasper — 
 
 Rayless  the  crystal  sea. 
 He  gilds  earth's  darkest  valleys 
 
 With  light,  and  joy.  and  peace  : 
 What  then  must  be  the  radiance 
 
 When  Night  and  Death  shall  cease  ? 
 
 Speed  on.  0  lagging  moments ! 
 
 Come,  birthday  of  the  soul ! 
 How  long  the  night  appeareth, 
 
 The  hours,  how  slow  they  roll ! 
 How  sweet  the  welcome  summons 
 
 That  greets  the  willing  bride  ! 
 And  when  mine  eyes  behold  Him. 
 
 ••  I  shall  be  satisfied.'" 
 
HOW    CAN    WE    KNOW    THE    WAY?" 
 
 JFrom  t]jc  (German  o£  J.  Stiller. 
 
 From  out  this  dim  and  gloomy  hollow, 
 Where  hang  the  cold  clouds  heavily, 
 
 Could  I  but  gain  the  clue  to  follow, 
 How  blessed  would  the  journey  be  ! 
 
 Aloft,  I  see  a  fair  dominion. 
 
 Through  time  and  change,  all  vernal  still ; 
 But  what  the  power,  and  where  the  pinion, 
 
 To  gain  the  ever-blooming  hill  ? 
 
 Afar,  I  hear  the  music  ringing, 
 
 The  lulling  sounds  of  Heaven's  repose  ; 
 
 And  the  light  gales  are  downward  bringing 
 The  sweets  of  flowers  the  mountain  knows. 
 
 I  see  the  fruit,  all  golden  glowing, 
 Beckon,  the  glassy  leaves  between  : — 
 
 And  o'er  the  winds  that  there  are  blowing, 
 Nor  blight  nor  winter's  wrath  hath  been. 
 
 Ye  suns  that  shine  forever  yonder, 
 
 O'er  fields  that  fade  not,  sweet  to  flee  ; — 
 
 The  very  zephyrs  there  that  wander, 
 How  healing  must  their  breathing  be ! 
 
XOXE    IN    HE  A  VEX   BUT    THEE. 
 %ix  rftottrt  Grant. 
 
 Lord  of  earth !  thy  bounteous  hand 
 
 Well  this  glorious  frame  hath  planned : 
 Woods  that  waive,  and  hills  that  tower. 
 
 Ocean,  rolling  in  his  power. 
 All  that  strikes  the  gaze  unsought. 
 
 All  that  charms  the  lonely  thought ; — 
 Friendship. — gem  transcending  price. 
 
 Love,  a  flower  of  Paradise  : — 
 Yet.  amid  this  scene  so  fair. 
 
 Should  I  cease  Thy  smile  to  share. 
 What  were  all  its  joys  to  me  ? 
 
 •■  Whom  have  I  in  Heaven  but  Thee  ?" 
 
 Lord  of  Heaven  !  beyond  our  sight 
 
 Rolls  a  world  of  purer  light : 
 There,  in  Love's  unclouded  reign. 
 
 Parted  hands  shall  join  again  : 
 Martyrs  there,  and  prophets  high. 
 
 Blaze,  a  glorious  company  : — 
 While  immortal  music  rings 
 
 From  unnumbered  seraph  strings  ; 
 
IN   HEAVEN   ALONE    IS   REST.  .29 
 
 Oh,  that  scene  is  passing  fair ! 
 
 Yet,  shouldst  Thou  be  absent  there, 
 What  were  all  its  joys  to  me  ? 
 
 "  Whom  have  I  in  Heaven  but  Thee  ?" 
 
 Lord  of  earth. and  Heaven!  my  breast 
 
 Seeks  in  Thee  its  only  rest ; 
 I  was  lost — thy  accents  mild 
 
 Homeward  lured  Thy  wandering  child  ; 
 I  was  blind — Thy  healing  ray 
 
 Charmed  the  long  eclipse  array  ; 
 Source  of  every  joy  I  know, 
 
 Solace  of  my  every  woe  ; 
 Yet  should  once  Thy  smile  divine 
 
 Cease  upon  my  soul  to  shine, 
 What  were  Heaven  or  earth  to  me  ? 
 
 "  Whom  have  I  in  Heaven  but  Thee  ?" 
 
 IN   HEAVEN   ALONE   IS    REST. 
 
 Xot  in  this  weary  world  of  ours 
 
 Can  perfect  rest  be  found  ; 
 Thorns  mingle  with  earth's  fairest  flowers, 
 
 Even  on  cultured  ground. 
 A  brook  to  drink  of  by  the  way, 
 
 A  rock  its  shade  to  cast, 
 May  cheer  our  path  from  day  to  day, 
 
 But  such  can  not  long  last ; 
 
30  IN    HEAVEN    ALONE    IS    BEST. 
 
 Earth's  pilgrim  still  his  loins  must  gird 
 
 To  seek  a  lot  more  blest : 
 And  this  must  be  his  onward  word. — 
 
 •■  In  Heaven  alone  is  rest." 
 
 This  cannot  be  thy  resting-place. 
 
 Though  now  and  then  a  gleam 
 Of  lovely  nature,  heavenly  grace. 
 
 May  on  thee  briefly  beam  : 
 Griefs  pelting  shower,  care's  dark  ning  shroud. 
 
 Still  falls,  or  hovers  near  : 
 And  sin's  pollutions  often  cloud 
 
 The  light  of  life  while  here  : 
 Nor  till  it  -  sliuffle  off  the  coil" 
 
 In  which  it  lies  depressed. 
 Can  the  pure  spirit  cease  from  toil. — 
 
 ••  In  Heaven  alone  is  rest." 
 
 Rest  to  the  weary,  anxious  soul. 
 
 That  on  life's  toilsome  road 
 Bears  onward  to  the  destined  goal 
 
 Its  heavy  galling  load  : — 
 Rest  unto  eyes  that  often  weep. 
 
 Beneath  the  day's  broad  light. 
 Or  oftener  painful  vigils  keep 
 
 Through  the  dark  hours  of  night  : 
 But  let  us  bear  witli  pain  or  care. 
 
 As  ills  to  be  redressed  :— 
 Relying  on  the  promise  fair. 
 
 "  In  Heaven  alone  is  rest." 
 
MORE    BLEST    THAN   EDEN 
 
 Bishop  (Coxe. 
 
 There  is  a  land  like  Eden  fair, 
 
 But  more  than  Eden  blest ; 
 The  wicked  cease  from  troubling  There, 
 
 The  weary  are  at  rest. 
 
 There  is  a  land  of  calmest  shore. 
 
 Where  ceaseless  summers  smile. 
 And  winds,  like  angel- whispers,  pour 
 
 Across  the  shining  isle. 
 
 There  is  a  land  of  purest  mirth, 
 Where  healing  waters  glide  ; 
 
 And  There,  the  wearied  child  of  earth 
 Untroubled  may  abide. 
 
 There  is  a  land  where  Sorrow's  sons 
 Like  ocean  wrecks  are  tossed  ; 
 
 Bat  There  revive  those  weeping  ones, 
 When  life's   dull  sea  is  crossed. 
 
 There  is  a  land  where  small  and  great 
 
 Before  the  Lord  appear  ; 
 The  spoils  of  fortune  and  of  fate, 
 
 Whom  heaven  alone  can  cheer. 
 
32  HIS   THRONE    AND   TEMPLE. 
 
 There  is  a  land  where  star-like  shine 
 The  pearls  of  Christ's  renown  ; 
 
 And  gems  long  buried  in  the  mine 
 Arc  jewels  in  His  crown. 
 
 There  is  a  land  like  Eden  fair, 
 But  more  than  Eden  blest ; 
 
 Oh,  for  a  wing  to  waft  me  There, 
 To  fly,  and  be  at  rest ! 
 
 HIS    THRONE    AND    TEMPLE. 
 
 &ib.  m.  &.  iBu&Itniurfl. 
 
 Since  o'er  thy  footstool  here  below 
 
 Such  radiant  gems  are  strewn, 
 Oh,  what  magnificence  must  glow, 
 
 My  God,  about  Thy  throne ! 
 So  brilliant  here  those  drops  of  light — 
 Where  the  full  ocean  rolls,  how  bright ! 
 
 If  night's  blue  curtain  of  the  sky, 
 With  thousand  stars  inwrought, 
 
 Hung  like  a  glittering  canopy 
 With  royal  diamonds  fraught, 
 
 Be,  Lord,  Thy  temple's  outer  veil 
 
 What  splendor  at  the  shrine  must  dwell ! 
 
TO  BE  there!  33 
 
 The  dazzling  sun,  at  noontide  hour, 
 
 Forth  from  his  flaming  vase 
 Flinging  o'er  earth  the  golden  shower 
 
 Till  vale  and  mountain  blaze, — 
 But  shows,  0  Lord,  one  beam  of  Thine, 
 What,  then,  the  Day,  where  Thou  dost  shine  ! 
 
 Oh,  how  shall  these  dim  eyes  endure 
 
 That  noon  of  living  rays  ; 
 Or  how  my  spirit,  so  impure. 
 
 Upon  Thy  glory  gaze  ? 
 Anoint,  0  Lord,  anoint  my  sight, 
 And  robe  me  for  that  world  of  light ! 
 
 TO    BE    THERE! 
 
 We  speak  of  the  realms  of  the  blest, 
 Of  that  country  so  bright  and  so  fair — 
 
 And  oft  are  its  glories  confessed, 
 But  what  must  it  be  to  be  There  ! 
 
 We  speak  of  its  pathways  of  gold, 
 
 Of  its  walks  decked  with  jewels  so  rare, 
 
 Of  its  wonders  and  pleasures  untold — 
 But  what  must  it  be  to  be  There  ! 
 
 We  speak  of  its  freedom  from  sin, 
 From  sorrow,  temptation,  and  care, 
 3 
 
34  THE   OTHER   WORLD. 
 
 From  trials  without  and  within — 
 But  what  must  it  be  to  be  There ! 
 
 We  speak  of  its  service  of  love, 
 
 Of  the  robes  which  the  glorified  wear, 
 
 Of  the  Church  of  the  First-born  above — 
 But  what  must  it  be  to  be  There ! 
 
 Do  Thou,  Lord,  midst  sorrow  and  woe 
 Still  for  Heaven  our  spirits  prepare  3 
 
 And  shortly  we  also  shall  know, 
 And  feel  what  it  is  to  be  There  ! 
 
 THE    OTHER     WORLD 
 
 Mis.  It  33.  Stofoc. 
 
 It  lies  around  us  like  a  cloud, — 
 A  world  we  do  not  see  ; 
 
 Yet  the  sweet  closing  of  an  eye 
 May  bring  us  There  to  be ! 
 
 Its  gentle  breezes  fan  our  cheek  ; 
 
 Amid  our  worldly  cares 
 Its  gentle  voices  whisper  love, 
 
 And  mingle  with  our  prayers. 
 
THE    OTHER   WORLD.  '         35 
 
 Sweet  hearts  around  us  throb  and  beat. 
 
 Sweet  helping  hands  are  stirred, — 
 And  palpitates  the  veil  between 
 
 With  breathings  almost  heard: 
 
 The  silence — awful,  sweet,  and  calm — 
 
 They  have  no  power  to  break  ; 
 For  mortal  words  are  not  for  them 
 
 To  utter  or  partake. 
 
 So  thin,  so  soft,  so  sweet  they  glide'. 
 
 So  near  to  press  they  seem, — 
 As  fain  to  lull  us  to  our  rest, 
 
 And  melt  into  our  dream. 
 
 And  in  the  hush  of  rest  they  bring, 
 
 'Tis  easy  now  to  see 
 How  lovely  and  how  sweet  a  pass 
 
 The  hour  of  death  may  be. 
 
 To  close  the  eye,  and  close  the  ear, 
 
 Wrapped  in  a  trance  of  bliss, 
 And  gently  dream,  in  loving  arms 
 
 To  swoon  to  That — from  this. 
 
 Scarce  knowing  if  we  wake  or  sleep, 
 
 Scarce  asking  where  we  are, — 
 To  feel  all  evil  sink  away, 
 
 All  sorrow  and  all  care. 
 
36  HEAVEN   NEAR. 
 
 Sweet  souls  around  us  !  watch  us  still, 
 Press  nearer  to  our  side, 
 
 Into  our  thoughts— into  our  prayers 
 With  gentle  helpings  glide. 
 
 Let  Death  between  us  be  as  naught— 
 A  dried  and  vanished  stream  ; 
 
 Our  joy,  be  the  reality— 
 
 Our  suffering— life,  the  dream. 
 
 HEA  VEN    NEAR. 
 
 Oh,  Heaven  is  nearer  than  mortals  think, 
 When  they  look  with  a  trembling  dread 
 At  the  misty  future,  that  stretches  on 
 From  the  silent  home  of  the  dead. 
 
 Tis  no  lone  isle  on  a  boundless  main, 
 No  brilliant,  but  distant  shore, 
 Where  the  lovely  ones  who  are  called  away 
 Must  go,  to  return  no  more. 
 
 No,  Heaven  is  near  us— the  mighty  veil 
 Of  mortality  blinds  the  eye, 
 And  we  cannot  sec  the  angel  bands 
 On  the  shore  of  Eternity. 
 
HEAVEN   NEAR.  '      3*7 
 
 The  eye  that  shuts  in  a  dying  hour 
 
 Will  open  the  next  in  bliss  ; 
 
 The  welcome  will  sound  in  the  heavenly  world. 
 
 Ere  the  farewell  is  hushed  in  this. 
 
 We  pass  from  the  clasp  of  mourning  friends. 
 To  the  arms  of  the  loved  and  lost, 
 And  those  smiling  faces  will  greet  us  There, 
 Which  on  earth  we  have  valued  most. 
 
 Yet  oft,  in  the  hours  of  holy  thought, 
 
 To  the  thirsting  soul  is  given 
 
 That  power  to  pierce  through  the  mist  of  sense, 
 
 To  the  beauteous  scenes  of  Heaven. 
 
 Then  very  near  seem  its  pearly  gates, 
 And  sweetly  its  harpings  fall  ; 
 Till  the  soul  is  restless  to  soar  away, 
 And  longs  for  the  angels'  call. 
 
 I  know  when  the  silver  cord  is  loosed, 
 When  the  veil  is  rent  away, 
 i^ot  long  or  dark  shall  the  passage  be, 
 To  the  realms  of  endless  da  v. 
 
HEAVENLY   ASPIRATIONS 
 
 Bofolcs. 
 
 0,  talk  to  me  of  Heaven  !     I  love 
 To  hear  about  my  home  above  ; 
 For  there  doth  many  a  loved  one  dwell 
 In  light  and  joy  ineffable. 
 0  tell  me  how  they  shine  and  sing, 
 While  every  harp  rings  echoing  ; 
 And  every  glad  and  tearless  eye 
 Beams,  like  the  bright  sun,  gloriously. 
 Tell  me  of  that  victorious  palm 
 
 Each  hand  in  glory  beareth  ; 
 Tell  me  of  that  celestial  calm 
 
 Each  face  in  glory  weareth. 
 
 0  happy,  happy  country,  where 
 There  entereth  not  a  sin  ; 
 And  Death,  who  keeps  those  portals  fair, 
 May  never  once  come  in. 
 No  grief  can  change  their  day  to  night ; 
 The  darkness  of  That  Land  is  Light. — 
 Sorrow  and  sighing  God  hath  sent 
 'Far  thence,  to  endless  banishment. 
 And  never  more  may  one  sad  tear 
 Bedim  a  burning  eye — 
 
THE    CITY    OF    REST.  .  39 
 
 For  God  shall  soothe  away  all  fears, 
 And  make  all  glad  through  endless  years. 
 
 0  happy,  happy  land  !  in  thee 
 
 Shines  the  unveiled  Deity, 
 
 Shedding  through  each  adoring  breast 
 
 A  holy  calm,  a  halcyon  rest, 
 
 And  those  blest  souls  whom  death  did  sever 
 
 Have  met  to  mingle  joys  forever. 
 
 0,  soon  may  Heaven  unclose  to  me  ; 
 
 0,  may  I  soon  that  glory  see ! 
 
 And  my  faint,  weary  spirit  stand 
 
 Within  that  blissful,  happy  land  ! 
 
 THE    CIT  Y    0  F  BEST. 
 
 "  $.oust|)oltr  ^Mortis." 
 
 Oh  birds  from  out  the  east,  oh  birds  from  out  the  west, 
 Have  ye  found  that  happy  City,  in  all  your  weary  quest? 
 Tell  me,  tell  me,  from  earth's  wanderings  may  the  heart 
 
 find  glad  surcease ; 
 Can  ye  show  me,  as  an  earnest,  any  olive-branch  of  peace  ? 
 I  am  weary  of  life's  troubles,  of  its  sin,  and  toil,  and  care ; 
 I  am  faithless,  crushing  in  my  heart  so  many  a  fruitless 
 
 prayer  ; 
 Oh  birds  from  out  the  east,  oh  birds  from  out  the  west, 
 Can  ye  tell  me  of  that  City,  "  the  name  of  which  is  Rest?" 
 
40  THE    CITY    OF   REST. 
 
 Say.  doth  a  dreamy  atmosphere  that  blessed  City  crown? 
 
 Are  there  couches  spread  for  sleeping,  softer  than  eider- 
 down ? 
 
 Does  the  silver  sound  of  waters,  falling  'twixt  its  marble 
 walls, 
 
 Hush  its  solemn  silence,  even  into  stiller  interval-  ? 
 
 Does  the  poppy  shed  its  influence  there,  or  doth  the  fabled 
 Moly 
 
 With  its  peaceful,  leaden  Lethe,  bathe  the  eyes  with 
 slumber  holy  ? 
 
 Do  they  never  wake  to  sorrow,  who  after  toilsome  quest, 
 
 Have  entered  in  that  City.  "  the  name  of  which  is  Rest?'' 
 
 Doth   the  fancy  wile  not  there  for  aye  ?     Is  the  restless 
 
 soul's  endeavor 
 Hushed  in  a  hymn  of  solemn  calm,  forever  and  forever  ? 
 Are  human  natures  satisfied  of  their  intense  desire — 
 Is  there  no  more  good  beyond  to  seek,  or  do  they  not  aspire  ? 
 But  weary,  weary,  of  the  oar,  within  its  yellow  sun 
 Do   they  lie  and  eat  the  lotus-leaves,  and  dream  life's  toil 
 
 is  done  ? 
 Oli  tell  me.  do  they  there  forget  what  here  hath  made  them 
 
 blest  ? 
 Nor  sigh  again  for  home  and  friends,  in  the  City  called 
 
 Rest? 
 
 Oh,  little  birds,  fly  east  again  :  oh,  little  birds,  fly  west  ; 
 Ye  have  found  no  happy  city,  in  all  your  weary  quest  : — 
 Still  shall  ye  find  no  spot  of  rest  where'ver  ye  may  stray. 
 And  still  like  ye  the  weary  soul  must  wing  its  weary  way  ! 
 
ABOVE   THE   STARS.  .      41 
 
 There    sleepeth    uo    such    city   within    the  wide    earth's 
 
 bound — 
 Nor  hath  the  dreaming  fancy  yet  its  blissful  portals  found  ! 
 We    arc  but    children,    crying    here,    upon    a    Mother's 
 
 breast' 
 For  life,  and  peace,  and  blessedness,  and  for  eternal  rest. 
 
 Bless    God !     I    hear    a    still,    small   voice,   above    life's 
 
 clam'rous  din, 
 Saying,  "  Faint  not,  oh  weary  one,  thou  yet  may'st  enter  in. 
 That  City  is  prepared  for  those  who  well  do  win  the  fight, 
 Who  tread  the  wine-press,  till  its  blood  hath  washed  them 
 
 pure  and  white  ; 
 Within  it  is  no  darkness,  nor  any  baleful  flower 
 Shall    There    oppress    thy  waking   eyes  with    stupefying 
 
 power  ; 
 It   lieth   calm,  within   the   light   of    God's    Peace-giving 
 
 breast ; 
 Its    walls    are    called    Salvation — that     City's    name    is 
 
 ;  Rest.' " 
 
 ABOVE    THE    STARS. 
 
 Ye  golden  lamps  of  Heaven,  farewell, 
 With  all  your  feeble  light ; 
 
 Farewell,  thou  ever-changing  moon, 
 Pale  empress  of  the  night. 
 
42  ABOVE   THE   STARS. 
 
 And  thou,  refulgent  orb  of  day, 
 In  brighter  flames  arrayed  ; 
 
 My  soul  that  springs  beyond  thy  sphere 
 No  more  demands  thine  aid. 
 
 Ye  stars  are  but  the  shining  dust 
 
 Of  my  divine  abode, 
 The  pavement  of  those  heavenly  courts, 
 
 Where  I  shall  reign  with  God. 
 
 The  Father  of  Eternal  Light 
 Shall  There  His  beams  display  ; 
 
 Nor  shall  one  moment's  darkness  mix 
 With  that  unvaried  day  ! 
 
 No  more  the  drops  of  piercing  grief 
 Shall  swell  into  mine  eyes, 
 
 Nor  the  meridian  sun  decline 
 Amidst  those  brighter  skies. 
 
 There,  all  the  million  of  the  saints 
 
 Shall  in  one  song  unite, 
 And  each  the  bliss  of  all  shall  view, 
 
 With  infinite  delight. 
 
NO    NIGHT    SHALL    BE    IN   HEAVEN. 
 
 ©Somas  ftafflcs. 
 
 No  night  shall  be  in  Heaven, — no  gathering  gloom 
 Shall  o'er  that  glorious  landscape  ever  come  ; 
 No  tears  shall  fall  in  sadness  o'er  those  flowers 
 That  breathe  their  fragrance  through  celestial  bowers. 
 
 No  night  shall  be  in  Heaven, — no  dreadful  hour' 
 Of  mental  darkness,  or  the  tempter's  power  ; — 
 Across  those  skies  no  envious  cloud  shall  roll, 
 To  dim  the  sunlight  of  the  enraptured  soul. 
 
 No  night  shall  be  in  Heaven.     Forbid  to  sleep, 
 These  eyes  no  more  their  mournful  vigils  keep  ; 
 Their  fountains  dried,  their  tears  all  wiped  away, 
 They  gaze  undazzled  on  Eternal  Day. 
 
 No  night  shall  be  in  Heaven, — no  sorrows  reign, 
 No  secret  anguish,  no  corporeal  pain, 
 No  shivering  limbs,  no  burning  fever  there — 
 No  soul's  eclipse,  no  winter  of  despair. 
 
 No  night  shall  be  in  Heaven, — but  endless  noon  ; 
 No  fast-declining  sun,  nor  waning  moon  ; 
 But  There  the  Lamb  shall  yield  perpetual  light, 
 'Mid  pastures  green,  and  waters  ever  bright. 
 
44  NO    GRAVES   ARE   THERE. 
 
 No  night  shall  be  in  Heaven, — no  darkened  room, 
 No  bed  of  death,  nor  silence  of  the  tomb  ; 
 But  breezes  ever  fresh  with  love  and  truth 
 Shall  brace  the  frame  with  an  immortal  vouth ! 
 
 Xo  night  shall  be  in  Heaven.     But  night  is  here — 
 The  night  of  soitoav  and  the  night  of  fear  ; 
 I  mourn  the  ills  that  now  my  steps  attend, 
 And  shrink  from  others  that  may  yet  impend. 
 
 No  night  shall  be  in  Heaven.     Oh,  had  I  faith, 
 To  rest  in  what  the  Faithful  Witness  saith. 
 That  faith  should  make  these  hideous  phantoms  flee, 
 And  leave  no  nis;ht  henceforth  on  earth  to  me ! 
 
 NO     GRA  VES    ARE    THERE. 
 £.  3.  33.1jccs. 
 
 "  Xo  graves  are  there,'' 
 Xo  willow  weeps  above  the  grassy  bed 
 Where  sleeps  the  young,  the  fondly  loved,  the  fair. 
 The  early  dead ! 
 
 Xo  funeral  knell 
 Blends  with  the  breeze  of  spring  its  mournful  tone. 
 Bidding  henceforth  the  balmy  breezes  tell 
 
 Of  loved  ones  gone. 
 
NO    GRAVES   ARE   THERE.  -    45 
 
 O'er  the  cold  brow 
 No  bitter  tears  of  agony  are  shed  ; 
 None  o'er  the  still,  pale  form,  in  anguish  bow, 
 
 Whence  life  has  fled. 
 
 "  No  graves  are  there," 
 Nor  sunny  slope,  green  turf,  or  quiet  grot, 
 Those  sad  mementoes  of  departure  bear, 
 For  death  is  not. 
 
 That  fearful  foe ! 
 Here,  ever  bearing  from  us  those  we  love, 
 Resistless  as  his  power  is  owned  below, 
 
 Has  none  above. 
 
 No  !  in  the  tomb 
 Ends  his  dominion  ; — there  his  power  is  o'er, 
 And  they  who  safely  tread  its  path  of  gloom 
 
 Shall  die  no  more  ! 
 
 "  No  graves  are  there  ;" 
 Father,  we  thank  thee  that  there  is  a  clime 
 Guarded  alike  from  death,  and  grief,  and  care, 
 Untouched  by  Time. 
 
 We  praise  Thy  name 
 That  from  the  dust  and  darkness  of  the  tomb 
 We  can  look  up  in  faith,  and  humbly  claim 
 
 Our  future  home. 
 
46  ATTRACTIONS   OF    HEAVEN. 
 
 Hasten  the  day 
 When,  passing  death's  dark  vale  without  a  fear. 
 We,  as  we  reach  that  heavenly  home,  may  say 
 
 No  slaves  are  here ! 
 
 A  T  TR  A  C  TIOXS    OF    HE  A  VEX. 
 
 Xo  sickness  There— 
 Xo  weary  wasting  of  the  frame  away. 
 Xo  fearful  shrinking  from  the  midnight  air. 
 Xo  dread  of  summer's  bright  and  fervid  ray  ! 
 
 Xo  hidden  grief, 
 No  wild  and  cheerless  vision  of  despair  ; 
 Xo  vain  petition  for  a  swift  relief, 
 No  tearful  eye.  no  broken  heart,  are  There ! 
 
 Care  has  no  home 
 Within  that  realm  of  ceaseless  praise  and  song  : 
 Its  surging  billows  toss  and  melt  in  foam. 
 Far  from  the  mansions  of  the  spirit-throng. 
 
 The  storm's  black  wing- 
 Is  never  spread  athwart  celestial  skies  : 
 Its  waitings  blend  not  with  the  voice  of  Spring, 
 As  some  too  tender  flow'ret  fades  and  die^. 
 
ATTRACTIONS    OF    HEAVEN.  •      47 
 
 No  night  distills 
 Its  chilling  dews  upon  the  tender  frame  ; 
 No  morn  is  needed  There !  the  light  which  fills 
 The  land  of  glory,  from  its  Maker  came. 
 
 No  parted  friends 
 O'er  mournful  recollections  have  to  weep — 
 No  bed  of  death — enduring  love  attends, 
 To  watch  the  coming  of  a  pulseless  sleep ! 
 
 No  withered  flower, 
 Or  blasted  bud,  celestial  gardens  know  ! 
 No  scorching  blast  or  fierce  descending  shower 
 Scatters  destruction  like  a  ruthless  foe. 
 
 No  battle-word 
 Startles  the  sacred  hosts  with  fear  and  dread  ; 
 The  song  of  Peace,  Creation's  morning  heard, 
 Is  sung  wherever  angel  footsteps  tread ! 
 
 Let  us  depart, 
 If  home  like  this  await  the  weary  soul ! 
 Look  up,  thou  stricken  one !     Thy  wounded  heart 
 Shall  bleed  no  more  at  sorrow's  stern  control. 
 
 With  Faith  our  guide, 
 White-robed  and  innocent,  to  tread  the  way, — 
 Why  fear  to  plunge  in  Jordan's  rolling  tide, 
 And  find  the  Haven  of  eternal  dav  ? 
 
ALLUREMENTS    OF   HEAVEN. 
 
 fttfc.  3B.  WL  BitkitJsUtf). 
 
 Thus  Heaven  is  gathering  one  by  one,  in  its  capacious  breast, 
 All  that  is  pure  and  permanent,  and  beautiful  and  blest ; 
 The  family  is  scattered  yet,  though  of  one  home  and  heart, 
 Part  militant  in  earthly  gloom,  in  heavenly  glory  part  :  — 
 But  who  can  tell  the  rapture,  when  the  circle  is  complete, 
 And  all  the  children,  scattered  now,  before  the  Father  meet  ? 
 One  fold — one  Shepherd — one  employ — one  universal  home  ! 
 "  Lo,  I   come   quickly."     Even  so — "Amen — Lord  Jesus, 
 come !" 
 
 REUNION. 
 
 I  count  the  hope  no  day-dream  of  the  mind, 
 
 No  vision  fair,  of  transitory  hue, — 
 
 The  souls  of  those  whom  once  on  earth  we  knew 
 And  loved,  and  walked  with,  in  communion  kind. 
 Departed  hence,  again  in  Heaven  to  find  ! 
 
 Sucli  hope  to  nature's  sympathies  is  true  : 
 
 And  such,  we  deem,  the  holy  word  to  view 
 Unfolds,  an  antidote  for  grief  designed  ; — 
 
THE    MEETING-PLACE.  '       49 
 
 One  drop  from  comfort's  well.     'Tis  true  we  read 
 The  book  of  life  ;  but  if  we  read  it  not  amiss, 
 
 By  God  prepared,  fresh  treasures  shall  succeed, 
 To  kinsmen,  fellows,  friends,  a  vast  abyss 
 
 Of  joy,  nor  aught  the  longing  spirit  need 
 To  fill  its  measure  of  enormous  bliss  ! 
 
 23isf)op  Jtm. 
 
 The  saints  on  earth,  when  sweetly  they  converse, 
 And  the  dear  favors  of  kind  Heaven  rehearse, 
 Each  feels  the  other's  joys,  both  doubly  share 
 The  blessings  which  devoutly  they  compare. 
 If  saints  such  mutual  joy  feel  here  below, 
 When  they  each  other's  heavenly  foretastes  know, — 
 What  joys  transport  them  at  each  other's  sight, 
 When  they  shall  meet  in  the  empyrean  height ! 
 Friends  e'en  in  Heaven  one  happiness  would  miss, 
 Should  they  not  know  each  other,  when  in  bliss. 
 
 THE   MEETING-PLACE. 
 36onar. 
 
 Where  the  faded  flower  shall  freshen — 
 Freshen  never  more  to  fade  ; 
 
 Where  the  faded  sky  shall  brighten — 
 Brighten  never  more  to  shade  : 
 4 
 
50  THE    MEETING-PLACE. 
 
 Where  the  sun-blaze  never  scorches, 
 
 Where  the  star-beams  cease  to  chill  ; 
 Where  no  trumpet  stirs  the  echoes 
 
 Of  the  wood,  or  wave,  or  hill ; 
 Whore  the  morn  shall  wake  in  gladness, 
 
 And  the  noon  the  joy  prolong  ; 
 Where  the  daylight  dies  in  fragrance, 
 
 'Mid  the  burst  of  holy  song  ; — 
 Brother,  we  shall  meet  and  rest 
 'Mid  the  holy  and  the  blessed  ! 
 
 Where  no  shadow  shall  bewilder, 
 
 Where  life's  vain  parade  is  o'er, 
 Where  the  sleep  of  sin  is  broken, 
 
 And  the  dreamer  dreams  no  more  ; 
 Where  the  bond  is  never  severed, — 
 
 Partings,  claspings,  sobs  and  moans, 
 Midnight  waking,  twilight  weeping, 
 
 Heavy  noon-tide, — all  are  done. 
 Where  the  child  has  found  its  mother, 
 
 Where  the  mother  finds  her  child  ; 
 Where  clear  families  are  gathered, 
 
 That  were  scattered  on  the  wild  ; — 
 Brother,  we  shall  meet  and  rest 
 'Mid  the  holy  and  the  blessed  ! 
 
 Where  the  hidden  wound  is  healed, 
 Where  the  blighted  life  reblooms, 
 
 Where  the  smitten  heart,  the  freshness, 
 Of  its  buoyant  youth  resumes  ; 
 
THE   MEETING-PLACE.  •         51 
 
 Where  the  love  that  here  we  lavish 
 
 On  the  withering  leaves  of  Time, 
 Shall  have  fadeless  flowers  to  fix  on, 
 
 In  an  ever  spring-bright  clime  ; 
 Where  we  find  the  joy  of  loving 
 
 As  we  never  loved  before — 
 Loving  on,  unchilled,  unhindered, 
 
 Loving  once,  and  never  more  ! 
 Brother,  we  shall  meet  and  rest 
 'Mid  the  holy  and  the  blessed  ! 
 
 Where  a  blasted  world  shall  brighten, 
 
 Underneath  a  bluer  sphere  ; 
 And  a  softer,  gentler  sunshine 
 
 Sheds  its  healing  splendor  There  ; 
 When  earth's  barren  vales  shall  blossom, 
 
 Putting  on  her  robes  of  green, 
 And  a  purer,  fairer  Eden 
 
 Be  where  only  wastes  have  been, — 
 Where  a  King,  in  Kingly  glory, 
 
 Such  as  earth  has  never  known, 
 Shall  assume  the  Righteous  Sceptre, 
 
 Claim  and  wear  the  holy  crown  ; — 
 Brother,  we  shall  meet  and  rest 
 'Mid  the  holy  and  the  blessed  ! 
 
MEE TIN G    ABO  VE. 
 
 Hltsscti 
 
 If  yon  bright  stars  which  gem  the  night 
 
 Be  each  a  blissful  dwelling  sphere 
 Where  kindred  spirits  reunite 
 
 Whom  death  hath  torn  asunder  here  ; — 
 How  sweet  it  were  at  once  to  die, 
 
 To  leave  this  blighted  orb  afar ! 
 Mixt  soul  and  soul  to  cleave  the  sky. 
 
 And  soar  away  from  star  to  star. 
 
 But  oh,  how  dark,  how  drear,  how  lone, 
 
 Would  seem  the  brightest  world  of  bliss, 
 If,  wandering  through  each  radiant  one, 
 
 We  failed  to  meet  the  loved  of  this  ! 
 If  there  no  more  the  ties  shall  twine 
 
 Which  Death's  cold  hand  alone  could  sever. 
 Ah,  would  those  stars  in  mockery  shine. — 
 
 More  joyless,  as  they  shine  forever! 
 
 It  cannot  be — each  hope,  each  fear 
 
 That  lights  the  eye  or  clouds  the  brow. 
 
 Proclaims  there  is  a  happier  sphere 
 
 Than  this  bleak  world  that  holds  us  now. 
 
heaven's  rest.  •      53 
 
 There  is  a  voice  which  sorrow  hears, 
 
 When  heaviest  weighs  life's  galling  chain  ; 
 
 'Tis  Heaven  that  whispers — "  Dry  your  tears. 
 The  pure  in  heart  shall  meet  again." 
 
 HE  A  VEN'S    REST. 
 iftrij.  3rtap  ^alnur. 
 
 Lord,  Thou  wilt  bring  the  joyful  day  ! — 
 Beyond  earth's  weariness  and  pains. 
 
 Thou  hast  a  mansion  far  away. 
 
 Where  for  Thine  own  a  rest  remains. 
 
 No  sun  there  climbs  the  morning  sky, 
 There  never  falls  the  shade  of  night ; 
 
 God  and  the  Lamb,  forever  nigh, 
 O'er  all  shed  everlasting  light. 
 
 The  bow  of  mercy  spans  the  throne, 
 Emblem  of  love  and  goodness  there  : 
 
 While  notes  to  mortals  all  unknown. 
 Float  on  the  calm  celestial  air. 
 
 Around  the  throne  bright  legions  stand, 
 Redeemed  by  blood  from  sin  and  hell 
 
 And  shining  forms — an  angel  band, 
 The  mighty  chorus  join  to  swell. 
 
54  THE    GATES    OF    THE    CELESTIAL    CITY. 
 
 There.  Lord,  Thy  way-worn  saints  shall  find 
 The  bliss  for  which  they  longed  before  ; 
 
 And  holiest  sympathies  shall  bind 
 Thine  own  to  Thee,  forever-more. 
 
 0  Jesus,  bring  us  to  that  rest. 
 
 Where  all  the  ransomed  shall  be  found. 
 In  Thine  eternal  fullness  blest — 
 
 While  ages  roll  their  cycles  round. 
 
 THE    GATES    OF    THE    CELESTIAL    CITY 
 
 I  see  them  far  away. 
 In  their  calm  beauty,  on  the  evening  skies  : 
 Across  the  golden  west  their  summits  rise. 
 
 Bright  with  the  radiance  of  departing  day. 
 And  often,  ere  the  sunset  light  was  gone. 
 Gazing  and  longing.  I  have  hastened  on. 
 As  with  new  strength,  all  weariness  and  pain 
 Forgotten,  in  the  hope  those  blissful  heights  to  gain ! 
 
 Heaven  lies  not  far  beyond  ; — 
 But  then  these  hills  of  earth — our  changeful  air 
 Circles  around  them,  and  the  dwellers  there 
 
 ^till  own  Mortality's  mysterious  bond. 
 The  ceaseless  contact,  the  continued  strife, 
 Of  sin  and  Brace,  which  can  but  close  witli  life. 
 
THE   GATES   OF   THE    CELESTIAL    CITY.  55 
 
 Is  not  yet  ended,  and  the  Jordan's  roar 
 
 Still  lies  between  their  path  and  the  Celestial  shore. 
 
 But  then — the  pilgrims  say, 
 On  those  calm  heights,  the  tumult  and  the  noise 
 Of  all  our  busy  cares  and  restless  joys 
 
 Has  almost  in  the  distance  died  away. 
 All  the  past  journey,  li  a  right  way"  appears, 
 Thoughts  of  the  future  wake  no  faithless  fears, 
 And  through  the  clouds,  to  their  rejoicing  eyes, 
 The  City's  golden  gates  and  pearly  gates  arise. 
 
 Courage,  poor  fainting  heart! 
 These  happy  ones,  in  the  far  distance  seen, 
 Were  sinful  wanderers  once,  as  thou  hast  been, 
 
 Weary  and  sorrowful,  as  now  thou  art. 
 Linger  no  longer  on  the  lonely  plain — 
 Press  boldly  onward — and  thou  too  shalt  gain 
 Their  vantage-ground  ;  and  then,  with  vigor  new, 
 All  thy  remaining  race  and  pilgrimage  pursue. 
 
 Ah  !  far  too  faint,  too  poor 
 Are  all  our  views  and  aims — we  only  stand 
 Within  the  borders  of  the  Promised  Land  ; — 
 
 Its  precious  things  we  seek  not  to  secure  ; 
 And  thus  our  hands  hang  down,  and  oft  unstrung, 
 Our  harps  are  left  the  willow-trees  among. 
 Lord,  lead  us  forward,  upward,  till  we  know 
 How  much  of  heavenly  bliss  may  be  enjoyed  below. 
 
SYOJV    THE    GOLDEN 
 
 Bernard  of  Cluing — I2tft  Gtnturjj. 
 
 Heee.  brief  is  the  sighing, 
 
 And  brief  is  the  crying". 
 
 For  brief  is  the  life. 
 The  life  There  is  endless. 
 The  joys  There  are  fadeless. 
 
 When  ended  the  strife! 
 
 What  joys  are  in  Heaven  ! 
 To  whom  are  they  given  ? 
 
 Oh,  whoin — and  to  whom  ? 
 The  stars  to  the  earthborn. 
 "  Best  robes''  to  the  sin-worn  ;— 
 
 The  crown  for  the  boon. 
 
 0  Country  the  fairest ! 
 0  Country  the  dearest ! 
 
 We  press  on  to  Thee. 
 0  Syon  the  golden  ! 
 Our  eyes  now  are  holden 
 
 Thv  light  till  we  see. 
 
SYON   THE   GOLDEN.  "      57 
 
 Thy  crystalline  ocean, 
 Unvexed  by  commotion, 
 
 Thy  Fountain  of  Life ! 
 Thy  deep  peace  unspoken, 
 Pure,  sinless,  unbroken, 
 
 Thy  peace  beyond  strife. 
 
 Thy  meek  saints  all  glorious, 
 Thy  martyrs  victorious, 
 
 Who  suffer  no  more. 
 Thy  halls  full  of  singing, 
 Thy  hymns  ever  ringing 
 
 Along  the  bright  shore. 
 
 Like  the  lily  for  whiteness, 
 Like  the  jewel  for  brightness, 
 
 Thy  vestments,  0  Bride ! 
 The  Lamb  ever  with  thee — 
 The  Bridegroom  aye  near  thee — 
 
 With  thee  to  abide  ! 
 
 We  know  not,  we  hear  not, 
 All  human  words  show  not. 
 
 The  joys  we  may  reach — 
 The  mansions  preparing 
 Tbe  bliss  for  our  sharing 
 
 The  welcome  for  each  ! 
 
58  STON   THE   GOLDEN. 
 
 0  Syon  the  golden ! 
 My  eyes  still  are  holden 
 
 Thy  light  till  I  see. 
 And  deep  in  Thy  glory 
 Unveiled  before  me, 
 
 My  King,  look  on  me ! 
 
eatjj  anir  licsurrcctton. 
 
DEATH   AND    RESURRECTION 
 
 (Cicorcjt  Croto. 
 
 Earth  to  earth,  and  dust  to  dust ! 
 Here  the  evil  and  the  just, 
 Here  the  youthful  and  the  old, 
 Here  the  fearful  and  the  bold. 
 Here  the  matron,  and  the  maid. 
 In  one  silent  bed  are  laid  : 
 Here  the  vassal  and  the  king 
 Side  by  side  lie  withering  ; 
 Here  the  sword  and  sceptre  rust : 
 "  Earth  to  earth,  and  dust  to  dust !" 
 
 Age  on  age  shall  roll  along. 
 O'er  this  pale  and  mighty  throng  ; 
 Those  that  wept  them,  those  that  weep, 
 All  shall  with  these  sleepers  sleep  ; 
 Brothers,  sisters  of  the  worm. 
 Summer's  sun,  or  winter's  storm. 
 Song  of  peace,  or  battle's  roar, 
 Ne'er  shall  break  their  slumbers  more  ; 
 Death  shall  keep  his  silent  trust : 
 "  Earth  to  earth,  and  dust  to  dust !" 
 
 But  a  day  is  coming  fast, 
 
 Earth  thy  mightiest  and  thy  last ; 
 
62  DEATH    AND    RESURRECTION. 
 
 It  shall  come  in  fear  and  wonder, 
 Heralded  by  trump  and  thunder  ; 
 It  shall  come  in  strife  and  spoil  ; 
 It  shall  come  in  blood  and  toil  ; 
 It  shall  come  in  empire's  groans, 
 Burning  temples,  trampled  thrones  j 
 Then,  ambition,  rule  thy  lust : 
 "  Earth  to  earth,  and  dust  to  dust  I" 
 
 Then  shall  come  the  judgment  sign  ;- 
 In  the  east,  the  King  shall  shine, 
 Flashing  from  Heaven's  golden  gate, 
 Thousands,  thousands  round  his  state, 
 Spirits  with  the  crown  and  plume. 
 Tremble,  then,  thou  sullen  tomb  ; 
 Heaven  shall  open  on  our  sight, 
 Earth  be  turned  to  living  light, 
 Kingdoms  of  the  ransomed  just : 
 "  Earth  to  earth,  and  dust  to  dust!" 
 
 Then,  thy  Mount  Jerusalem, 
 Shall  be  gorgeous  as  a  gem  ; 
 Then,  shall  in  the  desert  rise 
 Fruits  of  more  than  Paradise  ; 
 Earth  by  angel  feet  be  trod, 
 One  great  garden  of  her  God  ; — 
 Till  are  dried  the  martyrs'  tears, 
 Through  a  thousand  glorious  yearn. 
 Now  in  hope  of  Him  we  trust : 
 "  Earth  to  earth,  and  dust  to  dust !" 
 
SOARING    TO     GOD. 
 
 Deathless  principle,  arise ! 
 Soar,  thou  native  of  the  skies  ! 
 Pearl  of  price,  by  Jesus  bought, 
 To  His  glorious  likeness  wrought, 
 Go  to  shine  before  His  throne, 
 Deck  the  mediatorial  crown  ; 
 Go,  His  triumphs  to  adorn. 
 Born  for  God,  to  God  return. 
 
 Lo,  He  beckons  from  on  high  ! 
 Fearless  to  His  presence  fly  ; — 
 Thine,  the  merit  of  His  blood, 
 Thine,  the  righteousness  of  God  ! 
 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  distressed, 
 Willing  to  retain  its  guest  ? 
 Tis  not  thou,  but  it,  must  die. 
 Fly,  celestial  tenant,  fly ! 
 Burst  thy  shackles, — drop  thy  clay 
 Sweetly  breathe  thyself  away  ! 
 
64  SOARING   TO    GOB. 
 
 Singing,  to  thy  crown  remove, 
 Swift  of  wing,  and  fired  with  love  ! 
 
 Shudder  not  to  pass  the  stream  : 
 Venture  all  thy  care  on  Him ! 
 Him.  whose  dying  love  and  power 
 Stilled  its  tossings,  hushed  its  roar  ; 
 Safe  in  the  expanded  wave  ; — 
 Gentle  as  a  summer's  eve  ; — 
 Not  one  object  of  His  care 
 Ever  suffered  shipwreck  there ! 
 
 See  the  haven  full  in  view  : 
 
 Love  divine  shall  bear  thee  through  ; 
 
 Trust  to  that  propitious  gale. 
 
 Weigh  thine  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  wish  be  given  ; 
 Kindle  higher  joys  in  Heaven  ! 
 Such  the  prospects  that  arise 
 To  the  dying  Christian's  eyes  : 
 Such  the  glorious  vista  Faith 
 Opens  through  the  shades  of  Death! 
 
MOR  TALI  TIF. 
 
 jsamutl  Sped*. 
 
 Lord,  what  a  shadow  is  the  life  of  man ! 
 A  nothing-,  less  than  is  a  little  span. 
 Just  as  a  bird  when  as  it  takes  its  flight 
 From  off  the  owner's  hand,  is  out  of  sight. 
 Our  present  time  is  as  a  fading  flower, — 
 A  flying  minute,  or  a  running  hour. 
 The  time  to  come,  after  the  present 's  fled. 
 Uncertain  is  ;  next  sun  may  see  us  dead. 
 Lord,  in  this  hour,  0  make  me  sure  of  Thee, 
 Lest  in  the  next  I  miss  felicitie. 
 
 SIC     VITA. 
 
 Simon  BSfastril. 
 
 Like  as  the  damask  rose  you  see, 
 Or  like  the  blossom  on  the  tree, 
 Or  like  the  dainty  flower  of  May, 
 Or  like  the  morning  of  the  day, 
 Or  like  the  sun.  or  like  the  shade, 
 Or  like  the  gourd  which  Jonas  had, 
 E'en  such  is  man — whose  thread  is  spun, 
 Drawn  out  and  cut,  and  so  is  done  ; — 
 5 
 
THE    LIFE    OF    MAX. 
 
 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. 
 
 Like  to  the  grass  that's  newly  sprung, 
 Or  like  a  tale  that's  new  begun, 
 Or  like  the  bird  that's  here  to-day, 
 Or  like  the  pearled  dew  of  May, 
 Or  like  an  hour,  or  like  a  span, 
 Or  like  the  singing  of  the  swan, 
 E'en  such  is  man — who  lives  by  breath, 
 Is  here,  now  there — in  life  or  death. 
 The  grass  withers,  the  tale  is  ended, 
 The  bird  is  flown,  the  dews  descended  ; 
 The  hour  is  short,  the  span's  not  long, 
 The  swan's  near  death — man's  life  is  done. 
 
 THE    LIFE    OF    MAN. 
 
 Bisijop  itimj. 
 
 Like  to  the  falling  of  a  star, 
 
 Or  as  the  flights  of  eagles  are, 
 
 Or  like  the  fresh  Spring's  gaudy  hue, 
 
 Or  silver  drops  of  morning  dew, 
 
 Or  like  the  wind  that  chafes  the  flood, 
 
 Or  bubbles  which  on  water  stood — 
 
DEATH    EVER   IN    LIFE.  67 
 
 E'en  such  is  man,  whose  borrowed  light 
 Is  straight  called  in,  and  paid  to-night.. 
 
 The  wind  blows  out ;  the  bubble  dies  ; 
 The  Spring  entombed  in  Autumn  lies  ; 
 The  stream  dries  up  ;  the  star  is  shot : 
 The  flight  is  past — and  man  forgot. 
 
 DEATH   EVER    IN    LIFE. 
 
 1&,tnx$  JBtlaunf. 
 
 Early  set  forth  to  your  eternal  race  : 
 
 Th'  ascent  is  steep  and  craggy  you  must  climb  ; 
 
 God,  at  all  times,  has  promised  sinners  grace 
 If  they  repent ;  but  He  ne'er  promised  time. 
 
 Cheat  not  yourselves,  as  most ;  who  then  prepare 
 For  death,  when  life  is  almost  turned  to  fume  : 
 
 One  thief  was  saved,  that  no  man  might  despair  : 
 And  but  one  thief — that  no  man  might  presume. 
 
 Wealth,  honor,  friends,  wife,  kindred,  all 
 We  so  much  dote  on,  and  wherein  we  trust. 
 
 Are  withering  gourds,  blossoms  that  fade  and  fall 
 Landscapes  in  water,  and  deeds  drawn  in  dust. 
 
08  TO    DEATH. 
 
 How  many  has  the  morn  beheld  to  rise 
 
 In  their  youth's  prime,  as  glorious  as  the  sun, 
 
 Who,  like  a  flower  cropt,  have  had  their  eyes 
 Closed  up  by  death  before  the  day  was  done ! 
 
 TO    DBA  TH. 
 
 Utrrtcfe. 
 
 Thou  bidst  me  come  away, 
 And  I'll  no  longer  stay. 
 Than  for  to  shed  some  tears 
 For  faults  of  former  years  ; 
 And  to  repent  some  crimes 
 Done  in  the  present  times  ; 
 To  don  my  robes  of  love. 
 Fit  for  the  place  above  ; 
 To  gird  my  loins  about 
 With  Charity  throughout ; 
 And  so  to  travel  hence 
 With  feet  of  innocence  ; 
 This  done — I'll  only  cry 
 "  God's  mercy  !"— and  so  die. 
 
EMBLEM. 
 
 (Kcorgc  Mtfjcr. 
 
 Why,  with  a  trembling  faintnesse,  should  we  feare 
 The  face  of  deathe  ?  and  fondly  linger  here 
 As  if  we  thought  the  voyage  to  be  gone 
 Lay  through  the  shades  of  Styx  or  Acheron  ? 
 Or,  that  we  either  were  to  travell  downe 
 To  uncouth  deapthes,  or  up  to  heights  unknowne  : 
 Or,  to  some  place  remote,  whose  nearest  end 
 Is  farther  than  earth's  limits  doe  extend  ? 
 
 It  is  not  by  one  halfe  that  distance,  thither 
 
 Where  Death  lets  in,  as  it  is  any  whither  : 
 
 Noe,  not  by  halfe  so  farre  as  to  your  bed  : 
 
 Or,  to  that  place  where  you  should  rest  your  head 
 
 If  on  the  ground  you  layd  your  sclfe,  (cv'n  there) 
 
 Where  at  this  moment  you  abiding  are. 
 
 This  emblem  shewes  (if  well  you  look  thereon) 
 
 That,  from  your  glasse  of  life,  which  is  to  runne, 
 
 There's  but  one  step  to  death  :  and  that  you  tread 
 
 At  once  among  the  living  and  the  dead. 
 
ETERNAL     LIGHT. 
 
 Thy  light  from  whence  it  came,  mounts  still  on  high 
 
 Unto  the  Source  of  light  that's  never  dry. 
 
 Like  as  the  rivers  to  the  ocean  runne. 
 
 From  whence  their  secret  fountaines  first  begun  ; 
 
 Like  as  the  stone  doth  to  the  centre  sway — 
 
 So  to  the  spheres  my  light  shall  make  its  way. 
 
 No  joyes,  delights,  and  greatest  weights  of  gold, 
 
 Nor  pampering  pleasures  fast  our  soule  can  hold. 
 
 The  panting  soule  rests  not,  untill  it  see 
 
 His  Maker  God,  a  Triune  Deitie. 
 
 LIBERA     NOS,    DO  MINE 
 
 %.  M.  Sarins. 
 
 But  there's  a  tide  remains  at  last 
 To  pass,  when  all  the  rest  are  passed  ; 
 And  deep  to  deep  proclaims  afar 
 That  Death's  dark  billows  mighty  are. 
 Yet  Thou,  who  mightier  art  to  save. 
 Did'st  cross  that  Jordan's  parted  wave, 
 And  bear  into  the  land  of  rest 
 The  graven  jewels  on  thy  breast. 
 
EASTER   DAY.  71 
 
 Where  Thou  hast  trod,  we  too  will  go  ; 
 For  there  no  floods  shall  overflow. 
 With  us  in  those  waters  be  : 
 
 Libera  nos.  Domine! 
 
 And  since  once  more  Thou  shalt  appear, 
 With  trump  that  e'en  the  dead  shall  hear, 
 Stamp  now  Thine  image  on  this  clay, 
 And  own  it  there  in  Thy  great  day  : 
 When  wide  unfurl'd  all  flesh  shall  see 
 Thy  perfect  law  ;  and  every  knee 
 Shall  bend,  and  every  tongue  avow, 
 
 "  Thou,  Lord,  art  righteous — only  Thou !" 
 If  then  the  voice  of  prayer  we  raise, 
 Ere  prayer  shall  quite  dissolve  in  praise, 
 Faith  shall  breathe  that  latest  plea, 
 Libera  nos,  Domine  ! 
 
 EASTER    DA  Y. 
 
 (£rasfoafo. 
 
 Rise,  heir  of  fresh  Eternity, 
 
 From  thy  virgin  tomb  ; 
 Rise,  mighty  Man  of  wonders,  and  Thy  world  with  Thee, 
 
 Thy  tomb,  the  universal  east, 
 
 Nature's  new  womb, — 
 Thy  tomb,  fair  Immortality's  perfumed  nest ; 
 
72  FUNERAL    HYMN. 
 
 Of  all  the  glories,  make  noon  gay. 
 
 This  is  the  morn  : 
 This  rock  buds  forth,  the  fountain  of  the  streams  of  Day 
 In  joy's  white  annals  live  this  hour 
 
 When  Life  was  born  : 
 No  cloud-scowl  on  his  radiant  lids,  no  tempests  lower. 
 
 Life  by  this  Light's  nativity 
 
 All  creatures  have  : 
 Death  only  by  this  Day's  just  doom  is  forced  to  die  : 
 
 Nor  is  Death  forced  ;  for  he  may  lie 
 
 Throned  in  Thy  grave  : 
 Death  will  on  this  condition  be  content  to  die. 
 
 FUNERAL    HYMN. 
 
 Prutontius — -+tft  Ccnturn. 
 
 Ah!  hush  now  your  mournful  complainings. 
 
 Nor  mothers,  your  sweet  babes  deplore  : 
 This  death,  we  so  shrink  from,  but  cometh 
 
 The  ruin  of  life  to  restore. 
 
 Who  now  would  the  sculptor's  rich  marble, 
 Or  beautiful  sepulchres,  crave? 
 
 We  lay  them  but  here  in  their  slumber — 
 This  earth  is  a  couch,  not  a  grave. 
 
FUNERAL    HYMN.  -  73 
 
 This  body  a  desolate  casket, 
 
 Deprived  of  its  jewel,  we  see  ; 
 But  soon,  her  old  colleague  rejoining. 
 
 The  soul  reunited  shall  be. 
 
 For  quickly  the  day  is  approaching, 
 
 When  life,  through  these  cold  limbs  shall 
 
 And  the  dwelling,  restored  to  its  inmate, 
 With  its  old  animation  shall  glow. 
 
 The  body  we  lay  in  dishonor 
 
 In  the  mouldering  tomb  to  decay. 
 Rejoined  to  the  spirit,  which  dwelt  there, 
 
 Shall  soar  like  a  swift  bird  away. 
 
 The  seed  which  we  sow  in  its  weakness, 
 
 In  the  Spring,  shall  rise  green  from  the  earth  ; 
 
 And  the  dead,  we  thus  mournfully  bury, 
 
 In  Gods  spring-time,  again  shall  shine  forth.. 
 
 Mother  Earth,  in  thy  soft  bosom  cherish 
 
 Whom  we  lay  to  repose  in  thy  dust  ; 
 For  precious  these  relics  we  yield  thee  : 
 
 Be  faithful,  0  Earth,  to  thy  trust ! 
 
 This  once  was  the  home  of  a  spirit, 
 Created,  and  breathed  from  its  God  ; 
 
 The  wisdom  and  love,  Christ  imparteth, 
 Once  held  in  this  frame  their  abode. 
 
74  FUNERAL    HYMN. 
 
 Then  shelter  the  sacred  deposit : 
 
 Their  Maker  will  claim  it  of  thee  : — 
 The  Sculptor  will  never  forget  it. 
 Once  formed  in  His  image  to  be. 
 
 The  happy  and  just  times  are  coming, 
 When  He  every  hope  shall  fulfill. 
 
 And  visibly  then  thou  must  render. 
 What  now.  in  thy  keeping,  lies  still. 
 
 For  though  through  the  slow  lapse  of  ages, 
 These  mouldering  bones  shall  grow  old. 
 
 Reduced  to  a  handful  of  ashes, 
 A  child  in  its  hands  might  enfold  : 
 
 Though  flames  should  consume  it,  and  breezes 
 
 Invisibly  float  it  away. 
 Yet  the  body  of  man  cannot  perish  : — 
 
 Indestructible  through  its  decay. 
 
 Yet  whilst.  0  our  God,  o'er  the  body 
 Thou  watchest,  to  mould  it  again, 
 
 What  region  of  rest  hast  Thou  ordered, 
 AVI iore  the  spirit  unclothed  may  remain  ? 
 
 In  the  bosom  of  saints  is  her  dwelling, 
 Where  the  Fathers  and  Lazarus  are. 
 
 Whom  the  rich  man.  athirst  in  his  anguish. 
 Beheld  in  their  bliss,  from  afar. 
 
A   FUNERAL   SONG.  75 
 
 We  follow  thy  words,  0  Redeemer, 
 
 When  trampling  on  Death,  in  his  pride, 
 
 Thou  sentest  to  tread  in  Thy  footsteps 
 The  thief  on  the  cross  at  Thy  side. 
 
 The  bright  way  of  Paradise  opened 
 
 For  every  believer  her  space  ; 
 And  that  garden  again  we  may  enter, 
 
 Which  the  serpent  once  closed  to  our  race. 
 
 Thus  violets  sweet,  and  green  branches, 
 
 Oft  over  these  relics  we  strew  ; — 
 The  names  on  these  cold  stones  engraven. 
 
 With  perfumes  we'll  fondly  bedew. 
 
 A    FUNERAL    SONG. 
 
 (Gceorg*  (Utitfjtr. 
 
 "  I  am  the  Life,"  (the  Lord  thus  saith.) 
 
 The  Resurrection  is  through  Me. 
 And  whosoe'er  in  Me  hath  faith, 
 
 Shall  live,  yea,  though  now  dead  he  be 
 And  he  forever  shall  not  die, 
 That  living  doth  on  Me  reive. 
 
 That  my  Redeemer  lives  I  weene, 
 And  that  at  last  I  raised  shall  be 
 
76  BURIAL    OF    THE    DEAD. 
 
 From  earth,  and  covered  with  my  skinne 
 In  this  my  flesh,  my  God  shall  see  ; 
 Yea.  with  these  eies.  and  these  alone, 
 E'en  I  my  God  shall  looke  upon. 
 
 Into  the  world  we  naked  come. 
 
 And  naked  back  again  we  goe  : 
 The  Lord  onr  wealthe  receive  we  from. 
 And  He  doth  take  it  from  ns  too. 
 
 The  Lord  both  wills  and  workes  the  same 
 And  blessed,  therefore,  be  Hi<  Name  ! 
 
 From  Heaven  there  came  a  voyce  to  me. 
 
 And  this  it  willed  me  to  record  : 
 The  dead  from  henceforth  blessed  be. 
 The  dead  that  dieth  in  the  Lord  : 
 The  spirit  thus  did  likewise  say. 
 For  from  their  workes  at  rest  are  thev. 
 
 BURIAL    OF    THE    DEAD. 
 
 "  Ipra  Sipostolica." 
 
 I  thought  no  more  to  meet — so  dreary  seemed 
 Death's  interposing  veil,  and  then  so  pure 
 
 Thy  place  in  Paradise — 
 
 Bevond  where  I  could  soar. 
 
BURIAL    OF    THE    DEAD.  -77 
 
 Yet  happier  thoughts 
 Spring  like  unbidden  violets  from  the  sod 
 Where  patiently  thou  takest 
 Thy  sweet  and  sure  repose. 
 
 The  shadows  fall  more  soothing  :  the  soft  air 
 Is  full  of  cheering  whispers  like  thine  own  ; 
 
 While  memory,  by  thy  grave, 
 
 Lives  o'er  thy  funeral  day. 
 
 The  deep  knell  dying  down — the  mourners  pause, 
 Waiting  their  Saviour's  welcome  at  the  gate. 
 
 Sure  with  the  words  of  Heaven 
 
 Thy  spirit  met  us  there, 
 
 And  sought  with  us  along  the  accustomed  way 
 The  hallowed  porch,  and  entering  in,  beheld 
 
 The  pageant  of  sad  joy, 
 
 So  dear  to  Faith  and  Hope. 
 
 0  !  had'st  thou  brought  a  strain  from  Paradise 
 To  cheer  us,  happy  soul !  thou  hadst  not  touched 
 
 The  sacred  springs  of  grief 
 
 More  tenderly  and  true, 
 
 Than  those  deep-warbled  anthems,  high  and  low, — 
 Low  as  the  grave,  high  as  th'  Eternal  Throne, 
 
 Guiding  through  light  and  gloom 
 
 Our  mourn ino;  fancies  wild, 
 
78  BURIAL   OF   THE   DEAD. 
 
 Till  gently,  like  soft  golden  clouds  at  eve, 
 Around  the  western  twilight,  all  subside 
 
 Into  a  placid  faith. 
 
 That  even  with  beaming  eye 
 
 Counts  thy  sad  honors,  coffin,  bier,  and  pall ; 
 So  many  relics  of  a  frail  love  lost, 
 
 So  many  tokens  dear 
 
 Of  endless  love  begun. 
 
 Listen !  it  is  no  dream — the  Apostle's  trump 
 Gives  earnest  of  the  Archangel's  : — calmly  now 
 
 Our  hearts  yet  beating  high 
 
 To  that  victorious  lay, 
 
 Most  like  a  warrior's,  to  the  martial  dirge 
 Of  a  true  comrade,  in  the  grave  we  trust 
 
 Our  treasure  for  a  while  : 
 
 And  if  a  tear  steal  down. 
 
 If  human  anguish  o'er  the  shaded  brow 
 
 Pass  shuddering,  when  the  handful  of  pure  earth 
 
 Touches  the  coffin-lid  : — 
 
 If  at  our  loved  one's  name. 
 
 Once  and  again  the  thought,  "  forever  gone," 
 Come  o'er  us  like  a  cloud,  yet.  gentle  spirit, 
 Thou  tamest  not  away. — 
 Thou  knowest  us  calm  at  heart. 
 
THE    BURIAL   SERVICE.  "79 
 
 One  look,  and  we  have  seen  our  last  of  thee, 
 Till  we  too  sleep,  and  our  long  sleep  be  o'er  ; — 
 
 0  cleanse  us,  ere  we  view 
 
 That  countenance  pure  again, 
 
 Thou,  who  canst  change  the  heart  and  raise  the  dead; — 
 As  Thou  art  by  to  soothe  our  parting  hour, 
 
 Be  ready  when  we  meet, 
 
 With  Thy  dear  pardoning  words  ! 
 
 THE    BURIAL    SERVICE. 
 
 But  lo !  where  by  yon  gleaming  tower 
 The  sun  sinks  to  its  western  bower, 
 As  weeping  mourners  stand  around, 
 Like  evening  dews  there  fall  around, 
 On  hearts  by  sorrow  withered, 
 The  words  of  Him  who  woke  the  dead. 
 
 0  Father  of  the  fatherless,  to  Thee 
 
 We  turn,  sole  Comforter,  and  seek  release  : 
 
 When  shall  Thy  better  kingdom  come,  and  wc 
 Be  gathered  to  Thy  feet,  and  be  at  peace  ? 
 
 Thou  giv'st  and  tak'st  away,  Thy  name  be  blest ; 
 
 Fain  would  we  have  that  cup  to  pass  away  ; 
 But  may  Thy  will  be  done!  only  our  rest 
 
 To  know  that  Thou  art  good,  and  to  oboy. 
 
80  THOUGHTS    AT    A    FUNERAL. 
 
 "  Thy  will  be  done  on  earth,  as  'tis  in  Heaven  ; 
 Give  us  enough  each  day  to  bear  us  on. 
 Tis  not  our  home  ; — as  vre  have  forgiven. 
 Forgive  us  e'er  we  die.  for  Thy  dear  Son. 
 
 Look  on  us,  for  like  leaves  we  haste  away. 
 
 And  are  not  :  to  Thy  mercy  let  us  cling. 
 Till  we  have  past  this  world  of  evil  sway — 
 
 Hide  us  beneath  the  shelter  of  Thv  wins;.'' 
 
 THOUGHTS    AT    A    FUNERAL. 
 
 "  Christian  gear." 
 
 Who  says,  the  wan  autumnal  sun 
 
 Beuins  with  too  faint  a  smile 
 To  light  up  Nature's  face  again. — 
 And,  though  the  year  be  on  the  wane. 
 
 With  thoughts  of  Spring  the  heart  beguile 
 
 Waft  him.  thou  soft  September  breeze. 
 
 And  gently  lay  him  down 
 Within  some  circling  woodland  wall. 
 Where  bright  leaves,  reddening  ere  thy  fall. 
 
 Waive  gayly  o'er  the  waters  brown. 
 
THOUGHTS   AT    A    FUNERAL.  •  81 
 
 And  let  some  graceful  arch  be  there 
 
 With  wreathed  mullions  proud, 
 With  burnished  ivy  for  its  screen, 
 And  moss  that  glows  as  fresh  and  green 
 
 As  though  beneath  an  April  cloud. 
 
 Even  such  a  peaceful  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'  embitered  spirit's  strife — 
 "  The  Resurrection  and  the  Life 
 
 Am  1 :  believe  and  die  no  more."' 
 
 Unchanged  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. 
 
 Far  better  they  should  sleep  awhile 
 
 Within  the  Church's  shade, 
 Nor  wake  till  a  new  heaven  and  earth 
 Meet  for  their  new  immortal  birth 
 
 For  their  abiding-place  be  made, 
 6 
 
82  COMMUNINGS. 
 
 Than  wander  back  to  life,  and  lean 
 
 On  our  frail  love  once  more. 
 'Tis  sweet,  as  year  by  year  we  lose 
 Friends  out  of  sight,  in  Faith  to  muse 
 How  grows  in  Paradise  our  store. 
 
 Then  pass,  ye  mourners,  cheerly  on, 
 
 Through  prayer  unto  the  tomb, 
 Still,  as  ye  watch  life's  falling  leaf, 
 Gathering  from  every  loss  and  grief 
 Hope  of  new  spring  and  endless  home. 
 
 Then  calmly  to  your  work  again, 
 
 With  hearts  new-braced  and  set, 
 To  run  untired  love's  blessed  race, 
 As  meet  for  those,  who  face  to  face 
 Over  the  grave  their  Lord  have  met. 
 
 COMMUNINGS. 
 
 Not  to  the  grave,  not  to  the  grave,  my  soul, 
 Descend  to  contemplate 
 The  form  that  once  was  dear  : 
 The  spirit  is  not  there 
 Which  kindled  that  dead  eye, 
 Which  throbbed  in  that  cold  heart, 
 
COMMUNINGS.  "  83 
 
 Which  in  that  motionless  hand 
 Hath  met  thy  friendly  grasp — 
 
 The  spirit  is  not  there  ! 
 It  is  but  lifeless,  perishable  flesh, 
 That  moulders  in  the  grave  ; 
 Earth,  air  and  water's  ministering  particles 
 
 Now  to  the  elements 
 Resolved — their  uses  done. 
 
 Not  to  the  grave,  not  to  the  grave,  my  soul, 
 
 Follow  thy  friend  beloved  ; 
 
 The  spirit  is  not  there  ! — 
 Often  together  have  we  talked  of  death  ; 
 
 How  sweet  it  were  to  see 
 All  doubtful  things  made  clear ! 
 
 How  sweet  it  were  with  powers 
 
 Such  as  the  cherubim 
 To  view  the  depth  of  heaven ! 
 0  !  friend,  thou  hast  first 
 Begun  the  travel  of  eternity  ! 
 
 I  look  upon  the  stars, 
 
 And  think  that  thou  art  there, 
 Unfettered  as  the  thought  that  follows  thee ! 
 And  we  have  often  said  how  sweet  it  were 
 With  unseen  ministry  of  angel  power 
 
 To  watch  the  friends  we  loved. — 
 My  friend,  we  did  not  err  ! 
 Sure  I  have  felt  thy  presence  ;  thou  hast  given 
 
 A  birth  to  holy  thought, 
 
84  MEMORY    OF   THE   DEAD. 
 
 Hast  kept  me  from  the  world  unstained  and  pure. 
 
 My  friend,  we  did  not  err  ! 
 
 Our  best  affections  here 
 They  arc  not  like  the  toys  of  infancy, 
 The  soul  outgrows  them  not, — 
 We  do  not  cast  them  off. 
 
 0,  if  it  could  be  so 
 It  were  a  fearful  thins  to  die ! 
 
 Not  to  the  grave,  not  to  the  grave,  my  soul, 
 
 Follow  thy  frieud  beloved  : 
 
 But  in  the  lonely  hour, 
 
 But  in  the  lonely  walk, 
 Think  that  he  companies  thy  solitude, 
 Think  that  he  holds  with  thee 
 
 Mysterious  intercourse. 
 And,  though  remembrance  wake  a  tear, 
 There  will  be  joy  in  grief. 
 
 MEMORY    OF    THE    DEAD. 
 
 Oh,  hearts  that  never  cease  to  yearn  ; 
 
 0  brimming  tears  that  ne'er  are  dried  ; — 
 The  dead,  though  they  depart,  return 
 
 As  if  tliev  had  not  died  ! 
 
MEMORY   OF   THE   DEAD.  •       85 
 
 The  living  are  the  only  dead  ; 
 
 The  dead  live — nevermore  to  die  ; 
 And  often,  when  we  mourn  them  fled, 
 
 They  never  were  so  nigh. 
 
 And  though  they  lie  beneath  the  waves, 
 Or  sleep  within  the  church-yard  dim — 
 
 (Ah,  through  how  many  different  graves 
 God's  children  go  to  Him  !) 
 
 Yet  every  grave  gives  up  its  dead 
 
 Ere  it  is  overgrown  with  grass  ! 
 Then  why  should  hopeless  tears  be  shed, 
 
 Or  need  we  cry,  Alas  ! 
 
 Or  why  should  Memory,  veiled  with  gloom, 
 And  like  a  sorrowing  mourner  craped, 
 
 Sit  weeping  o'er  an  empty  tomb, 
 Whose  captives  have  escaped  ! 
 
 'Tis  but  a  mound — and  will  be  mossed 
 Whene'er  the  summer  grass  appears  ; — 
 
 The  loved,  though  wept,  are  never  lost ; 
 We  only  lose  our  tears. 
 
 Nay,  Hope  may  whisper  with  the  dead, 
 
 By  bending  forward  where  they  are  ; 
 But  Memory,  with  a  backward  tread, 
 
 Communes  with  them  afar  ! 
 
CHRIST    UNCHANGING. 
 
 The  joys  we  lose  are  but  forecast, 
 
 And  we  shall  find  them  all  once  more  ; — 
 
 We  look  behind  us  for  the  past, 
 But  lo  !  'tis  all  before ! 
 
 CHRIST    UNCHANGING. 
 
 Change  is  written  everywhere — 
 Time  and  death  o'er  all  are  ranging. 
 
 Seasons,  creatures,  all  declare 
 Man  is  mortal,  earth  is  changing. 
 
 Life,  and  all  its  treasures,  seem 
 Like  a  sea  in  constant  motion  ; 
 
 Thanks  for  an  eternal  beam 
 Shining  o'er  the  pathless  ocean. 
 
 One  by  one,  although  each  name 
 Providence  or  death  shall  sever 
 
 Jesus  Christ  is  still  the  same 
 Yesterday,  to-day,  forever  ! 
 
DEATH. 
 
 There  are  who  fear  thy  summons,  Death  ! 
 
 And  all  thy  pale  and  cold  array  ; 
 The  young,  who  with  rejoicing  breath, 
 
 Are  opening  on  Life's  sunny  day. 
 
 Yes,  all  to  them  seems  fresh  and  sweet ; 
 And  as  they  gaze,  with  raptured  eye, 
 On  all  the  beautiful  they  meet, 
 
 They  feel  it  would  be  hard  to  die. 
 
 There  are,  to  whom  thy  call  would  come, 
 
 As  to  the  exile's  weary  heart 
 Would  be  the  summons  to  his  home  ; — 
 
 That  home  from  which  he  wept  to  part. 
 
 There  are,  who,  worn  with  cares  and  tears, 
 Look  on  thee  as  the  blessed  one, 
 
 Whose  hand  shall  close  their  mortal  years, 
 Before  their  faith  and  trust  be  gone. 
 
 And,  Death  !  there  are  who  look  to  thee, 
 
 But  as  the  minister  of  grace, 
 And  who  thy  dark  approach  can  see 
 
 With  smiles,  for  they  have  won  the  race. 
 
88  THE   GLAD   EVANGEL. 
 
 The  good,  the  blest !  to  thee  they  trust, 
 To  crown  them  with  the'  immortal  wreath 
 
 And  fearless  of  the  dreams  of  dust. — 
 As  conquerors,  welcome  thee,  0  Deatli ! 
 
 THE    GLAD    EVANGEL. 
 
 We  need  no  change  of  sphere 
 
 To  view  the  heavenly  sights,  or  hear 
 The  songs  that  angels  sing.     The  hand 
 
 Which  gently  pressed  the  sightless  orbs  erewhile, 
 
 Giving  them  light — a  world  of  beauty  and  the  friendly 
 smile, 
 Can  cause  our  eyes  to  see  the  Better  Land. 
 
 We  need  no  wings 
 
 To  soar  aloft  to  realms  of  higher  things, 
 But  only  feet,  which  walk  the  paths  of  peace, 
 
 Guided  by  Him  whose  voice 
 
 Greets  every  ear — makes  every  heart  rejoice, 
 Saying,  Arise,  and  walk  where  sorrows  cease. 
 
 Visiting  spirits  are  near — 
 
 They  are  not  wholly  silent — but  we  cannot  hear 
 Nor  understand  their  speech. 
 
 Our  Saviour  caught  His  Father's  word, 
 
 And  men  of  old  dreaming  and  walking  heard 
 The  breathings  of  a  world  we  cannot  reach. 
 
THE   FEAR    OF    DEATH.  •       89 
 
 They  mounted  to  the  skies, 
 
 And  read  deep  mysteries. 
 While  yet  on  earth,  they  placed  a  ladder  there, 
 
 Like  Jacob's,  that  each  round  should  lead, 
 
 By  prayer  outspoken,  in  a  word  or  deed, 
 The  soul  to  heights  of  clearer,  purer  air. 
 
 They  saw  no  messenger  of  gloom 
 
 In  him  whom  we  call  Death — nor  met  their  doom 
 As  prisoner  his  sentence,  but  naturally,  as  bud  unfolds  to 
 flower — 
 
 As  child  to  man,  so  man  to  angel — ■ 
 
 They,  recognizing  Death  the  Glad  Evangel, 
 Leading  to  higher  scenes  of  Life  and  power ! 
 
 THE    FEAR    OF    DEATH. 
 
 But  thou  that  hast  conversed  with  God  and  Death, 
 
 In  speculation  shall  thy  breath 
 
 Unwillingly  expire  into  His  hand, 
 
 That  comes  to  fetch  it  by  command  ? — 
 
 From  God  that  made  thee  art  thou  loth  to  be 
 
 Possessed  of  thy  felicity, 
 
 Because  thy  guide  looks  pale,  and  must 
 
 Convey  thy  flesh  to  dust  ? 
 
90  A    LITTLE   LONGER   YET. 
 
 Though  that  to  worms  converted  be, 
 
 What  is  all  this  to  thee? 
 
 Thou  shalt  not  feel  Death's  sting,  but  instant  have 
 
 Full  joys  and  triumph  o'er  the  grave  ; 
 
 Where  thy  long-loved  companion,  flesh,  shall  rest, 
 
 Until  it  be  refined,  new  drest — 
 
 For  thy  next  wearing  in  that  holy  place, 
 
 That  Heaven  where  thou  shalt,  face  to  face, 
 
 With  saints  and  angels,  daily  see 
 
 Thy  God,  and  ever  be 
 
 Replenished  with  celestial  bliss  : 
 
 0  my  soul,  think  of  this  ! 
 
 A    LITTLE    LONGER     YET. 
 
 "  ©foristiaiT  fttcjisttr." 
 
 A  little  longer  yet,  a  little  longer 
 
 Shall  violets  bloom  for  thee  and  sweet  birds  sing, 
 And  the  lime  branches,  where  soft  winds  are  blowing, 
 
 Shall  murmur  the  sweet  promise  of  the  spring. 
 
 A  little  longer  yet,  a  little  longer, 
 
 Thou  shalt  behold  the  quiet  of  the  morn, 
 
 While  tender  grasses,  and  awakening  flowers, 
 Send  up  a  golden  tint  to  greet  the  dawn. 
 
A    LITTLE   LONGER   YET.  .      91 
 
 A  little  longer  yet,  a  little  longer, 
 
 The  tenderness  of  twilight  shall  be  thine, 
 
 The  rosy  clouds  that  float  o'er  dying  daylight, 
 Nor  fade  till  trembling  stars  begin  to  shine. 
 
 A  little  longer  yet,  a  little  longer, 
 
 Shall  starry  night  be  beautiful  to  thee, 
 And  the  cold  moon  shall  look  through  the  blue  silence, 
 
 Flooding  her  silver  path  upon  the  sea. 
 
 A  little  longer  yet,  a  little  longer, 
 
 Life  shall  be  thine — life  with  its  power  to  will, 
 Life  with  its  strength  to  bear,  to  love,  to  conquer, 
 
 Bringing  its  thousand  joys  thy  heart  to  fill. 
 
 A  little  longer  yet,  a  little  longer 
 
 The  voices  thou  hast  loved  shall  charm  thine  ear, 
 And  thy  true  heart,  that  now  beats  quick  to  hear  them, 
 
 A  little  longer  yet,  shall  hold  them  dear. 
 
 A  little  longer  still,  patience,  beloved  : 
 
 A  little  longer  still,  ere  Heaven  unroll 
 The  glory,  and  the  brightness,  and  the  wonder, 
 
 Eternal  and  divine,  that  waits  thy  soul. 
 
 A  little  longer,  ere  life,  true,  immortal, 
 
 (Not  this  our  shadowy  life)  will  be  thine  own  ; 
 
 And  thou  shalt  stand  where  winged  archangels  worship. 
 And  trembling  bow  before  the  Great  White  Throne. 
 
92  GONE    INTO    LIGHT. 
 
 A  little  longer  still,  and  Heaven  awaits  thee, 
 To  fill  thy  spirit  with  a  great  delight ; 
 
 Then  our  pale  joys  will  seem  a  dream  forgotten, 
 Our  sun  a  darkness,  and  our  day  a  night. 
 
 A  little  longer,  and  thy  heart  beloved, 
 Shall  beat  forever  with  a  love  divine  : 
 
 And  joy  so  pure,  so  mighty,  so  eternal, 
 
 No  mortal  knows  and  lives,  shall  then  be  thine. 
 
 A  little  longer  yet,  and  angel  voices 
 
 Shall  break  in  heavenly  chant  upon  thine  ear  ; 
 
 Angels  and  saints  await  thee,  and  God  needs  thee 
 Beloved,  can  we  keep  thee  longer  here  ? 
 
 GONE   INTO    LIGHT. 
 
 tymig  Taucjfjan. 
 
 They  are  all  gone  into  a  world  of  Light, 
 
 And  I  alone  sit  lingering  here  ; 
 Their  very  memory  is  fair  and  bright, 
 
 And  my  sad  thoughts  doth  cheer. 
 
 It  glows  and  glitters  in  my  cloudy  breast  * 
 Like  stars  upon  some  gloomy  grove  ; 
 
 Or  those  faint  beams  in  which  this  hill  is  drest 
 After  the  sun's  remove. 
 
GONE   INTO   LIGHT.  -      93 
 
 I  see  them  walking  in  an  air  of  glory, 
 
 Whose  light  cloth  trample  on  my  days  ; 
 My  days,  which  are  at  best  but  dull  and  hoary, 
 
 Mere  glimmerings  and  decays. 
 
 0  holy  hope!  and  high  humility, 
 
 High  as  the  heavens  above  ! 
 These  are  your  walks,  and  you  have  show'd  them  me, 
 
 To  kindle  my  cold  love. 
 
 Dear,  beauteous  Death  !  the  jewel  of  the  just, 
 
 Shining  nowhere  but  in  the  dark  ; 
 What  mysteries  do  lie  beyond  thy  dust, 
 
 Could  man  outlook  that  mark ! 
 
 He  that  hath  found  some  fledg'd  bird's  nest  may  know 
 
 At  first  sight  if  the  bird  be  flown  ;     9 
 But  what  fair  vale  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  be  confined  into  a  tomb, 
 
 Her  captive  flames  must  needs  burn  there  ; 
 
 But  when  the  hand  that  locked  her  up  gives  room, 
 She'll  shine  through  all  the  sphere. 
 
94  GOING    HOME. 
 
 0  Father  of  Eternal  Life,  and  all 
 
 Created  glories  under  Thee  j 
 Resume  my  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. 
 
 GOING    HOME. 
 
 HLancje. 
 
 Our  beloved  have  departed, 
 While  we  tarry  broken-hearted  ; 
 
 In  the  dreary  empty  house, 
 They  have  ended  life's  brief  story, 
 They  have  reached  the  home  of  glory, 
 
 Over  death  victorious ! 
 
 Hush  that  sobbing,  weep  more  lightly, 
 On  we  travel,  daily,  nightly, 
 
 To  the  rest  that  they  have  found  : 
 Are  we  not  upon  the  river, 
 Sailing  fast,  to  meet  forever, 
 
 On  more  holy,  happy  ground  ? 
 
GOING    HOME.  95 
 
 Whilst  with  bitter  tears  we're  mourning 
 Thought  to  buried  love  returning, 
 
 Time  is  hastening  us  along, 
 Downward  to  the  grave's  dark  dwelling, 
 Upward,  to  the  fountain  welling, 
 
 With  eternal  life  and  song ! 
 
 Feel  ye  not  the  breezes  hieing  ? 
 Clouds,  along  in  hurry  flying — 
 
 But  we  haste  more  swiftly  on — 
 Ever  changing  our  position, 
 Ever  tossed  in  strange  transition — 
 
 Here  to-day,  to-morrow  gone  ! 
 
 Every  hour  that  passes  o'er  us 
 Speaks  of  comfort  yet  before  us, 
 
 Of  our  journey's  rapid  rate  ; — 
 And  like  passing  vesper  bells, 
 The  clock  of  Time  its  chiming  tells, 
 
 At  Eternity's  broad  gate. 
 
 On  we  haste,  to  home  invited, 
 There  with  friends  to  be  united 
 
 In  a  surer  bond  than  here  ; 
 Meeting  soon,  and  met  forever  ! 
 Glorious  hope !  forsake  us  never, 
 
 For  thy  glimmering  light  is  dear  ! 
 
 Ah !  the  way  is  shining  clearer, 
 As  we  journey,  ever  nearer 
 
96  OUR    DEAD. 
 
 To  our  everlasting  home. 
 Friends,  who  There  await  our  landing, 
 Comrades,  round  the  Throne  now  standing, 
 
 We  salute  you,  and  we  come  ! 
 
 0  UR    DEAD. 
 
 Thou  God  of  Love!  beneath  Thy  sheltering  wings 
 
 We  leave  our  holy  dead, 
 To  rest  in  hope !     From  this  world's  sufferings 
 
 Their  souls  have  fled ! 
 
 Oh,  when  our  souls  are  burdened  with  the  weight 
 
 Of  life,  and  all  its  woes. 
 Let  us  remember  them,  and  calmly  wait 
 
 For  our  life's  close ! 
 
 PARTING. 
 
 Spttta. 
 
 What  mean  ye  by  this  weeping. 
 
 To  break  my  bleeding  heart  ? 
 As  if  the  love  that  binds  us 
 
 Could  alter  or  depart ! 
 
PARTING.  97 
 
 Our  sweet  and  holy  union 
 Knows  neither  time  nor  place  ; 
 
 The  love  that  God  has  planted, 
 Is  lasting  as  His  grace. 
 
 Ye  clasp  these  hands  at  parting, 
 
 As  if  no  hope  could  be  ; 
 While  still  we  stand  forever, 
 
 In  blessed  unity  ! 
 Ye  gaze  as  on  a  vision 
 
 Ye  never  could  recall, 
 While  still  each  thought  is  with  you, 
 
 And  Jesus  with  us  all. 
 
 Ye  say — "  We  here,  thou  yonder 
 
 Thou  goest — and  we  stay  !" 
 And  yet  Christ's  mystic  body 
 
 Is  one  eternally. 
 Ye  speak  of  different  journeys, 
 
 A  long  and  sad  adieu  ! 
 While  still  one  way  I  travel, 
 
 And  have  one  end  with  you ! 
 
 Why  should  ye  now  be  weeping 
 Those  agonizing  tears  ? 
 
 Behold  our  gracious  Saviour. 
 And  cast  away  your  fears. 
 
 7 
 
98  THE    LAND   TO   WHICH    KM    GOING. 
 
 We  tread  one  path  to  glory. 
 
 And  guided  by  One  hand. 
 And  led  in  faith  and  patience 
 
 Unto  one  Fatherland ! 
 
 Then  let  this  hour  of  parting- 
 No  bitter  grief  record  : 
 
 But  be  an  hour  of  union 
 
 More  blessed  with  our  Lord  ! 
 
 With  Him  to  guide  and  save  us, 
 No  changes  that  await. 
 
 No  earthly  separations. 
 Can  leave  us  desolate  ! 
 
 THE    LAXD    TO    WHICH  I'M    GOING. 
 
 When  the  death-dews  dim  my  eyes. 
 And  my  bosom  panting  lies. 
 Ebbing  life's  receding  sighs 
 
 Shorter,  fainter  growing  : 
 Ere  my  spirit  breaks  her  way. 
 Through  her  prison-walls  of  clay, 
 Into  realms  of  endless  day — 
 
 The  land  to  which  I'm  going. 
 
 May  the  dear  familiar  band 
 
 Of  weeping  friends  that  round  me  stand, 
 
 Watching  the  decreasing  sand. 
 
THE   LAND    TO    WHICH    l'M   GOING.  .         99 
 
 Fast  and  faster  flowing, 
 Chant  some  low  strain,  blending  well 
 With  the  solemn  passing  bell, 
 Of  the  holy  home  to  tell ; — 
 
 The  land  to  which  I'm  going. 
 
 Let  them  sing  "  Thy  Saviour,  guide, 
 For  thy  guilty  sake  that  died, 
 Even  now  is  by  thy  side, 
 
 Comfort-thoughts  bestowing. 
 Angelic  forms  their  arms  extend. 
 And  smileth  many  a  long-lost  friend 
 Glad  welcome  to  thy  journey's  end— 
 
 The  land  to  which  thou'rt  going. 
 
 Then,  as  the  burden  of  their  song 
 In  faint  sweet  cadence  dies  along, 
 One  happy,  radiant  look  among 
 
 That  group  of  mourners  throwing  ;- 
 Just  as  they  faded  from  my  view, 
 I  fain  would  breathe  one  fond  adieu, 
 Till  in  that  land  we  meet  anew — 
 
 The  land  to  which  I'm  going. 
 
PASSING    A  WA  Y . 
 3c.  itt.  arn&i 
 
 Go  and  dig  my  grave  to-day ! 
 
 Weary  of  these  wanderings  all, 
 Now  from  earth  I  pass  away, 
 
 For  the  Heavenly  Peace  doth  call  ;- 
 Angel  voices  from  above 
 Call  me  to  their  rest  and  love. 
 
 Go  and  dig  my  grave  to-day  ! 
 
 Homeward  doth  my  journey  tend, 
 And  I  lay  my  staiF  away, 
 
 Here,  where  all  things  earthly  end 
 And  I  lay  my  weary  head 
 In  the  only  painless  bed. 
 
 What  is  there  I  yet  should  do, 
 Lingering  in  this  darksome  vale  ? 
 
 Proud  and  mighty,  fair  to  view, 
 Are  our  schemes,  and  yet  they  fail 
 
 Like  the  sand  before  the  wind, 
 That  no  power  of  man  can  bind. 
 
 Farewell  earth,  then — I  am  glad 
 That  in  peace  I  now  depart, 
 
 For  thy  very  joys  are  sad, 
 
 And  thy  hopes  deceive  the  heart  ; 
 
PASSING   AWAY.  101 
 
 Fleeting  is  thy  beauty's  gleam, 
 False  and  changing  as  a  dream. 
 
 And  to  you  a  last  good-night, 
 
 Sun  and  moon  and  stars  so  dear, 
 Farewell  all  your  golden  light ; 
 
 I  am  traveling  far  from  here, 
 To  the  splendors  of  that  day 
 Where  ye  all  must  fade  away. 
 
 Weep  not  that  I  take  my  leave 
 
 Of  the  world, — -that  I  exchange 
 Errors  that  too  closely  cleave, 
 
 Shadows,  empty  ghosts  that  range 
 Through  this  world  of  naught  and  night, 
 For  a  land  of  truth  and  light. 
 
 Weep  not,  dearest,  to  my  heart, 
 
 For  I  find  my  Saviour  near, 
 And  I  know  that  I  have  part 
 
 In  the  pains  He  suffered  here, 
 When  He  shed  His  sacred  blood 
 For  each  sinner's  highest  good. 
 
 Weep  not — My  Redeemer  lives  ; — 
 Heavenward,  springing  from  the  dust, 
 
 Clear-eyed  Hope  her  comfort  gives  ; 
 Faith,  Heaven's  champion,  bids  me  trust ; 
 
 Love  Eternal  whispers  nigh, 
 
 11  Child  of  God,  fear  not  to  die !" 
 
THE    FAITHFUL    DEAD. 
 
 Hark  !  a  voice  divides  the  sky  ; 
 
 Happy  are  the  faithful  dead, 
 In  the  Lord  who  sweetly  die  : — 
 
 They  from  all  their  toils  are  freed. 
 Them  the  Spirit  hath  declared 
 
 Blest,  unutterably  blest ; 
 Jesus  is  their  great  reward, 
 
 Jesus  is  their  endless  rest. 
 
 Followed  by  their  works  they  go, 
 
 Where  the  Head  hath  gone  before  ; 
 Reconciled  by  grace  below, 
 
 Grace  hath  opened  Mercy's  door. 
 Justified  through  Faith  alone, 
 
 Here  they  know  their  sins  forgiven  ; 
 Here  they  lay  their  burdens  down, 
 
 Hallowed  and  made  meet  for  Heaven ! 
 
 Who  can  now  lament  the  lot 
 
 Of  a  saint  in  Christ  deceased  ? 
 Let  the  world  who  know  them  not, 
 
 Call  them  hopeless  and  unblest ; — 
 When  from  flesh,  the  spirit  free, 
 
 Hastens  homeward  to  return, 
 Mortals  cry,  "  A  man  is  dead," 
 
 Angels  sing — ';  A  child  is  born." 
 
DYING     WORDS    OF   NEAXBER 
 
 '•  I'm  weary — I'm  weary — let  me  go  home.*' 
 
 Qib.  Hap  33alnur. 
 
 I'm  weary — weary — let  me  go  ! 
 
 For  now  the  pulse  of  life  declineth, 
 My  spirit  chides  its  lingering  flow, 
 
 For  her  immortal  life  she  pineth. 
 
 1  feel  the  chill  night-shadows  fall  ; — 
 
 The  sleep  steals  on,  that  knows  no  waking  ; 
 
 Yet  well  I  hear  blest  voices  call, 
 
 And  bright  above  the  day  is  breaking ! 
 
 Not  now  the  purple  and  the  gold 
 Of  trailing  clouds  at  sunset  glowing, 
 
 These  dim  and  fading  eyes  behold  ; 
 
 But  splendors  from  the  Godhead  flowing ! 
 
 'Tis  not  the  crimson  orient  beam. 
 
 O'er  mountain-tops,  in  beauty  glancing  ; 
 
 Light  from  the  Throne !  a  flooding  stream  ! 
 'Tis  the  eternal  Sun  advancing. 
 
 As  oft,  when  waked  the  summer  morn, 
 
 Sweet  breath  of  flowers  the  breezes  bore  me, 
 
 In  this  serener,  fairer  dawn, 
 
 Perfumes  from  Paradise  float  o'er  me. 
 
104  DYING    WORDS    OF    NBANDER. 
 
 As  -when,  by  sultry  heats  oppressed. 
 
 I've  sought  still  shades,  cool  waters  keeping. 
 So  long  1  for  that  holier  rest. 
 
 Where  Heaven's  own  living  streams  are  sweeping. 
 
 The  joy  of  life  hath  been  to  stand 
 
 With  spirits  noble,  true,  confiding. 
 Oh,  joy  unthought,  to  reach  the  band 
 
 Of  spotless  souls,  with  God  abiding  ! 
 
 Ye  loved  of  earth !  this  fond  farewell 
 
 That  now  divides  us,  cannot  sever  ; 
 Swift-flying  years  their  round  shall  tell. 
 
 And  our  glad  souls  be  one  forever ! 
 
 On  the  far-off  celestial  hills 
 
 I  see  the  tranquil  sunshine  lying — 
 Aud  God  Himself  my  spirit  fills 
 
 With  perfect  peace — and  this  is  dying  ! 
 
 Methinks  I  hear  the  rustling  wings 
 
 Of  unseen  messengers  descending  : 
 And  notes,  from  softly  trembling  strings, 
 
 With  myriad  voices  softly  blending. 
 
 0  Thou,  my  Lord  adored !  this  soul 
 
 Oft,  oft  its  warm  desires  hath  told  Thee! 
 
 NowT,  wearily  the  moments  roll. 
 
 Until  these  longing  eyes  behold  Thee ! 
 
IT    IS    NOT    DYING.  105 
 
 Ah,  stay  my  spirit  here  no  more, 
 
 That  for  her  home  so  fondly  yearneth  ;- 
 
 There,  joy's  bright  cup  is  running  o'er — 
 There,  love's  pure  flame  forever  burnetii 
 
 IT   IS    NOT   DYING. 
 
 <&.  jHUIait. 
 
 No,  no,  it  is  not  dying 
 
 To  go  unto  our  God  ; — 
 The  glowing  earth  forsaking, 
 Our  journey  homeward  taking 
 Along  the  starry  road. 
 
 No,  no,  it  is  not  dying 
 
 To  hear  the  precious  word  ; 
 Receive  a  Father's  blessing, 
 Forevermore  possessing 
 
 The  favor  of  the  Lord. 
 
 No,  no,  it  is  not  dying 
 
 To  wear  a  lordly  crown  ; 
 Among  God's  people  dwelling, 
 The  glorious  anthem  swelling 
 Of  Him  whose  love  we  own. 
 
106  THE   GLORIFIED. 
 
 Oh,  no,  this  is  not  dying, 
 
 Thou  Saviour  of  mankind  ! 
 Streams,  There,  are  overflowing 
 Of  love,  no  hindrance  knowing  ;- 
 Dross  only  here  we  find. 
 
 THE    GLORIFIED. 
 
 "3risf)  }9ap*r." 
 
 Call  them  not  dead — the  faithful  whom 
 Green  earth  closed  lately  o'er. 
 
 Nor  search  within  the  silent  tomb 
 For  those  who  "  die  no  more." 
 
 The  cold  earth  hides  them  from  our  love, 
 
 But  not  from  His  who  pleads  above. 
 
 They  passed — as  all  must  pass,  the  deep 
 
 Dread  portals  of  the  grave  ; 
 But  not  in  dull  decay  they  sleep. 
 
 Whom  Jesus  died  to  save  : 
 To  mortal  eye  their  path  is  dim. 
 But  'tis  enough  they  rest  in  Him  ! 
 
 We  saw  the  momentary  cloud, 
 
 The  pale  eclipse  of  mind, 
 From  earthly  sight,  that  came  to  shroud 
 
 The  deathless  ray  behind  , 
 
THE    GLORIFIED.  107 
 
 A  moment  more,  the  shade  is  gone- 
 The  sun,  the  spirit,  burnetii  on. 
 
 To  die !  'tis  but  to  pass,  all  free, 
 From  death's  dominion  here, 
 
 To  burst  the  bonds  of  earth  and  flee 
 From  every  mortal  fear  ; 
 
 To  plunge  within  that  gulf  untried. 
 
 And  stand  bevond  it — glorified  ! 
 
 Thou  weep'st — perchance  they  weep  for  thee, 
 
 If  heavenly  tears  can  flow. 
 To  think  of  all  the  ills  that  be 
 
 In  this  sad  world  below. 
 Oh  !  not  for  all  its  climes  contain 
 Would  they  return  to  earth  again ! 
 
 Yet  weep — for  earth's  a  vale  of  care 
 And  those  who  mourn  are  blest. 
 
 If  He  who  hears  the  mourner's  prayer 
 Send  comfort  to  the  breast  ; 
 
 If  hallowed  hope  break  through  the  gloom 
 
 Earth  has  no  teacher  like  the  tomb. 
 
HUSH!    HE  A  VEX! 
 
 Last  Words  of  the  late  Bishop  of  Durham. 
 
 "  5LoniJon  £trcor!&." 
 
 Hush  !  Heaven  !  he  whispered  soft  and  clear. 
 As  note?  angelic  caught  his  ear  : 
 Then  quitting  earth  and  mortal  clay. 
 Hi<  spirit  soared  to  heavenly  day. 
 
 Hush  !  stay  your  sorrows,  loved  ones  stay  ! 
 I  would  not  linger  by  the  way — 
 Now  Death  for  me  has  lost  its  sting! 
 I  hear  the  welcome  of  my  King ! 
 
 Hush  !  from  the  everlasting  hills 
 The  glorious  trumpet's  echo  thrills. — 
 The  mighty  Conqueror  leads  the  band. 
 And  I  must  ready  waiting  stand. 
 
 Hush  !  'tis  the  song  of  lasting  peace, 
 All  struggles  now  forever  cease. 
 Each  bitter  pang,  each  weary  sigh — 
 My  Saviour  beckons  from  on  high  ! 
 
 Hush !  sin  can  ne'er  disturb  me  more. 
 I'm  treading  close  on  Canaan's  shore! 
 Oh,  earth  !  be  still !  for  I  would  fain 
 List  to  this  new  and  wondrous  strain ! 
 
THE   SANCTIFIED.  .       109 
 
 Hush  !  'tis  a  charmed  spirit  swell 
 
 Of  sweetest  chords.     No  tongue  can  tell 
 
 To  earth  the  grandeur  of  its  flow ! 
 
 'Tis  Heaven !     Then  life  has  closed  below  ! 
 
 The  gate  of  pearl  wide  open  flew, 
 The  Lord  of  glory  shone  in  view  ! — 
 This  gaze  of  wondrous  love  and  light 
 Enrobed  the  saint  in  glory  bright ! 
 
 He  fled  !  to  join  the  brilliant  throng, 
 To  add  fresh  triumph  to  "  the  song" — 
 And,  ere  the  link  to  earth  was  riven, 
 Deatli  was  dissolved  in  tasting  Heaven ! 
 
 THE    SANCTIFIED. 
 iHrs.  i&ofcritt. 
 
 0  Spirit,  freed  from  earth. 
 
 Rejoice,  thy  work  is  done  ! 
 The  weary  world  \s  beneath  thy  feet 
 
 Thou  brighter  than  the  Sun. 
 
 Arise,  put  on  the  robes 
 
 That  the  redeemed  win, 
 Now  sorrow  hath  no  part  in  thee, 
 
 Thou  sanctified  within ! 
 
110  THE   NEW   SONG. 
 
 Awake,  and  breathe  the  air 
 
 Of  the  celestial  clime  ! 
 Awake  to  love  which  knows  no  change 
 
 Thou  who  hast  done  with  Time  ! 
 
 Awake,  lift  up  thine  eyes  ! 
 
 See,  all  Heaven's  host  appears  ! 
 And  be  thou  glad  eternally 
 
 Thou  who  hast  done  with  tears. 
 
 Ascend  !  thou  art  not  now 
 With  those  of  mortal  birth  ; 
 
 The  living  God  hath  touched  thy  lips, 
 Thou  who  hast  done  with  earth ! 
 
 THE   NEW    SONG. 
 
 Bonar. 
 
 Beyond  the  hills  where  suns  go  down 
 And  brightly  beckon  as  they  go, 
 
 I  see  the  land  of  far  renown 
 
 The  land  which  I  so  soon  shall  know. 
 
 » 
 
 Above  the  dissonance  of  Time, 
 And  discord  of  its  angry  words, 
 
 I  hear  the  everlasting  chime, 
 The  music  of  unjarring  chords. 
 
ST.    FRANCIS    XAVIER.  .  Ill 
 
 I  bid  it  welcome  ;  and  my  haste 
 To  join  it  cannot  brook  delay  ; — 
 
 0  song  of  morning,  come  at  last. 
 And  ye  who  sins:  it.  come  away ! 
 
 - 
 
 0  song  of  light,  and  dawn  and  bliss, 
 Sound  over  earth,  and  fill  these  skies, 
 
 Nor  ever,  ever,  ever  cease 
 
 Thy  soul-entrancing  melodies ! 
 
 Glad  song  of  this  disburdened  earth, 
 Which  holy  voices  then  shall  sing  : 
 
 Praise  for  Creation's  second  birth 
 And  glory  to  Creations  King  ! 
 
 ST.     FRANCIS    X A  VIER 
 
 Lo  !  on  the  slope  of  yonder  shore 
 
 Beneath  that  lonely  shed 
 A  saint  hath  found  his  conflicts  o'er 
 
 And  laid  his  dying  head  ! 
 
 No  gloom  of  fear  hath  glazed  his  eye, 
 For  though  loud  billows  roll, — 
 
 The  Aurora  of  Eternity 
 Is  rising  on  his  soul. 
 
112  ST.    FRANCIS    XAVJER. 
 
 Champion  of  Jesus  ! — man  of  God, 
 Servant  of  Christ,  well  done  ! 
 
 Thy  path  of  thorns  hath  now  been  trod, 
 Thy  red-cross  crown  is  won  ! 
 
 O'er  the  wide  waste  of  watery  waves, 
 And  leagues  on  leagues  of  land, 
 
 Amidst  a  wilderness  of  graves, 
 With  death  on  every  hand, — 
 
 He  flew  to  woo  and  win  a  world  ; 
 
 That  men  might  kiss  the  feet 
 Of  Him  whose  banner  he  unfurled, — 
 
 Father, — Son, — Paraclete  ! 
 
 His  lips  were  love,  his  touch  was  power, 
 His  thoughts  were  vivid  flame, 
 
 The  flashes  of  a  thunder-shower — 
 Where'er,  or  when  he  came  ! 
 
 Around  him  shone  the  light  of  life  ; 
 
 Before  him  darkness  fell — 
 Satan  receded  from  the  strife, 
 
 And  sought  his  native  hell ! 
 
 Yet  who  so  humbly  walk'd  as  he, 
 
 A  conqueror  in  the  field, 
 Wreathing  the  rose  of  victory 
 
 Around  his  radiant  shield. 
 
ON   MANY   SAINTS.  113 
 
 As  silvery  clouds,  at  eventide, 
 
 Float  on  the  balmy  gale, 
 Nor  seem  to  heed  the  stars  they  hide 
 
 Beneath  their  fleecy  veil ; 
 
 So  lowly  sense  of  slightest  worth 
 Fresh  graces  o'er  him  threw  ; 
 
 For  he  unconscious  lived  on  earth, 
 Of  all  the  praise  he  drew  ! 
 
 Champion  of  Jesus  !  on  that  breast 
 From  whence  thy  fervor  flow'd — 
 
 Thou  hast  obtained  eternal  rest 
 The  bosom  of  thy  God  ! 
 
 ON   MANY  SAINTS. 
 
 Sing  we  the  peerless  deeds  of  many  Saints 
 Their  glorious  merits,  and  their  portion  blest ; 
 
 Of  all  the  conquerors  the  world  has  seen, 
 The  greatest  and  the  best. 
 
 They  trod  beneath  them  every  threat  of  man, 
 And  came  victorious  all  these  torments  through  ; 
 
 For  conscious  innocence  their  souls  upheld, 
 And  trials  never  could  their  faith  subdue. 
 
114  SAINTS. 
 
 What  tongues  those  joys,  0  Jesu!  can  disclose, 
 Which  for  thy  martyr'd  Saints  Thou  dost  prepare  ; 
 
 Happy  who  in  their  pains,  thrice  happy  those 
 Who  in  Thy  glory  share  ! 
 
 Our  faults,  our  sins,  our  miseries  remove, 
 Great  Deity,  supreme,  immortal  King  ! 
 
 Grant  us  thy  peace,  grant  us  thine  endless  love. 
 Through  endless  years  to  sing. 
 
 SAINTS. 
 
 fflmxv  Taujjjjait. 
 
 Stars  are  of  mighty  use  :  the  night 
 
 Is  dark  and  long. 
 The  road  foul — and  where  one  goes  right, 
 
 Six  may  go  wrong. 
 
 One  twinkling  ray 
 
 Shot  o'er  some  cloud, 
 
 May  clear  much  way 
 
 And  guide  a  crowd. 
 
 God's  Saints  are  shining  lights  :  who  stays 
 
 Here  long,  must  passe 
 O're  hills,  swift  streams,  and  steepe  ways 
 
 As  smooth  as  glasse  ; 
 
 But  these,  all  night, 
 
 Like  candles,  shed 
 
 Their  beams,  and  light 
 
 Us  into  bed. 
 
A    JEWISH   APOLOGUE. 
 
 "^Etojiat  poms." 
 
 Up  and  down  his  gardens  paced  a  King, 
 In  the  blessed  season  of  the  Spring, 
 
 Lovely  flow'rets  there  by  him  were  seen 
 In  their  earliest  bud  and  blossoming. 
 
 How  should  he  those  lovely  flow'rets  pull, 
 Half  whose  glory  lay  a  hidden  thing  ? 
 
 When  a  few  short  days  were  gone  again 
 Visited  his  garden-plots  the  King  : 
 
 And  those  flowers  so  dewy  fresh  and  fair, 
 Brighter  than  the  brightest  insect's  wing, 
 
 Each  was  hanging  now  its  drooping  head, 
 Each  lay  now  a  wan  discolored  thing. 
 
 And  he  thought  their  scent  and  sweetness,  I 
 Had  rejoiced  in  earlier  gathering. 
 
 So  when  in  his  gardens  of  delight 
 
 Did  that  Monarch  pace  another  Spring, 
 
116  TO   FLOWERS. 
 
 And  the  folded  buds  again  admired, 
 That  did  round  him  fragrant  odour  fling, 
 
 He  with  timely  hand  prevented  now 
 The  sad  season  of  their  withering, 
 
 Culled  them  in  the  glory  of  their  prime, 
 Ere  their  fresh  delight  had  taken  wing  ; 
 
 Culled  the  young  and  beautiful  and  laid 
 In  his  bosom  gently,  home  to  bring. 
 
 TO    FLO  WEES. 
 ffcmftfe. 
 
 Fair  flowers,  we  weep  to  see 
 
 You  haste  away  so  soon  ; 
 As  yet  the  early  rising  sun 
 
 Has  not  attained  his  noon. 
 Stay.  stay. 
 
 Until  the  hasting  day 
 Has  run. 
 
 But  to  the  Evening  song  : 
 And,  having  prayed  together,  we 
 
 Will  go  with  you  along. 
 
OVER   THE   RIVER.  .117 
 
 We  have  short  time  as  you  to  stay, 
 
 We  have  as  short  a  spring  : 
 As  quick  a  growth  to  meet  decay 
 
 As  you,  or  anything. 
 We  die 
 
 As  your  hours  do,  and  dry 
 Away, 
 
 Like  to  the  summer's  rain  ; 
 Or  as  the  pearls  of  morning's  dew, 
 
 Ne'er  to  be  found  again. 
 
 0  VER    THE    RIVER. 
 
 Over  the  river  they  beckon  to  me — 
 
 Loved  ones  who  've  crossed  to  the  further  side  ; 
 The  gleam  of  their  snowy  robes  I  see, 
 
 But  their  voices  are  drowned  in  the  rushing  tide. 
 There's  one  with  ringlets  of  sunny  gold, 
 
 And  eyes,  the  reflection  of  Heaven's  own  hue  ; 
 He  crossed  in  the  twilight — gray  and  cold, 
 
 And  the  pale  mist  hid  him  from  mortal  view. 
 We  saw  not  the  angels  who  met  him  there  ; 
 
 The  gates  of  the  city  we  could  not  see — 
 Over  the  river,  over  the  river, 
 
 Our  loved  one  stands  waiting  to  welcome  me ! 
 
 Over  the  river,  the  boatman  pale, 
 Carried  another — the  household  pet : 
 
118  OVER   THE   RIVER. 
 
 Her  brown  curls  waived  in  the  gentle  gale — 
 
 Darling  Minnie !     I  see  her  yet. 
 She  crossed  on  her  bosom  her  dimpled  hands. 
 
 And  fearlessly  entered  the  phantom  bark  : 
 We  watched  it  glide  from  the  silver  sands, 
 
 And  all  our  sunshine  grew  strangely  dark. 
 We  know  she  is  safe  on  the  further  side, 
 
 Where  all  the  ransomed  and  angels  be  : 
 Over  the  river,  the  mystic  river, 
 
 My  childhood's  idols  are  waiting  for  me. 
 
 For  none  return  from  those  quiet  shores. 
 
 Who  cross  with  the  boatman  cold  and  pale  : 
 We  hear  the  dip  of  the  golden  oars, 
 
 And  catch  a  gleam  of  the  snowy  sail, — 
 And  lo  !  they  have  passed  from  our  yearning  heart ; 
 
 They  cross  the  stream  and  are  gone  for  aye  : 
 We  may  not  sunder  the  veil  apart, 
 
 That  hides  from  our  vision  the  gates  of  clay. 
 We  only  know  that  their  bark  's  no  more. 
 
 May  pail  with  us  o'er  life's  stormy  sea  : 
 Yet  somewhere,  I  know,  on  the  unseen  shore 
 
 They  watch,  and  beckon,  and  wait  for  me. 
 
IN    THE    VALLEY. 
 aite  38.  p.abcit. 
 
 Gently  sloped  the  rugged  pathway, 
 
 To  her  fainting,  failing  tread, 
 Downward  to  the  dreaded  valley, 
 
 By  her  Saviour  gently  led. 
 Day  by  day  she  neared  the  darkness, 
 
 Leaning  on  that  steadfast  arm, 
 As  a  child  who  fears  no  clanger, 
 
 Shrinks  not  from  approaching  harm  ; 
 Till  she  walked  within  the  shadow, 
 
 Little  dreaming  where  she  trod, 
 Knowing  not  "  the  staff"  sustaining, 
 
 As  she  passed  beneath  "  the  rod  f — 
 Knowing  not  how  short  the  distance, 
 
 To  the  home  she  longed  to  see  ; 
 Thinking,  in  the  far  off  future, 
 
 There  were  terrors  yet  to  be. 
 For  the  Love  in  which  she  trusted, 
 
 TJpward  drew  her  waiting  eyes, 
 Till  we  saw  them  change  and  brighten, 
 
 With  a  smile  of  glad  surprise. 
 She  had  guessed  not  of  the  darkness, 
 
 Till  she  saw  the  breaking  day, 
 Caught  no  glimpse  of  Death's  dark  shadows, 
 
 Till  they  changed  and  fled  away. 
 
120  SMILING   IN   DEATH. 
 
 Gentle  life,  with  gentlest  closing, 
 Could  we  wish  for  aught  more  blest, 
 
 Could  we  ask  more  sweet  transition 
 To  the  promised  Land  of  Rest  ? 
 
 SMILING    IN   DEATH. 
 
 "(Christian  Siamtiur. " 
 
 She's  dying — life  is  yielding  place 
 
 To  that  mysterious  charm 
 Which  spreads  upon  the  troubled  face 
 
 A  fixed,  unchanging  calm — 
 That  deepens  as  the  parting  breath 
 Is  gently  sinking  into  death. 
 
 A  thoughtful  beauty  rests  the  while 
 
 Upon  her  snowy  brow  : 
 But  those  pale  lips  could  never  smile 
 
 More  radiantly  than  now  ; 
 A  nd  sure  some  heavenly  dreams  begin 
 To  dawn  upon  the  soul  within. 
 
 Oh,  that  those  mildly  conscious  lips 
 
 Were  parted  to  reply — 
 To  tell  how  Death's  severe  eclipse 
 
 Is  passing  from  thine  eye  : — 
 
 The  change  that  now  is  wrought  in  thee. 
 
SMILING    IN    DEATH.  .121 
 
 Perhaps  thy  sight  is  wandering  far, 
 
 Throughout  thy  kindred  sky, 
 In  tracing  every  brilliant  star, 
 
 Amid  the  flames  on  high  ! 
 Souls  of  the  blest,  whose  path  is  bent 
 Around  the  glorious  firmament. 
 
 Perhaps  thine  eye  is  gazing  down 
 
 Upon  the  earth  below, 
 Rejoicing  to  have  gained  thy  crown 
 
 And  hurried  from  all  woe, 
 To  dwell  beneath  the  throne  of  Him 
 Before  whose  glory  Heaven  is  dim. 
 
 Thy  life,  how  cold  it  might  have  been, 
 
 If  it  had  grown  to  years  ! 
 How  dark,  how  often  stained  with  sin, 
 
 With  weariness  and  tears  ! 
 How  happy  thus  to  sink  to  rest 
 So  early  numbered  with  the  blest ! 
 
 'Tis  well,  then,  that  the  smile  should  lie 
 
 Upon  thy  marble  cheek  ; 
 It  tells  to  our  inquiring  eye, 
 
 What  words  could  never  speak — 
 A  revelation  sweetly  given 
 Of  all  that  we  can  learn  of  Heaven. 
 
DEATH'S    IMPRESS. 
 
 ft.  C.  <Dr«uf). 
 
 Gently  speak,  and  lightly  tread, 
 
 'Tis  the  chamber  of  the  dead. 
 
 Now  thine  earthly  course  is  run, 
 
 Now  thy  weary  day  is  done, 
 
 Genoveva,  sainted  one ! 
 
 Happy  flight  thy  soul  has  taken, 
 
 From  its  plumes  earth's  last  dust  shaken, 
 
 On  the  earth  is  mournful  weeping. 
 
 Round  thy  bier  lone  vigils  keeping  ; — 
 
 In  the  Heaven  triumphant  songs. 
 
 Welcome  of  angelic  throngs, 
 
 As  thou  ent'rest  on  that  day 
 
 Which  no  tears  nor  fears  allay. 
 
 No  regrets  nor  pangs  affray, 
 
 Hemmed  not  in  by  yesterday, 
 
 By  to-morrow  hemmed  not  in  ! 
 
 Bear  her  forth  with  solemn  cheer. 
 
 Bear  her  forth  on  open  bier, 
 
 That  the  marvel  that  hath  been 
 
 May  of  every  eye  be  seen. 
 
 Wonderful !  that  pale  worn  brow 
 
 Death  hath  scarcely  sealed,  and  now 
 
 All  the  beauty  that  she  wore 
 
 In  the  youthful  days  before, 
 
LET   ME   DEPART.  123 
 
 All  the  freshness  and  the  grace, 
 And  the  bloom  upon  her  face, 
 Ere  that  weary  year's  distress 
 In  the  painful  wilderness, 
 Ere  that  wearing  sickness  came, 
 Undermining  quite  her  frame  ; 
 All  come  back — the  light,  the  hue, 
 Tinge  her  cheek  and  life  anew. 
 Far  from  her,  oh  !  far  away 
 All  that  is  so  quick  to  say 
 "  Man  returneth  to  his  clay  :" — 
 All  that  to  our  creeping  fear 
 Whispers  of  corruption  near. 
 Seems  it  as  she  would  illume 
 With  her  radiance  and  her  bloom 
 The  dark  spaces  of  the  tomb. 
 
 LET    ME    DEPART. 
 
 HLafcj  JFIora  fastings. 
 
 Grieve  not  that  I  die  young  ;  is  it  not  well 
 
 To  pass  away  ere  life  hath  lost  its  brightness  ? 
 Bind  me  no  longer,  sisters,  with  the  spell 
 
 Of  love  and  your  kind  words.     List  ye  to  me  ; 
 Here,  I  am  blessed,  but  I  would  be  more  free  •- 
 I  would  go  forth  in  all  my  spirit's  lightness  : 
 Let  me  depart. 
 
124  GOING   HOME. 
 
 Ah,  who  would  linger  till  bright  eves  grow  dim, 
 
 Kind  voices  mute,  and  faithful  bosoms  cold  ? 
 Till  carking  care,  and  toil,  and  anguish  grim 
 
 Cast  their  dark  shadows  o'er  this  fairy  world  ;- 
 Till  fancy's  many  colored  wings  are  furled, 
 And  all  save  the  proud  spirit  waxeth  old? 
 I  would  depart. 
 
 Thus  would  I  pass  away.     Yielding  my  soul 
 A  joyous  thank-offering  to  Him,  who  gave 
 That  soul  to  be,  those  starry  orbs  to  roll ; — 
 Thus,  thus  exultingly  would  I  depart, — 
 Song  on  my  lips — ecstacy  in  my  heart ! 
 Sisters,  sweet  sisters,  bear  me  to  my  grave ! 
 Let  me  depart. 
 
 GOING    HOME. 
 
 3.  3E.  aa. 
 
 Call  it  not  dying,  when  we  cast 
 
 This  mortal  part  away, 
 And  plume  our  wide  expanding  wings 
 
 For  realms  of  cloudless  day. 
 
 Call  it  not  dying,  when  we  see 
 
 By  faith  the  open  door, 
 Alluring  us  to  that  bright  world 
 
 Where  we  should  sin  no  more. 
 
GOING   HOME.  125 
 
 Call  it  not  dying,  when  we  snap 
 
 Our  prison  bars  in  twain, 
 And  our  freed  spirits  rise  above 
 
 The  reach  of  care  and  pain. 
 
 Call  it  not  dying,  when  we  go 
 
 To  that  dear  home  above, 
 To  life  with  Christ,  the  Crucified, 
 
 Where  all  the  air  is  love. 
 
 Call  it  not  dying,  when  we'll  meet 
 
 The  loved  of  other  years — 
 Where  God's  own  hand  has  guided  them, 
 
 And  wiped  away  their  tears. 
 
 Call  it  not  dying,  timid  one, 
 
 Nor  fear  to  cross  the  stream 
 That  lands  thee  on  the  beauteous  shore, 
 
 Where  heavenly  glories  beam. 
 
 No  !  call  it  going  home  to  God; 
 
 Call  it  a  peaceful  rest ; 
 Call  it  departing  from  this  world, 
 
 To  dwell  anions;  the  blest. 
 
INTO    THE    CITY. 
 
 Into  the  City,  in  silence  deep. 
 
 The  pearly  gates  unclosed  once  more  ; 
 Hushed  was  the  fall  of  her  parting  feet, 
 
 As  gently  she  passed  the  threshold  o'er : 
 Only  the  light  of  that  peaceful  brow 
 
 Reflecting  splendor  earth  never  guessed, 
 Told  that  the  spirit  had  entered  in 
 
 The  holy  City  of  love  and  rest. 
 
 Into  the  City,  a  little  way. 
 
 Our  faith  may  follow  her  shining  trace. 
 May  see  in  vision  the  Jasper  walls. 
 
 The  golden  streets  of  her  dwelling-place — 
 May  catch  the  gleam  of  her  robes  of  white, 
 
 As  low  she  kneels  with  the  seraph  throng — 
 May  see  in  her  hand  the  victor  palm. 
 
 And  know  her  voice  in  the  angel's  song. 
 
 Into  the  City,  whose  purer  joys 
 
 Were  ne'er  to  prophet  or  saint  revealed  : — 
 To  clasp  the  loved  ones  of  earth,  and  share 
 
 The  bliss  of  the  souls  that  God  hath  sealed- 
 
AT   THE   GATE.  .127 
 
 To  lean  for  aye  on  the  Saviour's  breast, 
 Where  Life's  glad  River  forever  flows, 
 
 And  feel  the  Sun  of  the  Father's  smile, 
 The  rapture  that  perfect  love  bestows. 
 
 Into  the  City !     Why  stand  we  here, 
 
 Gazing  so  steadfastly  into  Heaven  ? 
 An  angel  whisper  we  seem  to  hear, 
 
 Solemn  and  sweet  as  the  breath  of  even. 
 "  A  few  more  steps  of  the  onward  way. 
 
 A  little  longer  to  watch  and  wait, 
 And  ye,  with  sorrow  and  tears  all  past. 
 
 May  enter  the  City  through  the  gate." 
 
 A  T    THE    GATE. 
 
 QTfiomas  jVU^uiIar. 
 
 There  is  a  land  immortal, 
 The  beautiful  of  lands  ; — 
 
 Beside  the  ancient  portal 
 A  sentry  grimly  stands  ; 
 
 He  only,  can  undo  it, 
 
 And  open  wide  the  door  ; 
 
 And  mortals  who  pass  through  it 
 Are  mortal  nevermore. 
 
128  AT   THE   GATE. 
 
 That  glorious  laud  is  Heaven, 
 
 And  Death,  the  sentry  grim  ; — 
 The  Lord,  therefore,  has  given 
 
 The  opening  keys  to  him  ; 
 And  ransomed  sinners  sighing, 
 
 And  sorrowful  for  sin, 
 Do  pass  the  gate  in  dying, 
 
 And  freely  enter  in. 
 
 Though  dark  and  drear  the  passage 
 
 That  leadeth  to  the  door, 
 Yet  Grace  comes  with  the  message 
 
 Of  Love  for  evermore. 
 And,  at  the  time  appointed, 
 
 A  messenger  comes  down, 
 And  leads  the  Lord's  anointed 
 
 From  cross  .to  Glory's  crown. 
 
 Their  sighs  are  lost  in  singing 
 
 They're  blessed  in  their  tears — 
 Their  journey,  homeward  winging, 
 
 They  leave  to  earth  their  fears. 
 Death,  like  an  angel  seemeth — 
 
 "  We  welcome  you,"  they  cry  ; 
 Each  face  with  glory  beameth. 
 
 'Tis  Life  for  them  to  die. 
 
FAREWELL. 
 
 3.  jHontjjomtrs. 
 
 Let  uie  go,  the  day  is  breaking  ; 
 
 Dear  companions  let  me  go  ! 
 We  have  spent  a  night  of  waking 
 
 In  this  dreary  world  below  : 
 Upward  now,  I  bend  my  way — 
 Part  we  here  at  break  of  day. 
 
 Let  me  go — I  may  not  tarry. 
 
 Wrestling  thus,  with  doubts  and  fears — 
 Angels  wait,  my  soul  to  carry 
 
 Where  my  risen  Lord  appears. 
 Friends  and  kindred  weep  not  so. 
 If  ye  love  me  let  me  go ! 
 
 We  have  traveled  long  together, 
 Hand  in  hand  and  heart  in  heart ; 
 
 Both  through  calm  and  stormy  weather — 
 And  'tis  hard,  'tis  hard  to  part. 
 
 Yet  we  must — farewell  to  you — 
 
 Answer  one  and  all,  Adieu. 
 
 'Tis  not  darkness  gathering  round  me, 
 Which  withdraws  me  from  your  sight ; 
 
 Walls  of  flesh  no  more  can  bound  me  ; — 
 But  translated  into  Light, 
 
130  TO   BE   READY. 
 
 Like  the  lark,  on  mounting  wing, 
 Though  unseen,  ye  hear  me  sing. 
 
 Heaven's  broad  Day  hath  o'er  me  broken, 
 Far  beyond  earth's  span  of  sky, 
 
 I  am  dead — nay,  by  this  token, 
 Know  that  I  have  ceased  to  die. 
 
 Would  ye  solve  the  mystery  ? 
 
 Come  up  hither- -come  and  see ! 
 
 TO    BE    READY! 
 
 Oh,  to  be  ready  when  Death  shall  come, 
 Oh,  to  be  ready  to  hasten  home ! 
 No  earthward  clinging,  no  lingering  gaze, 
 No  strife  at  parting — no  sore  amaze  ; 
 No  chains  to  sever,  that  earth  has  twined, 
 No  spell  to  loosen  that  love  would  bind. 
 
 No  flitting  shadows  to  dim  the  light 
 
 Of  the  angel-pinions,  winged  for  flight ; 
 
 No  cloud-like  phantoms  to  fling  a  gloom 
 
 'Twixt  Heaven's  bright  portals,  and  earth's  dark  tomb. 
 
 But  sweetly,  gently  to  pass  away, 
 
 From  this  world's  dim  twilight,  to  endless  day  ! 
 
RETURNING,    NOT   DEPARTING.  .    1.31 
 
 To  list  to  the  music  of  angel  lyres, 
 
 To  catch  the  rapture  of  seraph  choirs. 
 
 To  lean,  in  trust,  on  the  Risen  One, 
 
 Till  borne  away  to  a  fadeless  crown  ; 
 
 Lord,  make  me  ready  when  Death  shall  conic 
 
 Lord,  make  me  ready  to  hasten  home ! 
 
 RETURNING,    NOT   DEPARTING. 
 
 28onar. 
 
 I'm  returning,  not  departing  ; 
 
 My  steps  are  homeward-bound  ; 
 I  quit  the  land  of  strangers, 
 
 For  a  home  on  native  ground. 
 
 I  am  rising,  and  not  setting — 
 
 This  is  not  night,  but  day  ; 
 Not  in  darkness,  but  in  sunshine, 
 
 Like  a  star  I  fade  away. 
 
 All  is  well  with  me  forever  ; 
 
 I  do  not  fear  to  go  ; 
 My  tide  is  but  beginning 
 
 Its  bright  eternal  flow. 
 
132  RETURNING,    NOT   DEPARTING. 
 
 I  am  leaving  only  shadows, 
 
 For  the  true,  and  fair,  and  good  ; 
 
 I  must  not,  cannot  linger  ; 
 I  would  not,  if  I  could. 
 
 This  is  not  Death's  dark  portal ; 
 
 'Tis  Life's  golden  gate  to  me  ; 
 Link  after  link  is  broken, 
 
 And  I,  at  last,  am  free  ! 
 
 I  am  going  to  the  angels, 
 I  am  going  to  my  God  ; 
 
 I  know  the  hand  that  beckons, 
 I  see  the  heavenly  road. 
 
 Why  grieve  me  with  your  weeping  ? 
 
 Your  tears  are  all  in  vain  ; 
 An  hour's  farewell,  beloved, 
 
 And  we  shall  meet  again. 
 
 Jesus,  Thou  wilt  receive  me, 
 And  welcome  me  above  ; 
 
 This  sunlight  which  now  fills  me, 
 Is  Thine  own  smile  of  love ! 
 
NOT    THERE, 
 
 I  know  his  face  is  hid 
 
 Beneath  the  coffin-lid, 
 Closed  are  his  eyes,  cold  is  his  forehead  fair  ; 
 
 My  hand  that  marble  felt, 
 
 O'er  it,  in  prayer,  I  knelt, 
 Yet  my  heart  whispers  that  he  is  not  there  ! 
 
 Not  there !     Where  then  is  he  ? 
 
 The  form  I  used  to  see 
 Was  but  the  raiment  that  he  used  to  wear. 
 
 The  grave,  that  now  doth  press 
 
 Upon  that  cast-off  dress, 
 Is  but  his  wardrobe  locked — he  is  not  there ! 
 
 He  lives  ! — in  all  the  past 
 
 He  lives  ;  nor,  to  the  last, 
 Of  seeing  him  again  will  I  despair  ; 
 
 In  dreams  I  see  him  now, 
 
 And  on  his  angel  brow 
 I  see  it  written,  "  Thou  shalt  see  me  There  ! 
 
134  BEJOICING  IN  HEAVEN. 
 
 Yes,  we  all  live  to  God ! 
 
 Father,  thy  chastening  rod 
 So  help  us,  thine  afflicted  ones,  to  bear, 
 
 That  in  the  spirit-land, 
 
 Meeting  at  Thy  right  hand, 
 'Twill  be  our  Heaven  to  find  that  he  is  There  ! 
 
 REJOICING    IN   HEAVEN! 
 
 3§r.  $tuU. 
 
 Oh,  think  that  while  you're  weeping  here, 
 
 His  hand  a  golden  harp  is  stringing  ; 
 And  with  a  voice,  serene  and  clear, 
 His  ransomed  soul,  without  a  fear, 
 His  Saviour's  praise  is  singing ! 
 
 And  think  that  all  his  pains  are  fled, 
 
 His  toils  and  sorrows,  closed  forever, 
 While  He,  whose  blood  for  man  was  shed, 
 Has  placed  upon  His  servant's  head 
 A  crown  that  fadeth  never  ! 
 
 And  think  that  in  that  awful  day, 
 
 When  darkness,  sun  and  moon  is  shading, 
 The  form  that  midst  its  kindred  clay 
 Your  trembling  hands  prepare  to  lay 
 Shall  rise  to  life  unfading! 
 
THE    DESIRED    HAYEX.  165 
 
 Then  weep  no  more  for  liim  who  's  gone 
 Where  sin  and  suffering  ne'er  shall  enter, 
 
 But  on  that  great  High  Priest  alone 
 
 Who  can  for  guilt  like  ours  atone, 
 Your  own  affections  centre. 
 
 For  thus,  while  round  your  lonely  bier 
 
 Surviving  friends  are  sadly  bending, 
 Your  souls,  like  His,  to  Jesus  dear, 
 Shall  wing  their  flight  to  yonder  sphere, 
 
 Faith's  lightest  pinions  lending. 
 
 And  thus,  when  to  the  silent  tomb 
 
 Your  lifeless  dust,  like  his  is  given. 
 Like  Faith  shall  whisper  midst  the  gloom, 
 That  yet  again  in  youthful  bloom. 
 
 That  dust  shall  smile  in  Heaven ! 
 
 THE    DESIRED    HA  VEX. 
 
 "i^Dmns  of  tfjt  ©fiurcb  iHilt'tant." 
 
 Lord,  the  waves  are  breaking  o'er  me  and  around  ; 
 Oft  of  coming  tempests  I  hear  the  moaning  sound  ; 
 Here,  there  is  no  safety,  rocks  on  either  hand — 
 Tis  a  foreign  roadstead,  a  strange  and  dreary  land  : 
 Wherefore  should  I  linger  ?  others,  gone  before 
 Long  since,  safe  are  landed  on  a  calm  and  friendly  shore. 
 
136  THE    DESIRED    HAVEN. 
 
 Nqw,  the  sailing  orders,  in  mercy,  Lord,  bestow, 
 Loose  the  cable,  let  me  go  ! 
 
 Lord,  the  night  is  closing  around  my  feeble  barque, 
 
 How  shall  I  encounter  its  watches  long  and  dark  ? 
 
 Sorely  worn  and  shattered,  by  many  a  billow  past. 
 
 Can  I  stand  another  rude  and  stormy  blast? 
 
 Oh,  the  promised  haven  I  never  may  attain, 
 
 Sinking  and  forgotten,  amid  the  lonely  main. 
 
 Enemies  around  me,  gloomy  depths  below, 
 Loose  the  cable,  let  me  go  ! 
 
 Lord,  I  would  be  near  Thee,  with  Thee,  where  Thou  art, 
 Thine  own  word  hath  said,  "  'Tis  better  to  depart.*' 
 There  to  serve  Thee  better,  There  to  love  Thee  more. 
 With  Thy  ransomed  people,  to  worship  and  adore. 
 Ever  to  Thy  presence,  Thou  dost  call  Thine  own — 
 Why  am  I  remaining,  helpless  and  alone? 
 Oh,  to  see  Thy  glory,  Thy  wondrous  love  to  know  ! 
 Loose  the  cable,  let  me  o-o ! 
 
 Lord,  the  lights  are  glancing  from  the  distant  shore. 
 Where  no  billows  threaten,  where  no  tempests  roar. 
 Long-beloved  voices,  calling  me,  I  hear  ! 
 Oh,  how  sweet  the  summons  falls  upon  my  ear  ! 
 Here,  are  foes  and  strangers,  faithless  hearts  and  cold, 
 There,  is  fond  affection,  fondly  proved  of  old  ! 
 Let  me  haste  to  join  them  :  may  it  not  be  so  ? 
 Loose  tha  cable,  let  me  sro ! 
 
DROPPING     DOWN    THE    RIVER.  .137 
 
 Hark  !  the  solemn  answer  !  hark  the  promise  sure. 
 "  Blessed  are  those  servants  who  to  the  end  endure  !" 
 Yet  a  little  longer,  hope  and  tarry  on, 
 Yet  a  little  longer,  weak  and  weary  one ! 
 More  to  perfect  patience,  to  grow  in  faith  and  love, 
 More  thy  strength  and  wisdom,  and  faithfulness  to  prove  ; 
 Then,  the  sailing  orders  thy  Captain  shall  bestow, 
 Loose  the  cable — let  thee  go  ! 
 
 DROPPING    DOWN    THE    RIVER 
 
 ISonar. 
 
 Dropping  down  the  troubled  river, 
 
 To  the  tranquil,  tranquil  shore  ; 
 Dropping  down  the  misty  river, 
 Time's  willow-shaded  river, 
 
 To  the  spring-embosomed  shore  ; 
 Where  the  sweet  light  shineth  ever, 
 
 And  the  sun  goes  down  no  more  ; 
 
 0  wondrous,  wondrous  shore  ! 
 
 Dropping  down  the  winding  river, 
 To  the  wide  and  welcome  sea  ; 
 
 Dropping  down  the  narrow  river, 
 
 Man's  weary,  crooked  river, 
 To  the  blue  and  star-lit  sea  ; 
 
 Where  no  tempest  wrecketh  ever, 
 
138  DROPPING    DOWN'   THE   RIVER. 
 
 Where  the  sky  is  fair  and  free  ; 
 0  joyous,  joyous  sea  ! 
 
 Dropping  down  the  noisy  river. 
 To  our  peaceful,  peaceful  home  ; 
 
 Dropping  down  the  turbid  river, 
 
 Earth's  bustling,  crowded  river, 
 To  our  gentle,  gentle  home  : 
 
 Where  the  rough  sea  riseth  never, 
 And  the  vexings  cannot  come, 
 0,  loved,  and  longed-for  home  ! 
 
 Dropping  down  the  eddying  river, 
 
 With  a  Helmsman  true  and  tried  ; 
 Dropping  down  the  dangerous  river, 
 Mortality's  dark,  threatening  river. 
 
 With  a  sure  and  heavenly  Guide  ; 
 Even  Him,  who  to  deliver 
 
 My  soul  from  death  hath  died  ; 
 
 Oh  Helmsman,  true  and  tried ! 
 
 Dropping  down  the  rapid  river, 
 To  the  dear  and  deathless  Land  ; 
 
 Dropping  down  the  well-known  river, 
 
 Life's  angry,  swollen  river, 
 To  the  Resurrection-land  ; 
 
 Where  the  living  live  forever. 
 
 And  the  dead  have  joined  the  band, 
 In  that  fair  and  blessed  land ! 
 
'A    LITTLE    LONGER. 
 
 One  and  another  pass  they,  and  are  gone, 
 Our  early  friends !  Like  minute-bells  of  Heaven, 
 Across  our  path  in  fitful  waitings  driven, 
 Hear  we  death's  tidings,  ever  and  anon. 
 A  little  longer,  and  we  stand  aloue  ! 
 A  few  more  strokes  of  the  Almighty  rod, 
 And  the  dread  Presence  of  the  voice  of  God 
 About  our  footsteps  shall  be  heard  and  known. 
 Toil  on,  toil  on,  thou  weary,  weary  arm  ; 
 Hope  ever  onward,  heavy,  heavy  heart  ; 
 Let  the  false  charmer,  ne'er  so  wisely  charm. 
 Listen  we  not,  but  ply  our  task  apart ; 
 Cheering  each  hour  of  work  with  dreams  of  rest, 
 And  with  their  love,  who  labored  and  are  blest ! 
 
 HINDER    ME    NOT! 
 
 PUIfn  %.  ^armlet. 
 
 Hinder  me  not ! — the  path  is  long  and  dreary, 
 I  may  not  pause,  nor  tarry  by  the  way — 
 
 Night  cometh,  where  no  man  may  journey  onward, 
 For  we  must  walk  as  "  children  of  the  day." 
 
140  HINDER    ME     NOT. 
 
 T  know  the  city  lictli  far  behind  me, 
 
 The  very  brightest  gem  in  all  the  plain  ; — 
 
 But  thick  and  fast  the  lurid  clouds  are  rising, 
 Which  soon  shall  scatter  into  fiery  hail. 
 
 I  must  press  on,  until  I  reach  my  Zoar, 
 
 And  There  find  refuge  from  the  fearful  blast ! 
 
 In  Thy  cleft  side,  0,  smitten  Saviour !  hide  me, 
 Till  this  calamity  be  overpast ! 
 
 Ye  cannot  tempt  me  back  with  pomp  or  pleasure, 
 All,  in  my  eager  grasp,  has  turned  to  dust ; 
 
 The  shield  of  love  around  my  heart  is  broken, — 
 How  shall  I  place  on  man's  frail  life  my  trust  ? 
 
 But  my  heart  lingers  when  I  pass  the  dwellings 
 Where  children  play  about  the  open  door  ; 
 
 And  pleasant  voices  waken  up  the  echoes 
 From  silent  lips  of  those  I  see  no  more. 
 
 For  through  their  chambers  swept  the  solemn  warning. 
 
 Arise  !  depart!  for  "  this  is  not  your  rest!" 
 They  folded  their  meek  hands,  and  sought  The  Presence  : 
 
 I,  only  bore  the  arrow  in  my  breast ! 
 
 But  there  is  balm  in  Gilead,  and  a  Healer, 
 
 Whose  Sovereign  power  can  cure  our  every  ill ; 
 
 And  to  the  soul,  more  wildly  tempest  tossing 
 Than  ever  Galilee,  say,  "  Peace,  be  still !" 
 
HINDER    ME     NOT.  141 
 
 Who,  showing  His  own  name  thereon  engraven, 
 With  bleeding  hands,  will  draw  the  dart  again, 
 
 And  whisper  :  "  Should  the  true  disciple  murmur, 
 To  taste  the  cup,  his  Master's  lip  could  drain  ?" 
 
 And  then  lead  me  until  we  reacli  the  river, 
 
 Which  all  must  cross,  and  some  must  cross  alone  ; 
 
 Oh !  ye,  who  in  the  land  of  peace  are  wearied, 
 How  will  ye  breast  the  Jordan's  swelling  moan  ? 
 
 I  know  not  if  the  wave  shall  rage  or  slumber, 
 When  I  shall  stand  upon  the  nearer  shore  ; 
 
 But  One,  whose  form  the  Son  of  God  resembleth, 
 Will  cross  with  me,  and  I  shall  ask  no  more ! 
 
 0  weary  heads !  rest  on  your  Saviour's  bosom, 
 0  weary  feet!  press  on  the  path  He  trod, 
 
 0  weary  souls  !  your  rest  shall  be  remaining, 
 When  ye  have  gained  the  City  of  your  God ! 
 
 0  glorious  City!  jasper-built,  and  shining 
 With  God's  own  glory  in  effulgent  light, 
 
 Wherein  no  manner  of  defilement  cometh, 
 Nor  any  shadow  flung  from  passing  night. 
 
 Then  shall  ye  pluck  fruits  from  that  Tree  immortal, 
 And  be  like  gods,  but  find  no  curse  therein  : 
 
 There,  shall  ye  slake  your  thirst  in  that  full  fountain, 
 Whose  distant  streams  suffice  to  cleanse  your  sin. 
 
142  THE    BORDER    LANDS. 
 
 There,  shall  ye  find  your  dead  in  Christ,  arisen, 
 
 And  learn  from  them  to  sing  the  angel's  song  ; 
 Well  may  ye  echo,  from  earth's  waiting  prison, 
 
 The  martyr's  cry  :  "  How  long,  0  Lord !  how  long  lw 
 
 THE    BORDER    LANDS. 
 
 Father,  into  Thy  loving  hands, 
 
 My  feeble  spirit  I  commit, 
 While  wandering  in  these  border  lands 
 
 Until  Thy  voice  shall  summon  it. 
 
 Father,  I  would  not  dare  to  choose 
 A  longer  life,  an  earlier  death  ; 
 
 I  know  not  what  my  soul  might  lose 
 By  shortened  or  protracted  breath. 
 
 These  border  lands  are  calm  and  still, 
 And  solemn  are  their  silent  shades  ; 
 
 And  my  heart  welcomes  them  until 
 The  light  of  life's  long  evening  fades. 
 
 I  heard  them  spoken  of  with  dread, 
 As  fearful  and  unquiet  places, 
 
 Shades,  where  the  living  and  the  dead 
 Looked  sadlv  in  each  other's  faces. 
 
THE   BORDER   LAXDS.  143 
 
 But  since  Thy  hand  hath  led  me  here. 
 
 And  I  have  seen  the  border  land — 
 Seen  the  dark  river  flowing  near, 
 
 Stood  on  its  brink,  as  now  I  stand, 
 
 There  has  been  nothing*  to  alarm 
 
 My  trembling  soul.     How  could  I  fear 
 
 While  thus  encircled  with  Thine  arm  ? 
 I  never  felt  Thee  half  so  near  ! 
 
 What  shall  appal  me  in  a  place 
 
 That  brings  me  hourly  near  Thee  ? 
 When  I  may  almost  see  Thy  face  ; 
 
 Surely,  'tis  here,  my  soul  would  be ! 
 
 They  say  the  waves  are  dark  and  deep, 
 That  Faith  may  perish  in  the  river  ; 
 
 They  speak  of  Death  with  fear,  and  weep  : 
 Shall  my  soul  perish  ?     Oh,  no,  never  ! 
 
 I  know  that  Thou  wilt  never  leave 
 The  soul  that  trembles  while  it  clings 
 
 To  Thee  ;  I  know  Thou  wilt  achieve 
 Its  passage  on  Thine  outspread  wings. 
 
 And  since  I  first  was  brought  so  near 
 The  stream  that  flows  to  the  Dead  Sea, 
 
 I  think  that  it  lias  grown  more  clear 
 And  shallow  than  it  used  to  be. 
 
144  NEARER     HOME. 
 
 I  cannot  3ee  the  Golden  Gate, 
 Unfolding  yet  to  welcome  me — 
 
 I  cannot  yet  anticipate 
 
 The  joy  of  Heaven's  jubilee  ; 
 
 But  I  will  calmly  watch  and  pray. 
 
 Until  I  hear  my  Saviour's  voice. 
 Calling  my  happy  soul  away. 
 
 To  see  His  glory  and  rejoice ! 
 
 NEARER    HOME. 
 
 "  sciamiiur/' 
 
 Nearer  home,  nearer  home  I 
 
 However  dark  and  lonely 
 The  path  through  which  we  roam. 
 
 This  is  a  journey  only. 
 And  though  we  oft.  affrighted. 
 
 Shrink  back  with  sigh  and  moan. 
 Our  camp-fires  still  are  lighted 
 
 •'  A  day's  march  nearer  home." 
 
 Nearer  home,  nearer  home  ! 
 
 Oh.  joy  beyond  comparing. 
 That.  over,  thorn  and  stone. 
 
 Our  feet  are  homeward  pressing ! 
 
NEARER   HOME.  145 
 
 For  though  we  leave  behind  us 
 
 Some  buds  of  hope  unblown, 
 The  sunset  still  doth  find  us, 
 
 ';  A  day's  march  nearer  home." 
 
 Nearer  home,  nearer  home  ! 
 
 0  many  mansioned  dwelling, 
 Beneath  Thy  shining  dome, 
 
 No  tides  of  grief  are  swelling  ; 
 And  toward  thy  fadeless  glory 
 
 With  eager  haste  we  come, 
 Repeating  earth's  brief  story, 
 
 "  A  day's  march  nearer  home." 
 
 Nearer  home,  nearer  home  ! 
 
 Soon  through  its  open  portals, 
 The  ransomed  hosts  will  come, 
 
 To  welcome  us  immortals. 
 Then  be  the  paths  before  us, 
 
 With  wrecks  or  roses  strewn, 
 Each  night  we'll  sing  in  chorus. 
 
 "  A  day's  march  nearer  home." 
 
 10 
 
NEAR    HOME. 
 %lkt  ©ami. 
 
 One  sweetly  solemn  thought 
 Comes  to  me  o'er  and  o'er — 
 
 1  am  nearer  home  to-day, 
 Than  I  ever  was  before. 
 
 Nearer  my  Father's  House, 
 Where  the  many  mansions  be  ; 
 
 Nearer  the  great  White  Throne, 
 Nearer  the  jasper-sea. 
 
 Nearer  the  bound  of  life, 
 
 Where  we  lay  our  burdens  down  ; 
 Nearer  leaving  the  cross, 
 
 Nearer  wearing  the  crown. 
 
 But,  lying  dark  between. 
 
 Winding  down  through  the  night, 
 Is  the  dim  and  unknown  stream 
 
 That  leads  at  last  to  light. 
 
 Closer,  closer  my  steps 
 Come  to  the  dark  abysm  : 
 
 Closer,  death  to  my  lips, 
 Presses  the  awful  chrism. 
 
MEETING    AGAIN.  147 
 
 Saviour,  perfect  my  trust, 
 
 Strengthen  my  might  of  faith, 
 Let  me  feel  as  I  would  when  I  stand 
 
 On  the  rock  of  the  shore  of  death. 
 
 Feel  as  I  would  when  my  feet 
 
 Are  slipping  over  the  brink, 
 For  it  may  be  I'm  nearer  home, 
 
 Nearer  now  than  I  think. 
 
 MEE  TIN  G    A  GA1  N. 
 
 13c  nar. 
 
 'Tis  thus  they  press  the  hand  and  part, 
 Thus  have  they  bid  farewell  again  ; 
 
 Yet  still  they  commune,  heart  with  heart, 
 Linked  by  a  never-broken  chain  : — 
 
 Still,  one  in  life  and  one  in  death, 
 One  in  their  hopes  of  rest  above, 
 
 One  in  their  joy,  their  trust,  their  faith, 
 One  in  each  other's  tender  love. 
 
 Yet  must  they  part,  and  parting,  weep, 
 What  else  has  eartl\  for  them  in  store? 
 
 These  farewell  pangs,  how  sharp  and  deep  ; 
 These  farewell  words,  how  sad  and  sore ! 
 
148  SPEEDY   RELEASE. 
 
 Yet,  shall  they  meet  again  in  peace, 
 To  sing  the  song  of  festal  joy, 
 
 Where  naught  shall  bid  their  gladness  cease, 
 And  none  their  fellowship  destroy. 
 
 Where  none  shall  beckon  them  away, 
 Nor  bid  their  festival  be  done  ; 
 
 Their  meeting- time,  the  Eternal  Day, 
 
 Their  meeting-place,  the  Eternal  Throne ! 
 
 Then,  hand  in  hand,  firm  linked  at  last, 
 And  heart  to  heart,  enfolded  all, 
 
 They'll  smile  upon  the  troubled  past, 
 And  wonder  why  they  wept  at  all. 
 
 Then,  let  them  press  the  hand  and  part, 
 The  dearly  loved,  the  fondly  loving, 
 
 Still,  still  in  spirit  and  in  heart, 
 The  undivided,  unremoving. 
 
 -f 
 
 SPEEDY   RELEASE. 
 
 A  few  more  days  shall  pass, 
 A  few  more  seasons  come, 
 
 And  we  shall  be  with  those  that  rest 
 Asleep  within  the  tomb. 
 
SPEEDY   RELEASE.  149 
 
 A  few  more  suns  shall  set, 
 
 O'er  these  dark  hills  of  Time, 
 And  we  shall  be  where  suns  are  not, 
 
 A  far  serener  clime ! 
 
 A  few  more  storms  shall  beat, 
 
 On  this  wild  rocky  shore, 
 And  we  shall  be  where  tempests  cease. 
 
 And  surges  swell  no  more. 
 
 A  few  more  struggles  here, 
 
 A  few  more  partings  o'er, 
 A  few  more  toils,  a  few  more  tears, 
 
 And  we  shall  weep  no  more. 
 
 A  few  more  Sabbaths  here, 
 
 Shall  cheer  us  on  our  way, 
 And  we  shall  reach  the  endless  rest, 
 
 The  eternal  Sabbath  day. 
 
 "Tis  but  a  little  while, 
 
 And  He  will  come  again, 
 Who  died  that  we  might  live — who  lives 
 
 That  we  with  Him  may  reign ! 
 
 Then,  0  my  Lord,  prepare 
 
 My  soul  for  that  glad  day, 
 Oh,  wash  me  in  Thy  precious  blood, 
 
 And  take  my  sins  away ! 
 
CLIMBING    THE    STAIR. 
 gtorfaOri  S.  grortor. 
 
 Dim  shadows  gather  thickly  round,  and  up  the  misty  stair 
 
 they  climb, 
 The  cloudy  stair,  that  upward  leads  to  where  the  closed 
 
 portals  shine, 
 Round  which  the  kneeling  spirits  wait  the  opening  of  the 
 
 golden  gate. 
 And  some  with  eager  longing  go,  still  pressing  forward 
 
 hand  in  hand  : 
 And  some,  with  weary  step  and  slow,  look  back  where  their 
 
 beloved  stand, 
 Yet  up  the  misty  stair  they  climb,  led  onward  by  the  angel 
 
 Time. 
 
 As  unseen  hands  roll  back  the  doors,  the  light  that  floods 
 
 the  very  air, 
 Is  the  dim  shadow  from  within,  of  the  o-reat  2,'lorv  hidden 
 
 there  ; 
 And  morn  and  eve,  and  soon  and  late,  the  shadows  pass 
 
 within  the  gate, 
 As  one  by  one  they  enter  in  and  the  dim  portals  clo?e  once 
 
 more. 
 The  halo  seems  to  linger  round  those  kneeling  closest  to  the 
 
 door. 
 The  joy  that  lightened  from  that  place,  shines  still  upon  the 
 
 watcher's  face. 
 
LETTING    GO    EARTH.  151 
 
 The  faint,  low  echo  that  we  hear  of  far  off  music  seems  to  fill 
 The  silent  air  with  love  and  fear,  and  the  world's  clamors 
 
 all  grow  still 
 Until  the  portals  close  again,  and  leave  us  toiling  on  in  pain. 
 Complain  not  that  the  way  is  long — what  road  is  long  that 
 
 leads  us  There  ? 
 But  let  the  angel  take  thy  hand,  and  lead  thee  up  the  misty 
 
 stair, 
 And  then,  with  trusting  heart,  await  the  opening  of  the 
 
 golden  gate. 
 
 LETTING    GO    EARTH. 
 
 3osia|)  Center. 
 
 Oh,  cling  not,  trembler,  to  life's  fragile  bark  : 
 
 It  fills — 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  vapory  air  ; 
 The  world  receding,  soon  will  mock  thy  grasp  ; 
 
 But  let  the  wings  of  prayer 
 Take  the  blest  breeze  of  Heaven,  and  upward  ilee, 
 And  life,  from  God,  shall  enter  thee. 
 
152  LETTING   GO    EARTH. 
 
 Oli,  fear  not  Him  who  walks  the  stormy  wave  ; 
 
 JT  is  not  a  spectre,  but  the  Lord  ! 
 Trust  thou  in  Him,  who  overcame  the  grave. 
 
 Who  holds  in  captive  ward 
 The  powers  of  hell.     Heed  not  the  monster  grim. 
 Nor  fear  to  go,  by  death,  to  Him ! 
 
 Look  not  so  fondly  down  on  this  false  earth  ; 
 
 Let  not  hope  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  ? 
 
 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 
 To  trust  our  Maker  with  the  soul  He  gave. 
 Or  Him  who  died,  that  soul  to  save  ? 
 
 Into  His  hands  commit  thy  trembling  spirit 
 
 Who  gave  His  life  for  thine  : 
 Guilty,  fix  all  thy  trust  upon  His  merit. 
 
 To  Him,  thy  heart  resign, 
 Oh,  give  Him  love  for  love,  and  sweetly  fall 
 Into  His  hands,  who  is  thy  All ! 
 
THE    DARK   RIVER. 
 
 And  is  the  river  dark  ?     N  ay,  think  not  so, 
 
 The  "brightness  of  His  glory"  sends  its  light 
 
 Across  the  waters,  op'ning  to  our  view 
 
 The  Heaven-built  walls  of  New  Jerusalem  ! 
 
 Why  is  it,  then,  when  wandering  o'er  this  earth, 
 
 So  oft,  the  child  of  God,  affrighted  starts 
 
 When  but  a  glimpse  of  Jordan  meets  his  eye  ? 
 
 Wherefore  shrinks  back,  and  longs  once  more  to  trace 
 
 The  weary  steps  of  life,  rather  than  feel 
 
 Its  waves  rise  round  him  ?     The  mists  of  earth, 
 
 O'ercloud  that  stream,  rising  from  gardens  fair, 
 
 As  well  as  marshes  dark  with  human  crimes. 
 
 'Tis  Faith  dispels  the  clouds  ! 
 
 Then,  though  timid  as  the  fawn,  e'en  woman 
 
 Stands  courageous  on  the  brink,  rejoicing 
 
 When  the  summons  comes  to  call  her  home  ! 
 
 Wherefore,  oh  wherefore  fear  when  Jesus  stands 
 
 To  welcome  us  to  bliss  ? — not  such  as  earth 
 
 Affords,  but  that  which  eye  hath  not  yet  seen, 
 
 Nor  ear  hath  heard,  nor  heart  of  man  conceived  ! 
 
 JTis  heavenly  bliss,  which  Jesus  gives,  and  aught  from 
 
 Him, 
 Is  happiness  !     Then  let  not  that  dark  stream 
 Cast  shadows  o'er  thy  soul ;  ever  let  Faith 
 Look  far  beyond  its  clouds,  to  Him  who  bids 
 Thee  plunge  within  its  wave. 
 
THE    OPEN  G  A  TE. 
 
 Shrink  not  enfranchised  spirit ! 
 Thou,  that  the  wine-press  of  the  field  hath  trod  I 
 On,  blest  immortal,  on,  through  boundless  space, 
 And  stand  with  thy  Redeemer,  face  to  face ! 
 
 Yes,  stand  before  thy  God  ! 
 
 Life's  weary  work  is  o'er, 
 
 Thou  art  of  earth  no  more. 
 Xo  more  art  trammeled  by  the  oppressive  clay, 
 
 But  tread'st  with  winged  ease 
 
 The  high  acclivities 
 Of  truth's  sublime,  up  Heaven's  crystalline  way. 
 
 Here,  no  bootless  quest, 
 
 1  he  City's  name  is  Rest. 
 
 Here,  shall  no  fear  appal ; 
 
 Here,  Love  is  all  in  all  ; 
 Here,  shalt  thou  win  thy  ardent  soul's  desire  : 
 Here,  clothe  thee  in  thy  beautiful  attire  ! 
 
 Lift,  lift  thy  wondering  eyes, 
 
 Yonder  is  Paradise ! 
 
 And  this  fair  shining  band 
 
 Are  spirits  from  this  land  ! 
 And  these  that  throng  to  meet  thee  are  thy  kin, 
 They  have  awaited  thee,  redeemed  from  sin  ! 
 The  golden  gate  unfolds  ! — enter,  oh  !  enter  in  ! 
 
UP    ABOVE. 
 
 Down  below,  the  wild  November  whistling 
 Through  the  beech's  dome  of  burning  red. 
 
 And  the  Autumn,  sprinkling  penitential 
 Dust  and  Ashes  on  the  chestnut's  head. 
 
 « 
 Down  below,  a  pall  of  airy  purple. 
 
 Darkly  hanging  from  the  mountain-side, 
 
 And  the  sunset  from  his  eyebrow  staring 
 
 O'er  the  long  roll  of  the  leaden  tide. 
 
 Up  above — the  Tree  with  leaf  unfading, 
 
 By  the  everlasting  River's  brink, 
 And  the  Sea  of  Glass,  beyond  whose  margin 
 
 Never  yet  the  sun  was  known  to  sink. 
 
 Down  below,  the  white  wings  of  the  sea-bird 
 Dashed  across  the  furrows,  dark  with  mould. 
 
 Flitting,  like  the  memories  of  our  childhood, 
 Through  the  trees,  now  waxen  pale  and  old. 
 
 Down  below,  imaginations  quivering 
 Through  our  human  spirits,  like  the  wind  ; 
 
 Thoughts,  that  toss,  like  leaves  about  the  woodland, 
 Hopes,  like  sea-birds,  flashed  across  the  mind. 
 
156  UP   ABOVE. 
 
 Up  above — the  host  no  man  can  number, 
 In  white  robes,  a  palm  in  every  hand, 
 
 Each  some  work  sublime  forever  working 
 In  the  spacious  tracts  of  that  Great  Land. 
 
 Up  above — the  thoughts  that  know  not  anguish, 
 Tender  care,  sweet  love  for  us  below, 
 
 Noble  pity,  free  from  anxious  terror, 
 Larger  love,  without  a  touch  of  woe. 
 
 Down  below,  a  sad,  mysterious  music, 
 
 Wailing  through  the  woods,  and  on  the  shore, 
 
 Burdened  with  a  grand  majestic  secret, 
 That  keeps  sweeping  from  us  evermore. 
 
 Up  above — a  music  that  entwineth 
 With  eternal  threads  of  golden  sound, 
 
 The  great  poem  of  this  strange  existence, 
 
 All  whose  wondrous  meaning;  hath  been  found. 
 
 ■--*& 
 
 Down  below,  the  church,  to  whose  poor  window 
 Glory  by  the  autumnal  trees  is  lent, — 
 
 And  a  group  of  worshippers  in  mourning, 
 Missing  some  one  at  the  sacrament. 
 
 Up  above — the  burst  of  Hallelujah, 
 And  (without  the  sacramental  mist 
 
 Wrapped  around  us,  like  a  sunlit  halo,) 
 The  great  vision  of  the  face  of  Christ. 
 
UP   ABOVE.  157 
 
 Down  below,  cold  sunlight  on  the  tombstones, 
 And  the  green  wet  turf,  with  faded  flowers. 
 
 Winter-roses,  once  like  young  hopes  burning 
 Now  beneath  the  ivy  dripped  with  showers. 
 
 And  the  new-made  grave,  within  the  churchyard, 
 And  the  white  cap  on  that  young  face  pale, 
 
 And  the  watcher,  ever  as  it  dusketh, 
 
 Rocking  to  and  fro,  with  that  long  wail. 
 
 Up  above, — a  crowned  and  happy  spirit, 
 
 Like  an  infant  in  the  eternal  years, — 
 Who  shall  grow  in  love  and  light  forever, 
 
 Ordered  in  his  place,  among  his  peers. 
 
 Oh,  the  sobbing  of  the  winds  of  autumn ! 
 
 Oh,  the  sunset  streak  of  stormy  gold  ! 
 Oh,  the  poor  heart!  thinking  in  the  churchyard 
 
 Night  is  coming,  and  the  grave  is  cold ! 
 
 Oh,  the  pale,  and  plashed,  and  sodden  roses ! 
 
 Oh,  the  desolate  heart,  that  grave  above  ! 
 Oh  the  white  cap,  shaking  as  it  darkens 
 
 Round  that  shrine  of  memory  and  love  ! 
 
 Oh,  the  Rest  forever,  and  the  rapture ! 
 
 Oh  the  Hand  that  wipes  the  tears  away ! 
 Oh,  the  golden  Homes,  beyond  the  sunset, — 
 
 And  the  Hope,  that  watches  o'er  the  clay ! 
 
"sooiv  and  forever:' 
 
 3.  %.  iHonsjrfl. 
 
 Soox  and  forever ! 
 
 Such  promise  our  trust, 
 Though  "  ashes  to  ashes 
 
 And  dust  to  dust." — 
 Soon,  and  forever. 
 
 Our  union  shall  be 
 Made  perfect,  our  glorious 
 
 Redeemer  in  Thee. 
 When  the  sins  and  the  sorrows 
 
 Of  Time  shall  be  o'er. 
 Its  pangs  and  its  partings 
 
 Remembered  no  more ! 
 When  life  cannot  fail, 
 
 And  when  death  cannot  sever. 
 Christians  with  Christ  shall  be 
 
 Soon  and  forever ! 
 
 Soon  and  forever 
 
 The  breaking  of  day 
 Shall  drive  all  the  night-clouds 
 
 Of  sorrow  away  ; 
 
"SOON   AND    FOREVER."  159 
 
 Soon  and  forever 
 
 We'll  see  as  we're  seen, 
 And  learn  the  deep  meaning 
 
 Of  things  that  have  been  ; 
 When  trials  without  us, 
 
 And  fears  from  within. 
 Shall  weary  no  more 
 
 In  the  warfare  of  sin  ; 
 Where  tears  and  where  snares, 
 
 And  where  death  shall  be  never, 
 Christians,  with  Christ  shall  be 
 
 Soon  and  forever. 
 
 Soon  and  forever 
 
 The  work  shall  be  done — 
 The  warfare  accomplished, 
 
 The  victory  won ! 
 Soon,  and  forever, 
 
 The  soldier  lay  down 
 His  sword  for  a  harp, 
 
 And  his  cross  for  a  crown. 
 Then  droop  not  in  sorrow, 
 
 Despond  not  in  fear, 
 A  glorious  to-morrow 
 
 Is  brightening  and  near  ! 
 When,  blessed  reward 
 
 Of  each  faithful  endeavor, 
 Christians,  with  Christ  shall  be 
 
 Soon  and  forever ! 
 
Imiwialitg, 
 
SOMETIMES    SEEN. 
 
 n.  %.  m.  p. 
 
 Beyond  these  chilling  winds  and  gloomy  skies. 
 
 Beyond  death's  solemn  portal, 
 There  is  a  land  where  beauty  never  dies. 
 
 And  love  becomes  immortal. 
 
 A  land  whose  light  is  never  dimmed  by  shade, 
 
 Whose  fields  are  ever  vernal, 
 Where  nothing  beautiful  can  ever  fade, 
 
 But  blooms  for  aye,  eternal. 
 
 We  may  not  know  how  sweet  the  balmy  air, 
 
 How  bright  and  fair  its  flowers  ; 
 We  may  not  hear  the  songs  that  echo  There, 
 
 Through  those  enchanted  bowers. 
 
 That  City's  shining  towers  we  may  not  see, 
 
 With  our  dim  earthly  vision, 
 For  Death,  the  silent  warder,  keeps  the  key 
 
 That  opes  those  gates  clysian. 
 
 But  sometimes,  when  adown  the  eastern  sky 
 
 The  fairy  sunset  lingers, 
 Its  golden  gates  swing  inward  noiselessly, 
 
 Unlocked  by  unseen  fingers. 
 
164  THE   EVENING   WATCH. 
 
 And  while  they  stand  a  moment  half  ajar. 
 
 Gleams  from  the  inner  glory, 
 Stream  brightly  through  the  azure  vault  afar. 
 
 And  half  reveal  the  story. 
 
 0  Land  unknown  !  0  Land  of  love  divine  ! 
 
 Father,  all-wise — Eternal ! 
 Guide,  guide  these  wandering  feet  of  mine, 
 
 Into  those  pastures  vernal ! 
 
 THE    EVEXIXG     WATCH. 
 
 i»cnrD  Taiwan. 
 BODY. 
 
 Farewell  !  I  goe  to  sleep  ;  but  when 
 The  day-star  springs  I'll  wake  again. 
 
 SOUL. 
 
 Goe.  sleep  in  peace  :  and  when  thou  lyest 
 Unnumbered  in  thy  dust,  when  all  this  frame 
 
 Is  but  one  dramme.  and  what  thou  descriest 
 In  sev'rall  parts,  shall  want  a  name. 
 
 Then  may  His  peace  be  with  thee,  and  each  dust 
 
 Writ  in  His  book,  who  ne'er  betrayed  man's  trust. 
 
 BODY. 
 
 Amen  !  but  hark,  ere  we  two  stray. 
 How  many  hours,  dost  think,  'till  day  ? 
 
ETERNITY.  165 
 
 SOUL. 
 
 Ah.  goe  : — thou'rt  weak  and  sleepie.     Heaven 
 Is  a  plain  watch,  and  without  fingers  winds 
 
 All  ages  up  ; — who  drew  this  circle,  even 
 He  fills  it ;  dayes  and  hours  are  blinds. 
 
 Yet  this  take  with  thee  :  the  last  gasp  of  Time 
 
 Is  thy  first  breath — and  man's  eternall  prime. 
 
 ETERNITY. 
 
 ■phrricfe. 
 
 0  years  and  age  farewell : 
 
 Behold  I  go 
 
 Where  I  do  know 
 Eternity  to  dwell. 
 
 And  these  mine  eyes  shall  see 
 
 All  times,  how  they 
 
 Are  lost  in  the  sea 
 Of  vast  eternity  : 
 
 Where  never  moon  shall  sway 
 
 The  stars  :  but  she, 
 
 And  night,  shall  be 
 Drowned  in  one  endless  day. 
 
ASCENSION    HYMN. 
 
 M*nn)  Tampan. 
 
 Dust  and  clay 
 
 Man's  ancient  wear ! 
 
 Here  you  may  stay, 
 
 But  I  elsewhere. 
 Souls  sojourn  here,  but  may  not  rest ; 
 Who  will  ascend  must  be  undrest. 
 
 And  yet  some 
 
 That  know  to  die 
 
 Before  Death  come 
 
 Walk  to  the  side 
 Even  in  this  life  :  but  all  such  can 
 Leave  behinde  them  the  old  man. 
 
 If  a  star 
 
 Should  leave  the  sphere. 
 
 She  must  first  mar 
 
 Her  naming  wear. 
 And  after  fall :  for  in  her  dress 
 Of  glory,  she  cannot  transgress. 
 
 Then  comes  He ! 
 Whose  mighty  light 
 Made  His  cloathes  be 
 Like  Heaven,  all  bright : 
 
DIALOCxUE — ANTHEM.  167 
 
 The  Fuller,  whose  pure  blood  did  flow 
 
 To  make  stain'd  man  more  white  than  snow. 
 
 He  alone, 
 
 And  none  else  can, 
 
 Bring  bone  to  bone, 
 
 And  rebuild  man. 
 And  by  His  all  subduing  night 
 Make  clay  ascend  more  quick  than  light. 
 
 DIALOG  UE—  ANTHEM. 
 
 Alas,  poor  Death !  where  is  thy  glory  ? 
 Where  is  thy  famous  force,  thy  ancient  sting  ? 
 
 Alas,  poor  mortal,  void  of  story  ! 
 
 Go  spell,  and  read  how  I  have  killed  thy  King. 
 
 Poor  Death  !  and  who  was  hurt  thereby  ? 
 
 Thy  curse,  being  laid  on  Him,  makes  thee  accursed. 
 
 Let  losers  talk  :  yet  thou  shalt  die. 
 
 Spare  not :  do  thy  worst. 
 
 I  shall  be  one  day  better  than  before  : 
 
 Thou  so  much  worse — for  thou  shalt  be  no  more. 
 
"WJE    SHALL    BE    CHANGED." 
 
 Where  hast  thou  touched.  0  wondrous  Death! 
 
 Where  thou  hast  come  between. 
 Lo  !  there  forever  perisheth 
 
 The  common  and  the  mean. 
 
 No  little  flaw,  or  trivial  speck. 
 
 Doth  any  more  appear. 
 And  cannot  from  this  time,  to  tieck 
 
 Love's  perfect  image  clear. 
 
 Clear  stands  Love's  perfect  image  now. 
 
 And  shall  do  evermore. 
 And  we  in  awe  and  wonder  how 
 
 The  gloried  before. 
 
 "WHERE    IS     THY    S  T  L  X  >J  '  " 
 23ist)op  QTaplor. 
 
 Death,  the  old  serpent's  son. 
 Thou  hadst  a  sting  once,  like  thy  sire. 
 That  carried  hell  and  everlasting  tire. 
 
 But  those  black  days  are  done  : 
 
ANXIETY   TO    DEPART.  169 
 
 Thy  foolish  spite  buried  thy  sting 
 
 In  the  profound  and  wide 
 
 Wound  in  our  Saviour's  side  : 
 And  now  thou  art  become  a  tame  and  harmless  thing. 
 
 A  thing  we  dare  not  fear, 
 
 Since  we  hear. 
 That  our  triumphant  God  to  punish  thee 
 For  the  affront  thou  didst  him  on  the  tree, 
 Hath  snatched  the  keys  of  hell  out  of  thine  hand. 
 
 And  made  thee  stand 
 A  porter  to  the  Gate  of  Life — thy  mortal  enemy. 
 0  Thou,  who  art  that  Gate,  command  that  he 
 
 May,  when  we  die, 
 
 And  thither  fly. 
 Let  us  in  Heaven's  courts  through  Thee ! 
 
 ANXIETY    TO    DEPART. 
 
 Six  m.  &tHejp<fa>. 
 
 Those  who  dare  shake  the  hour-glass  in  Death's  hand 
 
 To  make  the  quicker  passage  for  the  sand 
 
 Have  mounting  souls,  with  a  serene  delight. 
 
 To  hasten  us  to  God's  beatific  sight. 
 
 And  surely  may  a  better  welcome  gain 
 
 Than  those  that  longer  would  on  earth  remain. 
 
LONGINGS. 
 
 "  Cfcurcf)  of  3£nglan&  &uarttrl2." 
 
 When  shall  I  be  at  rest?     My  trembling  heart 
 Grows  weary  of  its  burden  ;  sickening  still 
 With  hope  deferred.     Oh,  that  it  were  Thy  will 
 
 To  loose  my  bonds,  and  take  me  where  Thou  art  ? 
 
 When  shall  I  be  at  rest  ?  my  eyes  grow  dim 
 
 With  straining  through  the  gloom  :  I  scarce  can  see 
 The  way-marks  that  my  Saviour  left  for  me  ; 
 
 Would  it  were  morn,  and  I  were  safe  with  him ! 
 
 When  shall  I  be  at  rest  ?     Hand  over  hand 
 I  grasp,  and  climb  an  ever  steeper  hill 
 A  rougher  path.     Oh,  that  it  were  Thy  will 
 
 My  tired  feet  had  reached  the  Promised  Land  ! 
 
 Oh,  that  1  were  at  rest !     A  thousand  fears 
 Come  thronging  o'er  me,  lest  I  fail  at  last. 
 Would  I  were  safe,  all  toil  and  danger  past, 
 
 And  Thine  own  hand  had  wiped  away  my  teais  ! 
 
 Oh,  that  I  were  at  rest ! — like  some  I  love, 
 Whose  last  fond  looks  drew  half  my  life  away, 
 Seeming  to  plead,  that  either  they  might  stay 
 
 With  me  on  earth,  or  I  with  them  above. 
 
LONGING    FOR   IMMORTALITY.  .  171 
 
 But  why  these  murmurs  ?     Thou  did'st  never  shrink 
 
 From  any  toil  or  weariness  for  me, 
 
 Not  even  from  that  last  deep  agony  ; 
 Shall  I  beneath  my  little  trials  sink  ? 
 
 No,  Lord !     For  when  Thou  call'st  me  to  my  rest, 
 One  taste  of  that  deep  bliss,  will  quite  efface 
 The  sternest  memories  of  my  earthly  race, 
 
 Save  but  to  swell  the  sense  of  being  blest. 
 
 Then  lay  on  me  whatever  cross  1  need 
 
 To  bring  me  There.     I  know  Thou  can's t  not  be 
 Unkind,  unfaithful,  or  untrue  to  me ! 
 
 Shall  I  not  toil  for  Thee  when  Thou  for  me  did'st  bleed  ? 
 
 LONGINGS    FOR    IMMORTALITY. 
 
 iVirs.  &mu  %itth. 
 
 Sad  prisoners  in  a  house  of  clay, 
 
 With  sins,  and  griefs,  and  pains  oppressed. 
 We  groan  the  lingering  hours  away, 
 
 And  wish  and  long  to  be  released. 
 
 Nor  is  it  liberty  alone 
 
 Which  prompts  our  restless,  ardent  sighs  ; 
 For  immortality  we  groan — 
 
 For  robes  and  mansions  in  the  skies. 
 
172  ARDENT   ASPIRATIONS. 
 
 Eternal  mansions,  bright  array  ! 
 
 Oli  blest  exchange,  transporting  thought! 
 Free  from  the  approaches  of  decay, 
 
 Or  the  least  shadow  of  a  spot ! 
 
 There,  shall  mortality  no  more 
 Its  wide-extended  empire  boast, 
 
 Forgotten  all  its  dreadful  power, 
 In  Life's  unbounded  ocean  lost. 
 
 Bright  world  of  bliss  !  oh,  could  I  see 
 One  shining  glimse,  one  cheerful  ray ! 
 
 Fair  dawn  of  Immortality, 
 
 Break  through  these  tottering  walls  of  clay 
 
 Jesus,  in  Thy  dear  name  I  trust, 
 
 My  light,  my  life,  my  Saviour,  God  !     . 
 
 When  this  frail  house  dissolves  in  dust, 
 Oh,  raise  me  to  Thy  bright  abode ! 
 
 ARDENT    ASPIRATIONS, 
 
 Jfrom  tfrc  latin  of  (Casimcr,  frp  EUatts. 
 
 The  beauty  of  my  native  land 
 
 Immortal  love  inspires  : 
 
 I  burn,  I  burn  with  strong  desires, 
 And  sigh,  and  wait  the  high  command. 
 
ARDENT    ASPIRATIONS.  173 
 
 There  glides  the  moon  her  shining  way, 
 And  soothes  my  heart  with  silvery  ray  ; 
 
 Upward,  that  heart  aspires. 
 A  thousand  lamps  of  golden  light, 
 Hung  high  in  vaulted  azure,  charm  my  sight, 
 And  wink  and  beckon  with  their  loving  fires. 
 0  ye  fair  glories  of  my  heavenly  home, 
 Bright  sentinels,  who  guard  my  Father's  court, 
 
 Where  all  the  happy  minds  resort, 
 When  will  my  Father's  chariot  come  ? 
 Must  ye  forever  walk  the  ethereal  round. 
 
 Forever  see  the  mourner  lie 
 
 An  exile  from  the  sky, 
 
 A  prisoner  of  the  ground  ? 
 Descend,  some  shining  servants  from  on  high. 
 
 Build  me  a  hasty  tomb  ; — 
 A  grassy  turf  will  raise  my  head, 
 The  neighbouring  lilies  dress  my  bed, 
 
 And  shed  a  cheap  perfume. 
 Here  I  put  off  the  chains  of  death 
 
 My  soul  too  long  has  worn  ; 
 Friends,  1  forbid  one  groaning  breath 
 
 Or  tear  to  wet  my  urn  ; 
 Angels,  behold  me  all  undressed  ; 
 Here  gently  lay  this  flesh  to  rest ; 
 Then  mount,  and  lead  the  path  unknown, 
 Swift  I  pursue  ye,  flaming  guides, 
 
 On  pinions  of  my  own  ! 
 
■ 
 
 THE    UNDIVIDED. 
 
 iEbnuston. 
 
 'Tis  but  one  family — the  sound  is  balm, 
 A  seraph  whispers  to  the  wounded  heart, 
 
 It  lulls  the  storm  of  sorrow  to  a  calm. 
 
 And  draws  the  venom  from  the  avenger's  dart. 
 
 'Tis  but  one  family — the  accents  come 
 
 Like  light  from  heaven  to  break  the  night  of  woe, 
 The  banner-cry,  to  call  the  spirit  home, 
 
 The  shout  of  victory  o'er  a  fallen  foe. 
 
 Death  cannot  separate — is  memory  dead  ? 
 
 Has  thought,  too,  vanished,  and  has  love  grown  chill  ? 
 Has  every  relic  and  memento  fled, 
 
 And  are  the  living  only  with  us  still  ? 
 
 No !  in  our  hearts  the  lost  we  mourn  remain 
 
 Objects  of  love,  and  ever-fresh  delight ; 
 And  fancy  leads  them  in  her  fairy  train, 
 
 In  half-seen  transports  past  the  mourner's  sight. 
 
 Yes  !  in  ten  thousand  ways,  or  far  or  near. 
 
 The  called  by  love — by  meditation  brought. 
 In  heavenly  visions,  yet  they  haunt  us  here. 
 
 The  sweet  companions  of  our  sweetest  thought. 
 
THE  VOICE  OF  THE  DEPARTED.  175 
 
 Death  never  separates  ;  the  golden  wires 
 That  ever  trembled  to  their  names  before, 
 
 Will  vibrate  still,  though  every  form  expires, 
 And  those  we  love  we  look  upon  no  more. 
 
 No  more  indeed,  in  sorrow  and  in  pain  ; 
 
 But  even  memory's  need  ere  long  will  cease, 
 For  we  shall  join  the  lost  of  love  again, 
 
 In  endless  bonds  and  in  eternal  peace ! 
 
 THE    VOICE    OF    THE    DEPARTED 
 
 I  shine  in  the  light  of  God, 
 
 His  likeness  stamps  my  brow, 
 Through  the  vale  of  death  my  feet  have  trod, 
 
 And  I  reign  in  glory  now. 
 
 No  breaking  heart  is  here, 
 
 No  keen  and  thrilling  pain, 
 No  wasted  cheek  where  the  frequent  tear 
 
 Has  rolled  and  left  its  stain. 
 
 I  have  reached  the  joys  of  Heaven, 
 
 I  am  one  of  its  sainted  band, 
 To  my  head  a  crown  of  gold  is  given, 
 
 And  a  harp  is  in  my  hand. 
 
176  THE   VOICE   OF    THE    DEPARTED. 
 
 1  have  learned  the  song  they  sing, 
 
 Whom  Jesus  has  set  free, 
 And  the  glorious  walls  of  Heaven  still  ring 
 
 With  my  new-born  melody. 
 
 No  sin,  no  grief,  no  pain  ; 
 
 Safe  in  my  happy  home, 
 My  fears  all  fled,  my  doubts  all  slain, 
 
 My  hour  of  triumph's  come. 
 
 Oh,  friends  of  mortal  years, 
 
 The  trusted  and  the  true, 
 Ye  are  waiting  yet  in  the  vale  of  tears  ; 
 
 But  I  wait  to  welcome  you. 
 
 Do  I  forget  ?     Oh  no — 
 
 For  memory's  golden  chain 
 Still  binds  my  heart  to  your  hearts  below, 
 
 Till  they  meet  and  touch  again. 
 
 Each  link  is  strong  and  bright, 
 
 And  love's  electric  chain 
 Flows  freely  down,  like  a  rill  of  light, 
 
 To  the  world  from  whence  it  came. 
 
 Do  you  mourn  when  another  star 
 Shines  out  in  the  glittering  sky? 
 
 Do  you  weep  when  the  raging  voice  of  war 
 And  the  storms  of  conflict  die  ? 
 
KNOWLEDGE.  17  T 
 
 Then  why  do  your  tears  run  down, 
 
 Why  are  your  hearts  so  riven, 
 For  another  gem  in  your  Saviour's  crown, 
 
 And  another  soul  in  Heaven  ? 
 
 KNO  W LEDGE. 
 
 "&2ra  llpostolita." 
 
 Weep  not  for  me  ; 
 Be  blithe  as  wont,  nor  tinge  with  gloom 
 The  streams  of  love  that  circle  home. 
 
 Light  hearts  and  free  ! 
 Joy  in  the  gifts  Heaven's  bounty  lends, 
 Nor  miss  my  face,  dear  friends  ! 
 
 I  still  am  near, 
 Watching  the  smiles  I  prized  on  earth, 
 Your  converse  mild,  your  blameless  mirth  ; 
 
 Now,  too,  1  hear 
 Of  whispered  sounds  the  tale  complete, 
 Low  prayers  and  musings  sweet. 
 
 A  sea  before 
 The  Throne  is  spread  ;  its  pure  still  glass 
 Pictures  all  earth-scenes  as  they  pass. 
 
 We,  on  its  shore, 
 
 Share,  in  the  bosom  of  our  rest, 
 
 God's  knowledge,  and  are  blest. 
 12 
 
THE    OTHER    SIDE. 
 
 We  dwell  this  side  of  Jordan's  stream, 
 Yet  oft  there  comes  a  shining  beam 
 
 Across  from  yonder  shore  : 
 While  visions  of  a  holy  throng, 
 And  sound  of  harp  and  seraph  song. 
 
 Seem  gently  wafted  o'er. 
 
 The  other  side  !     Ah,  'tis  the  place 
 Where  saints  in  joy  past  scene?  retrace, 
 
 And  speak  of  trials  gone. 
 The  veil  withdrawn,  they  clearly  see 
 That  all  on  earth  had  need  to  be. 
 
 To  bring  them  safely  home. 
 
 The  other  side !     Xo  sin  is  There. 
 
 To  stain  the  robes  the  blessed  ones  wear, 
 
 Made  white  in  Jesu's  blood ! 
 No  cry  of  grief,  no  voice  of  woe 
 To  mar  the  peace  their  spirits  know — 
 
 Their  constant  peace  with  God. 
 
 The  other  side !     Its  shore  so  bright 
 Is  radiant  with  the  golden  light 
 
 Of  Zion's  city  fair ! 
 And  many  dear  ones  gone  before. 
 Already  tread  the  shining  shore  ; 
 
 I  seem  to  see  them  There ! 
 
BEYOND    THE   RIVER.  179 
 
 The  other  side  !     Oh  blissful  sight ! 
 Upon  its  banks,  arrayed  in  white, 
 
 For  me  a  loved  one  waits. 
 Over  the  stream  he  calls  to  me, 
 Fear  not,  I  am  thy  guide  to  be 
 
 Up  to  the  pearly  gate. 
 
 The  other  side  !     This  well-known  voice 
 And  dear  glad  face,  will  me  rejoice — 
 
 We'll  meet  in  fond  embrace, 
 He'll  lead  me  on  until  we  stand, 
 Each  with  a  palm-branch  in  our  hand, 
 
 Before  the  Saviour's  face ! 
 
 The  other  side !     The  other  side  ! 
 Who  would  not  brave  the  swelling  tide 
 
 Of  earthly  woe  and  care, 
 To  wake  one  day,  when  life  is  past, 
 Over  the  stream,  at  Home  at  last, 
 
 With  all  the  blessed  ones  There  ? 
 
 BEYOND    THE    RIVER. 
 
 Time  is  a  river  deep  and  wide ; 
 
 And  while  along  its  banks  we  stray, 
 We  see  our  loved  ones,  o'er  its  tide, 
 
 Sail  from  our  sight  away. 
 
180  BEYOND    THE   RIVER. 
 
 Where  are  they  sped,  they  who  return 
 No  more  to  glad  our  longing  eyes? 
 
 They've  passed  from  Life's  contracted  bourne 
 To  land  unseen,  unknown,  that  lies 
 Beyond  the  River. 
 
 'Tis  hid  from  view,  but  we  may  guess 
 
 How  beautiful  that  realm  must  be  ; 
 For  gleamings  of  its  loveliness. 
 
 In  visions  granted,  oft  we  see. 
 The  very  clouds,  that  o'er  it  throw 
 
 Their  veil,  unraised  for  mortal  sight, 
 With  gold  and  purple  tintings  glow. 
 
 Reflected  from  the  o-lorious  lisrht 
 Beyond  the  River. 
 
 And  gentle  airs,  so  sweet,  so  calm, 
 
 Steal  sometimes  from  that  viewless  sphere  ; 
 The  mourner  feels  their  breath  of  balm, 
 
 And  soothed  sorrow  dries  the  tear  ; 
 And  sometimes  listening  ear  may  gain 
 
 Entrancing  sound  that  hither  floats — 
 The  echo  of  the  distant  strain 
 
 Of  harps  and  voices,  blending  notes 
 Beyond  the  River. 
 
 There  are  our  loved  ones  in  their  rest ! 
 
 They've  crossed  Time's  river  :  now  no  more 
 They  heed  the  bubbles  on  its  breast. 
 
 Nor  feel  the  storms  that  sweep  its  shore  ; 
 
''EQUAL    UNTO   THE    ANGELS."  181 
 
 But  Tli ere  pure  love  cau  live,  can  last ; 
 
 They  look  for  us  their  home  to  share  ; 
 When  we  in  turn  away  have  passed, 
 
 What  joyful  greetings  wait  us  There, 
 Beyond  the  River ! 
 
 "EQUAL    UNTO     THE    ANGELS." 
 
 Equal  to  Angels  are  our  beloved  ! 
 
 Christ  has  redeemed  them — His  promise  is  passed. 
 
 A  noontide  of  glory  has  opened  upon  them. 
 
 As  long  as  Eternity's  cycles  shall  last. 
 
 Equal  to  Angels  !     Oh,  could  we  but  know 
 
 The  bliss  that  surrounds  them,  how  gladly  weJd  go  \ 
 
 Equal  to  Angels  are  our  beloved ! 
 
 With  the  blessed  of  all  ages  who've  lived  and  who've  died 
 
 The  children  of  Heaven,  adopted  and  pardoned  ! 
 
 What  more  can  we  wish  for  our  loved  ones  beside? 
 
 Equal  to  Angels  !  exalted  and  pure, 
 
 Their  triumph  through  Jesus  is  lasting  and  sure ! 
 
 Equal  to  Angels  are  our  beloved ! 
 All  radiant  with  beauty  in  garments  of  white, 
 For  "  children  of  God,"  must  ever  be  spotless, 
 Beholding  His  face,  in  that  Heavenly  Light ! 
 Equal  to  Angels  !     Oh  never  to  die ! 
 Death  lias  been  conquered  forever  on  high. 
 
182  AT   REST. 
 
 Equal  to  Angels  are  our  beloved ! 
 
 Reunion  is  certain,  we  shall  meet  again ! 
 
 Those  bright  cheering  words  of  divine  consolation, 
 
 Ne'er  could  have  by  Jesus  been  spoken  in  vain  ! 
 
 Equal  to  Angels  !     Then  trust  in  the  Lord, 
 
 For  they  are  His  children — and  He  is  their  God ! 
 
 A  T   REST. 
 
 Huttor  of  "fSfa  Stijonfjenj-Cbotta  Jfamib." 
 
 Ah,  needst  thou  our  prayers  no  more  ; 
 
 Safe  folded  'mid  the  blessed  ? 
 How  changed  art  thou  since  last  we  met 
 
 To  keep  the  day  of  rest ! 
 Young  with  the  youth  of  angels, 
 
 Wise  with  the  growth  of  years ! 
 But  we  have  passed  since,  thou  hast  gone, 
 
 A  week  of  many  tears, 
 And  thou  hast  passed  a  week  in  Heaven! 
 
 A  week  without  a  sin, 
 Thy  robes  made  white  in  Jesus  blood, 
 
 All  glorious  within. 
 
 We  shall  miss  thee  at  a  thousand  turns, 
 
 Along  life's  weary  track, 
 Not  a  sorrow  or  a  joy  but  we 
 
 Shall  Ions:  to  call  thee  back ! 
 
AT   REST.  183 
 
 Yearn  for  thy  true  and  gentle  heart 
 
 Long  thy  bright  smile  to  see, 
 Though  many  dear  and  true  are  left, 
 
 Yet  none  are  quite  like  thee ! 
 And  evermore,  to  all  our  life, 
 
 A  deeper  tone  is  given, 
 For  a  loved  one,  since  her  childhood, 
 
 Has  entered  into  Heaven. 
 
 How  wise,  and  great,  and  glorious, 
 
 Thy  gentle  soul  has  grown, 
 Loving,  as  thou  art  loved  by  God, 
 
 Knowing,  as  thou  art  known  ! 
 Yet  in  that  world,  thou  carest  yet, 
 
 For  those  thou  lov'dst  in  this  ; 
 The  rich  man  did  in  torments, 
 
 And  wilt  not  thou  in  bliss  ? 
 For  sitting  at  the  Saviour's  feet, 
 
 And  gazing  in  His  face, 
 Surely  thou  wilt  not  There  unlearn 
 
 One  gentle,  human  grace. 
 
 Human,  and  yet  angelic, 
 
 The  form  He  deigns  to  wear  ; 
 
 Of  Jesus,  yet  of  angels, 
 
 The  likeness  thou  shalt  bear ! 
 
 At  rest,  from  all  the  storms  of  life, 
 From  its  night-watches  drear, 
 
 From  the  tumultuous  hopes  of  earth, 
 
184  PARADISE   MUST    FAIRER    BE. 
 
 And  from  its  aching  fear ! 
 Sacred,  and  sainted,  now  to  us 
 
 Is  thy  familiar  name  ; 
 High  is  thy  sphere  above  us  now. 
 
 And  yet.  in  this,  the  same. 
 
 Together,  do  we  watch  and  wait. 
 
 For  that  long  promised  day. 
 When  the  voice  that  rends  the  tombs  shall  call, 
 
 "  Arise  and  come  away — 
 My  bride,  and  my  redeemed, 
 
 Winter  and  night  are  past, 
 And  the  time  of  singing,  and  of  light. 
 
 Has  come  to  thee  at  last.'* 
 When  the  family  is  gathered. 
 
 And  the  Father's  house  complete, 
 And  we.  and  thou  beloved. 
 
 In  our  Father's  smile  shall  meet. 
 
 PARADISE    MUST    FAIRER    BE. 
 
 JFrcm  tfre  (German  cf  JF.  &uciurt 
 
 Oh,  Paradise  must  fairer  be 
 
 Than  any  spot  below  ! 
 My  spirit  pines  for  liberty  : 
 
 Now  let  me  thither  2:0  ! 
 
PARADISE    MUST    FAIRER    BE.  185 
 
 111  Paradise,  forever  clear, 
 
 The  stream  of  love  is  flowing, 
 For  every  tear  that  I've  shed  here 
 
 A  pearl  therein  is  glowing. 
 
 In  Paradise  alone  is  rest ; 
 
 Joy  breathing,  woe-dispelling ; 
 A  heavenly  wind  fans  every  breast 
 
 Within  that  happy  dwelling. 
 
 For  every  wounding  thorn  below, 
 
 A  rose  shall  blossom  there  ; 
 And  sweeter  flowers  than  earth  can  show, 
 
 Shall  twine  around  my  hair. 
 
 And  every  joy,  that,  budding  died, 
 
 Shall  open  There  in  bloom  ; 
 And  Spring,  in  all  her  flowery  pride, 
 
 Shall  waken  from  the  tomb. 
 
 And  all  the  joys  shall  meet  me  There 
 
 For  which  my  heart  was  pining, 
 Like  golden  fruit  in  gardens  fair, 
 
 And  flowers  forever  shining. 
 
 My  youth,  that  fled  so  soon  away, 
 
 And  left  me  sad,  decaying. 
 Shall  There,  be  with  me  every  day 
 
 With  bright  wings  round  me  playing. 
 
180  REAPPEARING. 
 
 All  hopes,  all  wishes,  all  the  love 
 I  sighed  for,  pined  forever, 
 
 Shall  bloom  around  me  There  above, 
 And  last  with  me  forever  ! 
 
 REAPPEARING. 
 
 ioonar. 
 
 The  star  is  not  extinguished  when  it  sets 
 
 Upon  the  dull  horizon  :  but  it  goes 
 To  shine  in  other  skies,  then  reappear 
 
 In  ours,  as  when  it  first  arose. 
 
 The  river  is  not  lost,  when  o'er  the  rock 
 It  pours  its  flood  into  the  abyss  below  : 
 
 Its  scattering  force,  regathering  from  the  shock. 
 It  hastens  onward  with  yet  fuller  flow. 
 
 The  bright  sun  dies  not.  when  the  shadowy  orb 
 Of  the  eclipsing  moon  obscures  its  ray  : 
 
 It  still  is  shining  on.  and  soon  to  us 
 
 Will  burst  undimmed  into  the  joy  of  day. 
 
 The  lily  dies  not.  when  both  flower  and  leaf 
 
 Fade,  and  are  strewed  upon  the  chill  sad  ground. 
 
 Gone  as  for  shelter  to  its  mother  earth, 
 
 'T  will  rise,  re-bloom,  and  shed  its  fragrance  roum 
 
REAPPEARING.  187 
 
 The  dew-drop  dies  not,  when  it  leaves  the  flower, 
 And  passes  upward,  on  the  beam  of  morn  : 
 
 It  does  but  hide  itself  in  light  on  high, 
 To  its  loved  flower,  at  twilight  to  return. 
 
 The  fine  gold  has  not  perished,  when  the  flame 
 
 Seizes  upon  it  with  consuming  glow  : 
 In  freshened  splendor  it  comes  forth  anew, 
 
 To  sparkle  on  the  monarch's  throne  or  brow. 
 
 Thus  nothing  dies — or  only  dies  to  live. 
 
 Star,  stream,  flower,  the  dew-drop,  and  the  gold  ; 
 Each  goodly  thing,  instinct  with  buoyant  hope, 
 
 Hastes  to  put  on  its  purer,  finer  mould. 
 
 So,  in  the  quiet  joy  of  kindly  trust, 
 
 We  bid  each  parting  saint  a  brief  farewell ; 
 
 Weeping,  yet  hoping,  we  commit  their  dust 
 To  the  safe  keeping  of  the  silent  cell. 
 
 Softly,  within  that  peaceful  resting  place 
 
 We  place  their  wearied  limbs,  and  bid  the  clay 
 
 Press  lightly  on  them,  till  the  night  be  past, 
 And  the  far  east  gives  note  of  coming  day. 
 
 The  day  of  reappearing,  how  it  speeds  ! 
 
 He  who  is  true  and  faithful,  speaks  the  Avord  ; 
 Then  shall  we  ever  be  with  those  we  love  ; — 
 
 Then  shall  we  be  "  forever  with  the  Lord !" 
 
188  AT   HOME. 
 
 The  shout  is  heard  :  the  archangel's  voice  goes  forth  ; 
 
 The  trumpet  sounds !  the  dead  awake,  and  sing. 
 The  living  put  on  glory.     One  glad  band, 
 
 They  hasten  up,  to  meet  tiieir  coming  King ! 
 
 Short  death  and  darkness.     Endless  life  and  light ! 
 
 Short  dimming,  endless  shining  in  yon  sphere, 
 Where  all  is  incorruptible  and  pure 
 
 The  joy  without  the  pain,  the  smile  without  the  tear. 
 
 A  T    HOME. 
 
 "  Christian  Siamircr." 
 
 The  earth,  all  light  and  loveliness  in  summer's  golden  hours 
 Smiles  in  her  bridal  vesture  clad,  and  crowned  with  festal 
 
 flowers. 
 So  radiantly  beautiful,  so  like  to  Heaven  above, 
 We  scarce  can  deem  more  fair  that  world  of  bliss  and  love-. 
 
 Is  this  a  shadow  faint  and  dim  of  that  which  is  to  come  ? 
 What  shall  the  unveiled  glories  be  of  our  celestial  home! 
 Where  waves  the  mystic  Tree  of  Life,  where  streams  of  bliss 
 
 gush  free. 
 And  all  is  glancing  in  the  liorht  of  immortality ! 
 
AT    HOME.  189 
 
 To  see  again  the  home  of  youth,  when  weary  years  have 
 
 passed, 
 Serenely  bright  as  when  we  turned  and  looked  upon  it  last ; 
 To  hear  the  voice  of  love,  to  meet  the  rapturous  embrace, 
 To  gaze  through  tears  of  gladness  on  each  dear  familiar 
 
 face  ; 
 
 Oh !  this,  indeed,  is  joy — though  here  we  meet  to  part ; 
 But  what  transporting  bliss  awaits  the  pure  and  faithful 
 
 heart, 
 When  it  shall  find  the  loved  and  lost,  those  who  have  gone 
 
 before, 
 Where  every  tear  is  wiped  away,  where  partings  are  no 
 
 more ! 
 
 When  on  devotion's  seraph  wings,  the  spirit  soars  above. 
 And  feels  Thy  presence,  Father,  Friend,  God  of  eternal  love  ; 
 Joys  of  the  earth,  ye  fade  away  before  that  living  ray. 
 Which  gives  to  the  rapt  soul  a  glimpse  of  pure  and  perfect 
 day; 
 
 A  gleam  of  Heaven's  own  light,  though  now  its  brightness 
 
 scarce  appears 
 Through  the   dim  shadows  which  are  spread  around  this 
 
 vale  of  tears  : 
 For  Thy  unclouded  smile,  0  God,  fills  all  that  glorious  place. 
 Where  we  shall  know  as  we  are  known,  and  see  Thee  face 
 
 to  face ! 
 
"  DEATH  IS  SWALLOWED   UP  IN  VIC  TOBY." 
 
 mirfu  mfttt. 
 
 Yea,  He  hath  come — the  mighty  Champion  comes, 
 
 Whose  potent  spear  shall  give  thee  thy  death-wound. 
 
 Shall  crush  the  conqueror  of  conquerors, 
 
 And  desolate  stern  Desolation's  lord. 
 
 Lo,  where  He  cometh  !  the  Messiah  comes  ! 
 
 The  King!  the  Comforter!  the  Christ!     He  comes 
 
 To  burst  the  bonds  of  Death,  and  overturn 
 
 The  power  of  Time.     Hark  !  the  trumpet's  blast 
 
 Rings  o'er  the  heavens  !     They  rise — the  myriad's  rise — 
 
 Even  from  their  graves  they  spring,  and  burst  the  chains 
 
 Of  torpor.     He  has  ransomed  them ! 
 
 DAY    OF    D  0  OM. 
 
 joints. 
 
 At  midnight,  when  mankind  is  wrapped  in  peace, 
 And  worldly  Fancy  feeds  on  golden  dreams, 
 To  give  more  dread  to  man's  most  dreadful  hour, 
 At  midnight,  'tis  presumed,  this  pomp  will  burst 
 From  tenfold  darkness.     Sudden  as  the  spark 
 
DAY    OF    DOOM.  10.1 
 
 rom  smitten  steel  ; — from  nitrous  grain  the  blaze.  . 
 Man,  starting  from  his  couch,  shall  sleep  no  more  ! 
 The  day  is  broke  which  never  more  shall  close ! 
 Above,  around,  beneath — amazement  all ! 
 Terror  and  glory,  joined  in  their  extremes. 
 Our  God  in  grandeur !  and  our  world  on  fire ! 
 All  nature  struggling  in  the  pangs  of  death. 
 Dost  thou  not  hear  her  ?  dost  thou  not  deplore 
 Her  strong  convulsions,  and  her  final  groan  ? 
 Where  are  we  now  ?     Ah  me  !  the  ground  is  gone 
 On  which  we  stood  ! 
 
 Great  day !  for  which  all  other  days  were  made, 
 For  which  earth  rose  from  chaos,  man  from  earth, 
 And  an  Eternity,  the  date  of  gods, 
 Descended  on  poor  earth-created  man ! 
 Great  day  of  dread,  decision  and  despair ! 
 At  thought  of  thee,  each  sublunary  wish 
 Lets  go  its  eager  grasp,  and  drops  the  world, 
 And  catches  at  each  reed  of  hope  in  Heaven. 
 Angels,  whose  radiant  circles,  height  o'er  height, 
 Order  o'er  order,  rising  blaze  o'er  blaze, 
 As  in  a  theatre,  surround  this  scene, 
 Intent  on  man,  and  anxious  for  his  fate. — 
 Angels  look  out  for  thee. 
 
 Shall  man  alone,  whose  fate,  whose  final  fate 
 Hangs  on  that  hour,  exclude  it  from  his  thought  ? 
 
192  DAY    OF    DOOM. 
 
 I  think  of  nothing  else  :  I  sec  !  I  feel  it ! 
 
 All  Nature,  like  an  earthquake,  trembling  round ! 
 
 All  Deities,  like  summer  swarms  on  wing  ! 
 
 All  basking  in  the  full  meridian  blaze ! 
 
 I  see  the  Judge  enthroned  ! — the  flaming  guard — 
 
 The  volume  opened — opened  every  heart ! 
 
 A  sunbeam  pointing  out  each  secret  thought ! 
 
 No  patron  !  Intercessor  none  !  now  past 
 
 The  sweet,  the  clement,  mediatorial  hour! 
 
 For  guilt  no  plea — to  pain  no  pause — no  bound  ! 
 
 Inexorable  all !  and  all  extreme  ! 
 
 Time,  this  vast  fabric  for  him  built  (and  doomed 
 With  him  to  fall),  now  bursting  o'er  his  head  ; — 
 His  lamp,  the  sun,  extinguished  ;  from  beneath 
 The  frown  of  hideous  darkness,  calls  his  sons 
 From  their  long  slumber,  from  earth's  heaving  womb, 
 To  second  birth  !  Contemporary  throng. 
 Roused  at  one  call,  upstarted  from  one  bed. 
 Pressed  in  one  crowd,  appalled  with  one  amaze. 
 Time  turns  them  o'er,  Eternity  to  thee ! 
 Then  (as  a  king  deposed,  disdains  to  live) 
 He  falls  on  his  own  scythe,  nor  falls  alone  ; — 
 His  greatest  foe  falls  with  him  ; — Time  (and  lie 
 Who  murdered  all  Time's  offspring),  Death,  expire. 
 Time  was  !     Eternity  now  reigns  alone  ! 
 
DIES    IRjE. 
 
 Qfljomas  of  ©rtanc— I3tf)  ©tnturj— 02  (Sxcncral  Ufx. 
 
 Day  of  vengeance,  without  morrow  ! 
 Earth  shall  end  in  flame  and  sorrow, 
 As  from  Saint  and  Seer  we  borrow. 
 
 Ah  !  what  terror  is  impending, 
 When  the  Judge  is  seen  descending. 
 And  each  secret  veil  is  rending. 
 
 To  the  Throne,  the  trumpet  sounding. 
 Through  the  sepulchres  resounding. 
 Summon  all,  with  voice  astounding-. 
 
 Death  and  Nature,  'mazed,  are  quaking. 
 When,  the  grave's  long  slumber  breaking, 
 Man  to  judgment  is  awaking. 
 
 On  the  written  Volume's  pages 
 Life  is  shown  in  all  its  stages — 
 Judgment — record  of  past  ages  ! 
 
 Sits  the  Judge,  the  raised  arraigning. 
 Darkest  mysteries  explaining, 
 Nothing  unavenged  remaining. 
 
194  DIES    IRJE. 
 
 What  shall  I  then  say,  unfriended, 
 
 By  no  advocate  attended, 
 
 When  the  just  are  scarce  defended  ? 
 
 King  of  Majesty  tremendous, 
 By  Thy  saving  grace  defend  us, 
 Fount  of  pity,  safety  send  us  ! 
 
 Holy  Jesus  !  meek,  forbearing, 
 
 For  my  sins  the  death-crown  wearing, 
 
 Save  me,  in  that  day,  despairing. 
 
 Worn  and  weary,  Thou  hast  sought  me  ; 
 By  Thy  cross  and  passion  bought  me. 
 Spare  the  hope  Thy  labors  brought  me. 
 
 Righteous  Judge  of  retribution, 
 Give,  0  give  me  absolution 
 Ere  the  day  of  dissolution. 
 
 As  a  guilty  culprit  groaning, 
 Flushed  my  face,  my  errors  owning, 
 Hear,  0  God,  my  spirit's  moaning  ! 
 
 Thou  to  Mary  gav'st  remission, 
 Heard'st  the  dying  thief's  petition, 
 Bad'st  me  hope  in  my  contrition. 
 
 In  my  prayers  no  grace  discerning, 
 Yet  on  me  Thy  favor  turning, 
 Save  my  soul  from  endless  burning. 
 
THE   D\Y    OF   JUDGMENT.  195 
 
 Give  me,  when  Thy  sheep  confiding 
 Thou  art  from  the  goats  dividing, 
 On  Thy  right  a  place  abiding ! 
 
 When  the  wicked  are  confounded, 
 And  by  bitter  flames  surrounded, 
 Be  my  joyful  pardon  sounded  ! 
 
 Prostrate,  all  my  guilt  discerning, 
 Heart  as  though  to  ashes  turning  ; 
 Save,  0  save  me  from  the  burning ! 
 
 Day  of  weeping,  when  from  ashes 
 Man  shall  rise  mid  lightning  flashes, 
 Guilty,  trembling  with  contrition, 
 Save  me,  Father,  from  perdition  ! 
 
 THE    DAY    OF   JUDGMENT. 
 
 !^mrj>  ¥autjt)an. 
 
 0  Day  of  life,  of  light,  of  love ! 
 The  only  day  dealt  from  above ! 
 A  day  so  fresh,  so  bright,  so  brave, 
 'Twill  show  us  each  forgotten  grave, 
 And  make  the  dead,  like  flowers,  arise 
 Youthful  and  fair,  to  see  new  skies. 
 
J96  JUDGMENT   HYMN. 
 
 All  other  days,  compared  with  thee, 
 Arc  but  Light's  weak  minority. 
 They  are  but  veils,  and  cyphers  drawn 
 Like  clouds,  before  thy  glorious  dawn. 
 0  come,  arise,  shine,  do  not  stay, 
 
 Dearly  loved  day ! 
 The  fields  are  long  since  white,  and  I 
 With  earnest  groans  for  freedom  cry, 
 My  fellow-creatures,  too,  say  Gome  ! 
 And  stones,  though  speechless,  arc  not  dumb. 
 When  shall  we  hear  that  glorious  voice 
 
 Of  life  and  joys  ? 
 That  voice,  which  to  earth's  secret  bed 
 
 Of  my  Lord's  dead 
 Shall  bring  true  day,  and  make  dust  see 
 
 The  way  to  Immortality. 
 
 JUDGMENT    HYMN. 
 
 Bishop  pjber. 
 
 The  Lord  shall  come !  the  earth  shall  quake, 
 The  mountain?  to  their  centre  shake, 
 And,  withering  from  the  vault  of  night. 
 The  stars  withdraw  their  feeble  light. 
 
 The  Lord  shall  come !  but  not  the  same 
 As  once  in  lowlv  form  He  came — 
 
THE    JUDGMENT-DAY.  197 
 
 A  silent  Lamb  before  His  foes. 
 A  weary  man,  and  full  of  woes. 
 
 The  Lord  shall  come !  a  dreadful  form. 
 With  wreath  of  flame,  and  robe  of  storm. 
 On  cherub-wings,  and  wings  of  wind, 
 Anointed  Judge  of  human  kind. 
 
 Can  this  be  He,  who  wont  to  stray 
 
 A  pilgrim  on  the  world's  highway. 
 
 By  power  oppressed,  and  mocked  by  pride- 
 
 The  Nazarine — the  Crucified  ? 
 
 While  sinners  in  despair  shall  call, 
 "  Rocks,  hide  us  !  mountains,  on  us  fall !" 
 The  saints,  ascending  from  the  tomb. 
 Shall  sing  for  joy, i!  The  Lord  is  come  !" 
 
 THE    JUDGMENT-  DA  Y. 
 
 HLiitfccr. 
 
 Great  God,  what  do  I  see  and  hear ! 
 
 The  end  of  things  created  : 
 The  Judge  of  man  I  see  appear 
 
 On  clouds  of  glory  seated. 
 
198  THE   JUDGMENT-DAY. 
 
 The  trumpet  sounds,  the  graves  restore 
 The  dead  which  they  contained  before  ; 
 Prepare,  my  soul,  to  meet  Him. 
 
 The  dead  in  Christ  shall  first  arise 
 At  the  last  trumpet's  sounding. 
 
 Caught  up  to  meet  Him  in  the  skies. 
 With  joy  their  Lord  surrounding  : 
 
 No  gloomy  fear  their  souls  dismay. 
 
 His  presence  sheds  eternal  day 
 On  those  prepared  to  meet  Him. 
 
 But  sinners,  fill'd  with  guilty  fears. 
 
 Behold  His  wrath  prevailing  : 
 For  they  shall  rise,  and  find  their  tears 
 
 And  sighs  are  unavailing. 
 The  day  of  grace  is  past  and  gone  : 
 Trembling  they  stand  before  the  Throne. 
 
 All  unprepared  to  meet  Him. 
 
 Great  God,  what  do  I  see  and  hear ! 
 
 The  end  of  things  created  : 
 The  Judge  of  man  I  see  appear 
 
 On  clouds  of  glory  seated  : 
 Beneath  His  cross  I  view  the  day 
 When  heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away. 
 
 And  thus  prepare  to  meet  Him. 
 
DIES     VITJS. 
 
 3n  a  foji  of  tfjt  $fottft|)  Centura. 
 
 Lo,  the  Day — the  Day  of  Life — 
 
 Day  of  imimagined  Light, 
 Day  when  Death  itself  shall  die, 
 
 And  there  shall  be  no  more  night. 
 
 Steadily  that  Day  approacheth, 
 When  the  just  shall  find  their  rest, 
 
 When  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling, 
 And  the  patient  reign  most  blest. 
 
 See  the  King  desired  for  ages, 
 
 By  the  just  expected  long  ; 
 Long  implored,  at  length  He  hasteth, 
 
 Cometh  with  salvation  strong. 
 
 Oh,  how  past  all  utterance  happy. 
 
 Sweet  and  joyful  it  will  be, 
 When  they,  who  unseen,  have  loved  Him, 
 
 Jesus,  face  to  face  shall  see ! 
 
 In  that  Day,  how  good  and  pleasant. 
 
 This  poor  world  to  have  despised  ! 
 And  how  mournful  and  how  bitter, 
 
 Dear  that  lost  world  to  have  prized ! 
 
200  DIES    VIT.E. 
 
 Blessed,  then,  earth's  patient  mourners, 
 Who  for  Christ  have  toiled  and  died. 
 Driven  by  the  world'-  rough  pressure — 
 
 In  those  mansions  to  abide! 
 
 There,  shall  be  no  sighs  or  weeping. 
 
 Not  a  shade  ol  doubt  or  fear. 
 Xo  old  age.  no  want  or  sorrow. 
 
 Nothing  sick  or  lacking  There! 
 
 There,  the  peace  will  be  unbroken. 
 
 Deep  and  solemn  joy  be  shed  : 
 Youth,  in  fadeless  flower  and  freshness. 
 
 And  Salvation  perfected ! 
 
 What  will  be  the  bliss  and  rapture 
 None  can  dream,  and  none  can  tell. 
 
 There,  to  reign  among  the  angels. 
 In  that  heavenly  home  to  dwell ! 
 
 To  those  realms,  just  Judge,  oh  call  me. 
 
 Deign  to  open  that  blest  gate. 
 Thou,  whom  seeking,  looking,  longing, 
 
 I,  with  eager  haste,  await ! 
 
WHEN     WILL     HE    COME? 
 
 Ah!  what  time  wilt  Thou  come?     When  shalt  that  cry 
 
 ••  The  Bridegroom  cometh  !"  fill  the  sky  ? 
 
 Shall  it  in  the  evening  run, 
 
 When  our  words  and  works  are  done  ? 
 
 Or  will  thy  all  surprising  light 
 
 Break  at  midnight, 
 
 When  either  sleep  or  some  dark  pleasure, 
 
 Possesseth  mad  man  without  measure  ? 
 
 Or  shall  these  early  fragrant  hours 
 
 Unlock  thy  bowers, 
 
 And,  with  their  blush  of  light  descry 
 
 Thy  locks  crowned  with  Eternity? 
 
 Indeed,  it  is  the  only  time 
 
 That  with  thy  glory  doth  best  chime  : 
 
 All  now  are  stirring  ;  every  field 
 
 Full  hymns  doth  yield. 
 
 The  whole  creation  shakes  off  night. 
 
 And  for  thy  shadow  looks  the  light. 
 
 Stars  now  vanish  without  number  ; 
 
 Sleepy  plannets  set  and  slumber  ; 
 
 The  pursie  clouds  disband  and  scatter  ; 
 
 All  expect  some  sudden  matter. 
 
 Not  one  beam  triumphs,  but  from  far 
 
 The  Morning  Star 
 
202  how  lonc;.  o  lord? 
 
 As  this  restlesn,  vocal  spring 
 
 All  day  and  night  doth  run  and  sing. 
 
 And  though  here  bora,  is  acquainted 
 
 Elsewhere,  and  flowing  keeps  untainted. 
 
 So  let  me  all  my  busy  age. 
 
 In  Thy  free  services  engage. 
 
 And  though  while  here,  of  force  1  must 
 
 Have  commerce  sometimes  with  poor  dust. 
 
 And  in  my  flesh,  though  vile  and  low. 
 
 As  this  doth  in  her  channel  flow. 
 
 Yet  let  my  course,  my  aim.  my  love. 
 
 And  chief  acquaintance  be  above  : 
 
 So  when  that  day  and  hour  shall  come. 
 
 In  which  Thyself  wilt  be  the  Sun. 
 
 Thou'lt  find  me  dressed,  and  on  my  way. 
 
 Watching  the  break  of  that  great  Day. 
 
 HOW    LOXG,    0    LORDf 
 )i\dm  1.  ftacmltt. 
 
 For  us,  the  conflict  and  the  toil. 
 
 The  sickness  and  the  pain  ; 
 For  them — the  wiping  of  the  tears 
 
 Which  shall  not  flow  again. 
 For  us.  the  path  o'ergrown  with  thorns. 
 
 And  darkness  round  our  way  ; 
 For  them — the  golden  streets  of  Heaven 
 
 And  God's  eternal  dav ! 
 
HOW   LONG,    0    LORD  ?  203 
 
 How  long,  0  Lord  of  love  !  how  long 
 
 Shall  we  go  mourning  here  ? 
 How  long  till  in  Thy  courts  above. 
 
 With  singing  we  appear  ?  ' 
 
 We  see  Thy  saints  to  glory  go, 
 
 And  trim  our  lamps  anew  ; 
 When  shall  we  hear  the  Bridegroom's  voice, 
 
 And  we  be  summoned  too  ! 
 
 0  longing  heart!     0  aching  head! 
 
 Our  times  are  in  His  hand  ; 
 And  not  a  drop  is  in  the  cup 
 
 Unmeasured  by  His  hand. 
 And  though  the  bitterness  be  great 
 
 Yet  deeper  was  the  draught, 
 Which  in  His  hour  of  agony, 
 
 Our  great  Redeemer  quaffed. 
 
 Though  long  delayed  our  time  of  rest, 
 
 And  o'er  the  waters  wild. 
 Like  Noah's  dove,  we  have  been  sent, 
 
 Our  rest  below  defiled  ; 
 Yet  soon  our  exile  shall  be  o'er, 
 
 His  time  of  love  shall  come  ; 
 When  He  shall  open  wide  the  door, 
 
 And  take  the  wanderer  home. 
 
WAITING. 
 
 JFront  tfie  (German. 
 
 Dost  thou  ask  when  comes  His  hour  ? 
 
 Tis  wlien  it  aids  thee  best. 
 Trust  His  fai tli fulness  and  power, 
 
 Trust  Him,  and  calmly  rest. 
 Suffer  on,  and  hope,  and  wait — 
 Jesus  will  not  come  too  late. 
 
 Blessed  day.  which  hastens  fast. 
 
 End  of  conflict  and  of  sin  ! 
 Death  itself  shall  die  at  last, 
 
 Heaven's  eternal  joys  begin. 
 Then  Eternity  shall  prove, 
 God  is  Light,  and  God  is  Love. 
 
 ETERNITY. 
 
 S&ulfttr.    M&  1685. 
 
 Eternity  !  Eternity ! 
 How  long  art  thou  Eternity  ? 
 And  yet  to  thee  time  hastes  away, 
 Like  as  the  warhorse  to  the  fray  — 
 Or  swift  as  couriers  homeward  go- 
 Or  ship  to  port,  or  shaft  to  bow. 
 Ponder,  0  man,  Eternity  1 
 
ETERNITY.  205 
 
 Eternity!  Eternity! 
 How  long  art  thou  Eternity  ? 
 A  circle  infinite  art  thou. 
 Thy  centre  an  eternal  now — 
 Never,  we  name  thy  outward  bound, 
 For  never  end  therein  is  found. 
 Ponder,  0  man,  Eternity. 
 
 Eternity !  Eternity ! 
 How  long  art  thou  Eternity ! 
 A  little  bird  with  fretting  beak 
 Might  wear  to  nought  the  loftiest  peak, 
 Though  but  each  thousand  years  it  came. 
 Yet  thou  wert  then,  as  now,  the  same. 
 Ponder,  0  man,  Eternity. 
 
 Eternity !  Eternity ! 
 How  long  art  thou  Eternity  ? 
 As  long  as  God  is  God — so  long- 
 Endure  the  pains  of  hell  and  wrong, 
 So  long  the  joys  of  heaven  remain  ; 
 Oh  lasting  joy  !  Oh  lasting  pain  ! 
 Ponder,  0  man,  Eternity  ! 
 
 Eternity !  Eternity ! 
 How  long  art  thou  Eternity  ? 
 0  man,  full  oft  thy  thoughts  should  dwell 
 Upon  the  pains  of  sin  and  hell — 
 
206  HYMN    TO    CHRIST   OX   THE    CROSS. 
 
 And  on  the  glories  of  the  pure, 
 That  doth  beyond  all  Time  endure. 
 Ponder,  0  man,  Eternity ! 
 
 Eternity !  Eternity ! 
 How  long  art  thou  Eternity? 
 How  terrible  art  thou  in  woe, 
 How  fair  where  joys  forever  glow  ! 
 God's  goodness  sheddeth  gladness  here, 
 His  justice  there  wakes  bitter  fear. 
 Ponder,  0  man,  Eternity  ! 
 
 Eternity !  Eternity ! 
 How  long  art  thou  Eternity  ? 
 A  moment  lasts  all  joy  below 
 Whereby  man  sinks  to  endless  woe  ; 
 A  moment  lasts  all  earthly  pain, 
 Whereby  an  endless  joy  we  gain. 
 Ponder,  0  man,  Eternity ! 
 
 HYMN    TO    CHRIST    ON    THE    ('BOSS 
 
 St.  Bernard     iDicb  1153. 
 
 Hail,  thou  Head !  so  bruised  and  wounded, 
 With  the  crown  of  thorns  surrounded, 
 Smitten  with  the  mocking  reed, 
 Wounds  which  may  not  cease  to  bleed 
 Trickling  faint  and  slow. 
 
HYMN   TO    CHRIST   ON    THE    CROSS.  207 
 
 • 
 
 Hail !  from  whose  most  blessed  brow 
 None  can  wipe  the  blood-drops  now  ; 
 All  the  flower  of  life  has  fled 
 Mortal  paleness  there  instead  ; 
 Thou,  before  whose  presence  dread 
 Angels  trembling  bow. 
 
 Yet  in  this  Thine  agony 
 Faithful  Shepherd  think  of  me  ; 
 From  whose  lips  of  love  divine 
 Sweetest  draughts  of  life  were  mine. 
 
 Purest  honey  flows. 
 All  unworthy  of  Thy  thought, 
 Guilty,  yet  reject  me  not, 
 Unto  me  Thy  head  incline — 
 Let  that  dying  head  of  Thine 
 
 In  mine  arms  repose ! 
 
 Let  me  true  communion  know 
 With  Thee  in  Thy  sacred  woe, 
 Counting  all  beside  but  dross, 
 Dying  with  Thee  on  Thy  cross  ; — 
 
 'Neath  it  I  will  die! 
 Thanks  to  Thee  with  ev'ry  breath, 
 Jesus,  for  Thy  bitter  death  ; 
 Grant  Thy  guilty  one  this  prayer, 
 When  my  dying  hour  is  near 
 
 Gracious  God,  be  nigh  ! 
 
208  o  SACKED   BEA1>!   now   wounded. 
 
 When  my  dying  hour  must  be, 
 Be  not  absent  then  from  me  : 
 In  that  dreadful  hour  1  pray, 
 Jesus  come  without  delay. 
 
 See  and  set  me  free  ! 
 When  Thou  biddest  me  depart. 
 Whom  I  cleave  to  with  my  heart. 
 Lover  of  my  soul  be  near  ! 
 With  Thy  saving  Cross  appear 
 
 Show  Thyself  to  me  ! 
 
 Prostrate,  see,  Thy  Cross  I  grasp, 
 And  Thy  pierced  feet  I  clasp  ; 
 Gracious  Jesus,  spurn  me  not  : 
 On  me  with  compassion  fraught, 
 
 Let  Thy  glances  fall. 
 From  Thy  Cross  of  agony. 
 My  Beloved,  look  on  me  : 
 Turn  me  wholly  unto  Thee  ; 
 ';  Be  thou  whole"  say  openly. 
 
 "  I  forsrive  thee  all." 
 
 0  SACRED  HEAD!     NOW   WOTXDED. 
 IjSauI  Gerfjarbt.    33b  3jtcfc.  3anus  3®.  gftexarctor. 
 
 0  Sacred  Head !  now  wounded. 
 
 With  grief  and  shame  weighed  down  : 
 Now  scornfully  surrounded 
 
 With  thorns.  Thv  onlv  crown  : 
 
0    SACRED    HEAD  !    NOW    WOUNDED.  209 
 
 0  Sacred  Head  !  what  glory, 
 
 What  bliss  till  now  was  Thine! 
 Yet.  though  despised  and  gory. 
 
 I  joy  to  call  Thee  mine. 
 
 0  noblest  brow  and  dearest ! 
 
 In  other  days  the  world 
 All  feared  when  Thou  appearedst ; 
 
 What  shame  on  Thee  is  hurled  ! 
 How  art  thou  pale  with  anguish. 
 
 With  sore  abuse  and  scorn  : 
 How  does  that  bosom  languish. 
 
 Which  once  was  bright  as  morn. 
 
 The  blushes  late  residing 
 
 Upon  that  holy  cheek  : 
 The  roses  once  abiding 
 
 Upon  those  lips  so  meek  ; 
 Alas  !  they  have  departed  ; 
 
 Wan  death  has  rifled  all  1 
 For.  weak  and  broken-hearted. 
 
 1  see  Thy  body  fall. 
 
 What  Thou,  my  Lord,  hast  suffered. 
 
 Was  all  for  sinners'  gain  ; 
 Mine,  mine  was  the  transgression. 
 
 But  Thine  the  deadly  pain  : 
 Lo  !  here  I  fall,  my  Saviour  ! 
 
 'Tis  I  deserve  Thy  place. 
 Look  on  me  with  Thy  favor, 
 
 Vouchsafe  to  me  Thy  grace. 
 14 
 
210  O  SACKED  head!  now  wounded. 
 
 Receive  me,  my  Redeemer, 
 
 My  Shepherd  make  me  Thine  ; 
 Of  every  good  the  fountain. 
 
 Thou  art  the  spring  of  mine. 
 Thy  lips  with  love  distilling. 
 
 And  milk  of  truth  sincere. 
 With  heaven's  bliss  are  filling 
 
 The  soul  that  trembles  there. 
 
 Beside  Thee,  Lord,  I've  taken 
 
 My  place — forbid  it  not ! 
 Hence  will  I  ne'er  be  shaken. 
 
 Though  Thou  to  death  be  brought. 
 If  pain's  last  paleness  hold  Thee, 
 
 In  agony  opprest, 
 There,  there  will  I  enfold  Thee 
 
 Within  these  arms  and  breast. 
 
 The  joy  can  ne'er  be  spoken 
 
 Above  all  joys  beside, 
 When  in  Thy  body  broken. 
 
 1  thus  with  safety  hide. 
 My  Lord  of  life,  desiring 
 
 Thy  glory  now  to  see 
 Beside  the  cross  expiring, 
 
 I'd  breathe  my  soul  to  Thee. 
 
 What  language  shall  I  borrow 
 To  thank  Thee,  dearest  Friend, 
 
 For  this,  Thy  dying  sorrow. 
 Thy  pity  without  end  ! 
 
THE    GOOD    SHEPHERD.  211 
 
 0  make  me  Thine  forever ! 
 
 And  should  I  fainting  be. 
 Lord,  let  me  never,  never, 
 
 Outlive  my  love  to  Thee. 
 
 Be  near  when  I  am  dying, 
 
 0  show  Thy  cross  to  me ! 
 And  for  my  succor  flying, 
 
 Come,  Lord,  and  set  me  free. 
 These  eyes  new  faith  receiving, 
 
 From  Jesus  shall  not  move, 
 For  he  who  dies  believing, 
 
 Dies  safely  through  Thy  love. 
 
 THE    GOOD    SHEPHERD. 
 
 ?iirummacl)fr. 
 
 Yes,  our  Shepherd  leads  with  gentle  hand. 
 Through  the  dark  pilgrim-land. 
 His  flock,  so  dearly  bought, 
 vSo  long  and  fondly  sought. 
 
 When  in  clouds  and  mists  the  weak  ones  stray. 
 He  shows  again  the  way, 
 And  points  to  them  afar 
 A  bright  and  guiding  star. 
 
212  IN   THE   GREEN    PASTURES. 
 
 Tenderly  He  watches  from  on  high, 
 With  an  unwearied  eye  ; 
 He  comforts  and  sustains 
 In  all  their  fears  and  pains. 
 
 Through  the  parch'd,  dreary  desert  He  will  guide 
 To  the  green  fountain  side  ; 
 Through  the  dark  stormy  night. 
 To  a  calm  land  of  light. 
 
 Yes,  His  "  little  flock"  are  ne'er  forgot, 
 His  mercy  changes  not : 
 Our  home  is  safe  above, 
 Within  His  arms  of  love. 
 Hallelujah ! 
 
 IN    THE    GREEN    PASTURES. 
 
 JFrom  tjjc  .SpanisJ).     i3p  13 ni ant. 
 
 Region  of  life  and  light. 
 
 Land  of  the  good  whose  earthly  toils  are  o'er 
 Nor  frost,  nor  heat  may  blight 
 Thy  vernal  beauty,  fertile  shore. 
 
 Yielding  thv  blessed  fruits  for  evermore! 
 
IN    THE    GREEN    PASTURES.  213 
 
 There,  without  crook  or  sling, 
 Walks  the  Good  Shepherd  ;  blossoms,  white  and  red. 
 
 Round  His  meek  temples  cling- ; 
 
 And  to  sweet  pastures  led, 
 His  own  loved  flock  beneath  His  eye  is  fed. 
 
 He  guides,  and  near  Him  they 
 Follow  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, 
 Named  of  the  infinite  and  long-sought  Good. 
 
 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, 
 
 Reposing  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  still 
 
 All  passions  born  of  earth, 
 
 And  draw  the  ardent  will 
 Its  destiny  of  goodness  to  fulfil. 
 
214  WITH    PALMS    IN    THEIR    HANDS. 
 
 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,  0  Love,  in  Thee ! 
 
 Ah  !  then  beloved  I  should  know, 
 
 Where  Thou  liest  at  noon  of  day, 
 And  from  this  place  of  woe 
 Released,  should  take  my  way 
 
 To  mingle  with  Thy  flock,  and  never  stray. 
 
 WITH  PALMS  IN  THEIR  HANDS. 
 
 3.  iHontcjonurj). 
 
 Palms  of  glory,  raiment  bright. 
 
 Crowns  that  never  fade  away, 
 Gird  and  deck  the  saints  in  light ; 
 
 Priests  and  kings,  and  conquerors  they 
 Yet  the  conquerors  bring  their  palms 
 
 To  the  Lamb  amidst  the  throne. 
 And  proclaim,  in  joyful  psalms 
 
 Victory  through  His  cross  alone. 
 
 Kings  for  harps  their  crowns  resign, 
 Crying,  as  they  strike  the  chords, 
 
 "  Take  the  kingdom — it  is  Thine, 
 King  of  kings,  and  Lord  of  lords." 
 
WHO    ARE    THESE    IN    BRIGHT    ARRAY?  215 
 
 Round  the  altar,  priests  confess. 
 
 If  their  robes  are  white  as  snow. 
 'Twas  the  Saviour's  righteousness. 
 
 And  His  blood  that  made  them  so. 
 
 Who  are  these?     On  earth  they  dwelt. 
 
 Sinners  once  of  Adam's  race  ; 
 Guilt  and  fear,  and  suffering  felt. 
 
 But  were  saved  by  sovereign  grace. 
 They  were  mortal,  too.  like  us  ; 
 
 Ah.  when  we  like  them  must  die. 
 May  our  souls,  translated  thus, 
 
 Triumph,  reign,  and  shine  on  high. 
 
 WHO    ABE    THESE    IN    BRIGHT    ARRAY? 
 
 Who  are  these  in  bright  array  ? 
 
 This  innumerable  throng — 
 Round  the  altar  night  and  day 
 
 Tuning  their  triumphant  song  ? 
 ••  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  once  slain. 
 
 Blessing,  honor,  glory,  power. 
 Wisdom,  riches,  to  obtain  : 
 
 New  dominion  every  hour/7 
 
 These  through  fiery  trials  trod  : 
 These  from  great  afflictions  came — 
 
2  Hi  WHO    ARE   THOSE? 
 
 Now  before  the  Throne  of  God. 
 
 Sealed  with  his  Eternal  Name.! 
 (Mad  in  raiment  pure  and  white, 
 
 Victor  palms  in  every  hand. 
 Through  their  great  Redeemer's  might. 
 More  than  conquerors  they  stand. 
 
 Hunger,  thirst,  disease  unknown. 
 
 On  immortal  fruits  they  feed. 
 Them  the  Lamb  amidst  the  Throne 
 
 Shall  to  living  fountains  lead. 
 Joy  and  gladness  banish  sighs  ; 
 
 Perfect  love  dispels  their  fears — 
 And  forever  from  their  eyes 
 
 God  shall  wipe  away  their  tears ! 
 
 WHO    ARE    THOSE." 
 
 Jfrom  tfoc  German  of  5c|)tTtk,  tn  Miss  (LSCinktoortf). 
 
 Who  are  those  before  God's  throne. 
 
 What  the  crowned  host  I  see  ? 
 As  the  sky  with  stars  thick-strown 
 
 Is  their  shining  company  ; 
 Hallelujahs,  hark,  they  sing  : 
 Solemn  praise  to  God  they  bring. 
 
WHO    ARE   THOSE  ?  217 
 
 Who  are  those  that  in  their  hands 
 
 Bear  aloft  the  conqueror's  palm. 
 As  one  o'er  his  foeman  stands, 
 
 Fallen  beneath  his  mighty  arm  ? 
 What  the  war  and  what  the  strife  ? 
 Whence  came  such  victorious  life  ? 
 
 Who  are  those  arrayed  in  light, 
 Clothed  in  righteousness  divine, 
 
 Wearing  robes  so  pure  and  white, 
 That  unstained  shall  ever  shine, 
 
 That  can  never  more  decay — 
 
 Whence  come  all  this  bright  array  ? 
 
 They  are  those  who  strong  in  faith, 
 Battled  for  the  mighty  God  ; 
 
 Conquerors  o'er  the  world  and  death, 
 Following  not  sin's  crowded  road  ; 
 
 Through  the  Lamb  who  once  was  slain, 
 
 Did  they  such  high  victory  gain. 
 
 They  are  those  who  much  have  borne. 
 
 Trial,  sorrow,  pain,  and  care, 
 Who  have  wrestled  night  and  morn 
 
 With  the  mighty  God  in  prayer  ; 
 Now  their  strife  hath  found  its  close  ; 
 God  hath  turned  awav  their  woes. 
 
218  WHO    ARE   THOSE  ? 
 
 They  are  branches  of  that  Stem 
 Who  hath  our  salvation  been  : 
 
 In  the  blood  He  shed  for  them 
 
 Have  they  made  their  raiment  clean  ; 
 
 Hence  they  wear  such  radiant  dress. 
 
 (Mad  in  spotless  holiness. 
 
 They  are  those  who  hourly  here 
 Served  as  priests  before  the  Lord. 
 
 Offering  up.  with  gladsome  cheer, 
 Soul  and  body  at  His  word. 
 
 Now.  within  the  holy  place 
 
 Thev  behold  him  face  to  face ! 
 
 As  the  harts  at  noonday  pant 
 For  the  river  fresh  and  clear. 
 
 Did  their  souls  oft  long  and  faint 
 For  the  living  Fountain  here  : 
 
 Now  their  thirst  is  quenched  ;  they  dwell 
 
 With  the  Lord  thev  loved  so  well ! 
 
 Ah  !  that  bliss  can  ne'er  be  told 
 When  with  all  that  army  bright 
 
 Thee,  my  Sun,  I  shall  behold. 
 Shining,  star-like  with  Thy  light 
 
 Amen,  thanks  be  brought  to  Thee. 
 
 Praise  through  all  eternity  ! 
 
THE    REDEEMED. 
 
 There  walk  the  saved !  yea,  they  who  bore, 
 While  traversing  life's  stormy  shore. 
 Through  tears  and  blood  the  hallowed  cross 
 Who,  purged  from  earth's  terrestrial  dross, 
 Received  the  Saviour's  form  impressed — 
 Whose  signet  on  each  hallowed  breast 
 Ens  tamped  the  mystic  name,  unknown 
 To  all  save  those  around  the  throne  ; 
 
 Who  calm  'mid  earth's  tumultuous  strife. 
 Drew  from  Himself  that  inward  life 
 Which  spirits  breathe,  from  sense  apart, 
 While  deep  in  each  devoted  heart 
 The  formless  glory  dwelt  serene. 
 Of  old  in  cherub  glory  seen. 
 Prelude  of  bliss  reserved  above, 
 In  perfect  light,  for  perfect  love. 
 
 Now  all  in  heaven  !  no  temple  There 
 Unfolds  its  gates  :  no  voice  of  prayer 
 From  that  bright  multitude  ascends  : 
 But  holy  rapture  reverent  bends 
 Before  the  mediatorial  throne. 
 Before  the  Lamb,  whose  beams  alone 
 Irradiate  that  eternal  sky — ■ 
 The  bursting  blaze  of  Deity  ! 
 
220  THE  REDEEMED. 
 
 Soft  is  the  voice  of  golden  lutes  ; 
 
 Sweet  bloom  heaven's  fair,  ambrosial  fruits  ; 
 
 Bright  beams  the  dazzling  lustre  Bhed 
 
 From  radiant  gems  in  order  spread 
 From  golden  streets,  from  emerald  floors, 
 From  crystal  floods,  from  pearly  doors, 
 From  rainbow  tints,  from  angel  wings, 
 From  all  unuttered  glorious  things. 
 
 Yet  not  that  city's  dazzling  glow, 
 Nor  limpid  water's  murmuring  flow. 
 Nor  dulcet  harmony  that  springs 
 From  golden  lyres  ;  nor  angel  wings, 
 Though  glittering  with  intensest  dyes 
 Reflected  from  immortal  skies, 
 Complete  the  palmy  bliss  of  those 
 For  whom  heaven's  pearly  gates  unclose. 
 
 No  :  'tis  with  unfilmed  eyes  to  see 
 
 The  once  incarnate  Deity. 
 
 Who  still  with  lamb-like  meekness  bears, 
 
 Imprinted  deep,  those  glorious  scars 
 
 Whence  issued  wide  that  crimson  flow 
 
 In  which  their  robes  were  washed  below. 
 
 Which  bought  that  crown  whose  splendor  bright 
 
 Now  spheres  them  in  that  world  of  light. 
 
 Not  with  blessed  forms  like  these  to  blend, 
 And  feel  in  each  an  ansrel  friend. 
 
THE    HAPPY    COUNTRY.  221 
 
 But  God.  their  Fount,  to  know  and  sec — 
 
 From  all-pervading  Deity 
 
 To  catch  the  nearer  burst  of  light, 
 
 To  gain  the  beatific  sight, 
 
 Entranced  in  glory's  peerless  blaze — 
 
 Conformed  to  Him,  on  whom  they  gaze ! 
 
 THE    HAPPY    COUNTRY. 
 
 J3*rnariJ  of  ©lugnj.    I2tt)  ©tnturD.     13d  ©r.  Nralt. 
 
 And,  through  the  sacred  lilies 
 
 And  flowers  on  every  side, 
 The  happy  dear-bought  people 
 
 Go  wandering  far  and  wide  ; 
 Their  breasts  are  filled  with  gladness. 
 
 Their  mouths  are  turned  to  praise, 
 What  time,  now  safe  for  eve.-. 
 
 On  former  sins  they  gaze  : 
 The  fouler  was  the  error, — 
 
 The  sadder  was  the  fall, — 
 The  ampler  are  the  praises 
 
 Of  Him  who  pardoned  all. 
 
 Their  one  and  only  anthem. 
 
 The  fulness  of  His  love, — 
 Who  gave  instead  of  torment, 
 
 Eternal  joys  above  ! 
 
222  ANGELS. 
 
 Instead  of  torment,  glory — 
 Instead  of  Death,  that  Life 
 
 Wherewith  your  Happy  Country, 
 True  Israelites,  is  rife. 
 
 ANGELS. 
 
 Sspcnstr. 
 
 Angels  bright, 
 All  glistening  glorious,  in  their  Maker's  light ; 
 
 To  them  the  heaven's  illimitable  height 
 
 (Not  this  round  Heaven,  which  we  from  hence  behold. 
 
 Adorned  with  thousand  lamps  of  burning  light, 
 
 And  with  ten  thousand  gemmes  of  shining  gold.) 
 
 He  gave  as  their  inheritance  to  hold, 
 
 That  they  might  serve  Him  in  eternall  blisse 
 
 And  be  partakers  of  those  ioys  of  His. 
 
 There  they,  in  their  trinall  triplicities 
 About  Him  wait,  and  on  His  will  depend, 
 Either  with  nimble  wings  to  cut  the  skies 
 When  He  them  on  His  messages  doth  send, 
 Or  on  His  own  dread  presence  to  attend. 
 Where  they  behold  the  glory  of  His  light 
 And  caroll  hymns  of  love,  both  day  and  night. 
 
ANGELS.  223 
 
 Both  day  and  night,  is  unto  them  all  one  ; 
 For  He,  his  beams  doth  unto  them  extend, 
 That  darknesse  their  appeareth  never  none  ; 
 Ne  hath  their  day,  ne  hath  their  blisse  an  end, 
 But  There,  their  termelesse  time  in  pleasure  spend  ; 
 Ne  ever  should  their  happinesse  decay, 
 Had  not  they  dar'd  their  Lord  to  disobey. 
 
 ANGELS. 
 $,.  ft.  iHiIman. 
 
 What  means  yon  blaze  on  high  ? 
 
 The  empyrean  sky, 
 Like  the  rich  veil  of  some  proud  fane,  is  rending  ; 
 
 I  see  the  star-paved  land 
 
 Where  all  the  angels  stand, 
 Even  to  the  highest  height,  in  burning  rows  ascend  in* 
 
 Some,  with  their  wings  disspread. 
 
 And  bowed  the  stately  head, 
 As  on  some  mission  of  God's  love  departing. 
 Like  flames  at  midnight  conflagration  starting. 
 Behold  !  the  appointed  messengers  are  they, 
 And  nearest  earth  they  wait,  to  waft  our  souls  away. 
 
 Higher  and  higher  still, 
 More  lofty  statures  fill 
 The  jasper-courts  of  the  Everlasting  Dwelling  ; 
 
224  ANGELS. 
 
 Cherubim  and  seraph  pace 
 
 The  illimitable  space,  • 
 While  sice])  the  folded  plumes  from  their  white  shoulders 
 swelling  ; 
 
 From  all  the  harping  throng 
 
 Bursts  the  tumultuous  song, 
 Like  the  unceasing  sound  of  cataracts  pouring. 
 Hosanna  o'er  hosanna  loudly  soaring  ; 
 That  faintly  echoing  down  to  earthly  ears. 
 Hath  seemed  the  concert  sweet,  of  the  harmonious  spheres. 
 
 Still  my  wrapi  spirit  mounts, 
 
 And  lo  !  beside  the  founts 
 Of  flowing  light,  Christ's  chosen  saints  reclining  : 
 
 Distinct  among  the  blaze, 
 
 Their  palm-crowned  heads  they  raise. 
 Their  white  robes,  e'en  through  that  o'erpowering  lustre 
 
 Each,  in  his  place  of  state,  [shining. 
 
 Long  the  bright  twelve  have  sat. 
 O'er  the  celestial  Zion.  high  uplifted  : 
 Which  these  with  deep  prophetic  raptures  gifted. 
 Where  life's  glad  river  rolls  its  tideless  streams, 
 Enjoy  the  full  completion  of  their  heavenly  dreams. 
 
 Again,  I  see  again 
 
 The  great  victorious  train, 
 The  martyr-army,  from  their  toils  reposing, 
 
 The  blood-red  robes  they  wear 
 
 Empurpling  all  the  air. 
 E'en  their  immortal  limbs  the  signs  of  wounds  disclosing  : 
 
HEAVENWARD.  225 
 
 Oil,  holy  Stephen  !  thou 
 
 Art  there,  and  on  thy  brow 
 Hast  still  the  placid  smile  it  wore  in  dying, 
 When,  under  the  heaped  stones  in  anguish  lying, 
 Thy  clasping  hands  were  fondly  spread  to  heaven, 
 And  thy  last  accents  prayed  thy  foes  might  be  forgiven. 
 
 Beyond,  ah !  who  is  there 
 
 With  the  white  snowy  hair  ? 
 7Tis  He,  'tis  He,  the  Son  of  Man,  appearing 
 
 At  the  right  hand  of  One, 
 
 The  darkness  of  whose  throne 
 That  sun-eyed  host  behold  with  awe  and  fearing  ; 
 
 O'er  Him,  the  rainbow  springs, 
 
 And  spreads  its  emerald  wings 
 Down  to  the  glassy  sea,  His  loftiest  seat  o'erarching. 
 Hark  !   thunders  from  His  throne,  like  steel-clad  armies 
 
 marching  ; 
 The  Christ!  the  Christ  commands  us  to  His  home! 
 Jesus,  Redeemer,  Lord,  we  come — we  come ! 
 
 HE  A  VEX  WARD. 
 
 Bisfjop  ©oxc. 
 
 So,  in  our  simple  creed. 
 We  drop  this  frail  mortality  we  wear, 
 And  laud  to  Him  who  for  our  sakes  did  bleed, 
 And  on  His  cross  our  bitter  griefs  did  bear- 
 We  know  our  ransomed  nature,  certain  heir 
 Of  deathless  being  from  its  dying  seed. 
 15 
 
226  HEAVENWARD. 
 
 They  who  nurse  hopes,  live  every  day  an  age, 
 And  strive  more  fleet  to  live,  by  living  well  : 
 
 And  so  we  hasten  on  our  pilgrimage, 
 Plucking  earth's  flowers,  but  fain  in  heaven  to  dwell. 
 
 Life,  in  our  ear,  doth  mean  eternity  ; 
 And  Time,  our  staff,  but  speeds  us  on  our  way, 
 
 While  all  around,  poor  voyagers  we  see, 
 Who  bear  it,  but  to  chronicle  each  day, 
 
 And  notch  the  hurrying  hours  of  destiny 
 In  fearful  units,  numbering  for  dismay 
 
 The  lavished  seeds  of  immortality. 
 But,  0,  our  souls  take  no  account  of  time, 
 For  we  are  gazing  into  worlds  sublime  ; 
 
 Our  spirits  are  like  song-birds,  nursed  to  light 
 In  climates  far  too  rude, 
 That,  by  a  heavenly  instinct,  stretch  their  flight 
 
 To  skies  where  such  bright  plumes  were  made  to  brood. 
 We  know  our  kindred  there, 
 In  genial  warmth,  their  golden  plumage  wear, 
 
 And  sing  their  native  notes  forevermore ! 
 We  yearn  for  purer  air, 
 
 And  dream  the  music  we  were  made  to  share, 
 
 As  home  we  waft  us,  from  our  alien  shore. 
 
"WE    SHALL    SEE    HIM   AS    HE   IS." 
 
 &rb.  ©JjarltB  M.  BairiJ. 
 
 When  the  last  cloud  shall  break 
 That  shades  that  realm  of  glory  from  thy  sight, 
 
 And  thine  astonished  eyes  awake 
 From  life's  brief  dream  to  Heaven's  transplendent  light  : 
 
 What  quickening  powers  my  soul 
 Shall  then  uprise,  from  fleshly  bonds  released, 
 
 And  bear  thee  victor  to  thy  goal, 
 On  all  the  wonders  of  thy  God  to  feast ! 
 
 What  forms  of  shining  grace, 
 Shall  swift  thy  bright  ascending  track  surround. 
 
 Or  gladsome  fly  before  thy  face, 
 The  blissful  news  of  thine  approach  to  sound  ! 
 
 What  mysteries  deep  and  strange 
 Will  thine  unfettered  spirit  first  pursue  ? 
 
 Whither,  on  wings,  untiring  range 
 Their  boundless  fields  of  Truth,  precious  and  new  ? 
 
 Not  yet,  my  soul,  not  yet ! 
 What  thou  shalt  be  no  thought  can  fathom  now  ; — 
 
 But  when  thy  Saviour's  hand  hath  set 
 The  " new  name"  of  His  ransomed  on  thy  brow, 
 
228  rest ! 
 
 Thou  shalt  behold  Him  near  : — 
 The  King,  in  all  His  beauty,  thou  shall  see ! 
 
 Removed  the  veil  that  screened  thee  here. 
 To  show  His  perfect  likeness  formed  in  thee ! 
 
 REST! 
 
 &ri).  3ftaB  palmer. 
 
 And  is  there,  Lord,  a  rest, 
 
 For  weary  souls  designed, 
 Where  not  a  care  shall  stir  the  breast 
 
 Or  sorrow  entrance  find  ? 
 
 Is  there  a  blissful  home, 
 
 Where  kindred  minds  shall  meet, 
 And  live,  and  love,  nor  ever  roam 
 
 From  that  serene  retreat  ? 
 
 Are  there  bright,  happy  fields, 
 
 Where  nought  that  blooms  shall  die  ; 
 
 Where  each  new  scene  fresh  pleasure  yields 
 And  healthful  breezes  sigh  ? 
 
 Are  there  celestial  streams, 
 
 Where  living  waters  glide, 
 With  murmurs  sweet  as  angel  dreams, 
 
 And  flowery  banks  beside  ? 
 
ANTICIPATION.  229 
 
 Forever  blessed  they, 
 
 Whose  joyful  feet  shall  stand, 
 While  endless  ages  waste  away 
 
 Amid  that  glorious  band  ! 
 
 &j 
 
 My  soul  would  thither  tend, 
 
 While  toilsome  years  are  given  ; 
 
 Then  let  me,  gracious  God,  ascend 
 To  sweet  repose  in  Heaven ! 
 
 ANTICIPA  TION. 
 
 What  shall  I  be,  my  Lord,  when  I  behold  Thee 
 In  awful  majesty  at  God's  right  hand, 
 
 And  7mid  the  eternal  glories,  that  enfold  me, 
 In  strange  bewilderment,  0  Lord,  I  stand  ? 
 
 What  shall  I  be  ?  these  tears  they  dim  my  sight. 
 I  cannot  catch  the  blissful  vision  right. 
 
 What  shall  I  be,  Lord,  when  Thy  radiant  glory. 
 
 As  from  the  grave  I  rise,  encircles  me  ? 
 When,  brightly  pictured  in  the  light  before  me. 
 
 What  "  eye  hath  never  seen"  my  eyes  shall  see  ! 
 What  shall  I  be  ?     Ah !  blessed  and  sublime 
 
 Is  the  dim  prospect  of  that  glorious  time ! 
 
230  THERE    REMAIXETH    A    REST. 
 
 What  shall  I  be,  when  days  of  grief  are  ended, 
 From  earthly  fetters  set  forever  free  ; 
 
 When  from  the  harps  of  saints  and  angels  blended, 
 
 .     I  hear  the  burst  of  joyful  melody  ? 
 
 What  shall  I  be,  when  risen  from  the  dead. — 
 Sin,  death  and  hell.  I  never  more  shall  dread  ? 
 
 What  shall  I  be,  when  all  around  are  thronging — 
 The  loved  of  earth,  with  whom  I've  come  to  dwell ! 
 
 When  all  is  joy  and  praise — no  anxious  longing. 
 No  bitter  parting,  and  no  sad  farewell  ? 
 
 What  shall  I  be?     Ah,  how  the  streaming  light 
 Can  lend  a  brightness  to  the  dreary  night ! 
 
 Yes.  Faith  can  never  here  know  the  salvation 
 Which  Jesus  for  His  people  will  prepare  ; 
 
 Then  will  I  wait,  in  peaceful  expectation, 
 
 Till  the  Good  Shepherd  comes  to  take  me  there ! 
 
 My  Lord,  my  God,  a  blissful  end  I  see, 
 
 Though  now  I  know  not  what  I  then  shall  be ! 
 
 THERE    REMAINETH    A    REST. 
 
 JFrom  t|)c  (German.    Jot)  itli'ss  SStinkfeoortft. 
 
 Yes,  there  remaineth  yet  a  rest  : 
 Arise,  sad  heart,  that  darkly  pines, 
 
 By  heavy  care  and  pain  oppressed. 
 On  whom  no  sun  of  gladness  shines  ; 
 
THERE    REMAIXETH    A    REST.  231 
 
 Look  to  the  Lamb ! — In  yon  bright  fields 
 Thou'lt  know  the  joy  His  presence  yields. 
 
 Cast  off  thy  load  and  thither  haste  ; 
 Soon  shalt  thou  fight  and  bleed  no  more, 
 
 Soon,  soon  thy  weary  course  be  o'er, 
 And  deep  the  rest  thou  then  shalt  taste. 
 
 The  rest  appointed  thee  of  God  ; 
 
 The  rest  that  naught  shall  break  or  move, 
 That  ere  this  earth  by  man  was  trod 
 
 Was  set  apart  for  thee  by  love. 
 Thy  Saviour  gave  His  life  to  win 
 
 This  rest  for  thee  ;  oh,  enter  in  ! 
 Hear  how  His  voice  sounds  far  and  wide  ; 
 
 "  Ye  weary  souls  no  more  delay  : 
 Loiter  not  faithless  by  the  way  : 
 
 Here  in  my  peace  aud  rest  abide  I" 
 
 Yonder  in  joy  the  sheaves  we  bring, 
 
 Whose  seed  was  sown  on  earth  iu  tears  ; 
 There  in  our  Father's  house  we  sing 
 
 The  song  too  sweet  for  mortal  ears  : 
 Sorrow  and  sighing  all  are  past. 
 
 And  pain  and  death  are  fled  at  last  ; 
 There  with  the  Lamb  of  God  we  dwell  : 
 
 He  leads  us  to  the  crystal  river  : 
 He  wipes  away  all  tears  forever  : 
 
 What  There  is  ours  no  tongue  can  tell. 
 
 Hunger  nor  thirst  can  pain  us  There  ; 
 The  time  of  recompense  is  come, 
 
232  I    WOULD    FLY   AWAY. 
 
 Nor  cold,  nor  scorching  heat  we  bear, 
 
 Safe  sheltered  in  our  Saviour's  home  ; 
 The  Lamb  is  in  the  midst,  and  those 
 
 Who  followed  Him  through  shame  and  woes 
 Are  crowned  with  honour,  joy  and  peace  ; 
 
 The  dry  bones  gather  life  again  ; 
 One  Sabbath  over  all  shall  reign, 
 
 Wherein  all  toil  and  labor  cease. 
 
 There  is  untroubled  calm  and  light, 
 
 No  gnawing  care  shall  mar  our  rest  : 
 Ye  weary,  heed  this  word  aright ; 
 
 Come,  lean  upon  your  Saviour's  breast ! 
 Fain  would  I  linger  here  no  more, 
 
 Fain  to  yon  happier  world  upsoar, 
 And  join  that  bright  expectant  band  ! 
 
 Oh,  raise  my  soul,  the  joyful  song 
 That  rings  through  yon  triumphant  throng, 
 
 Thy  perfect  rest  is  nigh  at  hand ! 
 
 /    W  OULD    FLY   A  WA  Y. 
 
 llUix. 
 
 Oh,  had  I  wings  like  yonder  bird, 
 That  soars  above  its  downy  nest, 
 
 I'd  fly  away,  unseen,  unheard, 
 Where  I  nriffht  be  for  ave  at  rest. 
 
I   WOULD    FLY    AWAY.  233 
 
 I  would  not  seek  those  fragrant  bowers 
 Which  bloom  beneath  a  cloudless  sky, 
 
 Nor  would  I  rest  amidst  the  flowers 
 That  deck  the  groves  of  Araby. 
 
 I'd  fly,  but  not  to  scenes  below, 
 
 Though  ripe  with  every  promised  bliss  ; 
 
 For  what 's  the  world  ?  a  garnished  show, 
 A  decorated  wilderness. 
 
 Oh,  I  would  fly  and  be  at  rest ! 
 
 Far,  far  beyond  each  glittering  sphere 
 That  hangs  upon  the  azure  breast 
 
 Of  all  we  know  of  Heaven  here. 
 
 And  there  I'd  rest,  amidst  the  joys 
 
 Angelic  lips  alone  can  tell ; 
 Where  bloom  the  bowers  of  Paradise, 
 
 Where  songs  in  sweetest  transports  swell. 
 
 There  would  I  rest,  beneath  that  throne, 
 
 Whose  glorious  circle  gilds  the  sky  ; 
 Where  sits  Jehovah,  who  alone 
 
 Can  wipe  the  mourner's  weeping  eye ! 
 
TAKING    WING. 
 
 Earth  is  the  spirit's  rayless  cell  ; 
 But  then,  as  a  bird  soars  home  to  the  shade 
 Of  the  beautiful  wood  where  its  nest  was  made. 
 
 In  bonds  no  more  to  dwell — 
 
 So  will  its  weary  wing 
 Be  spread  for  the  skies  when  its  toil  is  done, 
 And  its  breath  flow  free,  as  a  bird's  in  the  sun, 
 
 And  the  soft,  fresh  gales  of  spring. 
 
 Oh,  not  more  sweet  the  tears 
 Of  the  dewy  eve  on  the  violet  shed, 
 Than  the  dews  of  age  on  the  hoary  head 
 
 When  it  enters  the  eve  of  years. 
 
 Nor  dearer,  'mid  the  foam 
 Of  the  far-off  sea,  and  its  stormy  roar, 
 Is  a  breath  of  balm  from  the  unseen  shore 
 
 To  him  that  weeps  for  home ! 
 
 Wings  like  a  dove  to  fly ! 
 The  spirit  is  faint  with  its  feverish  strife  : 
 Oh  for  its  home  in  the  upper  life ! 
 
 When,  when  will  death  draw  nigh  ? 
 
EVERLASTING    LIGHT. 
 
 Hear  what  God  the  Lord  hath  spoken  : 
 
 "0  my  people,  faint  and  few 
 Comfortless,  afflicted,  broken, 
 
 Fair  abodes  I  build  for  you  ; 
 Thorns  of  heartfelt  tribulation 
 
 Shall  no  more  perplex  your  ways 
 You  shall  name  your  walls  Salvation. 
 
 And  your  gates  shall  all  be  Praise. 
 
 "  There,  like  streams  that  feed  the  garden, 
 
 Pleasures  without  end  shall  flow  ; 
 For  the  Lord,  your  faith  rewarding, 
 
 All  His  bounty  shall  bestow  ; 
 Still  in  undisturbed  possession 
 
 Peace  and  righteousness  shall  reign 
 Never  shall  you  feel  oppression, 
 
 Hear  the  voice  of  war  again. 
 
 "  Ye,  no  more  your  sun's  descending. 
 
 Waning  moons  no  more  shall  see. 
 But,  your  griefs  forever  ending, 
 
 Find  eternal  noon  in  me  ; 
 God  shall  rise,  and,  shining  o'er  you. 
 
 Change  to  day  the  gloom  of  night ; 
 He,  the  Lord,  shall  be  your  glory, 
 
 God  your  Everlasting  Light." 
 
ONWARD    INTO    LIGHT. 
 
 Our  course  is  onward,  onward  into  light  : 
 What  though  the  darkness  gathereth  amain  ? 
 Yet  to  return,  or  tarry,  both  are  vain. 
 How  starry,  when  around  us  thick  is  night  ? 
 Whither  return  ?     What  flower  yet  ever  might, 
 In  days  of  gloom,  and  cold,  and  stormy  rain, 
 Enclose  itself  in  its  green  bud  again, 
 Hiding  from  wrath  of  tempest  out  of  sight  ? 
 
 Courage!  we  travel  through  a  darksome  cave  ; 
 But  still,  as  nearer  to  the  light  we  draw. 
 Fresh  gales  will  meet  us  from  the  upper  air. 
 And  wholesome  dews  of  heaven  our  foreheads  lave, 
 The  darkness  lighten  more,  till  full  of  awe 
 We  stand  in  the  free  sunshine,  unaware. 
 
 MY   NATIVE    LAND. 
 
 JFrom  tfie  .Spanish  to  HLonjjMIofo. 
 
 Clear  fount  of  light !  my  native  land  on  high, 
 Bright  with  a  glory  that  shall  never  fade  ! 
 Mansion  of  Truth  !  without  a  veil  or  shade, 
 Thy  holy  quiet  meets  the  spirit's  eye. 
 
my  country's  loveliness.  287 
 
 There  dwells  the  soul  in  its  ethereal  essence, 
 
 Gasping  no  longer  for  life's  feeble  breath  ; 
 
 But  sentinelled  in  Heaven,  its  glorious  presence 
 
 With  pitying  eye  beholds,  yet  fears  not  death. 
 
 Beloved  country  !  banished  from  thy  shore, 
 
 A  stranger  in  this  prison-house  of  clay, 
 
 The  exiled  spirit  weeps  and  sighs  for  thee ! 
 
 Heavenward  the  bright  perfections  I  adore 
 
 Direct,  and  the  sure  promise  cheers  the  way, 
 
 That  whither  love  aspires,  there  shall  my  dwelling  be. 
 
 MY    COUNTRY' S    LOVELINESS. 
 jFrom  tfcc  Biatin  of  Casimir,  *>£  ©niicf). 
 
 It  kindles  all  my  soul 
 My  Country's  loveliness  !     Those  starry  choirs 
 
 That  watch  around  the  pole, 
 And  the  moon's  tender  light,  and  heavenly  fires 
 
 Through  golden  halls  that  roll. 
 0  chorus  of  the  night !     0  planets,  sworn 
 
 The  music  of  the  spheres 
 To  follow  !     Lovely  watchers,  that  think  scorn 
 
 To  rest  till  day  appears  ! 
 Me,  for  celestial  homes  of  glory  born. 
 
 Why  here,  oh  why  so  long 
 Do  ye  behold  an  exile  from  on  high  ? 
 
238  MY    COUNTRY'S   LOVELINESS. 
 
 Here,  oh  ye  shining  throng. 
 With  lilies  spread  the  mound  where  I  shall  lie  : 
 
 Here  let  me  drop  my  chain, 
 And  dust  to  dust  returning,  cast  away 
 
 The  trammels  that  remain  ; 
 The  rest  of  me  shall  spring  to  endless  day. 
 
PART    II 
 
 ^tkxm  attir  ^ttxmpttms 
 
MEMORIES. 
 
 Again  ye  come,  again  ye  throng  around  me, 
 Dim,  shadowy  beings  of  my  boyhood's  dream  ! 
 
 Still  shall  I  bless,  as  then,  your  spell  that  bound  me  ; 
 Still  bend  to  mists  and  vapors  as  ye  seem  ? 
 
 Nearer  ye  come !     I  yield  me  as  ye  found  me 
 In  youth  your  worshiper  ; — and  as  the  stream 
 
 Of  air  that  folds  you  in  its  magic  wreath 
 
 Flows  by  my  lips,  youth's  joy  my  bosom  breathes. 
 
 Lost  forms  and  loved  ones  ye  are  with  you  bringing, 
 
 And  dearest  images  of  happier  days  ; — 
 First  love  and  friendship  in  your  path  upspringing, 
 
 Like  old  Tradition's  half-remembered  lays. 
 And  long-slept  sorrows  waked,  whose  dirge-like  singing 
 
 Recalls  my  life's  strange  labyrinthine  maze, — 
 And  names  the  heart-mourned — many  whose  stern  doom, 
 Ere  their  youth's  summer,  summoned  to  the  tomb. 
 
 They  hear  not  these  my  last  songs,  they  whose  greeting- 
 Gladdened  my  first.    My  spring-time  friends  have  gone  • 
 
 And  gone,  fast  journeying  from  that  place  of  meeting, 
 The  echoes  of  their  welcome,  one  by  one. 
 16 
 
242  MEMORIES. 
 
 Though  stranger  crowds,  my  listeners  since,  are  beating 
 
 Time  to  ray  music,  their  applauding  tone. 
 More  grieves  than  glads  me,  while  the  tried  and  true. 
 If  yet  on  earth,  are  wandering  far  and  few. 
 
 A  longing — long  unfelt.  a  deep-drawn  sighing 
 For  the  far  Spirit-World,  o'erpowers  me  now. 
 
 My  song's  faint  voice  sings  fainter,  like  the  dying- 
 Tones  of  the  wind-harp  swinging  from  the  bough  : 
 
 And  my  changed  heart  throbs  warm, — no  more  denying 
 Tears  to  my  eyes,  or  sadness  to  ray  brow. 
 
 The  Near  afar  off  seems — the  Distant  nigh. — 
 
 The  Xow  a  dream — the  Past,  Reality. 
 
 THE    TWO    PROPHETS. 
 
 Wrap  thyself  up  in  night :  speak  low.  not  loud  ; 
 
 Spread  shining  mist  along  a  solemn  page  ; 
 Be  like  a  voice,  half  heard  from  hollow  cloud, 
 
 And  thou  shalt  be  the  prophet  of  the  age. 
 
 Conceal  thy  thought  in  words  :  or,  better  still. 
 
 Conceal  thy  want  of  thought ;  and  thou  shalt  be 
 Poet  and  prophet,  sage  and  oracle, 
 
 A  thing  of  wonder,  worship,  mystery. 
 
THE   TWO    PROPHETS.  243 
 
 Coin  some  new  mystic  dialect  and  style, 
 Pile  up  thy  broken  rainbows  page  on  page  ; 
 
 With  him  dissolving  views  the  eye  beguile, 
 And  thou  shalt  be  the  poet  of  the  age. 
 
 Old  bards  and  thinkers  could  their  wisdom  tell, 
 In  words  of  light  which  all  might  understand  ; 
 
 They  had  great  things  to  say,  and  said  them  well, 
 To  far-off  ages  of  their  listening  land. 
 
 Such  was  old  Milton,  such  was  Bacon  wise, 
 Such  all  the  greatly  good  and  nobly  true  ; 
 
 High  thoughts  were  theirs,  kin  to  the  boundless  skies, 
 But  words  translucent  as  the  twilight  dew. 
 
 Be  ever  like  earth's  greatest,  truest,  soundest ; 
 
 Be  like  the  prophets  of  the  prophet  land  ; 
 Be  like  the  Master — simplest  when  profoundest ; 
 
 Speak  that  thy  fellow-men  may  understand. 
 
 Old  streams  of  earth,  sing  on  in  happy  choir ! 
 
 Old  sea,  roll  on  your  bright  waves  to  the  shore  : 
 Tune,  ancient  wind,  tune  your  still  cunning  lyre, 
 
 And  sing  the  simple  song  you  sung  of  yore ! 
 
 Dear  arch  of  heaven,  pure  veil  of  lucid  blue, 
 
 Star-loving  hills,  immovable  and  calm, 
 Fresh  fields  of  earth,  and  undefiled  dew, 
 
 Chant,  as  in  ages  past,  your  glorious  psalm ! 
 
244  THE   TWO    PROPHETS. 
 
 1  love  the  ringing  of  your  child-like  notes, 
 The  music  of  your  warm  transparent  song  ; 
 
 And  my  heart  throbs,  as  blythely  o'er  me  floats 
 Your  endless  echo,  sweet  and  glad  and  young. 
 
 Your  old  is  ever  new  ;  perpetual  youth 
 Sits  on  your  brow,  a  God-given  heritage. 
 
 Even  thus,  in  her  fair  ever-green,  old  Truth 
 Stands,  without  waste  or  weariness  or  age. 
 
 Unchanged  in  her  clear  speech  and  simple  song, 
 Earth  utters  its  old  wisdom  all  around. 
 
 Ours  be,  like  hers,  a  voice  distinct  and  strong, 
 Speech  as  unmuffled,  wisdom  as  profound. 
 
 All  mystery  is  defect ;  and  cloudy  words 
 
 Are  feebleness,  not  strength  ;  are  loss,  not  gain  ; 
 
 Men  win  no  victories  with  spectre-swords  : 
 
 The  phantom  barque  ploughs  the  broad  sea  in  vain. 
 
 If  thou  hast  aught  to  say,  or  small  or  great. 
 
 Speak  with  a  clear,  true  voice  ;  all  mysteries 
 Are  but  man's  poor  attempts  to  imitate 
 
 The  hidden  wisdom  of  the  Only  Wise. 
 
 Fhe  day  of  Delphic  oracles  is  past ; 
 
 All  mimic-wisdom  is  a  broken  reed, 
 The  gorgeous  mountain-mist  rolls  up  at  last. 
 
 Clouds  quench  no  thirst,  and  flowers  no  hunger  feed. 
 
NIGHT    STUB  Y. 
 
 aarf>.  <&*o.  m.  $t$uiu. 
 
 I  am  alone  :  and  yet 
 In  the  still  solitude  there  is  a  rush 
 
 Around  me,  as  were  met 
 A  crowd  of  viewless  wings  :  I  hear  a  gush 
 Of  uttered  harmonies — Heaven  meeting  earth, 
 Making  it  to  rejoice  with  holy  mirth. 
 
 Ye  winged  Mysteries. 
 Sweeping  before  my  spirit's  conscious  eye, 
 
 Beckoning  me  to  arise, 
 And  o;o  forth  from  my  very  self,  and  fly 
 With  you,  far  in  the  unknown,  unseen  immense 
 Of  worlds  beyond  our  sphere — What  are  ye?     Whence? 
 
 Ye  eloquent  voices, 
 Now  soft  as  breathings  of  a  distant  flute, 
 
 Now  strong,  as  when  rejoices 
 The  trumpet  in  the  victory,  or  pursuit — 
 Strange  are  ye,  yet  familiar,  as  ye  call 
 My  soul  to  wake  from  earth's  sense,  and  its  thrall. 
 
24C)  NIGHT   STUDY. 
 
 I  know  ye  now — I  see 
 With  more  than  natural  light — ye  are  the  good, 
 
 The  wise  departed — ye 
 Are  come  from  Heaven  to  claim  your  Brotherhood 
 With  mortal  brother,  struggling  in  the  strife 
 And  chains,  which  once  were  yours,  in  this  sad  life. 
 
 Ye  hover  o'er  the  page 
 Ye  traced  in  ancient  days,  with  glorious  thought 
 
 For  many  a  distant  age  ; 
 Ye  love  to  watch  the  inspiration  caught 
 From  your  sublime  examples,  and  to  cheer 
 The  fainting  aspirant  to  your  high  career. 
 
 Ye  come  to  nerve  the  soul 
 Like  him  who  near  the  Atoner  stood,  when  He 
 
 Trembling  saw  round  Him  roll 
 The  wrathful  portends  of  Gethsemane, 
 Witii  courage  strong  ;  the  promise  ye  have  known 
 And  proved,  rapt  for  me  from  the  Eternal  Throne. 
 
 Still  keep !  0  keep  me  near  you. 
 Compass  me  round  with  your  immortal  wings  : 
 
 Still  let  my  glad  soul  hear  you 
 Striking  your  triumphs  from  your  golden  strings. 
 Until  with  you  I  mount,  and  join  the  song. 
 An  angel  like  you,  mid  the  white-robed  throng  ! 
 
EUTHANASIA. 
 
 Wilis  AMorl}  ©lark. 
 
 Methinks,  when  on  the  languid  eye 
 
 Life's  autumn  scenes  grow  dim  ; 
 When  evening's  shadows  veil  the  sky, 
 
 And  Pleasure's  syren  hymn 
 Grows  fainter  on  the  tuneless  ear, 
 Like  echoes  from  another  sphere, 
 
 Or  dreams  of  Seraphim — 
 It  were  not  sad  to  cast  away 
 This  dull  and  cumbrous  load  of  clay. 
 
 It  were  not  sad  to  feel  the  heart 
 
 Grow  passionless  and  cold  ; 
 To  feel  those  longings  to  depart 
 That  cheered  the  good  of  old  ; 
 To  clasp  the  Faith  which  looks  on  high, 
 Which  fires  the  Christian's  dying  eye, 
 
 And  makes  the  curtain-fold 
 That  falls  upon  his  wasting  breast, 
 The  door  that  leads  to  endless  rest. 
 
 It  seems  not  lonely  thus  to  lie 
 
 On  that  trium pliant  bed, 
 Till  the  pure  spirit  mounts  on  high 
 
 By  white-winged  seraphs  led  : 
 
248  NOCHE    SERENA. 
 
 Where  glories,  earth  may  never  know, 
 O'er  •'  many  mansions"  lingering  glow. 
 
 In  peerless  lustre  shed. 
 It  were  not  lonely  thus  to  soar 
 Where  sin  and  grief  can  sting  no  more. 
 
 And  though  the  way  to  such  a  goal 
 Lies  through  the  clouded  tomb, 
 
 If  on  the  free,  unfettered  soul 
 There  rest  no  stains  of  gloom. 
 
 How  should  its  aspirations  rise 
 
 Far  through  the  blue  unpillard  skies, 
 Up  to  its  final  home ! 
 
 Beyond  the  journeyings  of  the  sun. 
 
 Where  streams  of  living:  waters  run. 
 
 XOCHE    SERENA. 
 
 ^once  St  Iron.      23?  3.   looforing. 
 
 When  yonder  glorious  sky, 
 Lighted  with  million  lamps,  I  contemplate. 
 And  turn  my  dazzled  eye 
 To  this  vain  mortal  state, 
 All  dim  and  visionary,  mean  and  desolate— 
 
XOCHE   SERENA*  249 
 
 A  mingled  joy  and  grief 
 Fills  all  my  soul  with  dark  solicitude  ; 
 
 I  fiud  a  short  relief 
 
 In  tears,  whose  torrents  rude 
 Roll  down  my  cheeks,  at  thoughts  that  will  intrude. 
 
 Thou  so  sublime  abode, 
 Temple  of  light,  and  beauty's  fairest  shrine  ! 
 
 My  soul  a  spark  of  God, 
 
 Aspiring  to  thy  seats  divine, 
 Why,  why  is  it  condemned  in  this  dull  cell  to  pine  ? 
 
 Why  should  T  ask  in  vain 
 For  Truth's  pure  lamp  ;  and  wander  here  alone, 
 
 Seeking,  through  toil  and  pain. 
 
 Light  from  the  Eternal  One, 
 Following  a  shadow  still,  that  glimmers  and  is  gone  ? 
 
 ■ 
 
 Dreams  and  delusions  play 
 With  man  ;  he  thinks  not  of  his  mortal  fate  ; 
 
 Death  treads  his  silent  way  ; 
 
 The  earth  turns  round  ;  and  then  too  late 
 Man  finds  no  trace  is  left  of  all  his  fancied  state. 
 
 Rise  from  your  sleep,  vain  man ! 
 Look  round,  and  ask  if  spirits  born  of  Heaven, 
 
 And  bound  to  Heaven  again. 
 
 Were  only  lent  or  given, 
 To  be  in  this  mean  round  of  shades  and  follies  driven. 
 
250  XOCHE    SEREXA. 
 
 Turn  your  unclouded  eye 
 Up  to  yon  bright,  to  yon  eternal  spheres, 
 
 And  spurn  the  vanity 
 
 Of  Time's  delusive  years, 
 And  all  its  flattering  hopes,  and  all  its  frowning  fear; 
 
 What  is  the  ground  ye  tread 
 But  a  mere  point,  compared  with  that  vast  space 
 Around,  above  you.  spread, 
 Where,  in  the  Almighty's  face, 
 The  present,  future,  past,  hold  an  eternal  place? 
 
 List  to  the  concert  pure 
 Of  yon  harmonious,  countless  worlds  of  lia'lit ! 
 See.  in  his  orbit  sure 
 Each  takes  his  journey  bright. 
 Led  by  an  unseen  hand  thro'  the  vast  maze  of  night. 
 
 See  how  the  pale  Moon  rolls 
 Her  silver  wheel  :  and,  scattering  beams  afar 
 
 On  Earth's  benighted  souls. 
 
 See  Wisdom's  holy  star  : 
 Or.  in  his  fiery  course,  the  sanguine  orb  of  War  : 
 
 Or  that  benignant  ray 
 Which  Love  hath  called  his  own.  and  made  so  fair  : 
 
 Or  that  serene  display 
 
 Of  power  supernal  there, 
 Where  Jupiter  conducts  his  chariot  through  the  air. 
 
NOCHE    SERENA.  251 
 
 And  circling  all  the  rest. 
 See  Saturn,  father  of  the  golden  hours  : 
 
 While  round  him,  bright  and  blest, 
 
 The  whole  empyrean  showers 
 Its  glorious  streams  of  light  on  this  low  world  of  ours  ! 
 
 But  who  to  these  can  turn, 
 And  weigh  them  'gainst  a  weeping  world  like  this — 
 
 Nor  feel  his  spirit  burn 
 
 To  grasp  so  sweet  a  bliss, 
 And  mourn  that  exile  hard,  which  here  his  portion  is 
 
 For  there,  and  there  alone, 
 Are  peace,  and  joy,  and  never-dying  love — 
 
 There,  on  a  splendid  throne 
 
 'Midst  all  those  fires  above, 
 In  glories  and  delights  which  never  wane  nor  move 
 
 Oh !  wondrous  blessedness, 
 
 Whose  shadowy  effluence  Hope  o'er  Time  can  fling ! 
 Day  that  shall  never  cease — 
 No  night  There  threatening — 
 
 No  winter  There,  to  chill  joy's  ever-during  spring ! 
 
 Ye  fields  of  changing  green, 
 Covered  with  living  streams  and  fadeless  flowers  ; 
 
 Thou  Paradise  serene ! 
 
 Eternal — joyful  hours 
 My  disembodied  soul  shall  welcome  in  thy  bowers ! 
 
NIGHT    THOUGHTS. 
 
 0  MAJESTIC  Night ! 
 Nature's  great  ancestor  !     Day's  elder  born  ! 
 And  fated  to  survive  the  transient  sun. 
 By  mortals  and  immortals  seen  with  awe  ! 
 A  starry  crown  thy  raven  brow  adorns, 
 An  azure  zone  thy  waist  ;  clouds  in  heaven  loom. 
 Wrought  through  varieties  of  shape  and  shade, 
 In  ample  folds  of  drapery  divine 
 Thy  flowing  mantle  form,  and  heaven  throughout. 
 Voluminously  pour  thy  pompous  train. 
 Thy  gloomy  grandeurs  (Nature's  most  august 
 Inspiring  aspect .)  claim  a  grateful  verse, 
 And,  like  a  sable  curtain,  starr'd  with  gold, 
 Drawn  o'er  my  labors  past,  nhall  close  the  scene, 
 
 and  see  !  Day's  amiable  sister  sends 
 
 Her  invitation,  in  the  softest  rays 
 Of  mitigated  lustre,  and  courts  thy  sight, 
 Which  suffers  from  her  tyrant  brother's  blaze. 
 Night  grants  thee  the  full  freedom  of  the  skies, 
 Nor  rudely  reprimands  thy  lifted  eye  ; — 
 With  gain  and  joy,  she  bribes  thee  to  be  wise. 
 Night  opes  the  noblest  scenes,  and  sheds  an  awe 
 Which  gives  those  venerable  scenes  full  weight, 
 And  deep  reception  in  th'  entendered  breast. 
 While  light  peeps  through  the  darkness  like  a  spy, 
 
THE    STAR    OF    BETHLEHEM.  253 
 
 And  darkness  shows  its  grandeur  by  the  light. 
 
 One  sun  by  day,  by  night  ten  thousand  shine, 
 
 And  light  us  deep  into  the  Deity. 
 
 How  boundless  in  magnificence  and  might ! 
 
 0  what  a  confluence  of  ethereal  fires  ! 
 
 From  urns  unnumbered,  clown  the  steep  of  heaven, 
 
 Streams  to  a  point,  and  centres  in  my  sight. 
 
 Nor  tarries  there.     I  feel  it  at  my  heart ! 
 
 My  heart  at  once  it  humbles  and  exalts  ; 
 
 Lays  it  in  dust,  and  calls  it  to  the  skies  ! 
 
 Bright  legions  swarm  unseen,  and  sing  unheard 
 
 By  mortal  ear,  the  glorious  Architect. 
 
 In  this,  His  universal  temple  hung 
 
 With  lustres,  with  innumerable  lights 
 
 That  shed  religion  on  the  soul  :  at  once 
 
 The  Temple  and  the  preacher !     0  how  loud 
 
 It  calls  devotion  !  genuine  growth  of  Night ! 
 
 THE    STAR    OF    BETHLEHEM. 
 
 {Translated  from  rEpfrratm  Sprus.     &f)(r*J  (Ccnturj). 
 
 A  star  shines  forth  in  heaven,  suddenly, 
 
 A  wondrous  orb,  less  than  the  sun — yet  a-reater ! 
 
 Less  in  its  outward  light,  but  greater  in 
 
 Its  inward  glory,  pointing  to  a  mystery. 
 
 That  morning-star,  sent  forth  its  beams  afar 
 
 Into  the  land  of  those  who  had  no  light ; 
 
254  THE    CELESTIAL    ARMY. 
 
 Led  them  as  blind  men,  by  a  way  they  knew  not, 
 
 Until  they  came,  and  saw  the  Light  of  men  ; 
 
 Offered  their  gifts, — received  eternal  life, 
 
 Worshiped — and  went  their  way. 
 
 Thus  had  the  Son  two  heralds — one  on  high, 
 i 
 
 And  one  below.     Above — the  star  rejoiced  ; 
 
 Below — the  Baptist  bore  Him  record. 
 
 Two  heralds  thus,  one  heavenly,  one  of  earth  ; 
 
 That,  witnessing  the  nature  of  the  Son, 
 
 The  majesty  of  God — and  this,  His  human  nature. 
 
 0  mighty  wonder !  thus  were  they  the  heralds, 
 
 Both  of  His  Godhead,  and  His  Manhood. 
 
 Who  held  Him  only  for  a  Son  of  earth, 
 
 To  such  the  star  proclaimed  His  heavenly  glory  ; 
 
 Who  held  Him  only  for  a  heavenly  spirit, 
 
 To  such  the  Baptist  spoke  of  Him  to  man. 
 
 THE    CELESTIAL    ARMY. 
 ©fas.  38.  fttab. 
 
 I  stood  by  the  open  casement, 
 And  looked  upon  the  night, 
 
 And  saw  the  westward-going  stars 
 Pass  slowly  out  of  sight. 
 
 Slowly  the  bright  procession 
 Went  down  the  gleaming  arch, 
 
 And  my  soul  discerned  the  music 
 Of  their  long,  triumphal  march  ; 
 
THE    CELESTIAL    ARMY.  255 
 
 Till  the  great  celestial  army. 
 
 Stretching  far  beyond  the  poles, 
 Became  the*  eternal  symbol 
 
 Of  the  mighty  march  of  souls. 
 
 Onward,  forever  onward, 
 
 Red  Mars  led  down  his  clan  : 
 And  the  moon,  like  a  mailed  maiden 
 
 Was  riding  in  the  van. 
 
 And  some  were  bright  in  beauty. 
 
 And  some  were  faint  and  small  : 
 But  might,  in  their  greatest  height, 
 
 Be  the  noblest  of  them  all. 
 
 Downward,  forever  downward, 
 
 Behind  earth's  dusky  shore. 
 They  passed  into  the  unknown  night  : 
 
 They  passed — and  were  no  more. 
 
 No  more  ?     Oh,  say  not  so  ! 
 
 And  downward,  is  not  just : 
 For  the  sight  is  weak,  and  the  sense  is  dim 
 
 That  looks  through  heated  dust. 
 
 The  stars,  and  the  mailed  moon. 
 
 Though  they  seem  to  fall  and  die. 
 Still  sweep  with  their  embattled  lines 
 
 And  endless  reach  of  skv. 
 
25()  PLANETS    AND    STARS. 
 
 And  though  the  hills  of  death 
 May  hide  the  bright  array. 
 
 The  marshaled  brotherhood  of  souls 
 Still  keeps  its  upward  way. 
 
 Upward,  forever  upward. 
 
 I  sec  their  march  sublime. 
 And  hear  the  glorious  music 
 
 Of  the  conquerors  of  Time. 
 
 And  long  may  we  remember 
 That  the  palest,  faintest  one. 
 
 May  to  diviner  vision  be 
 A  bright  and  blessed  sun. 
 
 PLANETS    AND    STARS. 
 
 "}3ara!n'££  2. est." 
 
 These  have  their  course  to  finish  round  the  earth, 
 By  morrow  evening,  and  from  land  to  land 
 In  order,  though  to  nations  yet  unborn, 
 Ministering  light  prepared,  they  set  and  rise  . 
 Lest  total  Darkness  should  by  night  regain 
 Her  old  possession,  and  extinguish  life, 
 In  Nature  and  all  things  ;  which  these  soft  fires 
 Not  only  enlighten,  but  with  kindly  heat 
 Of  various  influence,  foment  and  warm. 
 
HEAVEN    OF    HEAVENS.  257 
 
 Temper  or  nourish,  or  in  part  shed  down 
 
 Their  stellar  virtue  on  all  kinds  that  grow 
 
 On  ear tli,  made  hereby  after  to  receive 
 
 Perfection  from  the  sun's  more  potent  ray. 
 
 These,  then,  though  unbeheld  in  deep  of  night, 
 
 Shine  not  in  vain  ;  nor  think,  tho'  men  were  none, 
 
 That  Heaven  would  want  spectators,  God  want  praise, 
 
 Millions  of  spiritual  creatures  walk  the  earth 
 
 Unseen,  both  when  we  wake  and  when  we  sleep. 
 
 All  these,  with  ceaseless  praise,  His  works  behold 
 
 Both  day  and  night :  how  often,  from  the  steep 
 
 Of  echoing  hill  or  thicket,  have  we  heard 
 
 Celestial  voices  to  the  midnight  air, 
 
 Sole,  or  responsive  each,  to  others'  note, 
 
 Singing  their  great  Creator !     Oft  in  bands 
 
 While  they  keep  watch,  or  nightly  rounding  walk, 
 
 With  heavenly  touch  of  instrumental  sounds 
 
 In  full  harmonic  number  joined,  their  songs 
 
 Divide  the  night — and  lift  our  thoughts  to  Heaven. 
 
 HE  A  YEN    OF   HE  A  YENS. 
 
 Look  thou  no  further,  but  affixe  thine  eye 
 
 On  that  bright  shynic,  round,  still  moving  masse. 
 
 The  house  of  blessed  God,  which  men  call  skyc, 
 
 All  sowed  with  glistering  stars  more  thicke  than  grasse, 
 Whereof  each  other  doth  in  brightnesse  passe, 
 17 
 
258  HEAVEN   OF   HEAVENS. 
 
 But  those  two  most  which,  ruling  night  and  clave, 
 As  king  and  queene,  the  heaven's  empire  sway. 
 
 And  tell  me  then,  what  hast  thou  ever  seene 
 That  to  their  beautie  may  compared  bee  ? 
 
 Or  can  the  sight  that  is  most  sharpe  and  keene 
 Endure  their  Captain's  flaming  head  to  see  ? 
 How  much  lesse  those  much  higher  in  degree, 
 
 And  so  much  fairer,  and  much  more  than  these. 
 
 As  these  are  fairer  than  the  land  and  seas  ? 
 
 For  farre  above  those  heavens  which  here  we  see 
 Be  others  farre  exceeding  these  in  light ; 
 
 Xot  bounded,  not  corrupt,  as  these  same  bee. 
 But  infinite  in  largenesse,  and  in  height, 
 Unmoving,  uncorrupt,  and  spotlesse  bright, 
 
 That  need  no  sunne  t'  illuminate  their  spheres. 
 
 But  their  own  native  light  farre  passing  theirs. 
 
 xVnd  as  these  heavens  still  by  degrees  arize. 
 
 Until  they  come  to  their  first  Mover's  bound, 
 That  in  his  mightie  compasse  doth  comprize, 
 
 And  carrie  all  the  rest  with  him  around  ; 
 
 So  those  likewise,  doe  by  degrees  redound. 
 And  rise  more  faire,  till  they  at  last  arrive 
 To  the  most  faire,  whereto  they  all  do  strive. 
 
 Faire  is  the  Heaven,  where  happy  souls  have  place 
 
 In  full  enjoyment  of  felicitie, 
 Whence  they  doe  still  behold  the  glorious  face 
 
 Of  the  Divine  Eternall  Maiestie  ; 
 
A    NIGHT   REVERIE.  259 
 
 More  faire  is  that,  where  those  Idees  on  hie 
 EDraunged  bee,  which  Pluto  so  admyred, 
 And  pure  Intelligences  from  God  inspyred. 
 
 A    NIGHT   REVERIE. 
 
 $3  artull. 
 
 How  deep  yon  azure  dies  the  sky ! 
 Where  orbs  of  gold  unnumbered  lie, 
 While  through  their  ranks  in  silver  pride 
 The  mother  Crescent  seems  to  glide. 
 The  slumbering  breeze  forgets  to  breathe, 
 The  lake  is  clear  and  smooth  beneath, 
 Where  once  again  the  spangled  show 
 Descends  to  meet  our  eyes  below. 
 The  grounds,  which  on  the  right  aspire, 
 In  dimness  from  the  view  retire. 
 The  left  presents  a  place  of  graves, 
 Whose  wall  the  silent  water  laves. 
 That  steeple  guides  thy  doubtful  sight 
 Among  the  livid  gleams  of  night. 
 There  pass,  with  melancholy  state, 
 By  all  the  solemn  mounds  of  Fate  ; 
 And  think,  as  softly-sad  you  tread 
 Above  the  venerable  dead, 
 Time  was — like  thee,  they  life  possest, 
 And  time  shall  be,  that  thou  shalt  rest. 
 
260  THE   STARS. 
 
 As  men  who  long  in  prison  dwell, 
 With  lamps  that  glimmer  round  the  cell, 
 Whene'er  their  suffering  years  are  run. 
 Spring  forth  to  greet  the  glittering  Sun  ; 
 Such  joy,  though  far  transcending  sense, 
 Have  pious  souls  at  parting  hence. 
 On  Earth,  and  in  the  body  placed, 
 A  few,  and  evil  years  they  waste  ; 
 But  when  their  chains  are  cast  aside, 
 See  the  glad  scene  unfolding  wide — 
 Clap  the  glad  wing,  and  tower  away, 
 And  mingle  with  the  blaze  of  Day ! 
 
 THE   STARS. 
 
 &Itxan&£r  Sm.tf). 
 
 I  love  the  stars  too  much  !     The  tameless  sea 
 
 Spreads  itself  out  beneath  them,  smooth  as  glass. — 
 
 You  cannot  love  them,  lady,  till  you  dwell 
 
 In  mighty  towns  ;  immured  in  their  black  hearts, 
 
 The  stars  are  nearer  to  you  than  the  fields. 
 
 I'd  grow  an  Atheist  in  these  towns  of  trade, 
 
 Wer't  not  for  the  stars.     The  smoke  puts  Heaven  out. 
 
 I  meet  sin-bloated  faces  in  the  street, 
 
 And  shrink  as  from  a  blow.     I  hear  wild  oaths 
 
 And  curses  dropped  from  lips  that  once  were  sweet. 
 
THE   LOST   PLEIAD.  261 
 
 And  sealed  for  Heaven,  by  a  mother's  skill. 
 I  mix  with  men  whose  hearts  of  human  flesh, 
 Beneath  the  petrifying  touch  of  gold, 
 Have  grown  as  stony  as  the  trodden  way ! 
 I  see  no  trace  of  God  ;  till  in  the  night, 
 While  the  vast  city  lies  in  dreams  of  gain, 
 He  doth  reveal  Himself  to  me  in  the  Heavens. 
 My  heart  swells  to  Him,  as  to  the  sea  the  moon  ; — 
 Therefore  it  is  I  love  the  midnight  stars. 
 
 THE    LOST    PLEIAD. 
 
 ■Simms. 
 Not  in  the  sky, 
 Where  it  was  seen, 
 
 Nor  on  the  white  tops  of  the  glistening  wave. 
 Nor  in  the  mansions  of  the  hidden  deep, — 
 Though  green, 
 
 And  beautiful,  its  caves  of  mystery  ; — 
 Shall  the  bright  watcher  have 
 A  place,  and  as  of  old  high  station  keep. 
 
 Gone,  gone ! 
 
 0  never  more  to  cheer 
 
 The  mariner  who  holds  his  course  alone 
 
 On  the  Atlantic,  through  the  weary  night, 
 
 When  the  stars  turn  to  watchers,  and  do  sleep, 
 
 Shall  it  appear, 
 
262  THE    LOST   PLEIAD. 
 
 With  the  sweet  fixedness  of  certain  light, 
 Down-shining  on  the  shut  eyes  of  the  deep. 
 
 Vain,  vain  ! 
 
 Hopeless  most  idly  then,  shall  he  look  forth. 
 
 That  mariner  from  his  bark. — 
 
 Howe'er  the  north 
 
 Does  raise  his  certain  lamp,  when  tempests  lower — 
 
 He  sees  no  more  that  perished  light  again  ! 
 
 And  gloomier  grows  the  hour 
 
 Which  may  not,  through  the  thick  and  crowding  dark. 
 
 Restore  that  lost  and  loved  one  to  her  tower. 
 
 He  looks. — the  shepherd  of  Chaldea's  hills 
 
 Tending  his  flocks. — 
 
 And  wonders  the  rich  beacon  does  not  blaze. 
 
 Gladdening  his  gaze  : — 
 
 And  from  his  dreary  watch  along  the  rock-. 
 
 Guiding  him  safely  home  through  perilous  ways  ! 
 
 Still  wondering  as  the  drowsy  silence  fills 
 
 The  sorrowful  scene,  and  every  hour  distills 
 
 Its  leaden  dews. — How  chafes  he  at  the  night. 
 
 Still  slow  to  bring  the'  expected  and  sweet  light, 
 
 So  natural  to  his  sight ! 
 
 And  lone. 
 
 Where  its  first  splendors  shone. 
 
 Shall  be  that  pleasant  company  of  stars  : 
 
 How  should  they  know  that  death 
 
 Such  perfect  beauty  mars  ? 
 
NIGHT.  268 
 
 And  like  the  earth,  its  crimson  bloom  and  breath  : 
 Fallen  from  on  high, 
 
 Their  lights  grow  blasted  by  its  touch,  and  die ! — 
 All  their  concerted  springs  of  harmony 
 Snapped  rudely,  and  the  generous  music  gone. 
 
 A  strain — a  mellow  strain — 
 
 A  wailing  sweetness  filled  the  sky  : 
 
 The  stars,  lamenting  in  unborrowed  pain, 
 
 That  one  of  their  selectest  ones  must  die  ! 
 
 Must  vanish,  when  most  lovely,  from  the  rest ! 
 
 Alas !.  'tis  evermore  our  destiny, 
 
 The  hope,  heart-cherished,  is  the  soonest  lost  : 
 
 The  flower  first  budden,  soonest  feels  the  frost : 
 
 Are  not  the  shortest-lived  still  loveliest  ? 
 
 And,  like  the  pale  star  shooting  down  the  sky, 
 
 Look  they  not  ever  brightest  when  they  fly 
 
 The  desolate  home  thev  blessed  ? 
 
 NIGHT. 
 
 The  moon  is  up  in  splendor. 
 And  golden  stars  attend  her  ; 
 
 The  heavens  are  calm  and  bright. 
 Trees  cast  a  deepening  shadow. 
 And  slowly  off  the  meadow 
 
 A  mist  is  rising  silver-white. 
 
264  TO   THE   MOON. 
 
 Night's  curtains  now  are  closing 
 Round  half  a  world  reposing 
 
 In  calm  and  holy  trust. 
 All  seems  one  vast  still  chamber, 
 Where  weary  hearts  remember 
 
 No  more  the  griefs  of  dust. 
 
 TO    THE    MOON. 
 
 Fillest  hill  and  vale  again. 
 Still  with  softening  light ! 
 
 Loosest  from  the  world's  cold  chain 
 All  my  soul  to-night ! 
 
 Spreadest  round  me,  far  and  nigh, 
 
 Soothingly,  thy  smile  ; 
 From  thee,  as  from  friendship's  eye, 
 
 Sorrow  shrinks  the  while. 
 
 Every  echo  thrills  my  heart. — 
 Glad  and  gloomy  mood, 
 
 Joy  and  sorrow,  both  have  part 
 In  mv  solitude. 
 
TO   THE   MOON.  265 
 
 River,  river,  glide  along, 
 
 I  am  sad,  alas  ! 
 Fleeting  things  are  love  and  song, 
 
 Even  as  they  pass ! 
 
 I  have  had,  and  I  have  lost 
 
 What  I  long  for  yet, — 
 Ah,  why  will  we,  to  our  cost, 
 
 Simple  joys  forget  ? 
 
 River,  river,  glide  along, 
 
 Without  stop  or  stay ! 
 Murmur  whisper  to  my  song, 
 
 In  melodious  play. 
 
 Whether  on  a  winter's  night 
 
 Rise  thy  swollen  floods — 
 Or  in  spring  thou  hast  delight 
 
 Watering  the  young  buds. 
 
 Happy  be,  who  hating  none, 
 
 Leaves  the  world's  dull  noise, 
 And  with  trusty  friends  alone, 
 
 Quietly  enjoys, 
 
 What,  forever  unexpressed, 
 
 Hid  from  common  sight 
 Through  the  mazes  of  the  breast — 
 
 As  softly  steals  thy  light ! 
 
TO    A    MOONBEAM. 
 
 HLamartinr.     13d  &ib.  Cfiarlts  QM.  33air&. 
 
 Mild  radiance  of  an  orb  of  fire, 
 
 What  wilt  thou  have  of  me,  bright  ray? 
 
 Wilt  thou  this  gloomy  breast  inspire 
 With  the  calm  light  of  heavenly  day  ? 
 
 Hast  thou  come  down  to  me,  to  bear 
 The  mysteries  of  the  starry  plain — 
 
 The  secrets  of  that  country,  where     - 
 Dav  soon  will  call  thee  back  a^ain  ? 
 
 "£5' 
 
 Does  not  some  unrevealed  design 
 Direct  thee  to  my  saddened  breast  ; 
 
 And  like  a  beam  of  hope,  to  shine 
 Upon  me  in  the  hours  of  rest  ? 
 
 Wilt  thou  disclose  the  Future  Day 
 To  suppliant  souls  that  sadly  bend  ? 
 
 Art  thou  the  dawn,  0  heavenly  ray. 
 Of  that  bright  morn  that  hath  no  end  ? 
 
 My  heart  is  quickened  at  the  sight. 
 
 With  rapturous  joys  unfelt  before! — 
 Art  thou  some  spirit,  gentle  light. 
 
 Of  those  so  loved,  who  are  no  more  ? 
 
MOONLIGHT. 
 
 Sfiaiusptarf. 
 
 How  sweet  the  moonlight  sleeps  upon  this  bank  ! 
 Here  will  we  sit,  and  let  the  sounds  of  music 
 Creep  in  our  ears  :  soft  stillness  and  the  night 
 Become  the  touches  of  sweet  harmony. 
 Sit,  Jessica.     Look  how  the  floor  of  heaven 
 Is  thick  inlaid  with  patines  of  bright  gold  ; 
 There  7s  not  the  smallest  orb  which  thou  beholdst, 
 But  in  his  motion,  like  an  angel  sings, 
 Still  guiding  to  the  young-eyed  cherubim  ; 
 Such  harmony  is  in  immortal  souls ! 
 But,  whilst  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 
 Doth  grossly  close  it  in,  we  cannot  hear  it. 
 
 A  VE  MARIS   STELLA! 
 
 Dl  iHsfoiatbal  ID.Btnn.     JFrom  tftt  3j)ortuc{UfSf. 
 
 Star  of  the  wide  and  pathless  sea, 
 Who  lov'st  on  mariners  to  shine, 
 
 These  votive  garments  wet,  to  thee 
 We  hang  within  thy  holy  shrine. 
 
268  AVE   MARTS   STELLA  ! 
 
 AVli en  o'er  us  flash'd  the  surging  brine. 
 Amid  the  warring  waters  toss'd, 
 
 From  earthly  aid  we  turned  to  thine. 
 And  hoped,  when  other  hope  was  lost. 
 Ave  Maris  Stella ! 
 
 Star  of  the  vast  and  howling  main. 
 
 When  dark  and  lone  is  all  the  sky. 
 And  mountain  waves  o'er  ocean's  plain 
 
 Erect  their  stormy  heads  on  high  ; 
 
 When  matrons  by  the  hearthstone  sigh, 
 They  raise  their  weeping  eyes  to  thee  : — 
 
 The  Star  of  ocean  heeds  their  cry. 
 And  saves  the  foundering  bark  at  sea. 
 Ave  Maris  Stella  ! 
 
 Star  of  the  deep  and  stormy  sea. 
 
 When  wreaking  tempests  round  us  rave. 
 Thy  gentle  virgin  form  we  see. 
 
 Bright  rising  o'er  the.  hoary  wave. 
 
 The  howling  storms  that  seem  to  crave 
 Their  victims — sink  in  music  sweet  : — 
 
 The  surging  seas  recede,  to  pave 
 The  path  beneath  thy  glistening  feet. 
 Ave  Maris  Stella ! 
 
 Star  of  the  deep !  at  that  blessed  name. 
 
 The  waves  sleep  silent  round  the  keel. 
 The  tempests  wild  their  fury  tame. 
 
 That  made  the  deep  foundations  reel ; 
 
AVE    MARIS    STELLA  !  269 
 
 The  soft  celestial  accents  steal 
 So  soothing  through  the  realms  of  woe. 
 
 That  suffering  souls  a  respite  feel 
 From  torture  in  the  depths  below. 
 Ave  Maris  Stella ! 
 
 Star  of  the  mild  and  placid  seas, 
 
 Whom  rainbow  rays  of  mercy  crown, 
 
 Whose  name  thy  faithful  Portuguese. 
 And  all  that  to  the  depths  go  down, 
 With  hymns  of  grateful  transport  own  : 
 
 W^hen  gathering  clouds  obscure  their  light, 
 And  heaven  assumes  an  awful  frown, 
 
 The  Star  of  ocean  glitters  bright. 
 Ave  Maris  Stella ! 
 
 Star  of  the  deep !  when  angel  lyres 
 
 To  hymn  thy  holy  name  essay, 
 In  vain  a  mortal  harp  aspires 
 
 To  mingle  in  the  mighty  lay ! 
 
 Mother  of  Christ!  one  living  ray 
 Of  hope  our  grateful  bosom  fires  ; — 
 
 When  storms  and  tempests  pass  awav 
 Take  us  to  join  immortal  choirs. 
 Ave  Maris  Stella ! 
 
SUNSET    REVERIES. 
 
 5rom  tfje  ^ortu^ucjsc. 
 
 The  ^im  now  sets  ;  whilst  twilight's  misty  hue 
 Closes  with  slow  approach  the  light  of  day  ; 
 And  sober  nio-ht.  with  hand  of  mantling  eray, 
 In  gathering  clouds  obscures  the  fading  view — 
 Scarce  do  I  see  a  thing  athwart  the  gloom. 
 Or  from  the  beach  discern  the  cypress  grave. 
 All  wears  the  stilly  silence  of  the  tomb. 
 Save  that  the  sound  is  heard  of  measured  wave 
 Upon  the  neighboring  sand.     With  iacc  erect. 
 Looks  raised  to  Heaven,  in  anguish  of  my  soul. 
 From  my  sad  eyes  the  frequent  tear-drops  roll. 
 And  if  a  comfort  I  might  now  select. 
 T would  be  that  night  usurp  so  long  a  reign. 
 That  never  more  should  day  appear  again. 
 
 SUXSET. 
 
 Sick  of  myself,  and  all  that  keeps  the  light 
 Of  the  blue  skies  away  from  me  and  mine, 
 I  climb  this  ledge,  and  by  this  wind-swept  pine 
 
 Lingering  watch  the  coming  of  the  night. 
 
VESPERS.  271 
 
 'Tis  ever  a  new  wonder  to  my  sight ! 
 
 Men  look  to  God  for  some  mysterious  sign — 
 
 For  other  stars  than  those  that  nightly  shine  ; 
 For  some  unnatural  symbol  of  His  might. 
 Wouldst  see  a  miracle  as  grand  as  those 
 
 The  prophets  wrought  of  old  in  Palestine  ? 
 Come,  watch  with  me  the  shaft  of  lire  that  glows 
 
 In  yonder  West :  the  fair,  frail  palaces  : 
 The  fading  Alps — the  Archipelagoes — 
 
 The  o-reat  cloud  Continents  of  sun>et-seas. 
 
 VESPERS. 
 
 O,  Shadow  in  a  sultry  land ! 
 
 We  gather  to  thy  breast. 
 Whose  love,  unfolding  like  the  night, 
 
 Brings  quietude  and  rest — 
 Glimpse  of  the  fairer  life  to  be. 
 
 In  foretaste  here  possessed ! 
 
 From  aimless  wanderings  we  come. 
 
 From  driftings  to  and  fro  : 
 The  wave  of  being  mingles  deep 
 
 Amid  its  ebb  and  flow. 
 The  grander  sweep  of  tides  serene 
 
 Our  spirits  yearn  to  know  ! 
 
2  .  2  SOLITUDE. 
 
 That  which  the  garish  day  has  lost 
 The  twilight  vigil  brings, 
 
 While  softlier  the  vesper-bell 
 Its  silver  cadence  rings — 
 
 The  sense  of  an  immortal  trust, 
 The  brush  of  angel  wings  ! 
 
 Drop  down  behind  the  solemn  hills, 
 0  Day.  with  golden  skies  ! 
 
 Serene,  above  its  fading  glow 
 Night,  starry-crowned,  arise ! 
 
 So  beautiful  may  Heaven  be. 
 When  Life's  last  sunbeam  dies ! 
 
 SOLITUDE. 
 
 (Thomson. 
 
 Thine  is  the  balmy  breath  of  morn. 
 Just  as  the  dew-bent  rose  is  born  : 
 And  while  meridian  fervors  beat. 
 Thine  is  the  woodland  dumb  retreat. 
 But  chief,  when  evening  scenes  decay 
 And  the  faint  landscape  swims  away. 
 Thine  is  the  doubtful  soft  decline — 
 And  that  best  hour  of  musing-time. 
 
SILENCE. 
 
 There  is  a  silence  where  hath  been  no  sound  ; 
 
 There  is  a  silence  where  no  sound  may  be, 
 
 In  the  cold  grave — under  the  deep,  deep  sea. 
 Or  in  wide  desert  where  no  life  is  found. 
 Which  hath  been  mute — or  still  must  sleep  profound, 
 
 No  voice  is  hushed,  no  life  treads  silently. 
 
 But  clouds  and  cloudy  shadows  wander  free. 
 That  never  spoke,  over  the  solemn  ground. 
 But  in  green  ruins — in  the  desolate  walls 
 
 Of  antique  palaces,  where  man  hath  been  : 
 Though  the  dun  fox  or  wild  hyena  calls. 
 
 And  owls,  that  flit  continuously  between. 
 Shrink  to  the  echo,  and  the  low  winds  moan, 
 Then  the  true  silence  is  self-conscious  and  alone. 
 
 CONTEMPLA  TIOX. 
 
 (£oImbgc. 
 
 In  some  hour  of  solemn  jubilee 
 The  massy  gates  of  Paradise  are  thrown 
 Wide  open,  and  forth  come,  in  fragments  wild, 
 Sweet  echoes  of  unearthly  melodies — 
 
 18 
 
274  wings. 
 
 And  odors  snatched  from  beds  of  amaranth. 
 And  dews  that  from  the  crystal  river  of  Life 
 Spring  up  on  freshened  wing,  ambrosial  gales  ! 
 The  favored  good  man  in  his  lonely  walk 
 Perceives  them,  and  his  silent  spirit  drinks 
 Strange  bliss,  which  he  shall  recognize  in  Heaven. 
 
 WINGS. 
 
 There  is  a  dreamy  presence  everywhere. 
 
 As  if  of  spirits  passing  to  and  fro  : — ■ 
 I  almost  hear  their  voices  in  the  air, 
 
 And  feel  their  balmy  pinions  touch  my  brow. 
 I  feel  as  if  a  breath  might  put  aside 
 
 The  shadowy  curtain  of  the  spirit-land  ; 
 Revealing  all  the  loved  and  glorified, 
 
 That  Death  has  taken  from  affection's  band. 
 
 I  feel  them  with  their  rustling  pinions  sweeping 
 The  damp  dews  gathered  on  my  brow  : 
 
 1  see  them  in  their  lonely  vigils  keeping 
 Their  last  still  watch  beside  me  now — 
 
 I  know  that  sainted  spirits  in  their  love 
 Are  gazing  on  me  from  their  homes  above. 
 
AERIAL    MESSENGERS. 
 
 $ara£ris£  Host. 
 
 For  spirits,  when  they  please, 
 Can  either  sex  assume,  or  both  ;  so  soft 
 And  uncompouncled  is  their  essence  pure  ; 
 Not  tied  or  manacled  with  joint  or  limb, 
 Nor  founded  on  the  brittle  thread  of  bones, 
 Like  cumbrous  flesh  ;  but  in  what  shape  they  choose. 
 Dilated  or  condensed,  bright  or  obscure, 
 Can  execute  their  airy  purposes, 
 And  work  of  love  or  enmity  fulfill. 
 
 ANGELIC    MINISTRANTS. 
 
 3E&mim&  Spenser. 
 
 How  oft  do  they  their  silver  bowers  leave, 
 
 To  come  to  succor  us  that  succor  want ! 
 How  oft  do  they  with  golden  pinions  cleave 
 
 The  flitting  skies,  like  flying  pursuivant, 
 Against  foul  fiends  to  aid  us  militant ! 
 
 They  for  us  fight,  they  watch  and  duly  ward, 
 And  their  bright  squadrons  round  about  us  plant ; 
 
 And  all  for  love,  and  nothing  for  reward  ; 
 Oh,  why  should  heavenly  God  to  man  have  such  regard  ? 
 
S  L  E  E  P  E. 
 
 Sanirt. 
 
 Care-charmer.  Sleepe.  sonne  of  the  sable  Night. 
 
 Brother  to  Death,  in  silent  darknesse  born. 
 Relieve  uiy  languish,  and  restore  the  light ; 
 
 With  darke.  forgetting  of  my  care,  return. 
 And  let  the  day  be  time  enough  to  mourne 
 
 The  shipwrecke  of  my  ill-adventured  youth. 
 Let  waking  eyes  suffice  to  veile  their  scorne. 
 
 Without  the  torment  of  the  night's  untruth. 
 Cease,  dreames.  the  images  of  daie's  desires. 
 
 To  modell  forth  the  passions  of  the  morrow. 
 Never  let  rising  sunne  approve  you    liers. 
 
 To  adde  more  griefe  to  aggravate  my  sorrow. 
 Still  let  me  sleepe.  embracing  clouds  in  vaine. 
 
 And  never  wake  to  feele  the  daie's  disdaine. 
 
 SOXXET    TO    SLEEPE. 
 
 Srummonfr. 
 
 Sleepe.  silence,  childe.  swcete  father  of  soft  rest, 
 Prince,  whose  approach  peace  to  all  mortals  brings, 
 
 Indifferent  host  to  shepherds  and  to  kings. 
 Sole  comforter  of  minds  which  are  oppressed. 
 
SLEEP.  277 
 
 Loe,  by  thy  charming  rod,  all  breathing  things 
 
 Lie  slumb'ring,  with  forgetfulnesse  possest. 
 And  yet  o'er  me  to  spread  thy  drowsie  wings 
 
 Thou  spar'st,  (alas !)  who  cannot  bee  thy  guest. 
 Since  I  am  thine.  0  come,  but  with  that  face 
 
 To  inward  flight  which  thou  art  wont  to  show. 
 With  feigned  solace  ease  a  true-felt  woe. 
 
 Or  if,  deafe  god,  thou  do  denie  that  grace, 
 Come  as  thou  wilt,  and  what  thou  wilt  bequeath  ; 
 
 I  long  to  kisse  the  image  of  my  death ! 
 
 SLEEP. 
 
 SSfjafeespeaw. 
 
 Sleep,  gentle  sleep ! 
 
 Nature's  soft  nurse,  how  have  I  frighted  thee, 
 
 That  thou  no  more  will  weigh  my  eyelids  down. 
 
 And  steep  my  senses  in  forgetfulness  ? 
 
 Why,  rather  sleep,  liest  thou  in  smoky  cribs, 
 
 Upon  uneasy  pallets  stretching  thee, 
 
 And  hushed  with  buzzing  night-flies  to  thy  slumber 
 
 Than  in  the  perfumed  chambers  of  the  great, 
 
 Under  the  canopies  of  costly  state, 
 
 And  lulled  with  sounds  of  sweetest  melody  ? 
 
 Wilt  thou  upon  the  high  and  giddy  mast 
 
 Seal  up  the  ship-boy's  eyes,  and  rock  his  brains 
 
 In  cradle  of  the  rude  imperious  surge, — 
 
278  ODE   TO    SLEEP. 
 
 And  in  the  visitation  of  the  wind-. 
 Who  take  the  ruffian  billow?  by  the  top, 
 Curling  their  monstrous  heads,  and  hanging  them 
 With  deaf  ning  clamors  in  the  slippery  shrouds, 
 That  with  the  hurly,  death  itself  awakes? 
 Canst  thou.  0  partial  sleep!  give  thy  repose 
 To  the  wet  sea-boy,  in  an  hour  so  rude  : 
 And  in  the  calmest,  and  the  stille-t  night. 
 With  all  appliances  and  means  to  boot. 
 Denv  it  to  a  king:  ? 
 
 OLE    TO    SLEEP. 
 
 Steals. 
 
 0  magic  sleep !     0  comfortable  bird 
 That  broodest  o'er  the  troubled  sea  of  the  mind 
 Till  it  is  hushed  and  smooth !     0  uneonfined 
 Restraint !  imprisoned  liberty  !  great  key 
 To  golden  palaces — strange  minstrelsy — 
 Fountains  grotesque — new  trees — bespangled  cave- 
 Echoing  grottoes,  full  of  tumbling:  waves 
 And  moonlight  :  aye.  to  all  the  mazy  world 
 Of  silvery  enchantment !  who.  unfurled 
 Beneath  thy  drowsy  wing-,  a  triple  hour 
 But  renovates  and  lives  ? 
 
TO    SLEEP. 
 
 $xzm  tfje  Spanish 
 
 0  gentle  sleep !  ray  welcoming  breath 
 Shall  hail  thee !  'midst  our  mortal  strife 
 Thou  art  the  very  thief  of  life. 
 
 The  very  portraiture  of  death  ! 
 
 'Tis  sweet  to  feel  thy  downy  wing- 
 Light  hovering  o'er  my  drowsy  bed. 
 But  who  has  heard  thy  lightsome  tread, 
 
 Thou  blind,  and  deaf,  and  silent  thing  ? 
 
 Thou  dost  a  secret  pathway  keep, 
 Where  all  is  darkest  mystery. 
 For  me  to  sleep  is  but  to  die — 
 
 For  thee,  thy  very  life  is  sleep. 
 
 DREAMS. 
 
 33pron. 
 
 Our  life  is  twofold  :  Sleep  hath  its  own  world, 
 A  boundary  between  the  things  misnamed 
 Death  and  Existence.     Sleep  hath  its  own  world, 
 And  a  wide  realm  of  wild  reality  ; 
 And  dreams,  in  their  development,  have  breath, 
 And  tears,  and  tortures,  and  the  touch  of  joy. 
 
280 
 
 They  leave  a  weight  upon  our  waking  thoughts. 
 
 They  take  a  weight  from  off  our  waking  toils — 
 
 They  do  divide  our  being.     They  become 
 
 A  portion  of  ourselves  as  of  our  time, 
 
 And  look  like  heralds  of  Eternity. 
 
 They  pass  like  spirits  of  the  past — they  speak 
 
 Like  sybils  of  the  future  ;  they  have  power — 
 
 The  tyranny  of  pleasure  and  of  pain. 
 
 They  make  us  what  we  were  not — what  they  will. 
 
 And  shake  us  with  the  vision  that's  gone  by — 
 
 The  dread  of  vanished  shadows.     What  are  they  ? 
 
 Is  hot  the  past  all  shadow  ?     What  are  they  ? 
 
 Creations  of  the  mind  ?     The  mind  can  make 
 
 Substance,  and  people  planets  of  its  own 
 
 With  beings  brighter  than  have  been,  and  give 
 
 A  breath  to  forms  which  can  outlive  all  flesh. 
 
 A  thought,  a  slumbering  thought,  is  capable  of  year 
 
 And  curdles  a  long  life  into  one  hour. 
 
 THE    HEART'S    SONG. 
 
 £isf)cp  £oif. 
 
 In  the  silent  midnight-watches, 
 
 List — thy  bosom-door  ! 
 How  it  knocketh,  knocketh,  knocketh, 
 Knocketh  evermore ! 
 
EVENING    HYMN.  281 
 
 Say  not  'tis  thy  pulses  beating  ; 
 
 'Tis  thy  heart  of  sin  : 
 'Tis  thy  Saviour  knocks  and  crieth 
 
 Rise,  and  let  me  in  ! 
 
 Death  comes  down  with  reckless  footstep. 
 
 To  the  hall  and  hut. 
 Think  you  Death  will  stand  a-knocking 
 
 When  the  door  is  shut  ? 
 Jesus  waiteth — waiteth — waiteth  ; 
 
 But  the  door  is  fast ! 
 Grieved,  away  the  Saviour  goeth. 
 
 Death  breaks  in  at  last. 
 
 Then,  'tis  thine  to  stand  entreating 
 
 Christ  to  let  thee  in  : 
 At  the  gate  of  Heaven,  beating, 
 
 Wailing  for  thy  sin. 
 Nay,  alas  !  thou  foolish  virgin. 
 
 Hast  thou  then  forgot  ? 
 Jesus  waited  long  to  know  thee — 
 
 Now,  he  knows  thee  not ! 
 
 EVENING    HYMN. 
 
 (Gcntjorij  o:  Na?ian;mm.     323-390. 
 
 Christ,  my  Lord,  I  come  to  bless  Thee, 
 Now  when  day  is  veiled  in  night ; 
 
 Thou  who  knowest  no  beginning, 
 Light  of  the  Eternal  Light ! 
 
282  THE    WATCHES    OF   THE    NIGHT. 
 
 Thou  the  darkness  has  dissolved. 
 And  the  outward  light  created, 
 
 That  all  things  in  light  might  be  : 
 Fixing  the  unfixed  chaos, 
 Moulding  it  to  wondrous  beauty, 
 
 Into  the  fair  world  we  see. 
 
 Thou  enlightenest  man  with  reason, 
 Far  beyond  the  creatures  dumb, 
 
 That  light  in  Thy  light  beholding, 
 Wholly  light  he  might  become. 
 
 Thou  hast  set  the  radiant  heavens 
 With  Thy  many  lamps  of  brightness, 
 
 Filling  all  the  vaults  above  ; 
 Day  and  night  in  turn  subjecting 
 To  a  brotherhood  of  service, 
 
 And  a  mutual  law  of  love. 
 
 By  the  night  our  wearied  nature 
 Resting  from  its  toil  and  tears  ; 
 
 To  the  works,  Lord,  that  Thou  lovest, 
 Waking  us  when  day  appears. 
 
 THE    WATCHES    OF    THE    NIGHT, 
 
 In  the  watches  of  the  night, 
 
 When  slumber's  gentle  rod 
 Bows  the  multitude  of  earth, 
 
 There  arc  whisperings  of  God — 
 
THE   WATCHES   OF   THE   NIGHT.  283 
 
 Of  His  majesty  and  might, 
 
 Of  His  glory  and  His  grace — 
 To  the  wicked  full  of  dread  ; 
 
 To  the  good,  "  a  hiding-place." 
 
 In  the  watches  of  the  night, 
 
 When  the  busy  world  is  still, 
 There  come  whisperings  of  death, 
 
 Like  a  spell  upon  the  will. 
 Then  on  solemn  themes,  the  thoughts 
 
 Through  their  inner  chambers  roam, 
 On  the  coffin  and  the  bier — 
 
 On  the  dark  and  narrow  home. 
 
 lu  the  watches  of  the  night. 
 
 When  no  eye  can  pierce  the  gloom, 
 There  are  whisperings  within 
 
 Of  the  life  beyond  the  tomb  ; — 
 Of  its  boundlessness  of  joy, 
 
 Or  infinitude  of  woe, 
 As  its  ceaseless  tides  of  years 
 
 Through  unmeasured  ages  flow. 
 
 0,  the  watches  of  the  night, 
 
 How  replete  with  wisdom  they ! 
 Then  the  day-dreams  of  the  soul 
 
 Flit  like  mists  before  the  day  : 
 Truth  and  Conscience  reign  supreme 
 
 In  the  wakeful  midnight  hour  ; 
 Erring  mortal !  heed  their  voice, 
 
 Ere  thou  feel  at  length  their  power ! 
 
"THOU    SHALT    NEVER    DIE." 
 
 ft.  $..  Sana. 
 
 0  ltstex,  man ! 
 A  voice  within  us  speaks  that  startling  word, 
 •'  Man.  thou  shalt  never  die!"     Celestial  voices 
 Hymn  it  to  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  tins,  our  fair  domain. 
 The  tall,  dark  mountains,  and  the  deep-toned  seas. 
 Join  in  this  solemn  universal  song. 
 0.  listen  ye  our  spirits  ! — drink  it  in 
 From  all  the  air.     'Tis  in  the  gentle  moonlight  : 
 Tis  floating  'mid  day's  setting  glories  : — Night 
 Wrapped  in  her  sable  robe,  with  silent  step 
 Comes  to  our  bed.  and  breathes  it  in  our  ear  : — 
 Night,  and  the  dawn,  bright  day.  and  thoughtful  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  its  great  jubilee. 
 The  dying  hear  it :  and  as  sounds  of  earth 
 Grow  dull  and  distant,  wake  their  passing  souls 
 To  mingle  in  this  heavenly  harmony. 
 
HIS    VOICE! 
 
 ©fjarlott*  Elliott. 
 
 There  are  refreshments  sweeter  far  than  sleep, 
 
 Though  its  soft  power 
 Might  gladly  close  the  vigils  I  now  keep 
 
 From  hour  to  hour. 
 And  hush  these  vain  imaginings  to  rest, 
 Which  silence  in  my  heart  its  dearest  guest. 
 
 Oh,  I  have  heard  His  voice,  His  voice  of  love. 
 
 In  the  still  night, 
 Sweet  as  the  song  of  seraph  harps  above, 
 
 Tranced  in  delight ! 
 It  haunts  my  memory,  lives  within  my  heart. 
 And  makes  me  long,  yea,  languish,  to  depart ! 
 
 Those  who  have  heard  it  once,  can  ne'er  forget 
 
 That  voice  divine  ; 
 With  it  compared,  earth's  accents  are  not  sweet. 
 
 My  God,  I  pine 
 A  dweller  in  those  palaces  to  be, 
 Where  I  shall  hear  it  through  eternity ! 
 
 There,  I  shall  ne'er  be  harassed  by  the  din 
 
 Of  earthly  thought ; 
 All  will  be  holy  and  serene  within  ; — 
 
 My  spirit  fraught 
 With  deepest  reverence,  with  intense  desire, 
 Will  listen  to  that  Voice,  and  never  tire ! 
 
GOB     CALLING     YET! 
 
 (Emfcarbt  ©trstcrjgtn. 
 
 God  calling  yet ! — and  shall  I  never  hearken. 
 But  still  earth's  witcheries  my  spirit  darken  ? 
 This  passing  life,  these  passing  joys,  all  flying, 
 And  still  my  soul  in  dreamy  slumbers  lying  ! 
 
 God  calling  yet ! — and  I  not  yet  arising  ? 
 So  long  His  loving,  faithful  voice  despising  ; 
 So  falsely  His  unwearied  care  repaying  : 
 He  calls  me  still — and  still  I  am  delaying! 
 
 God  calling  yet ! — loud  at  my  door  is  knocking, 
 And  I,  my  heart,  my  ear,  still  firmer  locking  : 
 He  still  is  ready,  willing  to  receive  me, 
 Is  waiting  now  !  but  ah  !  He  soon  may  leave  me  ! 
 
 God  calling  yet ! — and  I  no  answer  giving  : 
 I  dread  His  yoke,  and  am  in  bondage  living  ; — 
 Too  long  I  linger,  but  not  yet  forsaken, 
 He  calls  me  still — 0  my  poor  heart,  awaken  ! 
 
 Oh,  calling  yet !     I  can  no  longer  tarry. 
 
 Nor  to  my  God  a  heart  divided  carry  ; 
 
 Now,  vain  and  giddy  world,  your  spells  are  broken  : 
 
 Sweeter  than  all !  the  Voice  of  God  hath  spoken  ! 
 
NONE   B  UT    THEE. 
 
 %n%t\vL&.    (Mfii  1677.) 
 Nothing  fair  on  earth  I  see, 
 
 But  I  straightway  think  on  Thee  ; 
 Thou  art  fairest  in  my  eyes, 
 Source  in  whom  all  beauty  lies ! 
 
 When  1  see  the  reddening  dawn, 
 And  the  golden  sun  of  morn, 
 Quickly  turns  this  heart  of  mine 
 To  Thy  glorious  form  divine. 
 
 Oft  I  think  upon  Thy  light, 
 When  the  gray  morn  breaks  the  night ; 
 Think  what  glories  lie  in  Thee, 
 Light  of  all  Eternity ! 
 
 When  I  see  the  moon  arise, 
 'Mid  Heaven's  thousand  golden  eyes, 
 Then  I  think,  more  glorious  far 
 Is  the  Maker  of  each  star. 
 
 Or  I  think  in  Spring's  sweet  hours, 
 When  the  fields  are  gay  with  flowers, 
 As  their  varied  lines  I  see, 
 What  must  their  Creator  be ! 
 
288  NONE   BUT   THEE. 
 
 When  along  the  brook  I  wander, 
 And  beside  the  fountain  ponder, 
 Straight  ray  thoughts  take  wing,  and  mount 
 Up  to  Thee,  the  purest  Fount ! 
 
 Sweetly  sings  the  nightingale, 
 Sweet  the  flute's  soft  plaintive  tale  ; 
 Sweeter  than  their  richest  tone 
 Is  the  name  of  Mary's  Son ! 
 
 Sweetly  all  the  air  is  stirred, 
 When  the  Echo's  call  is  heard  ; 
 But  no  sounds  my  heart  rejoice 
 Like  to  my  Beloved's  voice ! 
 
 Come,  Thou  fairest  Lord,  appear, 
 Come,  let  me  behold  Thee  near — 
 I  would  see  Thee  face  to  face, 
 On  Thy  perfect  Light  would  gaze ! 
 
 Take  away  these  veils  that  blind, 
 Jesu !  all  my  soul  and  mind  ; 
 Henceforth,  ever  let  my  heart 
 See  Thee  truly  as  Thou  art ! 
 
MA  TINS. 
 
 iSrtbiarj. 
 
 Now  with  the  rising  golden  dawn, 
 Let  us,  the  children  of  the  day, 
 
 Cast  off  the  darkness  which  so  long 
 Has  led  our  guilty  souls  astray. 
 
 Oh,  may  the  morn,  so  pure,  so  clear, 
 Its  own  sweet  calm  in  us  instill  : 
 
 A  guileless  mind,  a  heart  sincere. 
 Simplicity  of  word  and  will : 
 
 And  ever,  as  the  day  glides  by, 
 May  we  the  busy  senses  rein  ; 
 
 Keep  guard  upon  the  hand  and  eye, 
 Nor  let  the  body  suffer  stain. 
 
 For  all  day  long,  on  Heaven's  high  tower. 
 There  stands  a  Sentinel,  who  spies 
 
 Our  every  action,  hour  by  hour, 
 From  early  dawn  till  daylight  dies. 
 19 
 
ST.    HILARY'S    MORNING    HYMN. 
 
 -ItJ)  (Centum 
 
 Thou  bounteous  Giver  of  the  light, 
 All  glorious,  in  whose  dawn  serene, 
 
 Now  that  the  night  has  pass'd  away, 
 The  day  pours  back  her  sunny  sheen. 
 
 Thou  art  the  world's  true  Morning  Star, 
 Not  that  which  on  the  edge  of  night, 
 
 Faint  herald  of  a  little  orb. 
 
 Shines  with  a  dim  and  narrow  light. 
 
 Far  brighter  than  our  earthly  sun. 
 
 Thyself  at  once  the  Light  and  Day. 
 The  inmost  chambers  of  the  heart 
 
 Illumining  with  heavenly  ray. 
 
 Thou  radiance  of  the  Father's  light, 
 Draw  near.  Creator  Thou  of  all  : — 
 
 The  fears  of  whose  removed  grace 
 Our  hearts  with  direst  dread  appal. 
 
 And  may  Thy  Spirit  fill  our  souls, 
 That  in  the  common  needs  of  time. 
 
 In  converse  with  our  fellow  -men, 
 We  mav  be  free  from  everv  crime. 
 
MORNING    WATCHES.  291 
 
 Accept  our  votive  offerings, 
 
 This  hope  inspires  us  as  we  pray — 
 That  this  our  holy  matin  light 
 
 May  guide  us  through  the  busy  day. 
 
 MORNING    WATCHES. 
 
 3£Ub.  2£tas  }8alnur. 
 
 'Tis  not  yet  dawn  ;  from  troubled  sleep 
 
 And  strange  bewildering  dreams  I  rise  ; 
 Here  at  the  casement  will  I  keep 
 
 Still  vigils  with  the  sea  and  skies  : 
 I  know  not  why  a  tender  sadness 
 
 Broods  o'er  my  spirit  at  this  hour  ; — 
 Perchance  the  dawn  may  bring  me  gladness. 
 
 And  give  my  soul  fresh  hope  and  power. 
 
 Yon  ocean,  stretching  far  away, 
 
 Blends  in  the  darkness  with  the  sky  ; 
 Hither  its  low,  dull  murmurs  stray, 
 
 Now  hoarsely  swell,  now  sink  and  die : 
 That  restless  sea  is  heaving  ever, 
 
 Kissed  by  the  breeze,  or  tempest  tost ; 
 Type  of  the  soul,  that  resteth  never, 
 
 By  pleasures  stirred,  by  sorrow  crossed. 
 
 But  see — o'er  yonder  deep  afar, 
 
 Wreathed  in  soft  mist,  yet  purely  bright. 
 
292  with  thee! 
 
 Ascends  the  glorious  morning  star. 
 
 And  sheds  serene  her  placid  light. 
 Sweet  pledge  of  day  !  thy  radiance  glowing 
 
 O'er  the  dim  ocean's  heaving  breast, 
 Like  some  kind  influence  through  me  flowing, 
 
 Brings  to  my  spirit  peace  and  rest. 
 
 Oh,  ever  when  'mid  trouble's  night. 
 
 With  drooping  hope  and  saddened  heart, 
 I  wait  and  watch  for  cheering  light. 
 
 And  falls  the  tear,  unwont  to  start  :— 
 May  some  fair  messenger  of  Heaven. 
 
 All  bright  and  beautiful  as  thou. 
 Be  to  my  anxious  vision  given. 
 
 And  all  my  griefs  be  healed,  as  now. 
 
 WITH    THEE! 
 Mts.  &  B.  5tofoc. 
 
 Still,  still  with  Thee,  when  purple  morning  breaketh, 
 When  the  bird  waketh.  and  the  shadows  flee  : 
 
 Fairer  than  morningvlovelier  than  the  daylight, 
 Dawns  the  sweet  consciousness.  I  am  with  Thee! 
 
 Alone  with  Thee — amid  the  mystic  shadows. 
 
 The  solemn  hush  of  nature,  newly  born  : 
 Alone  with  Thee — in  breathless  adoration, 
 
 In  the  calm  dew.  and  freshness  of  the  morn. 
 
SPIRIT   VOICES.  293 
 
 As  in  the  dawning,  o'er  the  waveless  ocean, 
 The  image  of  the  morning  star  doth  rest, 
 
 So  in  the  stillness,  Thou  beholdest  only 
 Thine  image  in  the  waters  of  my  breast. 
 
 Still,  still  with  Thee !  as  to  each  new-born  morning, 
 A  fresh  and  solemn  splendor  still  is  given, 
 
 So  doth  this  blessed  consciousness  awaking, 
 
 Breathe,  each  day,  nearness  to  Thyself  and  Heaven. 
 
 When  sinks  the  soul,  subdued  by  toil,  to  slumber, 
 Its  closing  eye  looks  up  to  Thee  in  prayer  : 
 
 Sweet  the  repose,  beneath  Thy  wings  o'ershading, 
 But  sweeter  still  to  wake  and  find  Thee  there ! 
 
 So  shall  it  be  at  last,  on  that  bright  morning 
 When  the  soul  waketh,  and  the  shadows  flee  ; 
 
 Oh !  in  that  hour,  fairer  than  daylight's  dawning, 
 Shall  rise  the  glorious  thought,  I  am  with  Thee ! 
 
 SPIRIT    VOICES. 
 
 Hast  thou  heard  ever  a  Spirit-voice, 
 
 As  in  morning's  hour  it  stole, 
 Speaking  to  thee  from  the  home  of  its  choice. 
 
 Deep  in  the  unfathomed  soul  : — 
 
294  SPIRIT   VOICES. 
 
 Telling  of  things  that  the  ear  hath  not  heard, 
 
 Neither  the  mind  conceived  : 
 Bringing  a  balm  in  each  gentle  word 
 
 Unto  the  heart  bereaved  ? 
 
 0,  1  have  heard  it  in  days  of  the  Spring, 
 When  gladness  and  joy  were  rife  ; 
 
 'Twas  a  voice  of  hope,  that  came  whispering- 
 Its  story  of  strength  and  life. 
 
 It  told  me  that  seasons  of  vigor  and  mirth 
 Follow  the  night  of  pain  : 
 
 And  the  heaven-born  soul,  like  the  flowers  of  earth, 
 Wither,  to  live  again  ! 
 
 Hast  thou  heard  ever  a  Spirit-voice 
 
 At  the  sunny  hour  of  noon  : 
 Bidding  the  soul  in  its  light  rejoice, 
 
 For  the  darkness  cometh  soon  : 
 Telling  of  blossoms  that  early  bloom, 
 
 And  as  early  pine  and  fade, 
 And  of  the  young  hopes  that  must  find  a  tomb 
 
 In  the  dark  approaching  shade  ? 
 
 Yes,  I  have  heard  it  in  summer's  hour, 
 
 When  the  year  was  in  its  strength  : 
 'Twas  a  voice  of  faith,  and  it  spoke  with  power 
 
 Of  joys  that  shall  come  at  length. 
 It  told  how  the  holy  and  beautiful  gain 
 
 Fruition  of  peace  and  love  : 
 And  that  blest  ones,  freed  from  this  world  of  pain, 
 
 Flourish  and  ripen  above ! 
 
PRAYER.  295 
 
 Hast  thou  heard  ever  a  Spirit-voice, 
 
 At  the  solemn  hour  of  night, 
 When  the  fair  visions  of  memory  rise 
 
 Robed  in  their  fancied  light ; 
 When  the  loved  forms,  that  are  cold  and  dea; 
 
 Pass  in  their  train,  sad  and  slow. 
 And  the  waking  soul,  from  its  pleasures  fled, 
 
 Turns  to  its  present  woe  ? 
 
 Oft  have  I  heard  it  when  day  was  o'er  : 
 
 And  the  welcome  tones  I  knew  ; 
 Like  the  voices  of  those  who  have  gone  before. 
 
 The  Beautiful  and  the  True. 
 And  it  turned  my  thoughts  to  that  blissful  time, 
 
 When  ceasetli  cold  winter's  breath  : 
 When  the  pure  in  spirit  shall  reach  that  clime, 
 
 Where  there  is  no  more  death ! 
 
 f 
 
 P  R  A  Y  E  R. 
 
 (Eteorgr  l^trtfrt. 
 
 Of  what  an  easy,  quick  access. 
 My  blessed  Lord,  art  Thou  ; — how  suddenly 
 
 May  our  requests  Thine  ear  invade  ! 
 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. 
 
296  PRAYER. 
 
 Of  what  supreme  almighty  power 
 Is  Thy  great  arm,  which  spans  the  east  and  west, 
 
 And  tacks  the  centre  to  the  sphere ! 
 By  it,  do  all  things  live  their  measured  hour  : 
 We  cannot  ask  the  thing  which  is  not  there. 
 Blaming  the  shallowness  of  our  request ! 
 
 Of  what  immeasurable  love 
 Art  Thou  possessed,  who,  when  Thou  couldst  not  die. 
 
 Wert  fain  to  take  our  flesh  and  curse. 
 And  for  our  sakes,  in  person,  sin  reprove  : 
 That  by  destroying  that  which  tied  Thy  purse. 
 Thou  might's t  make  way  for  liberality  ! 
 
 Since,  then,  these  three  wait  on  Thy  throne. 
 Ease,  Power,  and  Love  ; — I  value  Prayer  <o. 
 
 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. 
 
 PEA  YER. 
 
 £cb.  ft.  €.  £rcncft. 
 
 When  hearts  are  full  of  yearning  tenderness 
 For  the  loved  absent,  whom  we  cannot  reach 
 By  deed  or  token,  gesture,  or  kind  speech, 
 
 The  spirit's  true  affection  to  express  ; 
 
PRAYER.  297 
 
 When  hearts  are  full  of  innermost  distress, 
 
 And  we  are  doomed  inactive,  by 
 
 Watching  the  soul's  or  body's  agony, 
 Which  human  effort  helps  not  to  make  less  ; 
 Then  like  a  cup,  capacious  to  contain 
 
 The  overflowings  of  the  heart,  is  prayer ! 
 The  longing  of  the  soul  is  satisfied — 
 
 The  keenest  darts  of  anguish  blunted  are. 
 And  though  we  cannot  cease  to  yearn  or  grieve, 
 Yet  have  we  learned  in  patience  to  abide ! 
 
 PRA  YER. 
 
 parties  &ol£ri&3*. 
 
 Be  not  afraid  to  pray — to  pray  is  right. 
 
 Pray,  if  thou  canst,  with  hope  :  but  ever  pray, 
 Though  hope  be  weak,  or  sick  with  long  delay. 
 
 Pray  in  thy  darkness,  if  there  be  no  light. 
 
 Far  is  the  time,  remote  from  human  sight, 
 
 When  war  and  discord  on  the  earth  shall  cease, 
 Yet  every  prayer  for  universal  peace 
 
 Avails,  the  blessed  time  to  expedite. 
 
 Whatever  is  good  to  wish,  ask  it  of  Heaven, 
 Though  it  be  what  thou  canst  not  hope  to  see. 
 
 Pray  to  be  perfect,  though  material  leaven 
 Forbid  the  spirit  so  on  earth  to  be ; 
 
 And,  if  for  any  wish  thou  dar'st  not  pray, 
 
 Then  pray  to  God  to  take  that  wish  away. 
 
CHURCH-TIME. 
 
 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  plots,  thy  plow,  thy  pleasures  thither, 
 Christ  purged  his  temple — so  must  thou  thy  heart. 
 All  worldly  thoughts  are  but  thieves  met  together 
 To  cozen  thee.     Look  to  thy  actions  well, 
 For  churches  either  are  our  heaven  or  hell. 
 
 JESUS!     THE    VERY    THOUGHT   IS    SWEET. 
 
 5t.  itoitaril.     1U3. 
 
 Jesus  !  the  very  thought  is  sweet : 
 In  that  dear  name  all  heart's-joys  meet ; 
 But  sweeter  than  the  honey  far 
 The  glimpses  of  Thy  presence  are. 
 
JESU   DECUS   ANGELICUM.  299 
 
 No  word  is  sung  more  sweet  than  this  ; 
 No  name  is  heard  more  full  of  bliss  ; 
 No  thought  brings  sweeter  comfort  nigh, 
 Than  Jesus,  Son  of  God,  most  high. 
 
 Jesus  !  the  hope  of  souls  forlorn  ; 
 How  good  to  them  for  sin  who  mourn  ; 
 To  them  that  seek  Thee,  0  how  kind ! 
 But  what  art  Thou  to  them  that  find  ? 
 
 No  tongue  of  mortal  can  express, 
 No  language  write  its  blessedness  ; 
 Alone,  who  has  Thee  in  his  heart, 
 Knows,  love  of  Jesus,  what  Thou  art ! 
 
 0  Jesus  !  King  of  wondrous  might ; 
 0  Victor  !  glorious  from  the  fight ; 
 Sweetness  that  may  not  be  expressed  ! 
 And  altogether,  loveliest ! 
 
 JESU    DECUS    ANGELICUM! 
 
 Brcbiarp. 
 
 0  Jesu  !  Thou  the  beauty  art 
 
 Of  angel-worlds  above  ; 
 Thy  name  is  music  to  the  heart, 
 
 Enchanting  it  with  love. 
 
300  PSALM   TWENTY-THIRD. 
 
 Celestial  sweetness  unalloyed ! 
 
 Who  eat  Thee  hunger  still ; 
 Who  drink  of  Thee  still  feel  a  void 
 
 Which  Thou  alone  canst  fill ! 
 
 0  blessed  Jesu !  hear  the  sighs 
 Which  unto  Thee  I  send  ; 
 
 To  Thee  mine  inmost  spirit  cries, 
 My  being,  hope,  and  end ! 
 
 Stay  with  us,  Lord,  and  with  Thy  light 
 
 Illume  the  soul's  abyss  ; 
 Scatter  the  darkness  of  our  night, 
 
 And  fill  the  world  with  bliss ! 
 
 0  Jesu !  Spotless  Virgin  Flower ! 
 
 Our  Life  and  Joy !     To  Thee 
 Be  praise,  beatitude,  and  power, 
 
 Through  all  eternity ! 
 
 PSALM    TWENTY-THIRD, 
 
 Sir  ^Sfjilip  SjrtJntp. 
 
 The  Lord,  the  Lord  my  Shepherd  is, 
 And  so  can  never  I 
 Tast  misery. 
 Hee  rests  me  in  grecne  pastures  His  ; 
 By  waters  still  and  sweete 
 He  guides  my  feete. 
 
THE   GOOD    SHEPHERD.  301 
 
 Hee  me  revives  ;  leads  Hie  the  way, 
 Which  righteousnesse  doth  take, 
 For  His  name  sake. 
 Yea,  though  I  should  through  valleys  stray 
 Of  Death's  dark  shade,  I  will 
 Noe  whit  feare  ill. 
 
 For  Thou,  deare  Lord,  Thou  me  besett'st, 
 Thy  rodd  and.  Thy  staffe  be 
 To  comfort  me  : 
 Before  me  Thou  a  table  sett'st 
 Even  when  foe's  envious  eye 
 Doth  it  espy. 
 
 Thou  oil'st  my  head,  Thou  fill'st  my  cuppe  ; 
 Nay  more,  Thou  endlesse  Good 
 Shall  give  me  food. 
 To  Thee,  I  say  ascended  up, 
 
 Where  Thou  the  Lord  of  all 
 Dost  hold  Thy  hall. 
 
 THE    GOOD    SHEPHERD. 
 
 Hope  Mi  Ut%z. 
 
 Shepherd  !  that  with  Thy  loving  sylvan  song 
 
 Hast  broken  the  slumber  which  encompassed  me,- 
 That  mad'st  Thy  crook  from  the  accursed  tree, 
 
 On  which  Thy  sacred  arms  were  stretched  so  long ! 
 
302 
 
 Lead  me  to  mercy's  ever-flowing  fountain-. 
 
 For  Thou,  my  Shepherd,  guide  and  guard  shalt  be  : 
 
 L  will  obey  Thy  voice,  and  wait  to  see 
 
 Thy  feet  all  beautiful  upon  the  mountains. 
 
 Hear.  Shepherd!  Thou,  who  for  Thy  flock  art  dying, 
 
 ().  wash  away  these  scarlet  sins!  for  Thou 
 
 Rejoices t  at  the  contrite  sinner's  vow. 
 
 0  wait !  to  Thee  my  weary  soul  is  crying. — 
 
 Wait  for  me ! — Yet  why  ask  it.  when  I  see. 
 
 With  feet  nailed  to  the  cross.  Thourt  waiting  still  for  me ! 
 
 NATURE'S    ALTARS. 
 
 fbioore. 
 
 The  turf  shall  be  my  fragrant  shrine. 
 My  temple.  Lord,  that  arch  of  Thine — 
 My  censer's  breath,  the  mountain  airs. — 
 And  silent  thoughts,  my  daily  prayers. 
 
 My  choir  shall  be  the  moonlit  waves. 
 When  murmuring  homeward  to  their  cave 
 Or  when  the  stillness  of  the  sea. 
 E'en  more  than  music,  breathes  of  Thee. 
 
 I'll  seek  by  day  some  glade  unknown. 
 All  light  and  silence  like  Thy  throne ! 
 And  the  pale  stars  shall  be  at  night 
 The  onlv  eves  that  watch  my  rite. 
 
LOVE.  303 
 
 Thy  Heaven,  on  which  'tis  bliss  to  look, 
 Shall  be  my  pure  and  shining  book, 
 Where  I  shall  read,  in  words  of  flame, 
 The  glories  of  Thy  wondrous  name. 
 
 I'll  read  Thy  anger  in  the  rack 
 
 That  clouds  awhile  the  day-beam's  track  ; 
 
 Thy  mercy — in  the  azure  hue, 
 
 Of  sunny  brightness  breaking  through  ! 
 
 There's  nothing  bright,  above,  below, 
 From  flowers  that  bloom  to  stars  that  glow, 
 But  in  its  light  my  soul  can  see 
 Some  impress  of  Thy  Deity. 
 
 There's  nothing  dark,  below,  above, 
 But  in  its  gloom  I  trace  Thy  love  ; 
 And  meekly  wait  that  moment,  when 
 Thy  touch  shall  turn  all  bright  again ! 
 
 LO  V E. 
 
 In  such  a  marvelous  night,  so  fair, 
 
 And  full  of  wonder,  strange  and  new, 
 
 Ye  shepherds  of  the  vale  declare — 
 
 Who  saw  the  greatest  wonder  ?     Who  ? 
 
304  LOVE. 
 
 First— 
 I  saw  the  trembling  fire  look  wan  ; 
 
 Second — 
 I  saw  the  sun  shed  tears  of  blood  ; 
 
 Third— 
 1  saw  a  God  become  a  man  ; 
 
 Fourth — 
 I  saw  a  man  become  a  God. 
 
 O  wondrous  marvels  !  at  the  thought, 
 The  bosom's  awe  and  reverence  move  ; 
 
 But  who  such  prodigies  hath  wrought  ? 
 What  gave  such  wondrous  birth  ? 
 'Twas  Love ! 
 
 What  called  from  heaven  that  flame  divine, 
 Which  streams  in  glory  far  above, 
 
 And  bids  it  o'er  earth's  bosom  shine, 
 And  bless  us  with  its  brightness  ? 
 Love ! 
 
 Who  bids  the  glorious  sun  arrest 
 His  course,  and  o'er  heaven's  concave  move 
 
 In  tears, — the  saddest,  loneliest 
 Of  the  celestial  orbs  ? 
 'Twas  Love ! 
 
 Who  raised  the  human  race  so  high. 
 E'en  to  the  starry  seats  above, 
 
 That,  for  our  mortal  progeny, 
 A  man  became  a  God  ? 
 'Twas  Love ! 
 
PEACE.  305 
 
 Who  humbled  from  the  seats  of  light 
 Their  Lord,  all  human  woes  to  prove. 
 
 Led  the  great  Source  of  Day  to  night  ; 
 And  made  of  God  a  man  ? 
 'Twas  Love ! 
 
 Yes,  Love  has  wrought,  and  Love  alone. 
 
 The  victories  all — beneath,  above  ; 
 And  earth  and  heaven  shall  shout  as  one. 
 
 The  all-triumphant  song 
 Of  Love ! 
 
 The  song  through  all  heaven's  arches  ran, 
 
 And  told  the  wondrous  tale  aloud. 
 The  trembling  fire  that  looked  so  wan — 
 
 The  weeping  sun  behind  the  cloud — 
 A  God — a  God — become  a  man  ! — 
 A  mortal  man.  become  a  God ! 
 
 PEA  CE. 
 
 %t  &natoltus.    (4-51.)    ©rarcslattf)  bb  Er.  Xeale. 
 
 Fierce  was  the  wild  billow — 
 
 Dark  was  the  night ; 
 Oars  labored  heavily  ; 
 
 Foam  glimmered  white — 
 Mariners  trembled, 
 
 Peril  was  nigh  ; 
 Then  said  the  God  of  God, 
 
 "  Peace !     It  is  V 
 •20 
 
306  PTTY. 
 
 Ridge  of  the  mountain-wave. 
 
 Lower  thy  crest! 
 Wail  of  Euroclydon, 
 
 Be  thou  at  rest! 
 Peril  can  none  be, 
 
 Sorrow  must  fly — 
 When,  saith  the  Light  of  Light, 
 
 "  Peace !     It  is  I." 
 
 Jesu,  Deliverer ! 
 
 Come  Thou  to  me  : 
 Soothe  Thou  my  voyaging 
 
 Over  Life's  sea ! 
 Thou,  when  the  storm  of  Death 
 
 Roars,  sweeping  by — 
 Whisper,  0  Truth  of  Truth ! 
 
 "Peace!     It  is  I." 
 
 PITY. 
 
 Bright  were  the  mornings  first  impearl'd 
 O'er  earth,  and  sea,  and  air  ; 
 
 The  birth-days  of  a  rising  world — 
 For  power  Divine  was  there. 
 
 But  fairer  shone  the  tears  of  Christ 
 For  Lazarus,  o'er  his  grave  ; 
 
DISCIPLINE.  307 
 
 Since  Love  divine  bedew'd  the  sod 
 Of  one  He  sought  to  save. 
 
 Sweet  drops  of  grace !  the  pledges  given 
 
 Of  Mercy's  mighty  plan, — 
 That  He,  who  was  the  Prince  of  Heaven. 
 
 Had  pity  upon  man ! 
 
 Let  us  Thy  dear  example,  Lord, 
 
 Fix'd  in  our  memories  keep, — 
 That  we,  obedient  to  Thy  word, 
 
 May  weep  with  those  that  weep. 
 
 DISCIPLINE. 
 
 %i\[nz,  ©ountcss  of  f£hmtin(j&on. 
 
 The  world  can  neither  give  nor  take. 
 
 Nor  can  they  comprehend 
 The  Peace  of  God,  which  Christ  has  bought- 
 
 The  Peace  which  knows  no  end ! 
 
 The  burning  bush  was  not  consumed. 
 
 While  God  remained  there  ; 
 The  three,  when  Jesus  made  the  fourth. 
 
 Found  fire  as  soft  as  air. 
 
 God's  furnace  doth  in  Zion  stand, 
 
 But  Zion's  God  sits  by  ; 
 As  the  refiner  views  his  gold, 
 
 With  an  observant  eye. 
 
TRUST. 
 
 His  thoughts  are  high,  His  love  is  wise, 
 
 His  wounds  a  cure  intend  ; 
 And,  though  He  does  not  always  smile, 
 
 He  loves  unto  the  end. 
 
 TRUST. 
 
 3B*an  of  ©anttrburj. 
 
 I  know  not  if  or  dark  or  bright 
 
 Shall  be  my  lot ; 
 If  that  wherein  my  hopes  delight 
 
 Be  best  or  not. 
 
 It  may  be  mine  to  drag  for  years 
 Toil's  heavy  chain — 
 
 Or  day  and  night  my  meat  be  tears 
 On  bed  of  pain. 
 
 Dear  faces  may  surround  my  hearth 
 With  smiles  and  glee, 
 
 Or  I  may  dwell  alone,  and  mirth 
 Be  strange  to  me. 
 
 My  bark  is  wafted  to  the  strand, 
 By  breath  Divine — 
 
 And  on  the  helm  there  rests  a  hand 
 Other  than  mine. 
 
RESIGNATION.  309 
 
 One,  who  has  known  in  storms  to  sail. 
 
 I  have  on  board. 
 Above  the  raving  of  the  gale 
 
 I  have  my  Lord. 
 
 He  holds  me  when  the  billows  smite — 
 
 I  shall  not  fall. 
 If  sharp,  'tis  short — if  long,  'tis  light, — 
 
 He  tempers  all. 
 
 Safe  to  the  land — safe  to  the  land  ! 
 
 The  end  is  this  ; — 
 And  then  with  Him  go  hand  in  hand 
 
 Far  into  bliss ! 
 
 RESIGNA  TION. 
 
 3ara&  # .  gtttams. 
 
 Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee, 
 Nearer  to  Thee ! 
 
 E'en  though  it  be  a  cross 
 That  raiseth  me, 
 
 Still  all  my  song  shall  be, 
 
 Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee, 
 Nearer  to  Thee ! 
 
310  RESIGNATION. 
 
 Though  like  the  wanderer. 
 The  sun  gone  down. 
 
 Darkness  be  over  me. 
 My  rest  a  stone  ; — 
 
 Yet  in  my  dreams  I'd  be 
 
 Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee, 
 Nearer  to  Thee ! 
 
 Then  let  the  way  appear 
 Steps  unto  heaven  ; 
 
 All  that  Thou  send  st  to  me 
 In  mercy  given  : 
 
 Angels  to  beckon  me 
 
 Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee. 
 Nearer  to  Thee ! 
 
 Then  with  my  waking  thoughts, 
 Bright  with  Thy  praise, 
 
 Out  of  my  stony  griefs 
 Bethel  I'll  raise  : 
 
 So  by  my  woes  to  be 
 
 Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee. 
 Nearer  to  Thee  ! 
 
 Or,  if  on  joyful  wing. 
 
 Cleaving  the  sky. 
 Sun,  moon  and  stars  forget, 
 
 Upwards  I  fly. 
 Still  all  my  song  shall  be. 
 Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee, 
 
 Nearer  to  Thee ! 
 
CONTENTMENT. 
 
 $Blm*.  (Btuion.    3rt  prison. 
 
 A  little  bird  I  am, 
 
 Shut  from  the  fields  of  air, 
 
 And  in  my  cage  I  sit  and  sing- 
 To  Him  who  placed  me  there  : — 
 
 Well  pleased  a  prisoner  to  be, 
 
 Because,  my  God.  it  pleases  Thee. 
 
 Naught  have  I  else  to  do  : 
 
 I  sing  the  whole  day  long — 
 And  He  whom  most  I  love  to  please, 
 
 Doth  listen  to  my  song  ; 
 He  caught  and  bound  my  wandering  wing, 
 But  still  He  bends  to  hear  me  sing. 
 
 Thou  hast  an  ear  to  hear. 
 
 A  heart  to  love  and  bless  : 
 And  though  my  notes  were  ere  so  rude. 
 
 Thou  wouldst  not  hear  them  less  ; 
 Because  Thou  knowest.  as  they  fall. 
 That  love,  sweet  love,  inspires  them  all. 
 
 My  cage  confines  me  round  : 
 
 Abroad  I  cannot  fly  ; — 
 But  though  my  wing  is  closely  bound. 
 
 My  heart 's  at  libertv. 
 
312  MUTABILITIE. 
 
 My  prison  walls  cannot  control 
 The  flight,  the  freedom  of  the  soul. 
 
 0.  it  is  good  to  soar 
 These  bolts  and  bars  above, 
 
 To  Him,  whose  purpose  I  adore, 
 Whose  Providence  I  love, 
 
 And  in  Thy  mighty  will  to  find 
 
 The  joy.  the  freedom  of  the  mind. 
 
 MUTABILITIE. 
 
 Sweet  Day !  so  cool,  so  calm,  so  bright! 
 The  bridall  of  the  earth  and  skie  : 
 The  dew  shall  weepe  thy  fall  to-night  : 
 For  thou  must  die  ! 
 
 Sweet  Rose !  whose  hue,  angrie  and  brave 
 Bids  the  rash  gazer  wipe  his  eye  : 
 Thy  root  is  ever  in  its  grave  : — 
 And  thou  must  die  ! 
 
 Sweet  Spring  !  full  of  sweete  days  and  roses, 
 A  box  where  sweetes  compacted  lie  : 
 My  music  shows  ye  have  your  closes. — 
 And  all  must  die ! 
 
MORTALITIE.  31 3 
 
 Only  a  sweete  and  virtuous  soul, 
 Like  seasoned  timber,  never  gives  : 
 But  tho'  the  whole  world  turn  to  coal 
 Then  chiefly  lives. 
 
 MORTALITIE. 
 
 Js;t  not  God's  deed  whatever  thing  is  done 
 In  Heaven  and  earth  ?     Did  not  He  all  create 
 To  die  againe  ? — all  ends  that  were  begunne  : 
 Their  times  in  His  eternall  bookes  of  fate 
 Are  written  sure,  and  have  their  certaine  date. 
 Who  then  can  strive  with  strong  necessitie — 
 That  holds  the  world  in  his  still  changing  state  ? 
 Or  shun  the  death  ordained  by  destinie  ? 
 When  houre  of  death  is  come,  let  none  nsk  whence  or 
 why. 
 
 EARTH!    EARTH! 
 
 (ffiaorgc  (Utitfar. 
 
 The  voice  which  I  did  more  esteem 
 Than  Music  in  her  sweetest  key  ; 
 
 Those  eyes  which  unto  me  did  seem 
 More  comfortable  than  the  day  ; 
 
314  SORROW. 
 
 Those  now  by  me,  as  they  have  been, 
 Shall  never  more  be  heard  or  seen, 
 But  what  I  more  enjoyed  in  them 
 Shall  seem  hereafter  as  a  dream ! 
 
 SORE  OW. 
 
 Came  Sorrow's  visitation? 
 Yes.     At  first 
 1  knew  her  not,  God's  loving  messenger. 
 But  many  an  hour,  since  then,  of  weary  life 
 Has  told  her  worth.     I  feared  the  gloomy  cloud 
 Beneath  whose  cold,  dark  canopy  she  led 
 My  shrinking  steps.     But  while  enshrouded  there, 
 A  glory  was  revealed,  a  countenance 
 Radiant  with  light,  at  whose  celestial  smile 
 Earth's  joys,  and  woes,  and  trifles,  all  dispersed. 
 And  left  the  empire  to  the  Lord  alone ! 
 
 CONSOLA  TIOX . 
 
 jHouItrit. 
 
 There  is  no  grief,  even  on  this  sinful  earth. 
 Without  its  consolation  :  none  which  faith 
 And  patient  love  may  not  convert  to  bliss. 
 Or  make  at  least  the  path  to  it  :  and  if 
 
GRIEF.  315 
 
 Such  be  indeed  our  sorrows, — for  our  joys, 
 Our  sweet  refreshments,  richly  interspersed 
 At  intervals  through  all  the  narrow  road 
 Which  leads  to  life  eternal — for  all  these 
 What  thanks  shall  we  repay  ? 
 
 GRIEF. 
 
 &uarlcs. 
 
 Art  thou  consumed  with  soul-afflicting  crosses  ? 
 Disturbed  with  grief?  annoyed  with  worldly  losses? 
 Hold  up  thy  head  :  the  taper  lifted  high, 
 Will  brook  the  wind  when  lower  tapers  die. 
 
 END  URANCE. 
 
 Caroline  fblaj. 
 
 Soul,  use  thyself  to  bear  without  complaint 
 Small  disappointments  now,  and  by  degrees 
 Thou  shalt  bear  large,  aye,  heavy  griefs,  with  ease. 
 
 Or,  if  uneasy,  thou  shalt  never  faint. 
 
 Thou  canst  recall  the  oft-told  tale,  and  trite. 
 Of  him  who  educated  so  his  strength 
 To  bear  increasing  weights,  that  he,  at  length. 
 
 Found  none  too  ponderous  for  his  sinewy  might. 
 
316  SUBMISSION. 
 
 Small  boast  :  for  after  all.  his  strength  was  dust 
 When  Death  contended  with  him.     But  if  thou 
 Shalt  lift  thy  load  of  sorrow  with  cairn  brow. 
 And  heart  made  strong  by  unmixed  faith  and  trust, 
 Pure  bread  and  wine — thou  shalt  with  Death  be  more. 
 Through  Him,  sad  soul,  that  loved  thee,  than  a  conqueror. 
 
 SUBMISSION. 
 
 iHrs.  €.  5.  iSoIton. 
 
 Eyes  dimmed  with  tears  are  not  the  eyes, 
 
 Unfaltering,  upward  looks  to  raise  ; 
 And  voices  tremulous  with  sighs 
 
 Are  scarcely  meet  for  perfect  praise. 
 Hearts  bruised  and  broken  are  too  sore 
 
 To  bear  a  weight  of  grateful  love — 
 And  wounded  Hope  gives  sadly  o'er, 
 
 Unfit  to  plume  its  wings  above. 
 
 My  Saviour !  wipe  away  my  tears. 
 
 That  I  may  see  Thee  as  Thou  art  ! 
 Oh!  check  the  sighs,  and  still  the  fears. 
 
 And  bind  again  the  broken  heart — 
 Then  shall  I  raise  my  eager  eyes. 
 
 My  voice,  my  heart,  my  hope  to  Thee  ; 
 Look  up  to  seek  Thee  in  the  skies. 
 
 Yet  feel  Thou  art  on  earth  with  me ! 
 
PENITENCE. 
 
 iHoorc. 
 
 Were  not  the  sinful  Mary's  tears 
 
 An  offering  worthy  Heaven, 
 When  o'er  the  faults  of  former  years 
 
 She  wept — and  was  forgiven  ? 
 
 When  bringing  every  balmy  sweet 
 
 Her  day  of  luxury  stored. 
 She  o'er  her  Saviour's  hallowed  feet 
 
 The  precious  ointment  poured  ; 
 
 And  wiped  them  with  that  golden  hair, 
 Where  once  the  diamond  shone  ; 
 
 Though  now  those  gems  of  grief  are  there 
 Which  shine  for  God  alone. 
 
 Were  not  those  tears  so  humbly  shed — 
 That  hair — those  weeping  eyes — 
 
 And  the  sunk  heart  that  inly  bled, 
 Heaven's  noblest  sacrifice  ? 
 
 Thou,  who  hast  slept  in  error's  sleep, 
 Oh,  wouldst  thou  wake  in  Heaven, 
 
 Like  Mary  kneel,  like  Mary  weep — 
 "  Love  much" — and  be  forgiven. 
 
FORGIVENESS. 
 
 JFratuts  %.  ?iU2. 
 
 She  heard  but  her  Saviour,  she  spake  but  in  sighs, 
 And  she  dared  not  look  up  to  the  heaven  of  His  eyes  : 
 And  the  hot  tears  gushed  forth  with  each  heave  of  her 
 
 breast. 
 While  her  lips  to  His  sandals  were  throbbingly  pressed. 
 
 In  the  sky  after  tempest  as  shineth  the  bow — 
 In  the  glance  of  the  sunbeam  as  melteth  the  snow — 
 He  looked  on  the  lost  one  ;  her  sins  are  forgiven — 
 And  Marv  went  forth  in  the  beautv  of  Heaven. 
 
 FORBEARANCE. 
 
 motto. 
 
 From  the  eternal  shadow  rounding. 
 
 All  unsure  and  starlight  here. 
 Voices  of  our  lost  ones  sounding 
 Bid  us  be  of  heart  and  cheer, 
 Through  the  silence,  down  the  spaces,  falling  on  the  in- 
 4  ward  ear. 
 
 Know  we  not  our  dead  are  looking 
 Downward,  as  in  sad  surprise, 
 
EARTH   AND    HEAVEN.  319 
 
 All  our  strife  of  words  rebuking 
 With  their  mild  and  earnest  eyes  ? 
 Shall  we  grieve  the  holy  angels;  shall  we  cloud  their  blessed 
 skies  ? 
 
 Let  us  draw  their  mantles  o'er  us, 
 Which  have  fallen  in  our  way  ; 
 
 Let  us  do  the  work  before  us 
 Calmly,  bravely,  while  we  may, 
 Ere  the  long  night-silence  cometh.  and  with  us  it  is  not  day  ! 
 
 EARTH   AND    HEAVEN. 
 
 ©.uarlts. 
 
 Earth  is  an  island  parted  round  with  fears  — 
 The  way  to  Heaven  is  through  a  sea  of  tears. 
 It  is  a  stormy  passage,  where  is  found 
 The  wreck  of  many  a  ship,  but  no  man  drowned. 
 
 BOLDNESS. 
 
 %ix  Salter  ftaltiflf). 
 
 Goe,  soule,  the  body's  guest, 
 Upon  a  thanklesse  arrant ; 
 
 Feare  not  to  touch  the  best, 
 The  truth  shall  be  thy  warrant. 
 
320  BOLDNESS. 
 
 Goe,  since  I  needs  must  dye, 
 And  give  the  world  the  lye. 
 
 Tell  Fortune  of  her  blindnesse  ; 
 
 Tell  Nature  of  decay e — 
 Tell  Friendship  of  unkindnesse, 
 
 Tell  Justice  of  delaye  ; 
 And  if  they  dare  reply. 
 Then  give  them  all  the  lye. 
 
 Tell  Faith  it's  fled  the  citie. 
 
 Tell  how  the  countrie  erreth  ; 
 Tell  Manhood  shakes  off  pitie  ; 
 
 Tell  Virtue  lust  preferreth  : 
 And  if  they  doe  reply, 
 Spare  not  to  give  the  lye. 
 
 So  when  thou  hast,  as  I 
 
 Command  thee,  done  blabbing, 
 
 Although  to  give  the  lye 
 
 Deserves  no  less  than  stabbing. 
 
 Yet  stab  at  thee  who  will. 
 
 No  stab  the  soule  can  kill. 
 
CALMNESS. 
 
 %ii  (UStalter  3EtaItijg6-     &&  Xijjfjt  Mart  fot's  ^Execution. 
 
 Even  such  is  Time,  that  takes  on  trust 
 Our  youth,  our  joys,  our  all  we  have, 
 
 And  paies  us  back  with  age  and  dust ; 
 Who  in  the  dark  and  silent  grave, 
 
 When  we  have  wandered  all  our  waies, 
 Shuts  up  the  storie  of  our  daies ! 
 
 But  from  this  earth,  this  grave,  this  dust, 
 
 My  God  shall  raise  me  up.  I  trust. 
 
 RUST. 
 
 IKotif)*. 
 
 Rest  is  not  quitting 
 
 The  busy  career  ; 
 
 Rest  is  the  fitting 
 
 Of  self  to  one's  sphere 
 
 'Tis  the  brook's  motion. 
 
 Clear  without  strife. 
 
 Fleeing  to  ocean 
 
 After  its  life. 
 
 21 
 
322  LABOR    AXD    REST. 
 
 'Tis  loving  and  serving 
 
 The  highest  and  best ; 
 Tis  onward,  unswerving- 
 
 And  this  is  true  rest. 
 
 LABOR    AJ\TD    RUST. 
 Miss  iBuIctk. 
 
 "  Two  hands  upon  the  breast, 
 
 And  labor's  done  ; 
 Two  pale  feet  crossed  in  rest — 
 
 The  race  is  won. 
 Two  eyes  with  coin-weights  shut, 
 
 And  all  tears  cease  ; 
 Two  lips  where  grief  is  mute. 
 
 And  wrath  at  peace." 
 So  pray  we  oftentimes,  mourning  our  lot — 
 God  in  His  kindness  answer eth  not. 
 
 "  Two  hands  to  work  addrest. 
 
 Aye  for  His  praise  ; 
 Two  feet  that  never  rest, 
 Walking  His  ways  ; 
 Two  eyes  that  look  above. 
 
 Still,  through  all  tears  : 
 Two  lips  that  breathe  but  love. 
 Nevermore  fears." 
 So  cry  we  afterwards,  low  at  our  knees  : 
 Pardon  those  erring  prayers !     Father,  hear  these ! 
 
LABOR. 
 
 fHrs.  Jorofoitinjg;. 
 
 What  are  we  set  on- earth  for?     Say,  to  toil — 
 
 Nor  seek  to  leave  the  tending  of  the  vines. 
 
 For  all  the  heat  of  the  day,  till  it  declines. — 
 
 And  Death's  wild  curfew  shall  from  work  assoil. 
 
 God  did  anoint  thee  with  His  odorous  oil. 
 
 To  wrestle,  not  to  reign  ; — and  He  assigns 
 
 All  thy  tears  ever,  like  pure  crystallines, 
 
 For  younger  fellow-workers  of  the  soil 
 
 To  wear  for  amulets.     So  others  shall 
 
 Take  patience,  labor,  to  their  heart  and  hand. 
 
 From  thee,  and  thy  brave  cheer : 
 
 Thus  God's  grace  fructify  through  thee,  to  all. 
 
 The  least  flower  vrith  a  brimming  cup  may  stand. 
 
 And  share  the  dew-drop  with  another  near. 
 
 LITTLE    CHILDREX. 
 
 Tfiilm  HL.  39arml££. 
 
 Weep  not  for  them  !  their  snowy  plumes  expanded. 
 
 E'en  now  are  waving  through  the  worlds  of  light 
 Perchance  on  messages  of  love  remanded, 
 
 They  sweep  across  your  slumbers  in  the  night. 
 
524  DEATH. 
 
 Weep  not  for  them !     Give  tears  unto  the  living  ; 
 
 Oh.  waste  no  vain  regret  on  lot  like  theirs ! 
 But  rather  make  it  reason  for  thanksgiving, 
 
 That  ye  have  nurtured  angels  unawares. 
 
 LEA  TH. 
 
 Sr.  limits. 
 
 The  baby  wept : 
 The  mother  took  it  from  the  nurse's  arms 
 And  soothed  its  griefs,  and  still' d  its  vain  alarins- 
 
 And  baby  slept. 
 
 Again  it  weeps. 
 And  God  doth  take  it  from  its  mother's  arms. 
 From  present  pain,  and  future  unknown  harms — 
 
 And  baby  sleeps. 
 
 RESURRECTION. 
 
 :Hrs.  &oa$  ft.  BraMoriJ. 
 
 Two  thousand  years  ago.  a  flower 
 Bloomed  brightly  in  a  far-off  land  : 
 Two  thousand  years  ago.  its  seed 
 Was  placed  within  a  dead  man's  hand. 
 
RESURRECTION.  325 
 
 Before  the  Saviour  came  to  earth 
 
 That  man  had  lived,  and  toiled,  and  died  ; 
 
 But  even  in  that  far-off  time, 
 
 That  flower  had  shed  its  perfume  wide. 
 
 Suns  rose  and  set,  years  came  and  went ; 
 That  dead  hand  kept  its  treasure  well : 
 Nations  were  born,  and  turned  to  dust, 
 While  life  was  hidden  in  that  shell. 
 
 The  senseless  hand  is  robbed  at  last ; 
 The  seed  is  buried  in  the  earth  ; 
 When  lo — the  life  long  sleeping  there 
 Into  a  lovely  flower  burst  forth. 
 
 Just  such  a  plant  as  that  which  grew, 
 From  such  a  seed  when  buried  low  ; 
 Just  such  a  flower  in  Egypt  bloomed, 
 And  died — two  thousand  years  ago  ! 
 
 And  will  not  He  who  watched  the  seed 
 And  kept  the  life  within  the  shell, 
 When  those  He  loves  are  laid  to  rest 
 Watch  o'er  His  buried  saints  as  well  ? 
 
 And  will  not  He,  from  meath  the  sod. 
 Cause  something  glorious  to  arise  ? 
 Aye,  though  it  sleeps  two  thousand  years. 
 Yet  all  this  slumbering  dust  shall  rise. 
 
SPRING    AND    EASTER. 
 
 Just  such  a  face  as  greets  you  now. 
 Just  such  a  form  as  now  you  wear. 
 But  oh.  more  glorious  far  !  shall  rise. 
 To  meet  the  Saviour  in  the  air ! 
 
 Then  will  I  lie  me  down  in  peace. 
 When  called  to  leave  this  vale  of  tears  ; 
 For  "'  in  my  flesh  I  shall  see  God." 
 E'en  though  I  sleep  two  thousand  years ! 
 
 SPRIXG    AXD    EASTER. 
 Itoam  of  %t  Tutor.    12tt  Ccnturp. 
 
 The  renewal  of  the  world 
 
 Countless  new  joys  bringeth  forth 
 Christ  arising,  all  things  rise — 
 
 Rise  with  Him  from  earth. 
 All  the  creatures  feel  their  Lord. 
 Feel  His  festal  light  outpoured. 
 
 Fire  springs  up  with  motion  free. 
 
 Breezes  wake  up  soft  and  warm  : 
 Water  flows  abundantly. 
 
 Earth  remaineth  firm. 
 All  things  light  now  skyward  soar. 
 Solid  things  are  rooted  more  : 
 
 All  things  are  made  new. 
 
SPRING   AND    EASTER.  327 
 
 Ocean  waves,  grown  tranquil,  lie 
 Smiling  meath  the  heavens  serene  ; 
 
 All  the  air  breathes  sweet  and  fresh, 
 Every  valley  groweth  green. 
 
 Verdure  clothes  the  arid  plain, 
 
 Frozen  waters  gush  again 
 At  the  touch  of  Spring. 
 
 For  the  frost  of  Death  is  melted, 
 The  prince  of  this  world  lieth  low, 
 
 And  his  empire,  strong  amongst  us — 
 All  is  broken  now  ! 
 
 Grasping  Him  in  whom  alone 
 
 He  could  nothing  claim,  or  own, 
 His  domain  he  lost. 
 
 Paradise  is  now  regained, 
 
 Life  has  vanquished  Death ! 
 And  the  joys  he  long  had  lost, 
 
 Man  recovereth. 
 The  cherubim,  at  God's  own  word, 
 Turn  aside  the  flaming  sword  ; 
 The  long-lost  blessing  is  restored  ; 
 
 The  closed  way  opened  free  ! 
 
GRIEFS, 
 
 0  what  a  cunning  guest 
 Is  this  same  Grief !  within  my  heart  I  made 
 Closets,  and  in  them  many  a  chest : 
 And,  like  a  master  in  my  trade, 
 In  those  chests,  boxes  ; — in  each  box,  a  till : 
 Yet  Grief  knows  all,  and  enters  when  he  will. 
 
 No  screw,  no  piercer  can 
 Into  a  piece  of  timber  work  and  wind, 
 As  God's  afflictions  into  man, 
 When  He  a  torture  hath  designed. 
 They  are  too  subtle  for  the  subtlest  hearts, 
 And  fall,  like  rheums,  upon  the  tenderest  parts. 
 
 FOR  TITUDE. 
 
 0  Life,  0  Death,  0  World,  0  Time, 
 0  Grave,  where  all  things  flow, 
 
 'Tis  yours  to  make  our  lot  sublime. 
 With  your  great  weight  of  woe. 
 
OF    DEATH.  329 
 
 Though  sharpest  anguish  hearts  may  wring— 
 
 Though  bosoms  torn  may  be — 
 Yet  suffering  is  a  holy  thing  : 
 
 Without  it,  what  were  we  ? 
 
 OF  DE  A  TH. 
 
 Samud  ,Sp.ctbf. 
 
 All  flesh  is  grass,  doth  therefore  rot — 
 
 For  why  ? 
 Can  men  be  born  to  live,  and  not 
 
 To  die? 
 'Tis  happiness  to  leave  this  life 
 
 And  world, 
 And  have  our  names  where  joys  are  rife, 
 
 Enrolled. 
 The  dead  ne7er  fear  what  death  can  do  ;— 
 
 His  blast 
 Will  come  no  more — for  why  ?  that  woe 
 
 Is  past. 
 Then  to  the  soul  appeareth  love 
 
 And  joy  : 
 For  God  will  not  His  turtle-dove 
 
 Destroy  ; 
 When  but  a  torchlight  here,  'tis  better  far 
 To  be  put  out,  and  after  rise  a  star. 
 
TR  UE    CO  URA  GE. 
 
 0  Death  !  thou  keen  insulting  enemy  ! 
 Here,  kneeling  lonely  in  this  desolate  room, 
 
 1  have  prayed  sore  to  be  avenged  of  thee 
 
 For  this  thy  cruel  deed  ;  and  from  the  gloom 
 Of  the  dark  entrance-chamber  of  the  tomb 
 
 Now  I  go  forth  once  more,  from  this  sharp  hour. 
 To  fight  against  thee,  baffling  manfully 
 
 With  that  fell  prince,  who  gives  thee  all  thy  power 
 And  mighty  is  the  arm  that  strengthens  me ! 
 
 Yet  should  I  falter,  and  in  conflict  cower, 
 To  hide  my  bleeding  heart,  0  !  then  the  thought 
 
 Of  that  sweet  victim  ravished  from  my  side. 
 And  Him,  who  to  redeem  Thy  captives  died, 
 
 Shall  nerve  my  soul  to  combat  as  I  ought. 
 
 GLORIOUS   SUXXES. 
 
 fftoftrrt  jFarlcr. 
 
 One  candle  dispels  the  darknesse  of  the  night, 
 And  many  doe  resemble  Phoebus'  light  ; 
 One  sunne  illightens  the  round  globe  everywhere. 
 What  way  the  horizon  bounds  the  hemisphere. 
 
TRIALS.  331 
 
 If  you  ten  thousand  thousand  sunnes  should  see 
 At  once,  0  what  a  daylight  that  would  be  ! 
 When  Christ  amidst  the  clouds  our  doome  shall  plead — 
 When  earth  and  sea  shall  render  up  their  dead, 
 Saints,  more  than  starres,  at  once  shall  mount  on  hye, 
 As  glorious  sunnes — to  meete  Christ  in  the  skye ! 
 That  day  shall  drive  away  the  darknesse  so, 
 That  after  that,  no  day  shall  darknesse  know. 
 
 TRIALS. 
 
 Shrtns  Mt  Tm. 
 
 Count  each  affliction,  whether  light  or  grave, 
 
 God's  messenger  sent  down  to  thee.     Do  thou 
 
 With  courtesy  receive  Him  ;  rise  and  bow, 
 
 And  ere  His  shadow  pass  thy  threshold,  crave 
 
 Permission  first  His  heavenly  feet  to  lave. 
 
 Then  lay  before  Him  all  thou  hast ;  allow 
 
 No  cloud  of  passion  to  usurp  thy  brow. 
 
 Or  mar  thy  hospitality,  or  permit  a  trace 
 
 Of  mortal  tumult  to  obliterate 
 
 Thy  soul's  marmoreal  calmness. 
 
 Grief  should  be  like  joy — majestic,  equable,  sedate. 
 
 Confirming,  cleansing,  raising,  making  free  ; 
 
 Strong  to  consume  small  troubles  ;  to  commend 
 
 Great  thoughts,  grave  thoughts — lasting  to  the  end. 
 
ONE  BY    ONE. 
 
 One  by  one  the  sands  are  flowing'. 
 
 One  by  one  the  moments  fall ; 
 Some  are  coming,  some  are  going — 
 
 Do  not  strive  to  grasp  them  all. 
 
 One  by  one,  thy  duties  wait  thee. 
 
 Let  thy  whole  strength  go  to  each  ; 
 Let  no  future  dreams  elate  thee  : 
 
 Learn  thou  first  what  these  can  teach. 
 
 One  by  one  (bright  dreams  from  heaven) 
 Joys  are  sent  thee  here  below  : 
 
 Take  them  readily  when  given — 
 Ready,  too,  to  let  them  go. 
 
 One  by  one.  thy  griefs  shall  meet  thee, 
 Do  not  fear  an  armed  band  ; 
 
 One  will  fade  while  others  greet  thee — 
 Shadows  passing  through  the  land. 
 
 Do  not  look  at  life's  long  sorrow. 
 
 See  how  small  each  moments  pain — 
 God  will  help  thee  for  to-morrow. 
 
 Every  day  begin  again. 
 
ON   AFFLICTION.  333 
 
 Every  hour  that  fleets  so  swiftly, 
 Has  its  task  to  do  or  bear  ; 
 
 Luminous  the  crown,  and  holy, 
 If  thou  set  each  gem  with  care. 
 
 OJV  AFFLICTION. 
 
 &&am  of  %t  Vittox.    I2tfj  ©tnturp. 
 
 As  the  harp-strings  only  render 
 All  their  treasures  of  sweet  sound, 
 
 All  their  music,  glad  or  tender, 
 Firmly  struck  and  tightly  bound  : 
 
 So  the  hearts  of  Christians  owe 
 Each  its  deepest,  sweetest  strain 
 
 To  the  pressure  firm  of  woe, 
 And  the  tension  tight  of  pain. 
 
 Spices  crushed,  their  pungence  yield, 
 Trodden  scents  their  sweets  respire  ; 
 
 Would  you  have  its  strength  revealed. 
 Cast  the  incense  in  the  fire. 
 
 Thus  the  crushed  and  broken  frame 
 Oft  doth  sweetest  graces  yield, 
 
 And  through  suffering,  toil,  and  shame, 
 Heavenly  incense  is  distilFd  ! 
 
A     VALEDICTION. 
 
 Btntlcs's  iHisccUang. 
 
 As  flowers  that  bud  and  bloom  before  us, 
 Then  droop  in  languor,  and  decay  ; 
 
 As  clouds  that  form  their  bright  shapes  o'er  us, 
 Then  speed  their  trackless  course  away  : 
 
 As  sparkling  waves  we  watch  advancing, 
 That  melt  in  foam  beneath  our  gaze  : 
 
 As  sunlight  o'er  the  waters  glancing, 
 
 That  smiles  and  then  withdraws  its  rays  : — 
 
 So  pass  away  the  joys  of  earth  ; 
 
 Frail  as  the  rose,  the  cloud,  the  wave, 
 We  scarce  can  welcome  them  to  birth. 
 
 Ere  they  slip  from  us  to  the  grave. 
 
 The  hopes  we  build,  the  friends  we  prize, 
 The  visioned  schemes  our  hearts  delighting. 
 
 How  do  they  vanish  from  our  eyes ! 
 The  real,  our  joyous  fancies  blighting. 
 
 The  scenes  we  love  Time  marks  with  change, 
 And  gladsome  hours  have  no  abiding — 
 
 And  friends  o'er  land  and  ocean  range. 
 The  earth's  wide  space  our  lots  dividing. 
 
THE  GRAVES  OF  THE  HEART.  335 
 
 But  shall  we  shun  the  pleasant  things, 
 This  else  too  barren  waste  adorning — 
 
 And  give  to  gladness  swifter  wings, 
 Shielding  our  hearts  in  selfish  warring  ? 
 
 No !  for  the  memories  that  delight  us 
 
 Linger,  and  echo  from  the  past. 
 No !  though  myriad  ills  surround  and  grieve  us, 
 
 Hope,  silver-winged,  cheers  to  the  last. 
 
 THE    GRAVES    OF    THE    HEART. 
 
 There  is  in  every  heart  a  grave  ; 
 
 A  secret,  holy  spot, 
 Filled  with  the  memory  of  some 
 
 This  busy  life  knows  not. 
 
 Low  down  and  deeply  dug  they  lie, 
 These  cherished  graves  unseen, 
 
 And  years  of  blighting  care  that  pass, 
 Make  not  these  graves  less  green. 
 
 With  jealous  love  we  keep  them  fresh 
 
 Through  many  wintry  years  ; 
 And  when  the  world  believes  us  gay, 
 
 We  water  them  with  tears. 
 
336  T1IODDEN   FLOWERS. 
 
 Not  fo;1  one  cause,  alike,  do  each 
 Their  secret  sorrow  bear  ; 
 
 Perchance  some  mourn  a  living  death- 
 Yet  still  a  grave  is  there. 
 
 Oh !  there  arc  things  within  this  life. 
 Which  strangely,  deeply  thrill  ; 
 
 In  music's  softest,  sweetest  notes, 
 We  hear  a  voice  long  still ! 
 
 We  deem  the  act  a  wanton  one, 
 
 Upon  a  grave  to  tread  ; 
 We  pass  in  silent  reverence 
 
 The  resting  of  the  dead  : 
 
 Then  on  the  secret,  hidden  spot, 
 Let  us  not  press  too  near  ; 
 
 Eemembering  that  to  every  heart 
 Its  secret  grave  is  dear. 
 
 TRODDEN   FLOWERS. 
 
 There  are  some  hearts  that,  like  the  loving  vine. 
 
 Cling  to  unkindly  rocks  and  ruined  towers  ; 
 Spirits  that  suffer,  and  do  not  repine. 
 
 Patient  and  sweet  as  lowly  trodden  flowers . 
 
TRODDEN   FLOWERS.  337 
 
 That  from  the  passer's  heel  arise, 
 
 And  bring  back  odorous  breath  instead  of  sighs. 
 
 But  there  are  other  hearts,  that  will  not  feel 
 The  lowly  love  that  haunts  their  eyes  and  ears  ; 
 
 That  wound  fond  faith,  with  anger  worse  than  steel ; 
 And  out  of  pity's  spring  draw  idle  tears. 
 
 Oh,  Nature !  shall  it  ever  be  thy  will 
 
 111  things  with  good  to  mingle,  good  with  ill  ? 
 
 Why  should  the  heavy  foot  of  sorrow  press 
 The  willing  heart  of  uncomplaining  love  ? 
 
 Meek  charity,  that  shrinks  not  from  distress  ; 
 Gentleness,  loth  her  tyrants  to  reprove? 
 
 Though  virtue  weep  forever,  and  lament, 
 
 Will  one  hard  heart  turn  to  her  and  relent  ? 
 
 Why  should  the  reed  be  broken  that  will  bend  ? 
 
 And  they  that  dry  the  tears  in  others'  eyes. 
 Feel  their  own  anguish  swelling  without  end  ; 
 
 Their  summer  darkened  with  the  smoke  of  sighs  ? 
 Sure  Love  to  some  fair  Eden  of  his  own 
 Will  flee  at  last,  and  leave  us  here  alone. 
 
 Love  weepeth  always — weepeth  for  the  past — 
 For  woes  that  are — for  woes  that  may  betide  ; 
 
 Why  should  not  hard  ambition  weep  at  last, 
 Envy  and  hatred,  avarice  and  pride? 
 
 Fate  whispers,  Sorrow  is  your  lot : 
 
 All  would  be  rebels. — Love  rebel leth  not. 
 22 
 
THE    CRUSHED    BUD. 
 
 Mrs.  €.  £.  Bolton. 
 
 The  wind  passed  over  it,  and  it  was  gone  ! 
 
 It  was  a  sore,  high  wind — cold,  harsh, 
 
 Tempestuous. — How  could  a  flower  bear 
 
 Its  wondrous  fury  ?     Only  summer  air 
 
 May  breathed  on  flowers  ; — but  the  wind  came  on, 
 
 And  over  it,  and  rudely  swept  it  down  ! 
 
 Xo  trace  of  all  its  beauty  left  it  there  ; — 
 
 No  stem,  no  petal  bright,  no  fragrance  fair. 
 
 'Twas  but  a  flow'ret, — and  could  not  wear 
 
 The  tempest  out.     What  wonder  it  should  fall 
 
 Earthward  ?     Why  stand  ye  all  in  this  despair, 
 
 "As  though  some  strange  thing  happened  ?"  Did  ye  dare 
 
 To  dream  so  delicate  a  thing  could  find 
 
 Strength  to  withstand  Life's  cold  and  bitter  wind  ? 
 
 L  0  V E    DIVINE. 
 
 jFrom  tfte  (Gcmnait. 
 
 Tremble  not,  though  darkly  gather 
 Clouds  and  tempests  o'er  thy  sky  ; 
 
 Still  believe  thy  Heavenly  Father 
 Loves  thee  best  when  storms  are  nigh. 
 
LOVE   DIVINE.  339 
 
 When  the  sun  of  fortune  shineth 
 
 Long  and  brightly  on  the  heart, 
 Soon  its  fruitfulness  cleclineth, 
 
 Parched  aod  dry  in  every  part. 
 
 And  the  plants  of  grace  have  faded 
 
 In  the  dry  and  burning  soil ; 
 Thorns  and  briers  their  growth  have  shaded. 
 
 Earthly  cares  and  earthly  toil. 
 
 But  the  clouds  are  seen  descending — 
 
 Soon  the  heavens  are  overcast ; 
 And  the  weary  heart  is  bending 
 
 *  Xeath  affliction's  stormy  blast. 
 
 Yet  the  Lord,  on  high  presiding, 
 
 Rules  the  storm  with  powerful  hand  ; 
 
 He  the  shower  of  Grace  is  guiding 
 To  the  dry  and  barren  land. 
 
 See,  at  length  the  clouds  are  breaking  ! 
 
 Tempests  have  not  passed  in  vain  : 
 For  the  soul,  revived,  awaking, 
 
 Bears  its  fruits  and  flowers  again. 
 
 Love  Divine,  has  seen  and  counted 
 
 Every  tear  it  caused  to  fall, 
 And  the  storm  which  Love  appointed 
 
 Was  the  choicest  gift  of  all. 
 
THE    BEREA  VED. 
 3.  &.  $mibal. 
 
 Even  as  a  fountain,  whose  unsullied  wave 
 Wells  in  the  pathless  valley,  flowing  o'er 
 
 With  silent  waters,  kissing,  as  they  lave 
 
 The  pebbles  with  light  rippling  and  the  shore, 
 Of  matted  grass  and  flowers  ; — so  softly  pour 
 The  breathings  of  her  bosom,  when  she  prays, 
 Low-bowed  before  her  Maker  ;  then,  no  more 
 
 She  muses  on  the  griefs  of  former  days  : 
 
 Her  full  heart  melts,  and  flows  in  Heaven's  dissolving  rays. 
 
 And  Faith  can  see  a  new  world  :  and  the  eyes 
 Of  saints  look  pity  on  her.     Death  will  come ! 
 
 A  few  short  moments  over,  and  the  prize 
 Of  peace  eternal  waits  her,  and  the  tomb 
 Becomes  her  fondest  pillow  : — all  its  gloom 
 Is  scattered.     What  a  meeting  then  will  be 
 To  her,  and  all  she  loved  while  here !     The  bloom 
 
 Of  new  life,  from  those  cheeks,  will  never  flee. 
 
 And  hers  the  health  which  lasts  through  all  eternity. 
 
AS    THE    LIGHTNING. 
 
 MlS.  %.  itl.  (Kar&iiur. 
 
 In  age,  in  youth,  'tis  hard  to  part  with  friends, 
 To  watch  them  day  by  day,  by  weeks,  by  months. — 
 A  post  of  observation  every  hour 
 Severer.     Yet,  to  have  them  die  without 
 One  warning  breathed  !    Behold  them  flushed  with  health- 
 Eve  bright — elastic  step — buoyant  with  youth — 
 Anticipation  quickening  every  pulse  ! 
 Bel -old  them  thus.     Next — dying — dead  !  no  time 
 Allowed  to  take  a  last  adieu.     No  word 
 Of  love — no  look — no  smile — no  upward  glance  ! 
 This  is  to  have  the  iron  pierce  the  soul ; 
 This  is  the  time  when  "  the  survivor  dies." 
 
 When  light  divine  illuminates  thy  mind, 
 
 Struggles  thy  soul  to  burst  its  bonds,  and  soar 
 
 On  Faith's  strong  pinions  to  the  Spirit-Land  ? 
 
 To  explore  new  scenes,  and  learn  the  reason  why. 
 
 When  all  was  fair  as  earthly  hopes  could  wish, 
 
 Thy  sky  was  darkened,  and  thy  sun  eclipsed  ? 
 
 Dive  in  those  depths,  and  learn  those  mysteries 
 
 That  here  perplex  and  irritate  the  soul. 
 
 These  are  the  words  they  whisper  :  "  From  earthly  sorrows 
 
 Soon  thou  wilt  be  free — grief  ends  in  an  eternity  of  bliss. 
 
 God,  thine  own  God,  with  His  kind  hand  shall  wipe 
 
 Thy  tears  away  forever." 
 
THE    STRICKEN. 
 
 (£onrafr. 
 
 Heavy  !  heavy !     Oh,  my  heart 
 Seems  a  cavern  deep  and  drear, 
 
 Prom  whose  dark  recesses  start, 
 Flutteringly  like  birds  of  night. 
 
 Throes  of  passion,  thoughts  of  fear. 
 Screaming  in  their  flight. 
 
 Wildly  o'er  the  gloom  they  sweep, 
 Spreading  a  horror  dim — a  woe  that  cannot  weep ! 
 
 Weary!  weary!     What  is  life 
 
 But  a  spectre-crowded  tomb  ? 
 Startled  with  unearthly  strife — 
 Spirits  fierce,  in  conflict  met, 
 In  the  lightning  and  the  gloom. 
 
 The  agony  and  sweat ! 
 Passions  wild,  and  powers  insane. 
 And  thoughts  with  vulture  beak,  and  quick  Promethean 
 pain ! 
 
 Gloomy  !  gloomy  is  the  day  ; 
 
 Tortured — tempest-tost  the  night : 
 Fevers  that  no  founts  allay — 
 
 Wild  and  wildering  unrest — 
 
HEREAFTER  !  343 
 
 Blessings,  festering  into  blight — 
 
 A  gored  and  gasping  breast ! 
 From  their  lairs  what  terrors  start, 
 At  that  deep  earthquake   voice — the  earthquake  of    the 
 heart ! 
 
 Hopeless  !  hopeless  !     Every  path 
 
 Is  with  ruin  thick  bestrewn  ; 
 Hurtling  bolts  have  fallen  to  scathe 
 
 All  the  greenness  of  niy  heart : 
 And  I  now  am  Misery's  own, 
 We  never  more  shall  part ! 
 My  spirit's  deepest,  darkest  wave 
 Writhes  with  the  wrestling  storm.     Sleep!   sleep!     The 
 Grave ! 
 
 HEREAFTER! 
 
 To  die — to  sleep — 
 To  sleep !  perchance  to  dream  ! — ay,  there's  the  rub  !— 
 For  in  that  sleep  of  death,  what  dreams  may  come, 
 When  we  have  shuffled  off  this  mortal  coil, 
 Must  give  us  pause.     There's  the  respect 
 That  makes  calamity  of  so  long  life  ; 
 For  who  would  bear  the  whips  and  scorns  of  Time — 
 The  oppressor's  wrong — the  proud  man's  contumely — 
 The  pangs  of  despised  love — the  law's  delay — 
 The  insolence  of  office,  and  the  spurns 
 
344  REST    IN    GOD  ! 
 
 That  patient  merit,  of  the  unworthy  takes. 
 
 When  lie  himself  might  his  quietus  make 
 
 With  a  bare  bodkin  ?     Who  would  fardels  bear. 
 
 To  grunt  and  sweat  under  a  weary  life. — 
 
 But  that  the  dread  of  something  after  death. 
 
 The  undiscovered  country,  from  whose  bourne 
 
 Xo  traveler  returns,  puzzles  the  will. 
 
 And  makes  us  rather  bear  the  ills  we  have. 
 
 Than  fly  to  others  that  we  know  not  of? 
 
 Thus  conscience  does  make  cowards  of  us  all ; — 
 
 And  thus  the  native  hue  of  resolution 
 
 Is  sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought  : 
 
 And  enterprises  of  great  pith  and  moment. 
 
 With  this  regard,  their  currents  turn  awry. 
 
 And  lose  the  name  of  action. 
 
 BEST    IS    GOD! 
 jHr5.  &  13.  SStofor. 
 
 When  winds  are  raging  o'er  the  upper  ocean. 
 
 And  billows  wild  contend  with  angry  roar. 
 'Tis  said  far  down,  beneath  the  wild  commotion. 
 
 That  peaceful  stillness  reigneth  evermore. 
 
 Far.  far  beneath,  the  noise  of  tempest  dieth. 
 
 And  silver  waves  chime  ever  peacefully  : 
 And  no  rude  storm,  how  tierce  soe'er  he  flieth. 
 
 Disturbs  the  Sabbath  of  that  deeper  sea. 
 
BLINDNESS.  345 
 
 So  to  the  heart  that  knows  Thy  love,  oh  Purest ! 
 
 There  is  a  temple  sacred  evermore, 
 And  all  the  Babel  of  life's  angry  voices 
 
 Dies  in  hushed  stillness  at  its  peaceful  door. 
 
 Far,  far  away,  the  roar  of  passion  dieth, 
 
 And  loving  thoughts  rise  calm  and  peacefully, 
 
 And  no  rude  storm,  how  fierce  soe'er  it  flieth, 
 Disturbs  the  soul  that  dwells,  oh  Lord,  in  Thee  ! 
 
 Oh  rest  of  rests  !  oh  peace  serene,  eternal ! 
 
 Thou  ever  livest,  and  Thou  changest  never  ; 
 And  in  the  "  secret  of  Thy  presence"  dwelleth 
 
 Fullness  of  calm — forever  and  forever  ! 
 
 BLINDNESS. 
 
 3ostpf)  JBrntait. 
 
 The  golden  shores  of  sunshine  round  me  spreading. 
 
 Refuse  a  boon  of  light ; 
 And  fast  my  shattered  soul  is  deathward  heading, 
 
 Wrecked  on  a  sea  of  night ! 
 There  is  no  angry  tempest  flapping  sunward 
 
 Its  black  wings  through  the  air  : 
 The  ruin,  in  a  calm,  is  hurried  onward 
 
 Through  channels  of  despair  ! 
 
346  BLINDNESS. 
 
 Around  me  is  a  darkness  omnipresent, 
 
 With  boundless  horror  grim, 
 Descending  from  the  zenith,  ever  crescent, 
 
 To  the  horizon's  rim  ; 
 The  golden  stars,  all  charred  and  blackened  by  it, 
 
 Are  swept  out  one  by  one  ; 
 My  world  is  left,  as  if  by  Joshua's  fiat — 
 
 A  moonless  Ajalon ! 
 
 How  long,  0  Lord  !  I  cry  in  bitter  anguish, 
 
 Must  I  be  doomed  alone — 
 A  chained  and  blinded  Samson — thus  to  languish 
 
 In  exile  from  the  Sun  ! 
 Or,  must  I  hope  for  evermore  surrender. 
 
 And  turn  my  eyes  on  high, 
 To  find,  instead  of  brave  and  azure  splendor, 
 
 A  black  curse  on  the  sky  ? 
 
 Alas  !  as  time  sees  gathering  round  me  deeper 
 
 The  universal  cloud, 
 I  feel  like  some  vile  horror-stricken  sleeper, 
 
 Who  wakens  in  a  shroud  ! 
 Like  some  poor  wretch,  who  closed  his  eyes  at  morning 
 
 Against  the  growing  day, 
 And  finds  himself,  without  a  prayer  or  warning, 
 
 A  tenant  of  the  clay  ! 
 
 Come  nearer  to  me,  soother  of  my  sorrow, 
 
 And  place  your  hand  in  mine  ; 
 That  my  o'erdarkond  soul  may  haply  borrow 
 
 A  little  lidit  from    thine  ; 
 
ON   HIS  BLINDNESS.  347 
 
 That,  bearing  all  which  fortune  has  commanded, 
 
 Until  my  tortures  end, 
 The  Crusoe-land  on  which  I  may  be  stranded 
 
 Shall  have  at  least  a  friend  ! 
 
 More  light,  0  Lord,  I  cry  ; — but  utter  vainly — 
 
 The  ear  of  Heaven  is  deaf ! 
 And  I  may  persevere  in  prayer  insanely, 
 
 And  win  no  true  relief ! 
 Close  up  the  books,  for  grim  and  ghastly  darkness, 
 
 Has  settled  over  all  : — 
 My  soul  is  wrapped  for  evermore  in  starkness, 
 
 Within  this  funeral  pall ! 
 
 Farewell,  once  more,  spice-islands  of  my  childhood, 
 
 Where  I  have  lingered  long  ! 
 Farewell,  the  glories  of  the  vale  and  wild-wood, 
 
 The  laughter  and  the  song  ! 
 Farewell,  the  sunny  pleasures  you  inherit, 
 
 For  I  am  drifting  forth  ; 
 My  helm  deserted  by  my  Guardian  Spirit, 
 
 My  prow  unto  the  North  ! 
 
 ON   HIS    BLINDNESS. 
 
 iHiltott. 
 
 When  I  consider  how  my  life  is  spent 
 Ere  half  my  days,  in  this  dark  world  and  wide, 
 And  that  one  talent,  which  is  death  to  hide, 
 Lodged  with  me  useless,  though  my  soul  more  bent 
 
348  COURAGE. 
 
 To  serve  therewith  my  Maker,  and  present 
 
 My  true  account,  lest  he,  returning,  chide  ; 
 
 Doth  God  exact  day-labor  light  denied  ? 
 
 I  fondly  ask  :  But  Patience,  to  prevent 
 
 That  murmur,  soon  replies,  God  doth  not  need 
 
 Either  man's  work,  or  his  own  gifts  ; — who  best 
 
 Bear  His  mild  yoke,  they  serve  Him  best ;  His  state 
 
 Is  kingly  ;  thousands  at  His  bidding  speed, 
 
 And  post  o'er  land  and  ocean,  without  rest ; 
 
 They  also  serve,  who  only  stand  and  wait. 
 
 CO  URA  GE. 
 
 ^aul  (Gccrfrarirt 
 
 Up,  up !  the  day  is  breaking, 
 
 Say  to  thy  cares,  Good-night ! 
 Thy  troubles  from  thee  shaking, 
 
 Like  dreams  in  day's  fresh  light. 
 Thou  wearest  not  the  crown. 
 
 Xor  the  best  course  can  tell : 
 God  sitteth  on  the  Throne. 
 
 And  guideth  all  things  well. 
 
 Trust  Him  to  govern  them  ! 
 
 No  king  can  rule  like  Him  ; — 
 How  wilt  thou  wonder,  when 
 
 Thine  eves  no  more  are  dim, — 
 
THE   USES   OF   GRIEF.  349 
 
 To  see  those  paths  which  vex  thee, 
 
 How  wise  they  were  and  meet, 
 The  works  which  now  perplex  thee, 
 
 How  beautiful — complete  ! 
 
 Faithful  the  love  thou  sharest — 
 
 All,  all  is  well  with  thee  ; 
 The  crown  from  hence  thou  bear  est 
 
 With  shouts  of  victory. 
 In  thy  right  hand  to-morrow 
 
 Thy  God  shall  place  the  palms  ; — 
 To  Him  who  chased  thy  sorrow, 
 
 How  glad  will  be  thy  psalms  ! 
 
 THE    USES    OF    GRIEF. 
 Stomas  faints  Bailm 
 
 Some  there  are  who  seem  exempted 
 
 From  the  doom  incurred  by  all ; 
 Are  they  not  more  sorely  tempted  ? 
 
 Are  they  not  the  first  to  fall  ? 
 As  a  mother's  firm  denial 
 
 Checks  her  infant's  wayward  mood  ;- 
 Wisdom  lurks  in  every  trial  ; 
 
 Grief  was  sent  thee  for  thy  «'Ood. 
 
350  "blessed  are  they  that  mourn." 
 
 In  the  scenes  of  former  pleasure 
 
 Present  anguish  hast  thou  felt  ? 
 O'er  thy  foncl  hearts  dearest  treasure 
 
 As  a  mourner  hast  thou  knelt  ? — 
 In  thy  hour  of  deep  affliction 
 
 Let  no  impious  thoughts  intrude  ; 
 Meekly  bow,  with  this  conviction — 
 
 Grief  was  sent  thee  for  thy  good. 
 
 "BLESSED    ARE   THEY    THAT    MOURX: 
 
 SiHilliam  (5.  ISrDant. 
 
 Deem  not  that  they  are  blessed  alone 
 Whose  lives  a  peaceful  tenor  keep  ; 
 
 The  God  who  loves  our  race  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  happy  years. 
 
 There  is  a  day  of  sunny  rest 
 
 For  every  dark  and  troubled  night  ; 
 
 And  grief  may  bide  an  evening  guest, 
 But  jov  shall  come  with  early  lisrht. 
 
THY    NATAL    DAY.  351 
 
 And  thou,  who  o'er  thy  friend's  low  bier 
 Sheddest  the  bitter  drops  like  rain, 
 
 Hope  that  a  happier,  brighter  sphere 
 Will  give  him  to  thy  arms  again. 
 
 Nor  let  the  good  man's  trust  depart, 
 Though  life  its  common  gifts  deny  : 
 
 Though  pierced  and  broken  be  his  heart, 
 And  spurned  of  men  he  goes  to  die  : 
 
 For  God  has  marked  eacli  sorrowing  day, 
 
 And  numbered  every  secret  tear  : 
 And  Heaven's  long  age  of  bliss  shall  pay 
 
 For  all  its  children  suffer  here. 
 
 THY   NA  TAL    DA  Y. 
 
 Hail,  new-born  atom  of  the'  eternal  whole. 
 Young  voyager  upon  Time's  mighty  river ! 
 Hail  to  thee,  Human  Soul, 
 Hail,  and  forever ! 
 Pilgrim  of  life,  all  hail ! 
 He  who  at  first  called  forth 
 From  nothingness  the  earth  ; 
 Who  clothed  the  hills  in  strength  and  dug  the  s 
 Who  gave  the  stars  to  gem 
 Night,  like  a  diadem, — 
 
352  CHILDREN. 
 
 Thou  little  child  made  thee  ; 
 Young  habitant  of  earth, 
 Fair  as  its  flowers,  though  brought  in  sorrow  forth, 
 Thou  art  akin  to  God,  who  fashioned  thee. 
 
 The  Heavens  themselves  shall  vanish  as  a  scroll, — 
 The  solid  earth  dissolve,  the  stars  grow  pale, 
 But  thou,  0  Human  Soul ! 
 Shalt  be  immortal.     Hail ! 
 Thou  young  immortal,  Hail ! 
 He,  before  whom  are  dim 
 Seraph  and  cherubim  ; 
 Who  gave  the  archangels  strength  and  majesty, 
 Who  sits  upon  Heaven's  throne, 
 The  Everlasting  One, 
 Thou  little  child  made  thee ! 
 Fair  habitant  of  earth  ; — 
 Immortal  in  thy  God,  though  mortal  in  thy  birth, 
 Born  for  life's  trials,  hail,  all  hail  to  thee ! 
 
 CHILDREN. 
 
 iHao  iftofoitt. 
 
 Sporting  through  the  forest  wide, 
 Playing  by  the  water  side, 
 Wandering  o'er  the  heathy  fells, 
 Down  within  the  woodland  dells, 
 
CHILDREN.  353 
 
 All  among  the  mountains  wild, 
 Dwelleth  many  a  little  child. 
 
 In  the  Baron's  hall  of  pride, 
 
 By  the  poor  man's  fireside, 
 
 'Mid  the  mighty,  'mid  the  mean, 
 
 Little  children  may  be  seen  : 
 
 Like  the  flowers  that  spring  up  fair, 
 
 Bright  and  countless,  everywhere  ! 
 
 In  the  fair  isles  of  the  main, 
 In  the  desert's  lone  domain, 
 In, the  savage  mountain  glen, 
 'Mong  the  tribes  of  swarthy  men, 
 Whereso'er  the  sun  hath  shone, 
 On  a  league  of  peopled  ground, 
 Little  children  may  be  found  ! 
 
 Blessings  on  them! — They  in  me 
 Move  a  kindly  sympathy, 
 With  their  wishes,  hopes,  and  fears, 
 With  their  laughter  and  their  tears, 
 With  their  wonder  so  intense, 
 And  their  small  experience ! 
 
 Little  children,  not  alone 
 On  the  wide  earth  are  ye  unknown  : 
 'Mid  its  labors  and  its  cares, 
 'Mid  its  sufferings  and  its  snares  ; — 
 Free  from  sorrow,  free  from  strife, 
 In  the  world  of  Love  and  Life, 
 23 
 
354  WHAT   ARE    THEY    LIKE? 
 
 Whore  no  sinful  thing  has  trod, 
 In  the  presence  of  our  God  ! 
 Spotless,  blameless,  glorified, 
 Little  children,  ye  abide. 
 
 WHAT   ARE    THEY   LIKE? 
 
 Mxs.  3c.  <&.  ?£imuj. 
 
 Little  children  are  the  flowers 
 
 By  life's  thorny  wayside  springing  ; — 
 
 Ever  to  this  world  of  ours 
 
 Something  fresh  and  guileless  bringing, 
 
 They  are  birds,  in  whose  glad  voices 
 
 All  the  dreary  winter  long. 
 The  imprisoned  heart  rejoices. 
 
 As  in  summer's  woodland  song. 
 
 They  are  stars,  that  brightly  shining 
 Through  the  inner  night  of  sorrow. 
 
 Aid  the  spirit  in  divining 
 
 Something  hopeful  for  the  morrow. 
 
 They  are  precious  jewels  gleaming 
 'Mid  the  cares  of  manhood's  brow. — 
 
 Woman's  bosom  more  beseeming 
 Than  the  diamond's  costly  alow. 
 
355 
 
 They  are  fortune's  richest  treasure — 
 Honor's  most  ennobling  fame  ; 
 
 Sources  of  a  truer  pleasure 
 Than  what  beareth  pleasure's  name. 
 
 They,  our  only  gifts  immortal, 
 
 Live,  when  dies  their  earthly  name  j 
 
 Though  we  leave  them  at  death's  portal, 
 We  shall  welcome  them  again. 
 
 BABY'S    SONG. 
 
 Come,  gentle  white  angel,  to  Baby  and  me, 
 Touch  his  blue  eyes  with  image  of  sleep  ; 
 In  his  surprise  he  will  cease  to  weep  : 
 
 Hush,  babe,  the  white  angel  is  watching,  o'er  thee ! 
 
 Come,  pretty  white  dove,  to  Baby  and  mc  ; 
 
 Softly  whirr  in  the  silent  air, 
 
 Flutter  about  his  golden  hair  ; 
 Hark,  love,  the  white  doves  are  cooing  for  thee ! 
 
 Come,  sweet  white  lilies,  to  Baby  and  me, 
 
 Drowsily  nod  before  his  eyes  ; 
 
 So  full  of  wonder,  so  round,  and  wise  ; — 
 Hark,  boy,  the  white  lily-bells  tinkle  for  thee ! 
 
356  ASLEEP. 
 
 Come,  dimpled  white  moonbeam,  to  Baby  and  me. 
 
 Gently  glide  o'er  the  ocean  of  sleep. 
 
 Silver  the  waves  of  its  shadowy  deep  ; 
 Sleep,  child,  and  the  whitest  of  dreams  to  thee  ! 
 
 ASLEEP. 
 
 iBrs.  Borofontng. 
 
 How  he  sleepeth !  having  drunken 
 Weary  childhood's  madragore  ; 
 From  his  pretty  eyes  have  sunken 
 Pleasures,  to  make  room  for  more  ; 
 Sleeping  near  the  withered  nosegay,  which  he  pulled  the 
 day  before. 
 
 Nosegays  !  leave  them  for  the  waking ! 
 
 Throw  them  earthward,  where  they  grew  : 
 Dim  are  such  beside  the  breaking 
 Amaranths  he  looks  unto  ; — 
 Folded  eyes  see  brighter  colors,  than  the  open  ever  do. 
 
 Heaven-flowers,  rayed  by  shadows  golden 
 
 From  the  palms  they  sprang  beneath  ; 
 Now  perhaps  divinely  holden, 
 Swing  against  him  in  a  wreath — 
 We  may  think  so.  from  the  quivering  of  his  bloom,  and  of 
 his  breath. 
 
ASLEEP.  357 
 
 Vision  unto  vision  calleth, 
 
 While  the  young  child  dreameth  on  ; 
 Pair,  0  dreamer,  thee  befalleth, 
 With  the  glory  thou  hast  won ! 
 Darker  wast  thou,  in  the  garden,  yesternoon  by  summer's 
 sun. 
 
 We  should  see  the  spirits  ringing 
 
 Round  thee — were  the  clouds  away  : 
 Tis  thy  child's  heart  draws  them,  singing, 
 In  the  silent-seeming  clay. 
 Singing ! — stars  that  seem  the  mutest  go  in  music  all  the 
 way. 
 
 As  the  moths  around  the  taper, 
 As  the  bees  around  the  rose, 
 As  the  insect  round  the  vapor, 
 So  the  spirits  group,  and  close,  - 
 Round    about   a   holy   childhood,   as   if  drinking   its   re- 
 pose. 
 
 Shapes  of  brightness  overlean  thee 
 
 With  their  diadems  of  youth, 
 On  the  ringlets,  which  half  screen  thee, 
 While  thou  smilest — not  in  sooth 
 Thy  smile — but  the  over-fair  one,  dropt  from  some  ethereal 
 mouth. 
 
358  ASLEEP. 
 
 Haply  it  is  angel's  duty 
 
 During  slumber,  shade  by  shade 
 To  fine  down  this  childish  beauty 
 To  the  thing  it  must  be  made. 
 Ere  the  world  shall  bring  it  praises,  or  the  tomb  shall  see 
 it  fade. 
 
 Softly,  softly !  make  no  noises ! 
 
 Xow  he  lieth  dead  and  dumb.— 
 Now  he  hears  the  angels'  voices 
 Folding  silence  in  the  room. — 
 Xow  he  muses  deep  the  meaning  of  the  Heaven-word-  ae 
 they  come. 
 
 Speak  not,  he  is  consecrated — 
 
 Breathe  no  breath  across  his  eyes  ; 
 Lifted  up  and  separated, 
 On  the  hand  of  God  he  lies. 
 In  a  sweetness  beyond  touching,  held  in  cloistered  sancti- 
 ties ! 
 
 Could  ye  bless  him — father,  mother? 
 
 Bless  the  dimple  in  his  cheek  ? 
 Dare  ye  look  at  one  another. 
 And  the  benediction  speak? 
 Would  ye  not  break  out  in  weeping,  and  confess  yourselves 
 too  weak  ? 
 
THE   LADDEE.  359 
 
 He  is  harmless — ye  are  sinful. 
 
 Ye  are  troubled — lie,  at  ease  ; 
 From  his  slumber,  virtue  willful 
 Floweth  outwards  with  increase. 
 Dare  not  bless  him  ! — but  be  blessed  by  his  peace. 
 
 THE   LADDER. 
 
 Ah  !  many  a  time  we  look  on  star-lit  nights 
 
 Up  to  the  sky,  as  Jacob  did  of  old  ; 
 Look  longing  up,  to  the7  eternal  lights 
 To  spell  their  lines  of  gold. 
 
 But  never  more,  as  to  the  Hebrew  boy, 
 
 Each  on  his  way,  the  angels  walk  abroad  ; 
 And  never  more  we  hear,  with  awful  joy, 
 The  audible  voice  of  God. 
 
 Yet  to  pure  eyes,  the  ladder  still  is  set, 
 
 And  angel  visitants  still  come  and  go  ; 
 Many  bright  messengers  are  moving  yet, 
 From  this  dark  world  below. 
 
360  PROTECTED    RILLS. 
 
 Thoughts  that  are  red-crossed,  Faith's  outspreading 
 
 wings, — 
 Prayers  of  the  Church,  aye  keeping  time  and  tryst, 
 Heart-wishes,  making  bee-like  murmurings 
 Their  flower,  the  Eucharist ! — 
 
 Spirits  elect,  through  suffering  rendered  meet 
 
 For  those  high  mansions.     From  the  nursery-door, 
 Bright  babes,  that  climb  up.  with  their  clay-cold  fact 
 Unto  the  golden  floor. 
 
 These  are  the  messengers,  forever  wending 
 
 From  earth  to  Heaven,  that  Faith  alone  may  scan  : 
 These  are  the  angels  of  our  God,  ascending 
 Up  to  the  Son  of  man  ! 
 
 PROTECTED    RILLS. 
 
 "SnUf)  £iUccr&." 
 
 The  River  of  Life  by  a  gentle  rill 
 
 Was  joined,  as  it  sped  on  its  ocean-round  : 
 
 But  the  wavelets  clear. — they  mingled  ill 
 With  the  turbid  waters  that  swiftly  flowed. 
 
 Yet  swifter  still  than  the  rivers  flow. 
 
 By  a  power  impelled,  did  the  wavelets  seem. 
 Which  kept  them  pure  from  the  melted  snow 
 
 And  the  straining  floods  of  the  swollen  stream. 
 
361 
 
 And  weeping  eyes,  by  day  and  night. 
 And  guardian  eyes,  at  morn  and  even, 
 
 Did  watch — till  the  wavelets  broke,  in  light, 
 On  the  painless,  peaceful  shore  of  Heaven  ! 
 
 THE    ANGEL'S    VISIT. 
 
 Smiling,  a  bright-eyed  angel  bent 
 
 Over  an  infant's  dream  ; 
 To  view  his  mirrored  form,  he  leant 
 
 As  in  a  crystal  stream. 
 
 "  Fair  infant,  come,"  he  whispered  low, 
 "  And  leave  the  earth  with  me  ; 
 To  a  bright  and  happy  land  we'll  go — 
 This  is  no  home  for  thee. 
 
 "  Each  sparkling  pleasure  knows  alloy, 
 Nor  cloudless  skies  are  here  ; 
 A  care  there  is  for  every  joy, 
 For  every  smile  a  tear. 
 
 "  The  heart  that  dances  free  and  light 
 May  soon  be  chained  by  sorrow  ; 
 The  sun  that  sets  in  calm  to-night 
 May  rise  in  storm  to-morrow. 
 
362  THE   TWO    ANGELS. 
 
 "  Alas  !  to  cloud  a  brow  so  fair, 
 
 That  griefs  and  pains  should  rise ! 
 Alas!  that  this  dark  world  of  care 
 Should  dim  those  laughing  eyes  ! 
 
 "  To  seek  a  brighter  world  with  me, 
 Infant,  thou  wilt  not  fear  ; 
 For  pitying  Heaven  the  sad  decree 
 Recalls,  that  sent  thee  here." 
 
 It  seemed  on  him  the  sweet  babe  smiled 
 His  wings  the  seraph  spread. 
 
 They're  gone  ! — the  augel  and  the  child. 
 Mother !  thv  babe  is  dead ! 
 
 THE    TWO    ANGELS. 
 
 longftllofo. 
 
 Two  angels,  one  of  Life,  and  one  of  Death, 
 Passed  o'er  the  village,  as  the  morning  broke  : 
 
 The  dawn  was  on  their  faces,  and  beneath 
 
 The  sombre  houses,  hearsed  with  plumes  of  smoke. 
 
 Their  attitude  and  aspect  were  the  same. 
 
 Alike  their  features,  and  their  robes  of  white  ; 
 But  one  was  crowned  with  amaranth  as  a  flame, 
 
 And  one  with  asphodels,  like  flakes  of  light. 
 
THE   TWO    AXGELS.  363 
 
 I  saw  them  pause  on  their  celestial  way. 
 
 Then  said  I,  with  deep  fear,  and  doubt  oppressed  : 
 "  Beat  not  so  loud,  my  heart,  lest  thou  betray 
 
 The  place  where  thy  beloved  are  at  rest !" 
 
 And  he  who  wore  the  crown  of  asphodels, 
 Descending  at  my  door,  began  to  knock, 
 
 And  my  soul  sank  within  me,  as  in  wells 
 
 The  water  sinks,  before  an  earthquake's  shock. 
 
 I  recognized  the  nameless  agony, 
 
 The  terror,  and  the  tremor,  and  the  pain, 
 
 That  oft  before  had  filled  and  haunted  me, 
 
 And  now  returned  with  three-fold  strength  again ! 
 
 The  door  I  opened  to  my  heavenly  guest, 
 
 And  listened,  for  I  thought  I  heard  God's  voice  ; 
 
 And  knowing  whatso'er  He  sent  was  best, 
 Dared  neither  to  lament,  nor  to  rejoice. 
 
 Then  with  a  smile,  that  filled  the  house  with  light, 
 "  My  errand  is  not  Death,  but  Life,"  he  said  ; 
 
 And  ere  I  answered,  passing  out  of  sight, 
 On  his  celestial  embassy  he  sped. 
 
 "  'Twas  at  thy  door,  0  friend,  and  not  at  mine, 
 The  angel  with  the  amaranthine  wreath, 
 
 Pausing,  descended,  and  with  voice  divine, 
 
 Whispered  a  word  that  had  a  sound  like  Death." 
 
364  THE   IDOL   BROKEN. 
 
 Then  fell  upon  the  house  a  sudden  gloom, 
 A  shadow  on  those  features  fair  and  thin  ; 
 
 And  softly  from  the  hushed  and  darkened  room 
 Two  angels  issued,  where  but  one  went  in. 
 
 All  is  of  God  !     If  He  but  waive  his  hand. 
 
 The  mists  collect,  the  rains  fall  thick  and  loud. 
 Till,  with  a  smile  of  light  on  sea  and  land, 
 
 Lo  !  He  looks  back  from  the  departing  cloud. 
 
 Angels  of  Life  and  Death  alike  are  His  : 
 
 Without  His  leave,  they  pass  no  threshold  o'er  : 
 
 Who,  then,  would  wish  or  dare,  believing  this. 
 Against  His  messenger  to  shut  the  door  ? 
 
 THE    IDOL    BROKEN. 
 
 Gtralft  iHassrp. 
 
 0  ye  who  say,  "  We  have  a  child  in  Heaven  :" — 
 Who  have  felt  that  desolate  isolation  sharp. 
 Defined  in  Death's  own  face :  who  have  stood  beside 
 The  Silent  River,  and  stretched  out  pleading  hands 
 For  some  sweet  babe,  upon  the  other  bank. 
 That  went  forth,  where  no  hand  might  lead. 
 And  left  the  closed  house,  with  no  light,  no  sound, 
 Xo  answer,  when  the  mourners  wail  without  : 
 What  we  have  known,  ye  know,  and  onlv  know. 
 
THE   IDOL   BROKEN.  365 
 
 We  saw,  but  feared  to  speak,  of  her  strange  beauty, 
 
 As  some  hushed  bird,  that  dares  not  sing  i'  the  night, 
 
 Lest  lurking  foe  should  find  its  secret  place, 
 
 And  seize  it  through  the  dark.   With  twin-love's  strength, 
 
 All  crowded  in  the  softest  nestling-touch, 
 
 We  fenced  her  round  ; — exchanging  silent  looks, 
 
 We  went  about  the  house,  with  listening  hearts, 
 
 And  eyes  that  watched  for  Dangers7  coming  steps  ! 
 
 Our  spirits  felt  the  shadow  ere  it  fell.  — 
 
 We  stood  at  midnight  in  the  Presence  dread. 
 
 At  midnight,  when  men  die,  we  strove  with  Death, 
 
 To  wrench  our  darling  from  his  grasping  hand  ! 
 
 Ere  the  soul  loosed  from  its  last  ledge  of  life. 
 
 Her  little  face  peered  round,  with  anxious  eves. 
 
 Then,  seeing  the  old  familiar  faces,  dropped  content. — 
 
 And  there  our  jewel  lay,  in  coffined  calm  ; 
 Dressed  for  the  grave,  in  raiment  like  the  snow  : 
 And  o'er  her  flowed  the  Everlasting  Peace  ! 
 The  breathing  miracle  into  silence  passed  ; 
 Never  to  stretch  wee  hands,  with  her  sweet  smile 
 As  soft  as  light-fall  on  unfolding  flowers  ; 
 Never  to  wake  us  crying  in  the  night  : — 
 Our  little  hindering  thing  forever  gone  ! 
 
MY    LAMBS. 
 
 I  loved  them  so, 
 That  when  the  elder  Shepherd  of  the  ibid 
 Came,  covered  with  the  storm,  and  pale  and  cold  : 
 And  begged  for  one  of  my  sweet  lambs  to  hold, 
 
 I  bade  him  go. 
 
 He  claimed  the  pet ; 
 A  little  fondling  thing,  that  to  my  breast 
 Clung  always,  either  in  quiet,  or  unrest  ; — 
 I  thought  of  all  my  lambs  I  loved  him  best. 
 
 And  yet — and  yet ! 
 
 I  laid  him  down, 
 In  those  white-shrouded  arms,  with  bitter  tears  ; 
 For  some  voice  told  me  that  in  after  years 
 He  should  know  naught  of  passion,  grief,  or  fears, 
 
 As  I  had  known. 
 
 And  yet  again 
 That  elder  Shepherd  came — my  heart  grew  faint ; 
 He  claimed  another  lamb,  with  sadder  plaint  ; 
 Another  !  she,  who  gentle  as  a  saint 
 
 Xe'er  gave  me  pain. 
 
 Aghast,  I  turned  away  ! 
 There  sat  she,  lovely  as  an  angel's  dream, 
 Her  golden  locks  with  sunlight  all  agleam, 
 Her  holy  eyes  with  heaven  in  their  beam  ; 
 
 I  knelt  to  pray. 
 
MY   LAMBS.  367 
 
 "  Is  it  Thy  will  ? 
 My  Father,  say,  must  this  pet  lamb  be  given  ? 
 Oh,  Thou  hast  many  such,  dear  Lord,  in  Heaven." 
 And  a  soft  voice  said  :  "  Nobly  hast  thou  striven  ; 
 
 But  peace, — be  still." 
 
 Oh,  how  I  wept, 
 And  clasped  her  to  my  bosom,  with  a  wild 
 And  yearning  love — my  pleasant  child  ! 
 Her,  too,  I  gave. — The  little  angel  smiled, 
 
 And  slept. 
 
 Go  !  go  !  I  cried  : 
 For  once  again  that  Shepherd  laid  his  hand 
 Upon  the  noblest  of  our  household  band  : 
 Like  a  pale  spectre,  there  he  took  his  stand. 
 
 Close  to  his  side. 
 
 And  yet  how  wondrous  sweet 
 The  look  with  which  He  heard  my  earnest  cry  : 
 "  Touch  not  my  lamb  ;  for  him,  oh  !  let  me  die  !" 
 "  A  little  while,"  He  said,  with  smile  and  sigh, 
 
 "  Again  to  meet." 
 
 Hopeless  I  fell  ; 
 And  when  I  rose,  the  light  had  burned  so  low. 
 So  faint — I  could  not  see  my  darling  go  : 
 He  had  not  bidden  me  farewell ;  but  oh  ! 
 
 I  felt  farewell. 
 
368  MY    LAMBS. 
 
 More  deeply  far, 
 Than  if  my  arms  had  compassed  that  slight  frame  ; 
 Though,  could  I  but  have  heard  him  call  my  name, 
 "  Dear  mother" — but  in  heaven  'twill  be  the  same  ; 
 
 There  burns  my  star  ! 
 
 He  will  not  take 
 Another  lamb,  1  thought,  for  only  one 
 Of  the  dear  fold  is  spared,  to  be  my  sun, 
 My  guide,  my  mourner,  when  this  sad  life  is  done  ; 
 
 My  heart  would  break. 
 
 Oh  !  with  what  thrill 
 I  heard  him  enter  •  but  I  did  not  know 
 (For  it  was  dark)  that  he  had  robbed  me  so  ; 
 The  idol  of  my  soul ! — he  could  not  go — 
 
 0  heart !  be  still ! 
 
 Came  morning  :  can  I  tell 
 How  this  poor  frame  its  stricken  tenant  kept  ? 
 For  waking  tears  were  mine  ;  I,  sleeping,  wept, 
 And  days,  months,  years,  that  weary  vigil  kept. 
 
 Alas!  "Farewell." 
 
 How  often,  is  it  said ! 
 I  sit  and  think,  and  wonder  too,  sometime, 
 How  it  will  be,  when  in  that  happier  clime 
 It  never  will  ring  out,  like  funeral  chime 
 
 Over  the  dead. 
 
ONLY    A    LITTLE    CURL.  369 
 
 No  tears  !  no  tears  ! 
 Will  there  a  da}'  come  when  I  shall  not  weep  ? 
 For  I  bedew  my  pillow  in  my  sleep. 
 Yes,  yes,  thank  God  !  no  grief  that  clime  shall  keep — 
 
 No  weary  years. 
 
 Aye !  it  is  well ! 
 Well  with  my  lambs,  and  with  their  earthly  guide  ; 
 There,  pleasant  rivers  wander  they  beside, 
 Or  strike  sweet  harps  upon  its  silver  tide — 
 
 Aye,  it  is  well ! 
 
 Through  the  dreary  day. 
 They  often  come  from  glorious  light  to  me  ; 
 I  cannot  feel  their  touch,  their  faces  see, 
 Yet  my  soul  whispers,  they  do  come  to  me  ; — 
 
 Heaven  is  not  far  away  ! 
 
 ONLY  A    LITTLE    CURL 
 
 'Tis  but  a  curl  of  soft  brown  hair, 
 A  simple,  common  thing  to  see  ; 
 
 But  you,  who  only  call  it  fair, 
 Dream  not  of  what  it  is  to  me. 
 
 You  take  it  in  your  hands  and  praise 
 Its  glossy  smoothness  o'er  and  o'er  ; 
 
 But  oh,  to  you  it  pictures  not 
 
 The  childish  face  it  shades  no  more  ! 
 24 
 
370  ONLY   A    LITTLE    CHILD. 
 
 You  smile  to  see  how  goldenly 
 
 Its  hue,  like  sunlight,  meets  the  eye  ; 
 
 But  oil,  through  tears  I  only  see 
 The  brow  whereon  it  used  to  lie. 
 
 The  temples  fair  it  clustered  round, 
 The  loving  eyes  it  often  hid  ; 
 
 Those  fair,  cold  temples,  blossom-crowned, 
 Resting  beneath  the  coffin-lid  ! 
 
 The  childish  voice,  so  sadly  sweet,  . 
 
 The  lisped  words,  to  love  so  plain, 
 The  echoing  sound  of  little  feet ; — 
 
 At  sight  of  this,  come  back  again  ! 
 
 Oh,  gather  up  the  shining  links, 
 And  lay  them  softly,  gently  by  ; 
 
 Oh,  place  them  where  they  may  not  meet 
 The  careless  gaze  of  every  eye ! 
 
 So  silently — so  mournfully, 
 
 They  speak  of  what  the  grave  has  won  ; 
 The  idol  of  a  loving  heart, 
 
 The  early  called — the  only  one ! 
 
THE  EARLY   DEAD. 
 
 ftzb.  ©fjarles  M.  BairU. 
 
 Before  the  footstool  of  the  Lord 
 Two  angels — Life  and  Death — adored. 
 
 With  downcast  eyes,  they  stood  and  heard 
 The  high  and  dread  Creator's  word  : — 
 
 "  How  will  ye  keep  and  nourish  these 
 The  Young  and  Pure — and  how  appease 
 The  rage  of  sorrow  and  disease  ?" 
 
 Young  Life  replied  :  "  The  trump  of  Fame 
 Their  praise  and  glory  shall  proclaim  ; 
 The  world  shall  honor  every  name." 
 
 Then  spake  pale  Death  :  "  Upon  my  breast 
 I'll  soothe  them  into  tranquil  rest : 
 The  grave  shall  welcome  each  its  guest." 
 
 And  the  Voice  said,  in  tones  divine, 
 
 "  0  Death,  the  Young  and  Pure  are  thine." 
 
THE    LAMBS    OF    CHRIST. 
 
 They  were  gathered  early,  earth's  young  and  fair  ; 
 Time  cannot  touch  them,  nor  woe,  nor  care  : 
 Safe  in  the  harbor  of  endless  rest, 
 These  babes  are  cradled  on  Jesu's  breast. 
 
 There  are  eyes  of  sapphire,  and  locks  of  gold. 
 And  roseate  hues,  in  that  angel  fold  ; 
 Music  untaught,  like  the  wild-bird's  song, 
 In  gushes,  burst  aye,  from  that  cherub  throng. 
 
 From  silken  couches,  and  beds  of  down. — 
 Through  the  dusky  ways  of  the  crowded  town  ; 
 By  hall  and  village,  and  moorland  bleak, 
 Have  the  angels  traveled,  these  buds  to  seek. 
 
 And  some  who  were  born  to  an  earthly  crown, 
 When  the  angels  whispered,  have  laid  it  down  : 
 'Twas  a  weary  weight  for  those  tiny  heads, 
 So  they  died  uncrowned,  in  their  little  beds. 
 
 There  are  some  for  whom  gray  heads  toiled  and  planned, 
 And  they  hoarded  gold,  and  they  purchased  land  ; 
 The  innocent  heirs  of  a  sordid  care, — 
 They  were  snatched  from  the  webs  of  the  gilded  snare. 
 
 There  are  some  who  were  taken,  we  know  not  why, 
 By  the  love  that  walketh  in  mystery, 
 
ONE    WANTED.  373 
 
 The  mercy  that  moves  behind  sunless  clouds  ; — 
 For  earth's  saints  wept  o'er  their  early  shrouds. 
 
 There  are  those  o'er  whom  anxious  tears  were  shed. 
 By  parents  who  struggled  for  daily  bread  ; 
 Who  mourned  o'er  the  souls  they  brought  to  strife  ; 
 But  the  angels  gave  them  the  bread  of  life. 
 
 They  are  one  in  Heaven — the  wept  and  dear, 
 The  foundling  who  perished,  without  a  tear, 
 Of  lands  and  titles  earth's  infant  heir, — 
 And  the  blighted  child  of  want  and  care. 
 
 These  lambs  of  Christ !  by  the  founts  and  rills, 
 O'er  the  heights  of  the  everlasting  hills, 
 They  follow  with  joy  in  their  Saviour's  train. 
 If  ye  love,  can  ye  wish  them  back  again  ? 
 
 ONE    WANTED. 
 
 God  looked  among  his  cherub  band, 
 And  one  was  wanted  there, 
 
 To  swell  along  that  holy  land 
 The  hymns  of  praise  and  prayer. 
 
 One  little  soul,  which  long  had  been 
 Half  way  'tween  earth  and  sky, 
 
 Untempted  in  a  world  of  sin, 
 He  watched  with  loving  eye. 
 
374  IN   MEMORIAM. 
 
 It  was  too  promising  a  flower 
 To  bloom  upon  this  earth  ; 
 
 And  God  soon  gave  it  angel  power, 
 And  bright  celestial  birth. 
 
 The  world  was  all  too  bleak  and  cold 
 To  yield  it  quiet  rest  ; — 
 
 God  brought  it  to  His  shepherd-fold, 
 And  laid  it  on  His  breast. 
 
 There,  mother,  in  thy  Saviour's  arms, 
 
 Forever  un defiled, 
 Amid  the  little  cherub  band, 
 
 Is  thy  beloved  child. 
 
 IN   MEMORIAM. 
 
 (C.  V.  R.  K.) 
 
 &.  3t  (Cudurman. 
 
 Darkness  doth  fill  the  measure  of  the  house, 
 
 For  lack  of  one  sweet  presence,  one  who  wore 
 
 Her  classic  beauty  as  the  vestal  lamp 
 
 That  grows  not  dim  with  burning  ;  one  who  moved 
 
 So  gently  through  her  duties  and  her  loves. 
 
 That  she  was  high  in  Heaven,  ere  they  who  watched 
 
 Knew  she  was  no  more  with  them.     Such  a  death 
 
 Is  like  the  broken  alabaster  box, 
 
 That  held  the  precious  ointment ;  ne'er  again 
 
ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  YOUNG  GIRL.         375 
 
 Shall  it  be  gathered  to  its  comely  shape  ; 
 But  the  spilt  perfume  shall  throughout  the  house 
 Yield  up  perpetual  fragrance,  and  the  hearts 
 That  clustered  round  it  shall  themselves  become 
 Purer  and  sweeter  for  the  sacrifice. 
 
 ON    THE  DEATH    OF  A    YOUNG    GIRL. 
 
 Wilis. 
 
 'Tis  difficult  to  feel  that  she  is  dead  ; 
 
 Her  presence,  like  the  shadow  of  a  wing 
 
 That  is  just  lessening  in  the  upper  sky, 
 
 Lingers  upon  us.     We  can  hear  her  voice, 
 
 And  for  her  step  we  listen,  and  the  eye 
 
 Looks  for  her  wonted  coming  with  a  strange, 
 
 Forgetful  earnestness.     We  cannot  feel 
 
 That  she  no  more  will  come — that  from  her  cheek 
 
 The  delicate  flush  has  faded,  and  the  light 
 
 Dead  in  her  soft  dark  eye,  and  on  her  lip 
 
 That  was  so  exceeding  pure,  the  dew 
 
 Of  the  damp  grave  has  fallen !     Who  so  loved 
 
 Is  left  among  the  living?     Who  hath  walked 
 
 The  world  with  such  a  winning  loveliness, 
 
 And  on  its  bright,  brief  journey,  gathered  up 
 
 Such  treasures  of  affection  ?     She  was  loved 
 
 Only  as  idols  are.     She  was  the  pride 
 
 Of  her  familiar  sphere — the  daily  joy 
 
376  THE   EARLY    CALLED. 
 
 Of  all  who  on  her  gracefulness  miglit  gaze, 
 
 And  in  the  light  and  music  of  her  way 
 
 Have  a  companion's  portion.     Who  could  feel, 
 
 While  looking  upon  beauty  such  as  hers, 
 
 That  it  would  ever  perish  ?     It  is  like 
 
 The  melting  of  a  star  into  the  sky 
 
 While  you  are  gazing  on  it ;  or  a  dream 
 
 In  its  most  ravishing  sweetness,  rudely  broken. 
 
 THE    EARLY    CALLED. 
 
 WMUs  flkajlorfr  Claxk 
 
 Gone  to  the  slumber  which  may  know  no  waking 
 
 Till  the  loud  requiem  of  the  world  shall  swell  ; 
 Gone  where  no  sound  thy  still  repose  is  breaking, 
 
 In  the  lone  mansion  through  long  years  to  dwell  ; 
 Where  the  sweet  gales  that  herald  bud  and  blossom 
 
 Pour  not  their  music,  nor  their  fragrant  breath — 
 A  seal  is  set  upon  thy  youthful  bosom, 
 
 A  bond  of  loneliness — a  spell  of  death. 
 
 Yet  'twas  but  yesterday  that  all  before  thee 
 
 Shone  in  the  freshness  of  life's  morning  hours  ; 
 Joy's  radiant  smile  was  playing  briefly  o'er  thee, 
 
 And  thy  light  feet  impressed  but  vernal  flowers. 
 The  restless  spirit  charmed  thy  sweet  existence, 
 
 Making  all  beauteous  in  youth's  pleasant  maze, 
 While  gladsome  hope  illumed  the  onward  distance, 
 
 And  lit  with  sunbeams  thy  expectant  days. 
 
SHE   SLEEPS   THAT   STILL   AND    PLACID    SLEEP.  377 
 
 Hoav  have  the  garlands  of  thy  childhood  withered, 
 
 And  hope's  false  anthem  died  upon  the  air ! 
 Death's  cloudy  tempests  o'er  thy  way  have  gathered, 
 
 And  his  stern  bolts  have  burst  in  anguish  there. 
 On  thy  pale  forehead  sleeps  the  shade  of  even  ; 
 
 Youth's  braided  wreath  lies  stained  in  sprinkled  dust, 
 Yet,  looking  upward  in  its  grief  to  heaven, 
 
 Love  should  not  mourn  thee,  save  in  hope  and  trust. 
 
 SHE  SLEEPS  THAT  STILL  AND  PLACID  SLEEP. 
 ©Somas  it  $Urfa£- 
 
 She  sleeps  that  still  and  placid  sleep, 
 For  which  the  weary  pant  in  vain  ; 
 
 And  where  the  dews  of  evening  weep, 
 I  may  not  weep  again. — 
 
 0  never  more  upon  her  grave 
 
 Shall  I  behold  the  wild-flower  wave ! 
 
 They  laid  her  where  the  sun  and  moon 
 Look  on  her  tomb  with  loving  eye, 
 
 And  I  have  heard  the  breeze  of  June 
 Sweep  o'er  it  like  a  sigh  ; 
 
 And  the  wild  river's  wailing  song 
 
 Grow  dirge-like,  as  it  stole  along. 
 
 And  I  have  dreamed,  in  many  dreams, 
 Of  her  who  was  a  dream  to  me  : 
 
378  SHE   FELL   ASLEEP. 
 
 And  talked  to  her,  by  summer  streams, 
 
 In  crowds,  and  on  the  sea, 
 Till  in  my  soul  she  grew  enshrined 
 A  young  Egeria  of  the  mind  ! 
 
 Rise,  gentle  vision  of  the  hours, 
 
 Which  go  like  birds  that  come  not  back  ; 
 
 And  fling  thy  pale  and  funeral  flowers 
 On  memory's  wasted  track  ! 
 
 0  for  the  wings  that  made  thee  blest, 
 
 To  "  flee  away,  and  be  at  rest ! " 
 
 SHE   FELL    ASLEEP. 
 
 %.  M.  5.. 
 
 She  "  fell  asleep  "  at  daybreak, 
 
 Just  when  the  morning  light 
 Began  with  golden  fingers 
 
 To  chase  away  the  night — 
 Just  when  the  pleasant  sunshine 
 
 Was  glowing  in  the  east, 
 Her  blue  eyes  closed  serenely. 
 
 Her  u*entle  sio'hiuo-  ceased. 
 
 She  ,;  fell  asleep  "  so  calmly — 
 With  such  a  joyous  faith. 
 
 Her  soul  went  through  "  the  valley 
 And  shadow''  dark  of  death  ; 
 
LADY   MARY.  379 
 
 And  leaning  on  The  Mighty, 
 
 She  lost  her  grievous  fears  ; 
 The  surging  waves  of  Jordan 
 
 Were  music  in  her  ears. 
 
 She  "  fell  asleep"  so  sweetly. 
 
 That  they  who  by  her  wept 
 Marveled  to  see  the  glory 
 
 Which  crowned  her  as  she  slept. 
 A  loveliness  celestial 
 
 Seemed  on  her  face  to  shine, 
 As  she  laid  aside  her  pilgrim  robes, 
 
 And  left  the  shores  of  Time. 
 
 She  "  fell  asleep  "  in  Jesus — 
 
 Ah,  slumber  sweet  and  blest ! 
 From  which  her  spirit  wakened 
 
 In  His  dear  smile  to  rest ! 
 Remember  ye  who  loved  her. 
 
 And  oft  times  for  her  weep, — 
 All  they  with  Christ  shall  rise  again, 
 
 Who  in  Him  -'fell  asleep!" 
 
 LADY   MAR  Y. 
 fttfc.  l^mr*  SlfcrU. 
 
 Thou  wert,  fair  Lady  Mary, 
 As  the  lily  in  the  sun  ; 
 
 And  fairer  yet  thou  mightest  be- 
 Thy  youth  was  but  begun. 
 
380  LADY   MARY. 
 
 Thine  eye  was  soft  and  glancing, 
 Of  the  deep  bright  blue  ; 
 
 And  on  the  heart  thy  gentle  words 
 Fell  lighter  than  the  dew. 
 
 They  found  thee,  Lady  Mary, 
 
 With  thy  palms  upon  thy  breast, 
 Even  as  thou  hadst  been  praying, 
 
 At  thine  hour  of  rest  : 
 The  cold,  pale  moon  was  shining 
 
 On  thy  cold,  pale  cheek  : 
 And  the  morn  of  the  Nativity 
 
 Had  just  begun  to  break. 
 
 They  carved  thee,  Lady  Mary, 
 
 All  of  the  pure  white  stone, 
 With  thy  palms  upon  thy  breast, 
 
 In  the  chancel  all  alone  : — 
 And  I  saw  thee  when  the  winter  moon 
 
 Shone  on  thy  marble  cheek, 
 And  the  morn  of  the  Nativity 
 
 Had  just  begun  to  break. 
 
 Now  thou  kneelest,  Lady  Mary, 
 
 With  thy  palms  upon  thy  breast, 
 Among  the  perfect  spirits, 
 
 In  the  Land  of  Rest : 
 Thou  art  even  as  they  took  thee, 
 
 At  thine  hour  of  prayer, 
 Save  the  glory  is  upon  thee, 
 
 From  the  Sun  that  shineth  There. 
 
WHO  WOULD  RECALL  HER  !  381 
 
 We  shall  see  thee,  Lady  Mary, 
 
 On  that  shore  unknown, 
 A  pure  and  happy  angel, 
 
 In  the  presence  of  The  Throne  : — 
 We  shall  see  thee  when  the  light  divine 
 
 Plays  freshly  on  thy  check, 
 And  the  Resurrection  morning 
 
 Hath  just  begun  to  break. 
 
 WHO     WOULD    RECALL    HER? 
 
 3ftcb.  Bag  palmer. 
 
 She  hath  but  passed  to  Heaven,  as  if  from  sleep — 
 
 Sleep  soft  and  peaceful  ;  she  awoke  to  find 
 
 Earth  with  its  pangs  and  tears  all  left  behind ! 
 
 Rose  her  freed  spirit  up  the  airy  steep, 
 
 On  steady  wings,  beyond  where  pale  stars  keep 
 
 Their  watch  o'er  mortal  griefs  ;  she  upward  sped, 
 
 Not  lonely,  but  by  sister  spirits  led, 
 
 To  that  dear  home  where  eyes  do  never  weep  : 
 
 Strange  rapture  thrilled  her  there  ;  and  straight  her  note, 
 
 Witli  sweet  accord,  swelled  the  eternal  hymn 
 
 Of  souls  redeemed,  led  by  the  seraphim  ; 
 
 Whose  echoes  through  the  circling  ages  float. 
 
 Now  living,  conscious,  pure  as  angels  bright, 
 
 With  God  she  dwells  in  everlasting  light. 
 
382  SHE   IS   IN   HEAVEN. 
 
 Who  would  recall  her  to  tread  o'er  again 
 The  mortal  path — from  Heaven's  pure  bliss  recall  ? 
 The  wish  were  weakness — though  full  oft  must  fall 
 Thick  blinding  tears,  from  eyes  that  once  were  fain 
 To  catch  her  genial  smile,  ne'er  sought  in  vain. 
 Though  many  an  hour  fond  hearts  be  sad  and  lone, 
 And  miss,  and  yearn  once  more  to  drink  the  tone 
 That  lingers  in  the  ear,  like  some  lost  strain. 
 No,  ye  that  loved  her,  now  to  Heaven  resign. 
 Nor  wish  her  from  that  nobler  life  withdrawn  ; 
 The  night  of  grief  shall  pass  :  and  with  the  morn 
 Shall  come  sweet  memories  ;  and  a  face  divine 
 With  all  your  worthiest  thoughts  shall  blend, 
 And  a  fair  form  your  wandering  steps  attend. 
 
 SHE   IS    IW   HE  A  VEN. 
 
 ©fcarlottc  HEUtott. 
 
 She  is  in  Heaven  !     That  thought  alone 
 
 Should  chase  the  grief  that  clouds  thy  brow  ; 
 
 '  Twas  said  from  her  Redeemer's  throne, 
 k'  Into  my  joy  now  enter  thou  !" 
 
 She  is  in  Heaven  !     How  sweet  the  phrase  ! 
 
 Yet  its  high  import  who  can  tell  ? 
 Here  like  a  glimmering  beam  it  plays, 
 
 Of  light,  of  joy  ineffable. 
 
SHE   IS   IN   HEAVEN.  383 
 
 She  is  in  Heaven,  to  form  a  link 
 
 Between  thy  heart  and  worlds  unseen, 
 That  then,  when  Nature's  powers  must  sink, 
 
 Faith's  holier  virtue  may  be  seen. 
 
 She  is  in  Heaven,  that  thou  may's t  waste 
 Xo  thought,  no  care,  on  earthly  things, 
 
 But  travel  with  an  angel's  haste, 
 And  soar  as  on  an  angel's  wings. 
 
 She  is  in  Heaven,  that  thou,  like  her, 
 
 May'st  shine  with  a  pure,  steadfast  light  ; 
 
 Attract  their  eyes  whose  footsteps  err. 
 And  guide  their  wandering  feet  aright. 
 
 She  is  in  Heaven  ;  though  still  unseen, 
 With  hers  thy  notes  of  praise  may  blend  ; 
 
 On  the  same  Rock  thy  soul  may  lean. 
 To  the  same  centre  hourly  tend. 
 
 She  is  in  Heaven !     When  thou  art  faint, 
 And  wouldst  thy  weary  race  were  run. 
 
 Think  that  the  voice  of  that  loved  saint 
 Whispers,  "  The  prize  will  soon  be  won." 
 
 She  is  in  Heaven — has  crossed  ere  noon 
 The  stream  which  bounds  the'  eternal  land  ; 
 
 And  wilt  thou  not  rejoin  her  soon  ? 
 
 Yes,  though  till  eve  thou  waiting  stand. 
 
THE    BURIAL     OF    A     CLASS-MATE. 
 
 Ye've  gathered  to  your  place  of  prayer 
 
 With  slow  and  measured  tread  ; 
 Your  ranks  are  full — your  mates  all  there — 
 
 But  the  soul  of  one  has  fled. 
 He  was  the  proudest  in  his  strength. 
 
 The  manliest  of  ye  all  : 
 Why  lies  he  at  that  fearful  length, 
 
 And  ye  around  his  pall  ? 
 
 We  reckon  it  in  days,  since  he 
 
 Strode  up  that  foot-worn  aisle 
 With  his  dark  eye  flashing  gloriously, 
 
 And  his  lip  wreathed  with  a  smile. 
 0.  had  it  been  but  told  you  then. 
 
 To  mark  whose  lamp  was  dim. 
 From  out  yon  rank  of  fresh-lipped  men 
 
 Would  ye  have  singled  him  ? 
 
 Whose  was  the  sinewy  arm  that  flung 
 
 Defiance  to  the  ring  ? 
 Whose  laugh  of  victory  loudest  rung, 
 
 Yet  not  for  glorying  ? 
 
THE   BURIAL    OF    A    CLASS-MATE.  385 
 
 Whose  heart  in  generous  deed  and  thought 
 
 No  rivaly  might  brook, 
 And  yet  distinction  claiming  not  ? 
 
 There  lies  he — go  and  look. 
 
 On  now,  his  requiem  is  done, 
 
 The  last  deep  prayer  is  said — 
 On  to  his  burial,  comrades — on, 
 
 With  the  noblest  of  the  dead  ! 
 Slow — for  it  presses  heavily — 
 
 It  is  a  man  ye  bear  ! 
 Slow — for  our  thoughts  dwell  wearily 
 
 On  the  noble  sleeper  there. 
 
 Tread  lightly,  comrades  ! — we  have  laid 
 
 His  dark  locks  on  his  brow — 
 Like  life, — save  deeper  light  and  shade  ; 
 
 We'll  not  disturb  them  now. 
 Tread  lightly — for  'tis  beautiful 
 
 That  blue-veined  eyelid's  sleep, 
 Hiding  the  eye  death  left  so  dull  ; 
 
 Its  slumber  we  will  keep. 
 
 Rest  now  !  his  journeying  is  done  ; 
 
 Your  feet  are  on  his  sod — 
 Death's  chain  is  on  your  champion — 
 
 He  waiteth  here  his  God. 
 Ay,  turn  and  weep,  'tis  manliness 
 
 To  be  heart-broken  here-  - 
 For  the  grave  of  earth's  best  nobleness 
 
 Is  watered  by  the  tear. 
 25 
 
VEILED    ANGELS. 
 
 Eutfoor  of  "Qtfte  5>tf)oirt*rfl-©otta  jfaimlg." 
 
 Unnumbered  blessings,  rich  and  free, 
 Have  come  to  us,  our  God,  from  Thee  ; 
 Sweet  tokens,  written  with  Thy  name, 
 Bright  angels,  from  Thy  face  they  came. 
 
 Some  came  with  open  faces  bright, 
 Aglow  with  heaven's  OA^n  living  light ; 
 And  some  were  veiled — trod  soft  and  slow, 
 And  spoke  in  voices  grave  and  low. 
 
 Veiled  angels,  pardon  !  if  with  fears 
 We  meet  you  first,  and  many  tears  ; — 
 We  take  you  to  our  hearts  no  less  ; 
 We  know  ye  come  to  teach  and  bless. 
 
 We  know  the  love  from  which  ye  come  ; 
 We  trace  you  to  our  Father's  home  ; — 
 We  know  how  radiant  and  how  kind 
 Your  faces  are.  those  veils  behind. 
 
 We  know  those  veils,  some  happy  day, 
 Jn  earth  or  heaven,  shall  drop  away  ; — 
 And  we  shall  see  you  as  ye  are, 
 And  learn  why  thus  ye  sped  so  far. 
 
THE    ANGELS    OF   SORROW.  38' 
 
 But  what  the  joy  that  day  shall  be 
 We  know  not  yet  ; — we  wait  to  see  ; 
 But  this,  0  Angels,  well  we  know — 
 The  way  ye  came  our  souls  shall  go  : 
 
 Up  to  the  Love  from  which  ye  come, 
 Back  to  our  Father's  blessed  home  ; — 
 And  bright  each  face,  unveiled,  shall  shine, 
 Lord,  when  the  veil  is  rent  from  Thine ! 
 
 THE   ANGELS    OF   SORROW. 
 
 STOttur. 
 
 With  silence  only  as  their  benediction, 
 
 God's  angels  come, 
 When  in  the  shadow  of  a  great  affliction 
 
 The  soul  sits  dumb. 
 
 Yet  would  we  say,  what  every  heart  appro veth, 
 
 Our  Father's  will, 
 Calling  to  Him  the  dear  ones  whom  He  loveth, 
 
 Is  mercy  still. 
 
 Not  upon  us,  or  ours,  the  solemn  angel 
 
 Hath  evil  wrought ; 
 The  funeral  anthem  is  a  glad  evangel — 
 
 The  good  die  not ! 
 
388  THE    ANGEL    OF   PATIENCE. 
 
 God  calls  our  loved  one?,  but  we  lose  not  wholly 
 
 What  lie  hath  given  : 
 Thev  live  on  earth,  in  thought  and  deed,  as  trulv 
 
 As  in  His  heaven. 
 
 THE   ANGEL    OE    PATIEXCE, 
 
 JFrom  tfjc  German. 
 
 To  weary  hearts,  to  mourning  homes. 
 God's  meekest  angel  gently  comes : — 
 No  power  has  he  to  banish  pain. 
 Or  give  us  back  our  lost  again  : 
 And  yet.  in  tender  love,  our  dear 
 And  heavenly  Father  sends  him  here. 
 
 There's  quiet  in  that  angel's  glance. 
 
 There's  rest  in  his  still  countenance  : 
 
 He  mocks  no  grief  with  idle  cheer. 
 
 Nor  wounds  with  words  the  mourner's  ear  : 
 
 The  ills  and  woes  he  may  not  cure. 
 
 He  kindly  helps  us  to  endure. 
 
 Angel  of  Patience  !  sent  to  calm 
 Our  feverish  brow  with  cooling  balm  : 
 To  lay  the  storms  of  hope  and  fear. 
 And  reconcile  life's  smile  and  tear  : 
 And  throbs  of  wounded  pride  to  still. 
 And  make  our  own  our  Father's  will. 
 
THE   ANGEL   OF   HOPE.   .  389 
 
 Oh  !  thou  who  niouriiest  on  thy  way, 
 With  longings  for  the  close  of  day, 
 He  walks  with  thee,  that  angel  kind, 
 And  gently  whispers,  "  Be  resigned  ! 
 Bear  up,  bear  on,  the  end  shall  tell 
 Thy  dear  Lord  ordereth  all  things  well." 
 
 THE   ANGEL    OF  HOPE. 
 
 Spttta. 
 
 A  gentle  angel  walketh  throughout  a  world  of  woe. 
 With  messages  of  mercy  to  mourning  hearts  below  ; 
 His  peaceful  smile  invites  thee  to  love  and  to  confide  : 
 Oh,  follow  in  his  footsteps,  keep  closely  by  his  side. 
 
 So  gently  will  he  lead  thee,  thro7  all  the  cloudy  day. 
 And  whisper  of  glad  tidings,  to  cheer  the  pilgrim  way  ; 
 His  courage  never  failing,  when  thine  is  almost  gone, 
 He  takes  thy  heavy  burden,  and  helps  to  bear  it  on. 
 
 To  soft  and  gentle  sadness  he  changes  dumb  despair, 
 
 And  soothes  to  deep  submission  the  storm  of  grief  and  care  : 
 
 Where  midnight  cares  are  brooding,  he  pours  the  light  of 
 
 noon, 
 And  every  grievous  wound  he  heals,  most  surely,  if  not  soon. 
 
390  GUARDIAN    ANGELS. 
 
 He  will  not  blame  thy  sorrows,  while  he  brings  the  healing- 
 balm  ; 
 
 He  does  not  chide  thy  longings,  while  he  soothes  thee  into 
 calm  : 
 
 And  when  thy  heart  is  murmuring,  and  wildly  asking  why, 
 
 He  smiling  hstkxms  forward,  pointing  upward  to  the  sky. 
 
 He  will  not  always  answer  thy  questions  and  thy  fear, 
 His  watch-word  is — "  Be  patient,  the  journey's  end  is  near !'' 
 And  ever  through  the  toilsome  way  he  tells  of  joys  to  come, 
 And  points  the  pilgrim  to  his  rest,  the  wanderer  to  his  home. 
 
 GUARDIAN  ANGELS. 
 
 &«&.  ©fialts  Sit.  aSatrtr. 
 
 There  is  a  blessed  angel, 
 A  form  of  light  and  grace, 
 
 That  ever  watchful,  near  thee 
 Keeps  his  appointed  place  : 
 
 His  wings  are  meekly  folded, 
 His  eyes  are  downward  cast, 
 
 For  he  will  never  leave  thy  side, 
 Till  mortal  life  be  past. 
 
 Where  leadest  thou,  dear  angel, 
 This  cherished  one,  thy  charge  ? 
 
 We  would  not  lose  the  sight  of  her 
 In  this  world  so  wild  and  laro;e  : 
 
GUARDIAN    ANGELS.  391 
 
 This  world  so  wild  and  dreary ! 
 
 We  scarce  can  trust  thy  skill 
 To  smooth  her  devious  journey 
 
 O'er  desert  rude,  and  hill. 
 
 ••  In  the  chosen  paths  1  lead  her. 
 
 By  God's  own  wisdom  traced  ; 
 We  shall  not  faint,  nor  weary  grow — 
 
 We  shall  not  strive  nor  haste. 
 
 •  In  ways  ye  could  not  measure, 
 
 In  ways  ye  cannot  see, 
 Ye  may  leave  her, — well  and  wisely, 
 
 To  trust  those  ways  with  me." 
 
 Then  to  thy  safer  guidance. 
 
 0  spirit,  strong  and  good  ! 
 We  trust  her — and  we  follow, 
 
 As  blinder  mortals  should. 
 
 There  are  three  blessed  angels, 
 
 Three  forms  of  light  and  love, 
 That  keep  their  shining  stations 
 
 Thy  sheltered  paths  above  : 
 
 They  spread  their  snowy  pinions. 
 
 Their  looks  are  upward  cast, 
 But  they  will  not  leave  thee  far  behind, 
 
 Till  human  toils  be  past. 
 
392  GUARDIAN    ANGELS. 
 
 And  wherefore  do  ye  linger 
 
 So  near  a  child  of  earth  ? 
 For  on  your  lustrous  brows  I  read 
 
 Seals  of  your  heavenly  birth. 
 
 "  We  were  the  guardian  spirits 
 Of  those  that  have  gone  before  ; 
 
 We  walked  beside  thera  day  by  day. 
 Till  they  reached  the  peaceful  shore  : 
 
 Till  they  passed  beyond  the  pearly  gates. 
 To  go  out  thence  no  more. 
 
 "  Then  back  we  turned  with  gladness. 
 
 For  this  our  tender  charge  : 
 Ye  need  not  fear  we  should  lose  her  here. 
 
 In  this  world  so  wild  and  large. 
 
 ••  For  these  outspread  wings  shall  shield  her 
 From  the  glare  of  its  fervid  day  : 
 
 And  their  silver  light,  in  the  darkest  night. 
 Shall  be  shining  on  her  way." 
 
 ( )h  safely  kept  and  guarded  ! 
 
 We  shall  not  doubt  for  thee. 
 Whose  steps  by  God's  own  love  are  watched. 
 
 And  by  these  angels  three. 
 
^JL 
 
 SPIRITS   OF    THE   DEAD. 
 3.  Ht-  P*rfems. 
 
 It  is  a  beautiful  belief, 
 
 That  ever  round  our  head 
 Are  hovering,  on  noiseless  wing, 
 
 The  spirits  of  the  dead. 
 
 It  is  a  beautiful  belief, 
 
 When  finished  our  career, 
 That  it  too  will  be  our  destiny 
 
 To  watch  o'er  others  here  : 
 
 To  lend  a  moral  to  the  flower — 
 Breathe  wisdom  on  the  wind — 
 
 To  hold  commune,  at  night's  pure  noon, 
 With  th'  imprisoned  mind  : 
 
 To  bid  the  erring  cease  to  err. 
 And  hope  to  be  forgiven  ; — 
 
 To  bear  away  from  ills  of  clay 
 The  infant  to  its  Heaven. 
 
 Ah !  when  delight  was  found  in  life, 
 
 And  joy  in  every  breath, 
 I  cannot  tell  how  terrible 
 
 The  mystery  of  death  ! 
 
394  GUARDIAN   SPIRITS. 
 
 But  now,  the  past  is  bright  to  me, 
 
 And  all  the  future  clear, 
 For  'tis  my  faith,  that  after  death 
 We  still  shall  linger  here. 
 
 GUARDIAN    SPIRITS. 
 
 3tofirt  (EUiinqj  &fcams. 
 
 Foxd  mourner,  be  this  solace  thine  ; 
 
 Let  Hope  her  healing  charm  impart. 
 And  soothe,  with  melodies  divine, 
 
 The  anguish  of  a  mother's  heart. 
 0,  think  !  the  darlings  of  thy  love, 
 
 Divested  of  this  earthly  clod, 
 Amid  unnumbered  saints  above. 
 
 Bask  in  the  bosom  of  their  God. 
 
 O'er  thee  with  looks  of  love,  they  bend 
 
 For  thee,  the  Lord  of  life  implore  : 
 And  oft  from  sainted  bliss  descend, 
 
 Thy  wounded  quiet  to  restore. 
 Oft  in  the  stillness  of  the  night, 
 
 They  smooth  the  pillows  of  thy  bed  : 
 Oft  till  the  morn's  returning  light. 
 
 Still  watchful  hover  o'er  thv  head. 
 
VISITS   OF   ANGELS.  395 
 
 Hark  !  in  such  strains  as  saints  employ, 
 
 They  whisper  to  thy  bosom,  peace  ; 
 Calm  the  perturbed  heart  to  joy, 
 
 And  bid  the  streaming  sorrow  cease. 
 Then  dry,  henceforth,  the  bitter  tear  ; 
 
 Their  part  and  thine,  inverted  see  : 
 Thou  wert  their  guardian-angel  here, 
 
 They,  guardian-angels,  now  to  thee. 
 
 VISITS    OF   ANGELS. 
 
 Mtb.  $t  m.  morion. 
 
 Whene'er  the  balms  of  night  my  spirit  cumber, 
 I  hear  the  tread  of  angels  without  number, 
 Stealing  on  tiptoe,  through  the  gates  of  slumber. 
 
 Like  the  soft  fires  of  morning,  newly  risen, 
 Around,  on  every  side,  their  pinions  glisten, 
 And  there  are  voices,  unto  which  I  listen  ; 
 
 Voices,  which  strike  upon  my  charmed  ear, 
 Like  the  sweet  music  of  some  distant  sphere, 
 As  if  a  thousand  flutes  were  warbling  near. 
 
 And  with  them  come  sweet  thoughts — joys  long  since 
 
 o'er, 
 And  memories  of  those  that  went  before, 
 Down  to  the  dark  and  distant  Nevermore. 
 
396  VISITS   OF   AH6EL8. 
 
 They  who  passed  hence ! — the  gentle  and  the  lovely, 
 Ebbing  away  from  life,  so  calm  and  slowly. 
 That  death  itself  seemed  beautiful  and  holy. 
 
 And  'mid  them  all.  two  little  forms  that  stand, 
 With  eyes  bent  earthward,  from  that  summer-land. 
 The  fairest  of  that  fair  and  glittering  band. 
 
 And  in  the  air  I  hear  their  gentle  voices 
 Above  the  reach  of  earth's  discordant  noises  : 
 1  hear  them, — and  my  saddened  heart  rejoices. 
 
 Therefore,  whene'er  1  feel  life's  load  of  pain, 
 It  seems  to  me  as  if  heaven's  golden  chain 
 Grew,  link  by  link,  more  beautiful  again. 
 
 For  could  we  fathom  with  unclouded  eyes 
 
 The  viewless  mystery  that  round  us  lies. 
 
 Griefs  would  appear  "but  blessings  in  disguise." 
 
 0.  breaking  hearts !  whose  nights  are  nights  of  weeping  : 
 0,  weary  eyes  ! — that  close — but  know  no  sleeping  : 
 God  has  vouchsafed  to  you  this  holy  keeping. 
 
 He  will  not  leave  you  utterly  forsaken. 
 
 Though  every  comfort  from  your  side  be  taken  : 
 
 Nor  will  He  break  the  reed,  though  bruised  and  shaken. 
 
 From  out  the  waves  of  Death's  dark  rolling  river — 
 Its  gloomy  plunge — its  cold  and  icy  shiver. — 
 His  mighty  ransom  will  your  soul  deliver. 
 
WHITE   WINGS.  397 
 
 For  He,  His  angels  charge  of  thee  hath  given  ; 
 And  though  by  sorrow  here  thou  may'st  be  riven, 
 There  is  a  rest  awaiting  thee  in  heaven  ! 
 
 WHITE    WINGS. 
 
 At  my  feet  the  ocean  surges, 
 
 With  its  never  ceasing  roar  ; 
 Singing  war-songs,  chanting  dirges, 
 
 Evermore — ah,  evermore  ! 
 All  the  sea  is  wild  commotion, — 
 
 All  its  breakers  white  as  shrouds  : 
 While  afar  across  the  ocean 
 
 Spreads  the  shadow  of  the  clouds. 
 But  I  know  the  sun  is  beaming, 
 
 Far  beyond  the  shadow  dark  ; 
 I  can  see  his  radiance  gleaming 
 
 On  some  distant  white-sailed  bark. 
 
 Thus  the  ocean  of  to-morrow 
 
 Breaks  upon  life's  rocky  shore. 
 With  its  turmoil — with  its  sorrow — 
 
 Evermore — ah,  evermore ! 
 But  beyond,  in  furthest  distance, 
 
 Far  beyond  all  earthly  things, 
 We  can  see  the  new  existence 
 
 In  the  gleam  of  angel  wings. 
 
398  "  RURAL   FUNERALS." 
 
 Angel  wings  of  the  departed, 
 Bright  with  rays  of  fairer  skies  ; 
 
 Are  revealed  to  the  true  hearted, 
 Through  the  spirit's  purer  eyes. 
 
 "RURAL    FUNERALS?" 
 
 Here's  a  few  flowers  !  but  about  midnight  more  ; — 
 The  herbs  that  have  on  them  cold  dew  o'  the  night 
 Are  strewings  fittest  for  graves — 
 You  were  as  flowers  now  withered  ;  even  so 
 These  herblets  shall,  which  we  upon  you  strew. 
 
 White  his  shroud  as  the  mountain  snow 
 
 Larded  all  with  sweet  flowers  ; 
 Which  be-wept  to  the  grave  did  go, 
 
 With  true  love  showers. 
 
 With  fairest  flowers, 
 Whilst  summer  lasts,  and  I  live  here  Fidele, 
 I'll  sweeten  thy  sad  grave  :  thou  shalt  not  lack 
 The  flower  that's  like  thy  face,  pale  primrose  :  nor 
 The  azured  hare-bell,  like  thy  veins  ;  no,  nor 
 The  leaf  of  Eglantine  ;  whom  not  to  slander. 
 Outsweeten'd  not  thy  breath. 
 
399 
 
 lt\trrick. 
 Sleep  in  thy  peace,  thy  bed  of  spice, 
 And  make  this  place  all  Paradise  : 
 May  sweets  grow  here  !  and  smoke  from  hence 
 
 Pure  frankincense. 
 Let  balms  and  cassia  send  their  scent 
 From  out  thy  maiden  monument. 
 May  all  the  maids  at  wonted  hours 
 Come  forth  to  strew  thy  tombe  with  flowers  ! 
 May  Virgins  when  they  come  to  mourn 
 Sweete  incense  burn  upon  thine  altar ! 
 Then  return,  and  leave  thee  sleeping  in  thine  urn, 
 
 Thus,  thus,  and  thus,  we  compass  round 
 Thy  harmlesse  and  unhaunted  ground. 
 And  as  we  sing  thy  dirge,  we  will 
 
 The  daffodil 
 And  other  flowers  lay  upon 
 The  altar  of  our  love, — thy  stone. 
 
 "  Concern's  lincll." 
 
 A  garland  shall  be  framed 
 
 By  art  and  nature's  skill, 
 Of  sundry  colored  flowers 
 
 In  token  of  good-will 
 And  sundry-color'd  ribands 
 
 On  it  I  will  bestow 
 But  chiefly  black  and  yellowe 
 
 With  her  to  grave  shall  goe. 
 
400 
 
 I'll  deck  her  tomb  with  flowers, 
 
 The  rarest  ever  seen  ; 
 And  with  my  tears  as  showers 
 
 I'll  keep  them  fresh  and  grcene. 
 
 Many  precious  rates 
 And  customs  of  our  rural  ancestry 
 Are  gone,  or  stealing-  from  us  ;  this,  I  hope. 
 Will  last  forever.     What  traveller — who — 
 (How  far  so'er  a  stranger)  does  not  own 
 The  bond  of  brotherhood,  when  he  sees  them  go. 
 A  mute  procession  on  the  houseless  road  ; 
 In  passing  by  some  single  tenement 
 Or  clustered  dwellings,  where  again  they  raise 
 The  monitory  voice  ?     But  most  of  all 
 It  touches,  it  confirms  and  elevates, 
 Then,  when  the  body,  soon  to  be  consigned 
 Ashes  to  ashes,  dust  bequeathed  to  dust 
 Is  raised  from  the  Church  aisle,  and  thus  borne 
 Upon  the  shoulders  of  the  next  in  love, 
 The  dearest  in  affection,  or  in  blood  ; 
 Yea,  by  the  very  mourners  who  had  knelt 
 Beside  the  coffin,  resting  on  its  lid. 
 In  silent  grief  their  unuplifted  heads, 
 And  heard  the  Psalmist's  mournful  plaint, 
 And  that  most  awful  Scripture,  which  declares 
 We  shall  not  sleep,  but  we  shall  all  be  changed  ! 
 
 he  that  suffers  most 
 
401 
 
 He  outwardly,  and  inwardly,  perhaps, 
 The  most  serene,  with  most  undaunted  eye  ! 
 0  !  blest  are  they  who  live  and  die  like  these, 
 Loved  with  such  love,  and  with  such  sorrow  mourned  ! 
 
 "BEAR     OUT    THE    DEAD." 
 
 Aye,  carry  out  your  dead ! 
 
 They  have  won  rest : — 
 Theirs  was  the  burden,  and  the  heat  of  day — 
 Now  smoothe  the  shining  hair,  the  white  hands  lay 
 
 Folded  upon  the  breast. 
 
 The  fluttering  heart  is  still ! 
 
 No  hope — no  care  ! 
 In  moveless  calm — the  gentle  throbbings  cease  ; 
 The  marble  forehead  bears  the  seal  of  peace, 
 
 Its  smile,  the  lips  still  wear. 
 
 Therefore,  "  bear  out  the  dead/' 
 
 Where  earthly  calm 
 May  image  that  which  they  have  surely  won, 
 Where  careless  feet  the  hallowed  path  shall  shun, 
 
 Nor  careless  hands  work  harm. 
 26 
 
402  THE  GRAVES  OF  A  HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 Daisies  and  violets, 
 
 The  snow-white  rose, 
 The  trailing  ivy,  o'er  their  graves  shall  wreathe, 
 And  solemn  chants  the  lingering  south  winds  breathe, 
 
 And  fir  and  cypress  grows. 
 
 No  taint  of  sin  or  shame 
 
 The  rippling  tide, 
 Bears  from  the  distant  city,  clearly  seen — 
 The  waters  roll  their  clear  bright  wave-  between. 
 
 And  Life  from  Death  divide. 
 
 They  ask  this  rest  of  thee, 
 
 All  faith  to  prove, 
 In  the  fair  stillness,  eloquent  to  teach — 
 The  Sabbath  calm  of  Heaven,  surpassing  speech — 
 
 The  dead  ye  mourn  and  love ! 
 
 THE    GRAVES    OF    A    HOUSEHOLD 
 
 iHrs.  "phmans. 
 
 They  grew  in  beauty  side  by  side, 
 They  filled  one  home  with  glee  ; 
 
 Their  graves  are  severed,  far  and  wide 
 By  mount,  and  stream,  and  sea. 
 
THE  GRAVES  OP  A  HOUSEHOLD.  403 
 
 The  same  fond  mother  bent  at  night 
 
 O'er  each  fair  sleeping  brow  ; 
 She  had  each  folded  flower  in  sight — 
 
 Where  are  those  dreamers  now  ? 
 
 One,  'midst  the  forest  of  the  west, 
 
 By  a  dark  stream  is  laid  : 
 The  Indian  knows  his  place  of  rest, 
 
 Far  in  the  cedar  shade. 
 
 The  sea,  the  blue,  lone  sea  hath  one 
 
 He  sleeps  where  pearls  lie  deep  ; 
 He  was  the  loved  of  all,  yet  none 
 
 O'er  his  low  bed  may  weep. 
 
 One  sleeps  where  southern  vines  are  dressed, 
 
 Above  the  noble  slain  : 
 He  wrapped  his  colors  round  his  breast, 
 
 On  a  blood-red  field  in  Spain. 
 
 And  one,  o'er  her  the  myrtle  showers 
 
 Its  leaves,  by  soft  winds  faDned  ; 
 She  faded  'midst  Italian  flowers — 
 
 The  last  of  that  loved  band. 
 
 And  parted  thus,  they  rest,  who  played 
 
 Beneath  the  same  green  tree, 
 Whose  voices  mingled  as  they  prayed 
 
 Around  one  mother's  knee. 
 
404  DIRGE. 
 
 They  that  with  smile?  lit  up  the  hall 
 And  cheered  with  song  the  hearth- 
 Alas  for  love!  if  thou  wert  all, 
 
 And  nought  beyond,  0  Earth ! 
 
 BIB  GE. 
 
 X.  m.  3L 
 
 Lay  her  in  the  gentle  earth, 
 Where  the  summer  maketh  mirth, 
 Where  young  violets  have  birth 
 
 Where  the  lily  bendeth. 
 Lay  her  there,  the  lovely  one, 
 With  the  rose  her  funeral  stone, 
 And  for  tears,  such  showers  alone 
 
 As  the  rain  of  April  lendeth. 
 
 From  the  midnight's  quiet  hour 
 Will  come  dews  of  holy  power 
 O'er  the  sweetest  human  flower 
 
 That  was  ever  loved. 
 But  she  was  too  fair  and  dear 
 For  our  troubled  pathway  here  : — 
 Heaven,  that  was  her  natural  sphere. 
 
 Has  its  own  removed. 
 
THE    PAST. 
 
 38rj)attt. 
 
 •  Thou  unrelenting  Past ! 
 Strong  are  the  barriers  round  thy  dark  domain. 
 
 And  fetters  sure  and  fast, 
 Hold  all  that  enter  thy  unbreathing  reign. 
 
 Far  in  thy  realm  withdrawn 
 Old  empires  set,  in  sullenness  and  gloom, 
 
 And  glorious  ages  gone, 
 Lie  deep,  within  the  shadow  of  thy  womb. 
 
 Childhood,  with  all  its  mirth 
 Youth,  manhood,  age  that  draws  us  to  the  ground. 
 
 And  last,  man's  life  on  earth, 
 Glide  to  thy  dim  dominions,  and  are  bound. 
 
 Thou  hast  my  better  years, 
 Thou  hast  my  earlier  friends — the  good,  the  kind, 
 Yielded  to  thee  with  tears — 
 The  venerable  form — the  exalted  mind. 
 
 My  spirit  yearns  to  bring 
 The  lost  ones  back — yearns  with  desire  intense, 
 
 And  struggles  hard  to  wring 
 Thy  bolts  apart,  and  pluck  thy  captives  thence. 
 
406  THE   PAST. 
 
 Iii  vain,  thy  gate?  deny 
 All  passage,  save  to  those  who  hence  depart  : 
 
 Nor  to  the  streaming  eye 
 Thou  gives t  them  back. — nor  to  the  breaking  heart. 
 
 In  thy  abysses  hide. 
 Beauty  and  excellence,  unknown  to  thee — 
 
 Earth's  wonder  and  her  pride 
 Are  gathered,  as  the  waters  to  the  sea. 
 
 Labors  of  good  to  man. 
 Unpublished  charity — unbroken  faith — 
 
 Love,  that  'midst  grief  began. 
 And  grew  with  years,  nor  faltered  e'en  in  death. 
 
 Full  many  a  mighty  name. 
 Lurks  in  thy  depths,  forgotten,  unrevered  : 
 
 With  thee,  have  silent  fame. 
 Forgotten  arts,  and  wisdom,  disappeared. 
 
 Thine,  for  a  space  are  they — 
 Yet,  -halt  thou  yield  thy  treasures  up  at  last  : 
 
 Thy  gates  shall  yet  give  way. 
 Thy  bolts  shall  fall,  inexorable  Past! 
 
 All  that  is  good  and  fair 
 That's  gone  into  thy  womb  from  earliest  time. 
 
 Shall  then  come  forth  to  wear 
 The  glory  and  the  beauty  of  its  prime. 
 
DIRGE    FOR   A   YOUNG   GIRL.  407 
 
 They  have  not  perished — no  ! 
 Kind  words,  remembered  voices  once  so  sweet, — 
 
 Smiles,  radiant  long  ago, 
 And  features — the  great  soul's  apparent  seat. 
 
 All  shall  come  back — each  tie 
 Of  pure  affection  shall  be  knit  again  : 
 
 Alone  shall  evil  die, 
 And  Sorrow  dwell  a  prisoner  in  thy  reign. 
 
 And  then  shall  I  behold 
 Him,  by  whose  kind  paternal  side  I  sprang  ; 
 
 And  her,  who  still  and  cold, 
 Fills  the  next  grave — the  beautiful  and  young ! 
 
 DIRGE   FOR    A     YOUNG     GIRL 
 
 3anws  ®.  jFielb. 
 
 Underneath  the  sod  now  lying, 
 Dark  and  drear 
 
 Sleepeth  one,  who  left  in  dying- 
 Sorrow  here. 
 
 Yes,  they're  ever  bending  o'er  her 
 
 Eyes  that  weep  ; 
 Forms  that  to  the  cold  grave  bore  her 
 
 Vigils  keep. 
 
408  ••  FOB    EVERMORE." 
 
 When  the  summer  moon  is  shining 
 
 Soft  and  fair. 
 Friends  she  loved,  in  tears  are  twining 
 
 Chaplets  there. 
 
 Rest  in  peace,  thou  gentle  spirit, 
 
 Throned  above  : 
 Souls  like  thine,  with  God  inherit 
 
 Life  and  love. 
 
 "FOR    E  YE  R  MO  RE." 
 
 *-j3uWm  Hnaursitii  iHaga^inc." 
 
 Two  worlds  there  are.     To  one  our  eyes  we  strain. 
 Whose  magic  joys  we  shall  not  see  again  : 
 Bright  haze  of  morning  veils  its  glimmering  shore, 
 
 Ah  !  truly  breathed  we  there 
 
 Intoxicating  air  : — 
 Glad  were  our  hearts  in  that  sweet  realm  of  Nevermore ! 
 
 The  lover,  there,  drank  her  delicious  breath. 
 Whose  love  has  yielded  since,  to  change  or  death  : 
 The  mother  kissed  her  child,  whose  days  are  o'er. 
 
 Alas  !  too  soon  have  fled 
 
 The  ne'er  returning  dead  : 
 V\  e  see  them — visions  strange — amid  the  Nevermore. 
 
409 
 
 The  merry  songs  some  maidens  used  tn  sing, 
 The  brown,  brown  hair,  that  once  was  wont  to  cling- 
 To  temples  long  clay-cold — to  the  very  core 
 
 They  strike  our  weary  hearts ! 
 
 As  some  vexed  memory  starts 
 From  that  long-faded  land,  the  realm  of  Nevermore! 
 
 It  is  perpetual  summer  there — but  here 
 
 Sadly  do  we  remember  rivers  clear, 
 
 And  hare-bells  quivering  on  the  meadow  floor  : 
 For  brighter  bells  and  bluer, 
 For  tender  hearts  and  truer, 
 
 People  that  happy  land— the  land  of  Nevermore  ! 
 
 Upon  the  frontier  of  this  shadowy  land 
 We,  pilgrims  of  eternal  sorrow,  stand  ; — 
 What  realm  lies  forward,  with  its  happier  store 
 
 Of  forests  green  and  deep, 
 
 Of  valleys  hushed  in  sleep. 
 And  lakes  most  peaceful  ?     'Tis  the  land  of  Evermore ! 
 
 Very  far  off  its  marbled  cities  seem  ; 
 Very  far  off — beyond  our  sensual  dream. 
 [ts  woods  unruffled  by  the  wild  wind's  roar. 
 
 Yet  does  the  turbulent  surge 
 
 Howl  on  its  very  verge  - 
 One  moment,  and  we  breathe  within  the  Evermore ! 
 
 They  whom  we  loved  and  lost  so  long  ago. 
 Dwell  in  those  cities,  far  from  mortal  woe, 
 
410  RUINS. 
 
 Haunt  those  fresh  woodlands,  whence  sweet  whispers  soar. 
 
 Eternal  peace  have  they  ; 
 
 God  wipes  their  tears  away  ; 
 They  drink  that  Fount  of  life  which  flows  for  Evermore ! 
 
 Thither  we  hasten,  through  these  rivers  dim  ; 
 But  lo  !  the  white  wings  of  the  Seraphim 
 Shine  in  the  sunset  on  that  joyous  shore  ! 
 
 There,  our  light  hearts  shall  know 
 
 The  life  of  long  ago  ! — 
 The  sorrow-burdened  past  shall  fade  for  Evermore ! 
 
 E  UINS. 
 
 Then — where  the  yellow  sand 
 
 Covers  old  Egypt's  land  ; 
 Where  by  the  Xile  the  huge  pyramid  towers  ; 
 
 Dwelt  the  proud  race  of  old. 
 
 Rich  in  their  pomp  and  gold  ; 
 Strong  were  their  fortresses,  lovely  their  bowers 
 
 Thebes,  with  her  hundred  gates, 
 
 Ruled  o'er  her  vassal  states. 
 Worshipers  knelt  before  Luxor's  great  fane, 
 
 Kings,  in  their  cars  of  pride, 
 
 Rode  through  the  portals  wide — 
 Without  to  conquer,  and  within  to  reign. 
 
THE    DEAD    AEE    EVERYWHERE.  411 
 
 Now — o'er  those  ruins  vast 
 
 Sweeps  the  cold  desert  blast, 
 Through  the  rent  arch  and  the  lone  crumbling  stair  ; — 
 
 There  doth  the  wild  fox  prowl. 
 
 There  doth  the  jackal  howl. 
 Finding  in  chambers  of  fair  queens  his  lair. 
 
 Thus  is  all  human  pride 
 
 Slighted  and  cast  aside  ; — 
 Thus  the  world's  idols,  and  who  in  them  trust  ; 
 
 Even  on  their  triumph's  spot 
 
 Are  their  proud  names  forgot ! 
 While  the  cold  desert  winds  sweep  o'er  their  dust. 
 
 THE   DEAD    ARE   EVERYWHERE. 
 
 The  dead  are  everywhere  ! 
 The  mountain  side,  the  plain,  the  wood  profound, 
 All  the  wide  earth,  the  fertile  and  the  fair, 
 
 Is  one  vast  burial-ground  ! 
 
 Within  the  populous  streets. 
 In  solitary  homes,  in  places  high, 
 In  pleasure's  domes,  where  pomp  and  luxury  meet, 
 
 Men  bow  themselves  to  die. 
 
 The  old  man  at  his  door, 
 The  unweaned  child,  murmuring  its  little  song, 
 The  bondman  and  the  free,  the  rich,  the  poor, 
 
 All — all  to  death  belong  ! 
 
412  THE    DEAD    ARE    EVERYWHERE. 
 
 The  sunlight  gilds  the  walls 
 Of  kingly  sepulchres  inlaid  with  brass  ; 
 And  the  long  shadow  of  the  cypress  falls 
 
 Athwart  the  common  grass. 
 
 The  living  of  gone  time 
 Builded  their  glorious  cities  by  the  sea  j 
 And  awful  in  their  greatness  sat  sublime, 
 
 As  if  no  change  could  be. 
 
 There  was  the  eloquent  tongue  ; 
 The  poet's  heart — the  sage's  soul  was  there  ; 
 And  loving  women,  with  their  child  en  young, 
 
 The  faithful  and  the  fair. 
 
 They  were,  but  they  are  not. 
 Suns  rose  and  set,  and  earth  put  on  her  bloom  : 
 Whilst  man,  submitting  to  the  common  lot, 
 
 Went  down  into  the  tomb. 
 
 And  still  amid  the  wrecks 
 Of  mighty  generations  passed  away, 
 Earth's  honest  growth,  the  fragrant  wild-flower  decks 
 
 The  tombs  of  yesterday. 
 
 And  in  the  twilight  deep 
 Go  veiled  women  forth,  like  her  who  went — 
 Sister  of  Lazarus — to  the  grave  to  weep, 
 
 To  breathe  in  low  lament. 
 
THE   DEPARTED.  413 
 
 The  dead  are  everywhere  ! 
 Where'er  is  love,  or  tenderness,  or  faith  ; 
 Where'er  is  pleasure,  pomp,  or  pride  ;  where'er 
 
 Life  is.  or  was,  is  death  ! 
 
 THE    DEPAR  TED. 
 
 iJPark  33c::jam;n. 
 
 The  departed  !  the  departed  ! 
 
 They  visit  us  in  dreams, 
 And  they  glide  athwart  our  memories, 
 
 Like  shadows  over  streams  ; 
 But  where  the  cheerful  lights  of  home 
 
 In  constant  lustre  burn, 
 The  departed,  the  departed 
 
 Can  never  more  return  ! 
 
 The  good,  the  brave,  the  beautiful, 
 
 How  dreamless  is  their  sleep, 
 Where  rolls  the  dirge-like  music 
 
 Of  the  ever-tossing  deep  ! 
 Or  where  the  surging  night-winds 
 
 Pale  winter's  robes  have  spread 
 Above  the  narrow  palaces, 
 
 h\  the  cities  of  the  dead  ! 
 
414  THE    DEPARTED. 
 
 I  look  around,  and  feel  the  awe 
 
 Of  one  who  walks  alone 
 Among  the  wrecks  of  former  days, 
 
 In  mournful  ruin  strewn  ; 
 1  start  to  hear  the  stirring  sounds 
 
 Among  the  cypress-trees, 
 For  the  voice  of  the  departed 
 
 Is  borne  upon  the  breeze. 
 
 That  solemn  voice  !  it  mingles  with 
 
 Each  free  and  careless  strain  ; 
 I  scarce  can  think  earth's  minstrelsy 
 
 Will  cheer  my  heart  again. 
 The  melody  of  summer  waves, 
 
 The  thrilling  notes  of  birds, 
 Can  never  be  so  dear  to  me 
 
 As  their  remembered  words. 
 
 I  sometimes  dream  their  pleasant  smiles 
 
 Still  on  me  sweetly  fall ; 
 Their  tones  of  love  I  faintly  hear 
 
 My  name  in  sadness  call. 
 I  know  that  they  are  happy, 
 
 With  their  angel  plumage  on  , 
 But  my  heart  is  very  desolate 
 
 To  think  that  they  are  gone. 
 
/    SEE    THEE    STILL. 
 
 (Sharks  .Spracjue. 
 
 I  see  thee  still : 
 Remembrance,  faithful  to  her  trust, 
 Calls  thee  in  beauty  from  the  dust ; — 
 Thou  comest  in  the  morning  light, 
 Thou  'rt  with  me  through  the  gloomy  night ; 
 In  dreams  I  meet  thee  as  of  old  : 
 Then  thy  soft  arms  my  neck  infold, 
 And  thy  sweet  voice  is  in  my  ear, 
 In  every  scene  to  memory  dear 
 
 I  see  thee  still. 
 
 I  see  thee  still 
 In  every  hallowed  token  round  : 
 This  little  ring  thy  finger  bound   ; 
 This  lock  of  hair  thy  forehead  shaded  ; 
 This  silken  chain  by  thee  was  braided  ; 
 These  flowers,  all  withered  now,  like  thee, 
 Sweet  sister,  thou  didst  cull  for  me  ; 
 This  book  was  thine — here  didst  thou  read  ; 
 This  picture — ah,  yes,  here,  indeed, 
 
 I  see  thee  still. 
 
 I  see  thee  still  : 
 Here  was  thy  summer  noon's  retreat ; 
 Here  was  thy  favorite  fireside  seat  j 
 
41 6  OUR    YOUNGEST. 
 
 This  was  thy  chamber — here,  each  day, 
 I  sat  and  watched  thy  sad  decay  : 
 Here,  on  this  bed.  thou  last  didst  lie  : 
 Here,  on  this  pillow,  thou  didst  die. 
 Dark  hour  !  once  more  its  woes  unfold. - 
 As  then,  I  saw  thee,  pale  and  cold, 
 I  sec  thee  still. 
 
 I  see  thee  still  : 
 Thou  art  not  in  the  grave  confined — 
 Death  cannot  chain  the  immortal  mind  ; 
 Let  earth  close  o'er  its  sacred  trust, 
 But  goodness  dies  not  in  the  dust. 
 Thee,  0  my  sister  !  ;tis  not  thee 
 Beneath  the  coffin's  lid  1  see  : 
 Thou  to  a  fairer  land  art  gone  ;  — 
 There,  let  me  hope,  my  journey  done, 
 
 To  see  thee  still. 
 
 0  UR     TO  UXGEST. 
 
 SHfcffiut. 
 
 As  one  who  held  herself  a  part 
 Of  all  who  saw.  and  let  her  heart 
 
 Against  the  household  bosom  lean. 
 Upon  the  motley  braided  mat 
 Our  youngest  and  our  dearest  sat ; 
 
OUR   YOUNGEST.  417 
 
 Lifting  her  large,  sweet,  asking  eyes, 
 
 Now  bathed  within  the  fadeless  green 
 And  holy  peace  of  Paradise. 
 0,  looking  from  some  heavenly  hill, 
 
 Or  from  the  shade  of  saintly  palms, 
 
 Or  silver  reach  of  river  calms, 
 Do  those  large  eyes  behold  me  still  ? 
 With  me  one  little  year  ago  ! 
 The  chill  weight  of  the  winter  snow 
 
 For  months  upon  her  grave  has  lain  ; 
 And  now,  when  summer  south  winds  blow, 
 
 And  brier  and  harebell  bloom  again, 
 I  tread  the  pleasant  paths  we  trod, 
 I  see  the  violet-sprinkled  sod 
 Whereon  she  leaned,  too  frail  and  weak, 
 The  hillside  flowers  she  loved  to  seek- 
 Yet  following  me  where'er  I  went 
 With  dark  eyes  full  of  love's  content. 
 The  birds  are  glad  ;  the  brier-rose  fills 
 The  air  with  sweetness  ;  all  the  hills 
 Stretch  green  to  June's  unclouded  sky  ; 
 But  still  I  wait  with  ear  and  eye 
 For  something  gone,  which  should  be  nigh  : 
 A  loss  in  all  familiar  things, 
 In  flower  that  blows,  and  bird  that  sings. 
 And  yet,  dear  heart !  remembering  thee. 
 
 Am  I  not  richer  than  of  old  ? 
 Safe  in  thy  immortality, 
 What  change  can  reach  the  wealth  I  hold  ? 
 What  chance  can  mar  the  pearl  and  gold 
 27 
 
418 
 
 Thy  love  hath  left  in  trust  with  me  ? 
 And  while  in  life's  late  afternoon, 
 
 Where  cool  and  long  the  shadows  grow 
 1  walk  to  meet  the  night  that  soon 
 
 Shall  shape  and  shadow  overflow. 
 1  cannot  feel  that  thou  art  far. 
 Since  near  at  need  the  angels  are  : — 
 And  when  the  sunset  gates  unbar, 
 
 Shall  I  not  see  thee  waiting  stand. 
 And  white  against  the  evening  star, 
 
 The  welcome  of  thy  beckoning  hand  ? 
 
 THE    SHADOW    O'ER     THE    HOUSEHOLD 
 
 Mmciurfjoriur  fb"Iaga?int. 
 
 A  shadow  broods  o'er  the  household, 
 
 A  shadow  still  and  deep  : 
 1  feel  its  presence  round  my  heart 
 
 Like  a  thrill  of  suffering  creep. 
 
 1  look  out  in  the  sunshine 
 
 That  bathes  the  earth  in  light  ; 
 And  the  voice  of  Nature  murmureth  low 
 
 Her  manifold  delight. 
 
 But  the  shadow — oh  !  close  it  falleth 
 
 Through  the  dim  and  dusky  air. 
 And  we  whisper  low,  and  with  light  footfall 
 
 We  press  the  echoing  stair. 
 
THE  SHADOW  o'ER  THE  HOUSEHOLD.        419 
 
 And  yet  so  still  she  sleeps  alone, 
 
 In  that  chamber  cold  and  dim  ; 
 No  noise  from  this  busy  world  without 
 
 Can  reach  her  world  within. 
 
 The  shadow  cast  from  the  old  pine-tree. 
 
 Flickers  upon  her  face. 
 Mocking  the  play  of  the  features  rare, 
 
 In  their  pure  and  chiseled  grace. 
 
 And  the  wind  stirreth  tresses  long  and  brown, 
 
 'Tis  but  the  wind  alone  ; 
 Sad  tears  are  tilling  our  eyes,  to  see 
 
 How  still  she  sleepeth  on. 
 
 The  sorrow  that  broods  o'er  the  household, 
 
 Marks  every  weary  brow  ; 
 Hers  only  is  calm  and  peaceful, — 
 
 She  heeds  no  sorrow  now  : — 
 
 She  whose  warm  heart  felt  ever 
 
 The  woes  of  other  hearts, — 
 Whose  sympathizing  eye  could  draw 
 
 The  sting  of  suffering's  darts. 
 
 The  shadow  o'er  the  household  ! 
 
 The  shadow  from  Death's  black  wing 
 Shall  fill  our  souls  with  anguish 
 
 Of  a  life-long  suffering  ! 
 
FOOTSTEPS    OF    AX  GELS. 
 
 ELoncjftllofo. 
 
 When  the  hours  of  day  are  numbered, 
 
 And  the  voices  of  the  night 
 Wake  the  better  soul  that  slumbered 
 
 To  a  holy,  calm  delight  : 
 
 Ere  the  evening  lamp  is  lighted, 
 And  like  phantoms  grim  and  tall, 
 
 Shadows  from  the  fitful  fire-light 
 Dance  upon  the  parlor  wall  ; 
 
 Then  the  forms  of  the  departed 
 
 Enter  at  the  open  door  ; 
 The  beloved,  the  true-hearted, 
 
 Come  to  visit  me  once  more. 
 
 He,  the  young  and  strong,  who  cherished 
 Noble  longings  for  the  strife. 
 
 By  the  roadside  fell  and  perished, 
 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. 
 
FOOTSTEPS    OF    ANGELS.  421 
 
 And  with  them,  the  being  beauteous 
 
 Who  unto  my  youth  was  given 
 More  than  all  things  else,  to  love  me, 
 
 And  is  now  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  saint-like, 
 
 Looking  downward  from  the  skies. 
 
 Uttered  not,  yet  comprehended, 
 
 Is  the  spirit's  voiceless  prayer, 
 Soft  rebukes,  in  blessings  ended, 
 
 Breathing  from  her  lips  of  air. 
 
 O,  though  oft  depressed  and  lonely, 
 
 All  my  fears  are  laid  aside, 
 If  I  but  remember  only 
 
 Such  as  these  have  lived  and  died. 
 
THE   LOCK    OF   HAIR. 
 
 aifcrt  ILaifl&ttm. 
 
 A  simple  lock  of  golden  hair  ; 
 A  sacred  relic  kept  with  care — 
 A  memory  of  one  so  fair. 
 
 That  angels  left  their  hymning  band, 
 And  came  to  earth,  to  take  his  hand. 
 And  lead  him  to  the  Unseen  Land. 
 
 But  ere  he  trod  the  starry  way 
 That  leadeth  to  Eternal  Day  ;— 
 As  calm  and  beautiful  he  lay. 
 
 This  curling  tress  of  golden  hair, 
 This  sacred  relic,  kept  with  care, 
 She  gathered  from  his  forehead  fair. 
 
 0,  lingering  o'er  the  treasure  long. 
 A  thousand  tender  memories  throng. 
 She  hears  again  his  cradle  song ! 
 
 And  yesternight,  before  she  slept, 
 She  pressed  it  to  her  lips  and  wept ; 
 Warm  tear-drops  down  her  pale  face  crept. 
 
 While  to  her  aching  heart  she  said. 
 "  Why  mourn'st  thou  so.  that  he  is  dead  ? 
 He  sleepeth  in  a  peaceful  bed  ; 
 
"  ONLY   A    YEAR."  423 
 
 God  calleth  him  to  a  sweet  repose — 
 And  he  hath  slept  through  winter  snows. 
 Till  now  the  dewy  violet  blows 
 
 Above  his  grave, — soft  mosses  spring, 
 And  birds,  with  free  and  happy  wing. 
 All  day  their  heaven-tuned  praises  sing. 
 
 Ah,  yes,  with  joy,  the  April  rain 
 
 Thrills  Nature's  breast, — but  mine  with  pain 
 
 Sigheth — he  will  never  come  again  !" 
 
 "  ON L  Y    A     YEAR." 
 
 iRrs.  ffct  £3.  Stofoc. 
 
 Oxe  year  ago, — a  ringing  voice, 
 
 A  clear  blue  eye, 
 And  clustering  curls  of  sunny  hair 
 
 Too  fair  to  die. 
 
 Only  a  year ! — no  voice,  no  smile. 
 
 No  glance  of  eye. 
 No  clustering  curls  of  golden  hair. 
 
 Fair,  but  to  die  ! 
 
 One  year  ago — what  loves,  what  schemes 
 
 Far  into  life ! 
 What  joyous  hopes,  what  high  resolves. 
 
 What  generous  strife ! 
 
424 
 
 The  silent  picture  on  the  wall, 
 
 The  burial-stone. 
 Of  all  that  beauty,  life,  and  joy. 
 Remain  alone ! 
 
 One  year — one  year — one  little  year — 
 
 And  so  much  gone ! 
 And  yet  that  even  flow  of  life 
 
 Moves  calmly  on. 
 
 The  grave  grows  green,  the  flowers  bloom  fair 
 
 Above  that  head  : 
 Xo  sorrowing  tint  of  leaf  or  spray 
 
 Says  lie  is  dead. 
 
 Xo  pause  or  hush  of  merry  birds 
 
 That  sing  above. 
 Tells  us  how  coldly  sleeps  below 
 
 The  form  wc  love. 
 
 Where  hast  thou  been  this  year,  beloved  ? 
 
 What  hast  thou  seen? 
 What  visions  fair — what  glorious  life 
 
 Where  thou  hast  been  ? 
 
 The  veil !  the  veil !  so  thin,  so  strong ! 
 
 'Twixt  us  and  thee  : 
 That  mystic  veil!  when  shall  it  fall. 
 
 That  we  may  see? 
 
THOU    WILT    NEVER    GROW    OLD.  42; 
 
 Not  dead,  not  sleeping,  not  even  gon: — 
 But  present  still. 
 
 And  waiting  for  the  coming  hour 
 Of  God's  sweet  will. 
 
 Lord  of  the  living  and  the  dead. 
 
 Our  Saviour  dear ! 
 We  lay  in  silence  at  Thy  feet 
 
 This  sad.  sad  year! 
 
 THOU     WILT    XEVER     GROW    OLD. 
 
 iHrs.  I^oboartf). 
 
 Thou  wilt  never  grow  old. 
 
 Nor  weary,  nor  sad.  in  the  home  of  thy  birth  ; 
 My  beautiful  lily,  thy  leaves  will  unfold 
 
 In  a  clime  that  is  purer  and  brighter  than  earth  : 
 
 0  holy  and  fair,  1  rejoice  thou  art  There — 
 
 In  that  kingdom  of  light,  with  its  cities  of  gold  : 
 Where  the  air  thrills  with  ana'el  hosannas.  and  where 
 Thou  wilt  never  grow  old.  sweet — 
 Never  grow  old  ! 
 
 1  am  a  pilgrim  with  sorrow  and  sin 
 
 Haunting  my  footsteps,  wherever  I  go  ; 
 Life  is  a  warfare  my  title  to  win — 
 Well  it  be,  if  it  end  not  in  woe! 
 
4-26  THOU    WILT   NEVER   GROW   OLD. 
 
 Pity  inc.  sweet.  I  am  laden  with  care  : 
 
 Dark  arc  my  garments  with  mildew  and  mould ; 
 Thou,  my  bright  angel,  art  sinless  and  fair, 
 
 And  wilt  never  grow  old.  sweet — 
 Never  grow  old ! 
 
 Now  canst  thou  hear,  from  thy  home  in  the  skies. 
 
 All  the  fond  words  I  am  whispering  to  thee? 
 Dost  thou  look  down  on  me.  with  those  soft  eyes 
 
 Greeting  me  oft.  ere  thy  spirit  was  free  ? 
 So  I  believe,  though  the  shadows  of  Time 
 
 Hide  the  bright  spirit  I  yet  shall  behold  ; 
 Thou  wilt  still  love  me,  and.  pleasure  sublime! 
 Thou  wilt  never  grow  old.  sweet — 
 Never  grow  old  ! 
 
 Thus  wilt  thou  be.  when  the  pilgrim,  grown  gray. 
 
 Weeps  when  the  vines  from  the  hearthstone  are  riven  ; — 
 Faith  shall  behold  thee,  as  pure  as  the  day 
 
 Thou  wert   torn   from   the  earth,  and   transplanted   to 
 Heaven. 
 0  holy  and  fair.  I  rejoice  thou  art  There. 
 
 In  that  kingdom  of  light,  with  its  cities  of  gold, 
 Where  the  air  thrills  with  angel  hosannas,  and  where 
 Thou  wilt  never  grow  old,  sweet — 
 Never  grow  old ! 
 
THEY    SHALL     BE    MINE. 
 
 "  They  shall  be  mine !  "  Oh,  lay  tliera  down  to  slumber. 
 
 Calm  in  the  strong  assurance  that  He  gives  ; 
 He  calls  them  by  their  names,  He  knows  their  number. 
 
 And  they  shall  live  as  surely  as  He  lives. 
 
 "  They  shall  be  mine  !  "  upraised  from  earthly  pillows. 
 
 Gathered  from  desert  sands,  from  mountains  cold — 
 Called  from  the  caves  beneath  Old  Ocean's  billows, 
 
 Called  from  each  distant  land,  each  scattered  fold. 
 
 Well  might  the  soul — that  wondrous  spark  of  being, 
 Lit  by  His  breath  who  claims  it  for  His  own, 
 
 Shine  in  the  circle  which  His  love  foreseeing, 
 Destined  to  glitter  brightest  by  His  throne. 
 
 But  shall  the  dust,  from  earthly  dust  first  taken, 
 And  now  long  mingled  with  its  native  earth, 
 
 To  life,  to  beauty  once  again  awaken, 
 
 Thrill  with  the  rapture  of  a  second  birth  ? 
 
 "  They  shall  be  mine  !  " — they,  as  on  earth  we  knew  them, 
 The  lips  we  kissed,  the  hands  we  loved  to  press, 
 
 Only  a  fuller  life  be  circling  through  them — 
 Unfading  youth,  unchanging  loveliness. 
 
 "  They  shall  be  mine ! "  children  of  sin  and  sorrow 
 
 Giv'st  Thou,  0  Lord  !  Heaven's  almost  verge  to  them  ? 
 
 No  ;  from  each  rifled  grave  Thy  crown  shall  borrow 
 An  added  light — a  prized  and  costly  gem. 
 
428  BROKEN   TIES. 
 
 "  They  shall  be  mine !  "  Thought  fails,  and  feeling  falters, 
 Striving  to  sound  and  fathom  Love  Divine  ; — 
 
 All  that  we  know — no  time  Thy  promise  alters — 
 All  that  we  trust — our  loved  ones  shall  be  Thine. 
 
 BROKEN    TIES. 
 
 3.  ittcmtc$onur;D. 
 
 The  broken  ties  of  happier  days, 
 
 How  often  do  they  seem 
 To  come  before  our  mental  gaze 
 
 Like  a  remembered  dream  ! 
 Around  us,  each  dissevered  chain 
 
 In  sparkling  ruin  lies, 
 And  earthly  hand  can  ne'er  again 
 
 Unite  those  broken  ties. 
 
 The  parents  of  our  youthful  home, 
 
 The  kindred  that  we  loved. 
 Far  from  our  arms  perchance  may  roam, 
 
 To  desert  seas  removed  ; 
 Or  we  have  watched  their  parting  breath, 
 
 And  closed  their  weary  eyes, 
 And  sighed  to  think  how  sadly  death 
 
 Can  sever  human  ties  ! 
 
 The  friends,  the  loved  ones  of  our  youth, 
 They,  too,  are  gone  or  changed  ; 
 
BROKEN   TIES.  429 
 
 Or,  worse  than  all,  their  love  and  truth 
 
 Are  darkened  or  estranged. 
 They  meet  us  in  the  glittering  throng. 
 
 With  cold,  averted  eyes, 
 And  wonder  that  we  weep  their  wrong, 
 
 And  mourn  o'er  broken  ties. 
 
 Oh,  who  in  such  a  world  as  this 
 
 Could  bear  their  lot  of  pain, 
 Did  not  one  radiant  hope  of  bliss 
 
 Unclouded  yet  remain  ? 
 That  hope  the  sovereign  Lord  has  given, 
 
 Who  reigns  above  the  skies  ; 
 Hope,  that  unites  our  souls  to  Heaven 
 
 By  Faith's  enduring  ties. 
 
 Each  care,  each  ill  of  mortal  birth, 
 
 Is  sent  in  pitying  love, 
 To  lift  the  lingering  heart  from  earth. 
 
 And  speed  its  flight  above  ; 
 And  every  pang  that  wrings  the  breast, 
 
 And  every  joy  that  dies, 
 Tell  us  to  seek  a  purer  rest, 
 
 And  trust  to  holier  ties. 
 
LOST    TREASURES. 
 
 Let  us  be  patient.     God  has  taken  from  us 
 The  earthly  treasures  upon  which  we  leaned, 
 That  from  the  fleeting  things  which  lie  around  us, 
 Our  clinging  hearts  should  be  forever  weaned. 
 
 They  have  passed  from  us — all  our  broad  possessions, 
 Ships,  whose  white  sails  flung  wide  past  distant  shores: 
 Lands,  whose  rich  harvests  smiled  in  the  glad  sunshine, 
 Silver  and  gold,  and  all  our  hoarded  stores. 
 
 And  dearer  far  the  pleasant  home  where  gathered 
 Our  loved  and  loving  round  the  blazing  hearth  ; 
 Where  honored  age  on  the  soft  cushions  rested. 
 And  childhood  played  about,  in  frolic  mirth. 
 
 Where,  underneath  the  softened  light,  bent  kindly 
 The  mother's  tender  glance  on  daughters  fair  ; 
 And  he,  on  whom  all  leant,  with  fond  confiding, 
 Rested  contented  from  his  daily  care. 
 
 All  shipwrecked,  in  one  common  desolation  ! — 
 The  garden  walks  by  other  feet  are  trod  : 
 The  clinging  vines  by  other  fingers  tutored 
 To  fling  their  shadows  o'er  the  grassy  sod. 
 
HOMES.  431 
 
 Let  us  be  cheerful !     The  same  sky  o'erarches — 
 Soft  rain  falls  on  the  evil  and  the  good  ; 
 On  narrow  walls,  and  through  our  (nimbler  dwelling, 
 God's  glorious  sunshine  pours  as  rich  a  flood. 
 
 Our  life  is  not  in  all  these  brief  possessions  ; 
 Our  home  is  not  in  any  pleasant  spot ; — 
 Pilgrims  and  strangers,  we  must  journey  onward, 
 Contented  with  the  portion  of  our  lot. 
 
 These  earthly  walls  must  shortly  be  dismantled  : 
 These  earthly  tents  be  struck  by  angel  hands  ; — 
 But  to  be  built  up  on  a  sure  foundation. 
 There,  where  our  Father's  mansion  ever  stands  ! 
 
 There  shall  we  meet — parent  and  child,  and  dearer 
 That  earthly  love,  which  makes  a  heaven  of  home  ; 
 There  shall  we  find  our  treasures  ! — all  awaiting. 
 Where  change,  and  death,  and  parting  never  come. 
 
 HOMES. 
 
 How  beautiful  a  world  were  ours, 
 But  for  the  pale  and  shadowy  One 
 
 That  treadeth  on  its  pleasant  flowers 
 And  stalketh  in  its  sun  ! 
 
432  HOMES. 
 
 Glad  childhood  needs  the  lore  of  time 
 To  show  the  phantom  overhead  ; 
 
 But  where  the  breast,  before  its  prime 
 That  beareth  not  its  dead — 
 
 The  moon  that  looketh  on  whose  home 
 
 In  all  its  circuit,  sees  no  tomb  ? 
 
 It  was  an  ancient  tyrant's  thought 
 
 To  link  the  living  with  the  dead  : 
 Some  secret  of  his  soul  had  taught 
 
 That  lesson  dark  and  dread. 
 And,  oh  !  we  bear  about  us  still 
 
 The  dreary  moral  of  his  art — 
 Some  form  that  lieth  pale  and  chill 
 
 Upon  each  living  heart, 
 Tied  to  the  momory,  till  a  wave 
 Shall  lay  them  in  one  common  grave ! 
 
 To  boyhood,  hope — to  manhood,  fears  1 
 
 Alas  !  alas  !  that  each  bright  home 
 Should  be  a  nursing-place  of  tears. 
 
 A  cradle  for  the  tomb  ! 
 If  childhood  seeth  all  things  loved, 
 
 Where  home's  uushadowy  shadows  waive, 
 The  old  man's  treasure  hath  remove;1. — 
 
 He  looketh  to  the  grave ! 
 For  grave  and  home  lie  sadly  blent 
 Wherever  spreads  yon  firmament. 
 
HOMES.  433 
 
 A  few  short  years,  and  then  the  boy 
 
 Shall  miss,  beside  the  household  hearth, 
 Some  treasure  from  his  store  of  joy. 
 
 To  find  it  not  on  earth. 
 A  shade  within  its  saddened  walls 
 
 Shall  sit,  in  some  beloved's  room, 
 And  one  dear  name  he  vainly  calls, 
 
 Be  written  on  a  tomb  ; — 
 And  he  have  learnt,  from  all  beneath. 
 His  first  sad  bitter  taste  of  death  ! 
 
 And  years  glide  on,  till  manhood's  come  ; — 
 
 And  where  the  young  glad  faces  were. 
 Perchance  the  once  bright  happy  home 
 
 Hath  many  a  vacant  chair. 
 A  darkness  from  the  church-yard  shed 
 
 Hath  fallen  on  each  familiar  room. 
 And  much  of  all  home's  light  hath  fled 
 
 To  moulder  in  the  tomb — 
 And  household  gifts  that  memory  saves, 
 But  help  to  count  the  household  graves. 
 
 Then  homes  and  graves  the  heart  divide. 
 
 As  they  divide  the  outer  world  ; 
 But  drearier  days  must  yet  betide. 
 
 Ere  sorrow's  wings  be  furled  ; 
 When  more  within  the  church-yard  lie 
 
 Than  sit  and  sadly  smile  at  home. 
 Till  home,  unto  the  old  man's  eye 
 
 Itself  appears  a  tomb — 
 28 
 
434  STARLIGHT. 
 
 And  his  tired  spirit  asks  the  grave 
 For  all  the  home  he  longs  to  have ! 
 
 It  shall  be  so  !  it  shall  be  so  ! — 
 
 Go,  bravely  trusting — trusting  on. 
 Bear  up  a  few  short  years,  and  lo  ! 
 
 The  grave  and  home  are  one  ! — 
 And  then,  the  bright  ones  gone  before 
 
 Within  another,  happier  home, 
 Are  waiting — fonder  than  before, 
 
 Until  the  loved  ones  come. 
 A  home,  where  but  the  Life-trees  waive  ! 
 Like  childhood's — That  home  hath  no  grave ! 
 
 STARLIGHT. 
 
 Darkling  methinks  the  path  of  life  is  grown. 
 
 And  solitude  and  sorrow  close  arouod  ; 
 My  fellow-travelers  one  by  one  are  gone, 
 
 Their  home  is  reached — but  mine  must  still  be  found. 
 
 The  sun  that  set  as  the  last  bowed  his  head. 
 
 To  cross  the  threshold  of  his  resting-place, 
 Has  left  the  world  devoid  of  all  that  made 
 
 Its  business,  pleasure,  happiness  and  grace. 
 
 But  1  have  still  a  desert  path  to  trace  : — 
 Nor  with  the  day  has  my  day's  work  an  end  ; 
 
 And  words  and  shadows  through  the  cold  air  chase. 
 
 And  earth  looks  dark  where  walked  we  friend  with  friend. 
 
MEMORY.  435 
 
 And  yet,  thus  wildered,  not  without  a  guide, 
 
 I  wander  on  amid  the  shades  of  night ; 
 My  home-fires  gleam,  methinks,  and  round  them  glide 
 
 My  friends  at  peace,  far  off,  but  still  in  sight. 
 
 For,  through  the  closing  gloom,  mine  eyesight  goes 
 Further  in  Heaven  than  when  the  sky  was  bright ; 
 
 And  There,  as  earth  still  dark  and  darker  grows, 
 Shines  out  for  every  shade,  a  world  of  light. 
 
 MEMORY. 
 
 When  fall  the  evening  shadows,  long  and  deep,  across  the 
 
 hill  ; 
 When  all  the  air  is  fragrance,  and  all  the  breezes  still  ; 
 When  the  summer  sun  seems  passing  above  the  mountain's 
 
 brow. 
 As  if  he  left  reluctantly  a  scene  so  lovely  now  : — 
 
 Then  I  linger  on  the  pathway,  and  I  fondly  gaze  and  long. 
 As  if  reading  some  old  story,  those  deep  purple  clouds 
 
 among  ; 
 Then  memory  approaches,  holding  up  her  magic  glass, 
 Pointing  to  familiar  figures,  which  across  the  surface  pass. 
 
 And  often  do  I  question,  as  I  view  that  phantom  train. 
 Whether  most  with  joy  or  sadness  I  behold  them  thus 
 again  ? 
 
430  MEMORY. 
 
 They  are  there — those  scenes  of  beauty,  where  life's  bright- 
 est hours  have  fled. 
 
 And  I  haste  with  dear  companions  the  old  path.-  again  to 
 tread. 
 
 But  suddenly  dissolving,  all  the  loveliness  is  flown. 
 
 And  I  find  a  thorny  wilderness,  which  I  must  walk  alone. 
 
 Thou  art  there,  so  loved  and  honored,  as  in  each  former 
 
 hour, 
 When  we  read  thine  eye's  deep  meaning,  when  we  heard 
 
 thy  words  of  power  ; — 
 
 When  our  souls  as  willing  captives  have  sought  to  follow 
 
 thine. 
 Tracing  th'e  eternal  footsteps  of  Might  and  Love  Divine. 
 But  o'er  that  cherished  image  falls  a  veil  of  clouds  and 
 
 gloom. 
 And  beside  a  bier  I  tremble — or  I  weep  above  a  tomb. 
 And  ever  will  the  question  come,  0  Memory !  airain. 
 Whether  in  thy  magic  mirror  there  is  most  of  bliss  or  pain  ? 
 Would  I  not  wish  the  brightness  were  forever  hid  from  view, 
 If  but  those  hours  of  darkness  could  be  all  forirotten  too  ? 
 
 Then,  weary  and  desponding,  my  spirit  seeks  to  rise 
 Away  from  earthly  conflicts,  from  mortal  smiles  or  sighs. 
 1  do  not  think  the  blessed  ones  with  Jesus  have  forgot 
 The  changing  joys  and  sorrows  which  once  marked  their 
 earthlv  lot. 
 
PHANTOMS.  437 
 
 But  now,  on  Memory's  record,  their  eyes  can  calmly  dwell  ; 
 They  can  see,  what  here  they  trusted — God  hath  done  all 
 
 things  well. 
 And  vain  regrets  and  longings   are  as  old  things  passed 
 
 away  ; — 
 No  shadows  dim  the  sunshine  now  of  that  Eternal  Day ! 
 
 PHANTOMS. 
 
 As  now  within  my  winter's  fire  I  look, 
 
 I  seem  to  see 
 Pictures  and  shapes,  that  seem  to  gaze  at  me 
 Like  midnight  stars,  from  some  clear  summer  brook, 
 O'er  which  no  cloud  its  mist-line  flag  hath  shook. 
 
 A  palace — then  a  prison  starts  before  me 
 
 With  battlements  ; 
 That  frown  austerely  o'er  besieging  tents, 
 'Mid  which  the  shadow  Death  stalks  red  and  stormy, 
 Whirling  his  blazing  banner  sternly  o'er  me. 
 
 Faces  beloved,  but  passed  away,  I  see — 
 
 The  beautiful ! 
 Whose  hearts  with  mine — taught  in  the  same  fond  school. 
 Brake  in  the  strife  which  hath  but  shattered  me, 
 Whose  harsher  nature  braved  grief's  agony. 
 
438  PHANTOMS. 
 
 The  beautiful,  the  dear,  the  true  are  there  ! — 
 
 The  false  likewise  : — 
 The  false  and  cruel,  with  their  cunning  eves. 
 Or  smiling,  with  a  presence  insincere, 
 That  but  for  burning  flames  would  chill  all  near. 
 
 I  look  on  scenes,  piled  in  the  blazing  grate, 
 
 Of  early  clays ! 
 My  pastoral  home,  whence  first  I  sought  the  ways 
 That  lead  from  passionate  love  to  bitter  hate, 
 Through  the  entangling  maze  of  man's  estate. 
 
 The  hills  of  Scotland,  and  the  woods  of  Ind, 
 
 Gleam  in  that  glow ! 
 Struggles  and  strifes — the  battle  and  the  brow 
 Laureled,  but  bloody,  in  the  fire  I  find , 
 With  graves  of  loved  ones,  'mid  grass-shaking  wind. 
 
 Scent-eloquent  flowers,  and  inarticulate  weeds 
 
 Before  me  speak 
 Pathetic  sentences,  that  nearly  break 
 My  heart  with  memories  of  such  love  as  leads 
 Downward  through  death,  where  life  to  death  succeeds. 
 
 Stir,  stir  the  fire  !  destroy  the  spectral  strife 
 
 rj  hat  shows  the  Past ! — 
 Give  me  the  Xow — nor  let  me  look  aghast 
 On  grieving  graves,  with  but  the  Human  rife  : — 
 Onward  the  Future  shines,  bright  with  Immortal  Life ! 
 
II A  UN  TED. 
 
 3o|)ix  Sabacjc. 
 
 I  am  haunted  by  a  spirit 
 
 Everywhere  I  go  ; 
 That  I'm  near  it,  yet  not  near  it, 
 
 I  too  sadly  know. 
 
 When  I'm  hushed  and  sorrow-laden. 
 
 'Tis  a  solace  there  ; — 
 When  my  heart  would  clasp  its  maiden 
 
 Figure, — it  is  air. 
 
 Now  deluded,  now  hope-nurtured — 
 
 I  am  curs'd  and  blest, 
 Till  I  crave  for  this  o'ertortured 
 
 Frame,  eternal  rest. 
 
 Yet  the  spirit  looms  about  me. 
 
 Like  a  thought  decreeing 
 As  I  from  it — it  without  me — 
 
 Cannot  have  a  being. 
 
 I  am  in  the  city's  mazes 
 
 'Mid  ten  thousand  men — 
 There  the  spirit's  sweet  sad  nice  is 
 
 Smiling,  just  as  when 
 
44H  HAUNTED. 
 
 In  the  midnight,  it  from  study 
 
 All  my  soul  has  drawn  ; 
 Or  when  it,  at  morning  ruddy. 
 Smiles  a  rival  dawn. 
 
 Sometimes  it  is  sad  and  lonely — 
 
 Sometimes  like  a  psalm. 
 A  sacred,  solemn  joy — this  only 
 
 When  I'm  very  calm. 
 
 Sometimes  'tis  as  bright  as  dew.  that 
 
 Pushed  from  opening  bud. 
 Steals  the  light  it  first  falls  through. 
 
 And  gilds  e'en  the  sod. 
 
 Sometimes  'tis  a  gloomy  grandeur — 
 
 Sorrow  unconfessed — 
 Whose  loud  silence  would  comaiand  your 
 
 Life  to  calm  its  breast : 
 
 Sometimes  smiling  as  a  dreaming 
 
 Child,  the  thoughts,  alas  ! 
 Of  the  soul  on  lips  are  beaming. 
 
 That  they  cannot  pass. 
 
 Sometimes,  but,  0  heart,  some  feature 
 
 Bless  in  silent  prayer  ! 
 All  times  seeming,  'tis  some  creature 
 
 Rare,  exceeding  fair ! 
 
THE  HAUNTED  PALACE.  441 
 
 So,  two  shadow's  dim  distraction 
 
 Dial  every  motion  ; — 
 One,  which  points  my  body's  action, 
 
 One,  my  soul's  devotion. 
 
 THE   HAUNTED    PALACE. 
 
 Ix  the  greenest  of  our  valleys, 
 
 By  good  angels  tenanted, 
 Once  a  fair  and  stately  palace, 
 
 (Snow-white  palace)  reared  its  head. 
 In  the  monarch  Thought's  dominions 
 
 It  stood  there ! 
 Never  seraph  spread  a  pinion 
 
 Over  fabric  half  so  fair. 
 
 Banners,  yellow,  glorious,  golden, 
 
 On  its  roof  did  float  and  flow  ; — 
 (This,  all  this,  was  in  the  olden 
 
 Time,  long  ago. ) 
 And  every  gentle  air  that  dallied 
 
 In  that  sweet  day, 
 Along  the  ramparts  plumed  and  pallied, 
 
 A  winged  odor  went  away. 
 
 Wanderers  in  that  happy  valley 
 
 Through  two  luminous  windows  saw 
 
 Spirits  moving  musically, 
 To  a  lute's  well-tuned  law  ; 
 
442  THE  HAUNTED  PALACE. 
 
 Round  about  a  throne,  where,  sitting 
 
 (Porphyrogcnc !) 
 In  state,  his  glory  well-befitting, 
 
 The  ruler  of  the  realm  was  seen. 
 
 And  all  with  pearl  and  ruby  glowing, 
 
 Was  that  fair  palace  door, 
 Through  which  came  flowing,  flowing,  flowing, 
 
 And  sparkling  evermore, 
 A  troop  of  echoes,  whose  sweet  duty 
 
 Was  only  to  sing, 
 In  voices  of  surpassing  beauty 
 
 The  wisdom  of  their  king. 
 
 But  evil  things,  in  robes  of  sorrow, 
 
 Assailed  that  monarch's  high  estate  ; 
 (Ah !  let  us  mourn — for  never  morrow 
 
 Shall  dawn  upon  him — desolate  !) 
 And  round  about  his  home,  the  glory 
 
 That  blushed  and  bloomed, 
 Is  but  a  dim-remembered  story, 
 
 Of  the  old  time  entombed. 
 
 And  travelers  now,  within  that  valley, 
 
 Through  the  red-litten  windows,  see 
 Vast  forms,  that  move  fantastically 
 
 To  a  discordant  melody. 
 While,  like  a  rapid  ghastly  river. 
 
 Through  the  pale  door, 
 A  hideous  throng  rush  out  forever, 
 
 And  laugh — but  smile  no  more. 
 
HAUNTED    HOUSES. 
 
 BLongftllofo. 
 
 All  houses  wherein  men  have  lived  and  died 
 Are  haunted  houses.     Through  the  open  doors 
 
 The  harmless  phantoms  on  their  errands  glide, 
 With  feet  that  make  no  sound  upon  the  floors. 
 
 We  meet  them  on  the  doorway,  on  the  stair, — 
 Along  the  passages  they  come  and  go  ; 
 
 Impalpable  impressions  on  the  air — 
 A  sense  of  something  moving  to  and  fro. 
 
 There  are  more  guests  at  the  table  than  the  host 
 
 Invited  ;  the  illuminated  hall 
 Is  thronged  with  quiet,  inoffensive  ghosts, 
 
 As  silent  as  the  pictures  on  the  wall. 
 
 The  stranger  at  my  fireside  cannot  see 
 
 The  forms  I  see,  nor  hear  the  sounds  I  hear ; 
 
 He  but  perceives  >what  is — while  unto  me 
 All  that  has  been  is  visible  and  clear. 
 
 We  have  no  title  deeds  to  house  or  lands  ; — 
 Owners  and  occupants  of  other  dates, 
 
 From  graves  forgotten,  stretch  their  dusty  hands, 
 And  hold  in  mortmain  still  their  old  estates. 
 
 The  spirit-world  around  this  world  of  sense 
 Floats  like  an  atmosphere,  and  everywhere 
 
 Wafts  through  these  earthly  mists  and  vapors  dense, 
 A  vital  breath  of  more  ethereal  air. 
 
444  OLD    FAMILIAR   FACES. 
 
 Our  little  lives  are  kept  in  equipoise 
 By  opposite  attractions  and  desires  ; 
 
 The  struggle  of  the  instinct  that  enjoys. 
 And  the  more  noble  instinct  that  aspires. 
 
 The  perturbations,  the  perpetual  jar 
 Of  earthly  wants,  and  aspirations  high, 
 
 Come  from  the  influence  of  that  unseen  star — 
 That  undiscovered  planet  in  our  sky. 
 
 And  as  the  moon,  from  some  dark  gate  of  cloud. 
 
 Throws  o?er  the  sea  a  floating  bridge  of  light. 
 Across  whose  trembling  planks  our  fancies  crowd 
 
 Into  the  realms  of  mystery  and  night 
 
 So,  from  the  world  of  spirits,  there  descends 
 A  bridge  of  light,  connecting  it  with  this. 
 
 O'er  whose  unsteady  floor  that  sways  and  bends, 
 Wander  our  thoughts  above  the  dark  abyss. 
 
 OLD    FAMILIAR    FACES. 
 
 CUxlts  lamb. 
 
 I  have  had  playmates.  I  have  had  companions, 
 In  my  days  of  childhood,  in  my  joyful  school-days 
 All.  all  are  gone,  the  old  familiar  faces ! 
 
 I  have  been  laughing.  I  have  been  carousing. 
 Drinking  late,  sitting  late,  with  my  bosom  cronies 
 All,  all  are  a'one,  the  old  familiar  faces! 
 
445 
 
 I  loved  a  love  once,  fairest  among  women  ! 
 Closed  are  her  doors  on  me,  I  must  not  see  her — 
 All,  all  are  2:011c  the  old  familiar  faces ! 
 
 &' 
 
 I  had  a  friend,  a  kinder  friend  had  no  man  ; 
 Like  an  ingrate,  I  left  my  friend  abruptly  ; 
 Left  him  to  muse  on  old  familiar  faces. 
 
 Ghost-like  I  paced  round  the  haunts  of  my  childhood. 
 Earth  seemed  a  desert  I  was  bound  to  traverse, 
 Seeking  to  find  the  old  familiar  faces. 
 
 Friend  of  my  bosom,  thou  more  than  a  brother, 
 Why  wert  not  thou  born  in  my  father's  dwelling  ? 
 So  we  talk  of  the  old  familiar  faces  ? — 
 
 How  some  they  have  died,  and  some  they  have  left  me, 
 And  some  are  taken  from  me  ;  all  are  departed ! 
 All,  all  are  gone,  the  old  familiar  faces ! 
 
 "LO  VED    ONCE." 
 
 JHrs.  $3roixminig;. 
 
 I  classed — appraising  once 
 Earth's  lamentable  sounds — the  well  aday 
 
 The  jarring  yea  and  nay  ; — 
 The  fall  of  kisses  on  unconscious  clay  ; — 
 
446  "loved  once." 
 
 The  sobbed  farewell — the  welcome  mournfully  ; 
 
 But  all  did  leaven  the  air 
 With  a  less  bitter  leaven  of  sure  despair 
 
 Than  these  words — "  I  loved  once."* 
 
 Aud  who  saith.  "  I  loved  once?" 
 Not  angels,  whose  clear  eyes  love,  love  foresee, 
 
 Love  through  eternity, 
 Who.  by  To  Love,  do  apprehend  To  Be. 
 Xot  God- -called  Love,  his  noble  crown-name  casting, 
 
 A  light  too  broad  for  blasting ! 
 The  great  God.  changing  not.  from  everlasting, 
 
 Saith  never,  "  I  loved  once." 
 
 How  say  ye.  "  We  loved  once," 
 Blasphemers !     Is  your  earth  not  cold  enow, 
 
 Mourners,  without  that  snow  ? 
 Ah,  friends !  and  would  ye  wrong  each  other  so  ? 
 And  could  ye  say  of  some,  whose  love  is  known. 
 
 Whose  prayers  have  met  your  own  : 
 Whose  tears  have  fallen  for  you,  whose  smiles  have  shone. 
 
 Such  words — "  We  loved  them  once  ?" 
 
 Could  ye,  i;  We  loved  her  once." 
 Say  cold  of  me  when  further  put  away 
 
 In  earth's  sepulchred  clay  ? 
 When  mute  the  lips  which  deprecate  to-day  ? 
 Xot  so  !  not  then— least  then  !     When  Life  is  shriven, 
 
 And  Death's  full  joy  is  given. — 
 Of  those  who  sit  and  love  you  up  in  Heaven, 
 
 Sav  not,  •'  We  loved  them  once." 
 
HALLOWED    GROUND.  447 
 
 Say  never  ye  loved  once ! 
 God  is  too  near  above,  the  grave  below — 
 
 And  all  our  moments  go 
 Too  quickly  past  our  souls,  for  saying  so. 
 The  mysteries  of  Life  and  Death  avenge 
 
 Affection's  light  of  range — 
 There  comes  no  change,  to  justify  that  change, 
 
 Whatever  comes. — i;  Loved  once  1" 
 
 HALLO  WEB    GRO UND. 
 
 (Eamp&cII. 
 
 That's  hallowed  ground — where  mourned  and  missed. 
 The  lips  repose  our  lips  have  kissed  : — 
 But  where's  their  memory's  mansion  ?     Is't 
 
 Your  church-yard's  bowers  ? 
 No — in  ourselves  their  souls  exist 
 
 A  part  of  ours. 
 
 A  kiss  can  consecrate  the  ground, 
 Where  mated  hearts  are  mutual  bound  : 
 The  spot  where  love's  first  links  were  wound, 
 
 That  ne'er  are  riven, 
 Is  hallowed,  down  to  earth  profound. 
 
 And  up  to  Heaven ! 
 
 What  hallows  ground  where  heroes  sleep  ? 
 'Tis  not  the  sculptured  piles  you  heap ! — 
 
448  SUXXY    DAYS    IX    WINTER. 
 
 In  dews  that  heavens  far  distant  weep. 
 
 Their  turf  may  bloom  ; 
 Or  Genii  twine  beneath  the  deep 
 
 Their  coral  tomb  : 
 
 But  strew  his  ashes  to  the  wind, 
 
 Whose  sword  or  voice  has  served  mankind  ; 
 
 And  is  he  dead,  whose  glorious  mind 
 
 Lifts  them  on  high  ? — 
 To  live  in  hearts  we  leave  behind, 
 
 Is  not  to  die. 
 
 What's  hallowed  ground  ?     'Tis  what  gives  birth 
 To  sacred  thoughts  in  souls  of  worth  ! 
 Peace !  Independence !  Truth !  go  forth 
 
 Eart'hs  compass  round  ; 
 And  your  high  priesthood  shall  make  the  earth 
 
 All  hallowed  ground. 
 
 SUNNY  DAYS   IN    WINTER. 
 "  Sufilin  SSnfojrstts  iHajjajinc." 
 
 Summer  is  a  glorious  season, 
 
 Warm,  and  bright,  and  pleasant — 
 
 But  the  past  is  not  a  reason 
 To  depise  the  present. 
 
SUNNY   DAYS   IN   WINTER.  449 
 
 So  while  health  can  climb  the  mountain, 
 
 And  the  log  lights  up  the  hall. 
 There  are  sunny  clays  in  Winter, 
 After  all ! 
 
 Spring,  indeed,  hath  faded  from  us, 
 
 Maiden-like  in  charms  ; 
 Summer,  too,  with  all  her  promise, 
 
 Perished  in  our  arms. 
 But  the  memory  of  the  vanished, 
 
 Whom  our  hearts  recall, 
 Maketh  sunny  days  in  Winter, 
 After  all ! 
 
 True,  there's  scarce  a  flower  that  bloometh  ; 
 
 All  the  best  are  dead  ; — 
 But  the  wall-flower  still  perfumeth 
 
 Yonder  garden-bed. 
 And  the  lily-flowered  arbutus 
 
 Hugs  its  coral  ball. 
 There  are  sunny  days  in  Winter, 
 After  all ! 
 
 Summer  trees  are  pretty — very, 
 
 And  I  love  them  well  ; 
 But  the  Holly's  glistening  berry 
 
 None  of  them  excel. 
 While  the  fir  can  warm  the  landscape, 
 
 And  ivy  clothes  the  wall, 
 There  are  sunny  days  in  Winter, 
 After  all ! 
 29 
 
450 
 
 Sunny  hours  in  every  season 
 
 Wait  the  innocent — 
 Those  who  taste  with  love  and  reason 
 
 What  their  God  hath  sent. 
 Those  who  neither  soar  too  highly, 
 
 Nor  too  lowly  fall, 
 Feel  the  sunny  days  in  Winter, 
 After  all ! 
 
 Then,  although  our  darling  treasures 
 
 Vanish  from  the  heart. 
 Then,  although  our  once-loved  pleasures 
 
 One  by  one  depart  ; 
 Though  the  tomb  loom  in  the  distance, 
 
 And  the  mourning  pall  ; — 
 There  is  sunshine — and  no  Winter, 
 After  all ! 
 
 THE   HEART'S  MELODIES. 
 
 "  Ctamficrs'  journal." 
 
 Listen  !  listen !  full  is  ever 
 
 This  wide  world  with  music  true  : 
 
 Naught  can  still  it,  mar  it  never — 
 Naught  that  hate  or  wrong:  can  do. 
 
 Gentle,  humble,  all  who  tremble 
 While  fierce  passions  round  them  jar, 
 
 Shall  hear  whispers  that  resemble 
 Angel  voices  from  afar. 
 
SPARE    MY    HEART   FROM   GROWING    OLD  !  451 
 
 None  so  weary,  none  so  lonely, 
 
 But  some  heart  responsive  gives 
 Beat  for  beat ; — and  Love  need  only 
 
 Touch  the  chords — and  music  lives. 
 
 Though  the  world  with  darkness  blendeth. 
 Though  the  woods  be  hushed  and  drear, 
 
 Though  the  lone  flower,  trembling,  bendeth 
 As  the  cold  wind  moaneth  near. 
 
 Morn  shall  come  ; — again  from  blindness 
 
 All  to  life  and  glory  start ; — 
 So,  like  light — one  touch  of  kindness 
 
 Wakes  the  music  of  the  Heart ! 
 
 SPARE  MY  HEART  FROM    GRO  WING 
 OLD! 
 
 Old  Time.  I  ask  a  boon  of  thee — 
 
 Thou'st  stripped  my  heart  of  many  a  friend, 
 Ta'en  half  my  joys,  and  all  my  glee. 
 
 Be  just,  for  once,  to  make  amend  ; — 
 And  since  thy  hand  must  leave  its  trace, 
 
 Turn  locks  to  gray,  warm  blood  to  cold. 
 Do  what  thou  wilt  with  form  and  face, 
 
 But  spare  my  heart  from  growing  old  ! 
 
452  TWILIGHT    REVERIES. 
 
 1  know  thou'st  ta'en  from  many  a  mind 
 
 Its  dearest  wealth,  its  cherished  store, 
 And  only  lingering  left  behind, 
 
 O'erwisc  Experience  ;  (bitter  lore  !) 
 'Tis  sad  to  mark  the  mind's  decay, 
 
 Feel  wit  grow  dim,  and  memory  cold — 
 Take  these,  old  Time  ; — take  all  away, 
 
 But  spare  my  heart  from  growing  old ! 
 
 Give  me  to  live  with  Friendship  still, 
 
 And  Hope  and  Love  till  life  be  o'er — 
 Let  be  the  first,  the  final  chill, 
 
 That  bids  the  bosom  bound  no  more. 
 That  so,  when  I  am  passed  away, 
 
 xlnd  in  my  grave  lie  slumbering  cold, 
 With  fond  remembrance,  friends  may  say, 
 
 "  That  faithful  heart  grew  never  cold !" 
 
 TWILIGHT   REVERIES. 
 
 &l)arIotte  Bront*. 
 
 The  human  heart  has  hidden  treasures 
 
 In  secret  kept,  in  silence  sealed  ; 
 The  thoughts,  the  hopes,  the  dreams,  the  pleasures, 
 
 Whose  charms  were  broken,  if  revealed. 
 
TWILIGHT    REVERIES.  453 
 
 And  days  may  pass  in  gay  confusion, 
 
 And  nights  in  noisy  riot  fly. 
 While,  lost  in  Fame's  or  Wealth's  illusion, 
 
 The  memory  of  the  past  may  die. 
 
 But  there  are  hours  of  lonely  musing, 
 
 Such  as  at  twilight's  silence  come, 
 When  soft  as  birds,  their  pinions  closing, 
 
 The  hearfs  best  feelings  gather  home. 
 Then  in  our  souls  there  seems  to  languish 
 
 A  tender  grief,  that  is  not  woe  ; 
 And  thoughts  that  once  wrung  groans  of  anguish, 
 
 Xow  cause  but  some  mild  tears  to  flow. 
 
 And  feelings,  once  as  strong  as  passions, 
 
 Float  softly  back — a  faded  dream  ; 
 Our  own  sharp  griefs,  and  wild  sensations. 
 
 The  tastes  of  other's  suffering  seem  ; — 
 Oh  !  when  the  heart  is  freshly  bleeding, 
 
 How  longs  it  for  that  time  to  be, 
 When  through  the  mists  of  years  receding. 
 
 Its  woes  but  live  in  reverie  ! 
 
 And  it  can  dwell  on  moonlight  glimmer, 
 
 On  evening  shades  and  loneliness, 
 And  while  the  sky  grows  dim  and  dimmer, 
 
 Feel  no  untold  and  sad  distress  ; — 
 Only  a  deeper  impulse  given 
 
 By  lonely  hour  and  darkened  room, 
 To  solemn  thoughts,  that  soar  to  Heaven, 
 
 Seeking  a  life  and  world  to  come ! 
 
TREAS  URES. 
 
 atolaito  %.  ^rottor. 
 
 Let  me  count  my  treasures, 
 All  my  soul  holds  dear, 
 
 Given  me  by  the  dark  spirits 
 Whom  I  used  to  fear. 
 
 Through  long  days  of  anguish, 
 And  sad  nights,  did  Pain 
 
 Forge  my  shield — Endurance 
 Bright,  and  free  from  stain ! 
 
 Doubt,  in  misty  caverns, 
 'Mid  dark  horrors  sought, 
 
 Till  my  peerless  jewel, 
 Faith,  to  me  she  brought. 
 
 Sorrow,  that  I  wearied 
 Should  remain  so  loug, 
 
 Wreathed  my  starry  glory — 
 The  bright  Crown  of  Song. 
 
 Strife,  tli at  racked  my  spirit 
 Without  hope  or  rest, 
 
 Left  the  blooming  flower, 
 Patience,  on  my  breast. 
 
BLESSINGS.  455 
 
 Suffering,  that  I  dreaded. 
 Ignorant  of  her  charms, — 
 
 Laid  the  fair  child,  Pity, 
 Smiling  in  my  arms. 
 
 So  I  count  my  treasures, 
 Stored  in  days  long  past  — 
 
 And  I  thank  the  givers 
 Whom  I  know  at  last ! 
 
 BLESSINGS. 
 
 Caroline  jFrj), 
 
 For  what  shall  I  praise  Thee,  my  God  and  my  King, 
 For  what  blessings  the  tribute  of  gratitude  bring  ? 
 Shall  I  praise  Thee  for  pleasure,  for  health  or  for  ease, 
 For  the  Spring  of  delight — or  the  sunshine  of  peace  ? 
 Shall  I  praise  Thee  for  flowers  that  bloomed  on  my  breast,, 
 For  joys  in  perspective — for  pleasures  possessed  ? 
 For  the  spirits  that  heightened  my  days  of  delight, 
 And  the  slumbers  that  sat  on  my  pillow  at  night  ? 
 For  this  should  I  praise  Thee  ; — but  if  only  for  this, 
 I  should  leave  half  untold  my  donation  of  bliss. 
 
 I  thank  Thee  for  sickness — for  sorrow — for  care — 
 For  the  thorns  I  have  gathered,  the  anguish  I  bear  ; 
 For  nights  of  anxiety,  watching  and  tears, 
 A  present  of  pain — a  perspective  of  fears  [ 
 
456  MUSIC    AND    FLOWERS. 
 
 1  praise  Thee,  1  bless  Thee,  my  King  and  my  God, 
 For  the  good,  for  the  evil,  Thy  hand  hath  bestowed. 
 The  flowers  were  sweet — but  their  fragrance  is  flown 
 They  yielded  no  fruits — they  are  withered  and  gone ! 
 The  thorn,  it  was  poignant,  but  precious  to  me  ; — 
 ?Twas  the  message  of  mercy  that  led  me  to  Thee ! 
 
 MUSIC    AND    FLOWERS. 
 3.  JF.  Ms&axm. 
 
 When  winter's  snows  have  fled. 
 
 The  wild-birds  sweetly  sing, 
 Ere  from  their  humble  bed 
 
 The  gentle  blossoms  spring. 
 And  with  its  higher  power 
 
 Sweet  music  charms  the  ear, 
 Before  in  field  or  bower 
 
 The  blooming  flowers  appear. 
 
 On  graves  sweet  flowers  may  bloom. 
 
 Where  dear  ones  lowly  lie  ; 
 But  song  survives  the  tomb 
 
 In  hearts  that  live  on  high. 
 A  humbler  boon  of  love. 
 
 The  flowers  to  Earth  are  given — 
 But  for  the  saints  above, 
 
 The  harmonies  of  Heaven ! 
 
BELLS. 
 
 How  sweet  the  tuneful  bells  responsive  peal ! 
 As  when  at  opening  morn,  the  fragrant  breeze 
 Breathes  on  the  trembling  sense  of  wan  disease, 
 
 So  piercing  to  my  heart  their  force  I  feel ! 
 
 And  hark  !  with  lessening  cadence  now  they  fall, 
 And  now,  along  the  wide  and  level  tide 
 They  fling  their  melancholy  music  wide, 
 
 Bidding  me  many  a  tender  thought  recall 
 Of  summer  days,  and  those  delightful  years, 
 
 When  by  my  native  streams,  in  life's  fair  prime, 
 
 The  mournful  magic  of  their  mingling  chime 
 First  waked  my  wondering  childhood  into  tears  ; 
 
 But  seeming  now,  when  all  those  days  are  o'er, 
 
 The  sounds  of  joy,  once  heard— now  heard  no  more! 
 
 FORTUNE-TELLING    BELLS. 
 
 3ratt  3ncjtIofo. 
 
 You  bells  in  the  steeple,  ring,  ring  out  your  changes, 
 
 Plow  many  soever  they  be, 
 And  let  the  brown  meadow-lark's  note  as  he  ranges 
 
 Come  over,  come  over  to  me. 
 
458  THE    OLD    CHURCH-BELL. 
 
 Yet  bird's  clearest  carol,  by  fall  or  by  swelling, 
 
 No  magical  sense  conveys. — 
 And  bells  have  forgotten  their  old  art  of  telling 
 
 The  fortune  of  future  days. 
 
 Poor  bells  !  I  forgive  you  ;  your  good  days  are  over 
 
 And  mine,  they  are  yet  to  be  ; 
 Xo  listening,  no  longing  shall  aught,  aught  discover  - 
 
 You  leave  the  story  to  me. 
 
 I  wait  for  the  day  when  dear  hearts  shall  discover 
 While  dear  hands  are  laid  on  my  head  : 
 
 "  The  child  is  a  woman,  the  book  may  close  over. 
 For  all  the  le-sons  are  said." 
 
 I  wait  for  my  story — the  birds  cannot  sing  it, 
 
 Xot  one.  as  he  sits  on  the  tree  ; 
 The  bells  cannot  ring  it,  but  long  years,  0  bring  it, 
 
 Such  as  I  wish  it  to  be ! 
 
 THE    OLD     CHURCH-BELL. 
 
 It  swings  and  rings,  the  old  church-bell. 
 Fast  for  wedding,  slow  for  knell — 
 Which  is  best  ?     Can  any  tell  ? 
 
 Go  and  ask  her  for  whom  a  knell. 
 Yesterday  morn,  came  from  that  bell  ; — 
 Go  and  ask  her,  if  she  can  tell. 
 
VESPER   BELLS.  459 
 
 She  was  a  year  ago  made  bride — 
 And  he,  who  then  stood  by  her  side 
 
 As  bridegroom,  mourned  not  when  she  died. 
 
 It  swung  and  rung,  that  old  church-bell — 
 
 Fast  for  her  wedding— slow  for  her  knell  : 
 
 Which  was  the  best — can  vou  now  tell  ? 
 
 VESPER    BELLS. 
 €.  £1.  $. 
 
 The  weary  day  at  length  is  past ; 
 
 Pale  shadows  beckon  it  to  rest ; 
 The  slanting  sunbeams,  fading,  cast 
 
 Their  dim  reflection  through  the  west. 
 
 The  song  of  birds,  the  hum  of  bees, 
 The  drowning  insect's  shining  wing 
 
 Are  silent  all — the  evening  breeze 
 Its  plaintive  monotone  doth  sing. 
 
 Now,  holy  bells,  your  chime  begin 
 From  towers  that  bathe  in  sunset  air  ! 
 
 Lift  these  poor  spirits  from  the  sin 
 That  chains  with  fetters  gross  or  fair. 
 
 Speak  of  the  coming  shadowed  night 
 That  preludes  Day  no  more  to  cease  ; 
 
 Speak  of  the  Love  that  gloom  to  light, — 
 And  guide  us  to  the  Perfect  peace ! 
 
VIGILS. 
 
 33isf)op  Coit. 
 
 It  is  the  fall  of  eve, 
 And  the  long  tapers  now  we  light 
 
 And  watch  :  for  we  believe 
 Our  Lord  may  come  at  night. 
 
 Adeste  Fideles. 
 
 An  hour — and  it  is  Seven, 
 And  fast  away  the  evening  rolls  : 
 
 0,  it  is  dark  in  Heaven, 
 But  light  within  our  souls. 
 
 Veni  Creator  Spiritual 
 
 Hark  !  the  old  bell  strikes  Eight ! 
 And  still  we  watch  with  heart  and  ear, 
 
 For  as  the  hour  grows  late. 
 The  Day-Star  may  be  near. 
 
 Jubilate  Deo ! 
 
 Hark  !  it  is  knelling  Nine  ! 
 But  faithful  eyes  grow  never  dim  ; 
 
 And  still  our  tapers  shine, 
 And  still  ascends  our  hymn. 
 
 Cum  Ano:elis ! 
 
VIGILS.  461 
 
 The  watchman  crieth  Ten  ! 
 My  soul,  be  watching  for  the  Light, 
 
 For  when  He  comes  again, 
 ?Tis  as  the  thief  at  night. 
 
 Nisi  Dominus ! 
 
 By  the  old  bell— Eleven ! 
 Now  trim  thy  lamps,  and  ready  stand  ; 
 
 The  world  to  sleep  is  given, 
 But  Jesus  is  at  hand. 
 
 De  Profundis  ! 
 
 At  midnight — is  a  cry  ! 
 Is  it  the  Bridegroom  draweth  near  ? 
 
 Come  quickly,  Lord,  for  I 
 Have  longed  Thy  voice  to  hear ! 
 
 Kyrie  Eleison  ! 
 
 Could  ye  not  watch  one  hour  ? 
 Be  ready  :  or  the  bridal  train 
 
 And  Bridegroom,  with  His  dower, 
 May  sweep  along  in  vain — 
 
 Mis  ere  mei ! 
 
 By  the  old  steeple — Two  ! 
 And  now  1  know  the  day  is  near ! 
 
 Watcb — for  His  word  is  true, 
 And  Jesus  may  appear  ! 
 
 Dies  Irae ! 
 
462  vigils. 
 
 Three — by  the  drowsy  chime  ! 
 And  joy  is  nearer  than  at  first  : 
 
 0.  let  us  watch  the  time 
 When  the  first  light  shall  burst ! 
 
 Sursum  Corda ! 
 
 Four — and  a  streak  of  day  ! 
 At  the  cock-crowing  He  may  come  : 
 
 And  still  to  all  I  say. 
 Watch — and  with  awe  be  dumb. 
 
 Fili  David ! 
 
 Five  ! — and  the  tapers  now 
 In  rosy  morning  dimly  burn  ! 
 
 Stand,  and  be  girded  thou. 
 Thy  Lord  will  yet  return  ! 
 
 Veni  Jesu ! 
 
 Hark  !  'tis  the  Matin  call ! 
 Oh.  when  our  Lord  shall  come  again 
 
 At  prime,  or  even-fall. 
 Blest  are  the  wakeful  men ! 
 
 Nuno  dimittis ! 
 
THE   SABBA  TH. 
 
 Six  3E.  Bultotr  ijittoii. 
 
 Fresh  glides  the  brook,  and  blows  the  gale, 
 Yet  yonder  halts  the  quiet  mill, 
 
 The  whirling  wheel — the  rushing  sail — 
 How  motionless  and  still ! 
 
 Six  days  of  toil,  poor  child  of  Cain, 
 
 Thy  strength  the  slave  of  Want  may  be  ; 
 
 The  seventh — thy  limbs  escape  the  chain — 
 A  God  hath  made  thee  free. 
 
 Ah,  tender  as  the  Law  that  gave 
 This  holy  respite  to  the  breast, 
 
 To  breathe  the  gale,  to  watch  the  wave, 
 And  know  the  wheel  may  rest ! 
 
 But  where  the  waves  the  gentlest  glide, 
 What  image  charms,  to  lift  thine  eyes  ? 
 
 The  spire  reflected  on  the  tide, 
 Invites  thee  to  the  skies. 
 
 To  teach  the  soul  its  nobler  growth, 
 This  rest  from  mortal  toils  is  given  ; — 
 
 Go,  snatch  the  brief  reprieve  from  earth, 
 And  pass — a  guest  to  heaven. 
 
464  PAST    AND    PRESENT    YEARS. 
 
 They  tell  thee,  in  their  dreaming-school, 
 Of  Power,  from  old  dominion  hurled, 
 
 When  rich  and  poor,  with  juster  rule, 
 Shall  share  the  altered  world. 
 
 Alas  !  since  Time  itself  began, 
 
 That  fable  hath  but  fooled  the  hour  ; 
 
 Each  age  that  ripens  Power  in  man, 
 But  subjects  man  to  Power. 
 
 Yet  every  day  in  seven,  at  least 
 One  brief  Republic  shall  be  known. 
 
 Man's  world,  awhile,  has  surely  ceased, 
 When  God  proclaimed  His  own ! 
 
 Six  days  may  Rank  divide  the  poor, 
 0  Dives,  from  thy  banquet-hall — 
 
 The  seventh — the  Father  opes  the  door, 
 And  holds  His  feast  for  all ! 
 
 PAST   AND    PRESENT    YEARS 
 (Tampifll. 
 
 The  more  we  live,  more  brief  appear 
 Our  life's  succeeding  stages  ! 
 
 A  day  to  childhood  seems  a  year, 
 And  years  like  passing  ages. 
 
PAST   AND    PRESENT   YEARS.  465 
 
 The  gladsome  current  of  our  youth, 
 
 Ere  passion  yet  disorders, 
 Steals,  lingering  like  a  river  smooth, 
 
 Along  its  grassy  borders. 
 
 But  as  the  care-worn  cheek  grows  wan, 
 
 And  sorrow's  shafts  fly  thicker, 
 Ye  stars,  that  measure  life  to  man, 
 
 Why  seem  your  courses  quicker  ? 
 
 When  joys  have  lost  their  bloom  and  breath, 
 
 And  life  itself  is  vapid, 
 Why,  as  we  reach  the  Falls  of  death, 
 
 Find  we  its  tide  more  rapid  ? 
 
 It  may  be  strange — yet  who  would  change 
 
 Time's  course  to  slower  speeding, 
 When  one  by  one  our  friends  have  gone, 
 
 And  left  our  bosoms  bleeding  ? 
 
 Heaven  gives  our  years  of  fading  strength 
 
 Indemnifying  fleetness  ; 
 And  those  of  youth,  a  seeming  length, 
 
 Proportioned  to  their  sweetness. 
 
 30 
 
TIME'S  FOOTSTEPS. 
 
 translation  of  an  Ancient  Spanisb  {Jam. 
 
 O,  let  the  soul  its  slumbers  break — 
 Arouse  its  senses,  and  awake 
 
 To  see  how  soon 
 Life,  in  its  glories,  glides  away, 
 And  the  sure  footsteps  of  decay 
 
 Come  stealing  on. 
 
 And  while  we  view  the  rolling  tide, 
 Down  which  our  flowing  footsteps  glide 
 
 Away  so  fast, 
 Let  us  the  present  hour  employ. 
 And  deem  each  future  dream  a  joy 
 
 That  will  not  last. 
 
 Let  no  vain  hope  deceive  the  mind. 
 No  happier  let  us  hope  to  And 
 
 To-morrow  than  to-day  ; — 
 Our  golden  dreams  of  yore  were  bright. 
 Like  them  the  present  shall  delight, 
 
 Like  them  decay. 
 
 Our  lives  like  hastening  streams  must  be. 
 That  into  one  engulfing  sea 
 
 Are  doomed  to  fall — 
 The  sea  of  Death,  whose  waves  roll  on 
 O'er  king  and  kingdom,  crown  and  throne. 
 
 And  swallow  all. 
 
467 
 
 Alike  the  river's  lordly  tide, 
 Alike  the  humble  rivulet's  glide 
 
 To  that  sad  wave  ! 
 Death  levels  poverty  and  pride, 
 And  rich  and  poor  sleep  side  by  side 
 
 Within  the  grave. 
 
 Our  birth  is  but  a  starting-place  ; — 
 Life  but  the  running  of  a  race, 
 
 And  Death  the  goal. 
 There  all  our  glittering  toys  are  brought. 
 That  path  alone,  of  all  unsought, 
 
 Is  found  of  all. 
 
 See,  then,  how  poor  and  little  worth 
 Are  all  the  glittering  toys  of  earth 
 
 That  lure  us  here — 
 Dreams  of  a  sleep  that  Time  must  break. 
 Alas !  before  it  bids  us  wake, 
 
 We  disappear. 
 
 Long  ere  the  damp  of  Death  can  blight, 
 The  cheek's  pure  glow  of  red  and  white 
 
 Has  passed  away. 
 Youth  smiled,  and  all  was  heavenly  fair  ; 
 Age  came,  and  laid  his  impress  there — 
 
 And  where  are  they? 
 
468  CHANGE. 
 
 Where  is  the  strength  that  spurned  decay, 
 The  step  that  roved  so  light  and  gay, 
 
 The  heart's  blithe  tone  ? 
 The  strength  is  gone — the  step  is  slow — 
 And  days  grow  wearisome  with  woe, 
 
 As  Time  steals  on  ! 
 
 CHANGE. 
 
 We  did  not  fear  them  once — the  dull  gray  mornings 
 
 No  cheerless  burden  on  our  spirits  laid  ; 
 The  long  night-watches  did  not  bring  us  warnings 
 
 That  we  were  tenants  of  a  house  decayed. 
 The  early  snows  to  us  like  dreams  descended  ; 
 
 The  frost  wrought  fairy  work  on  pave  and  bough  : 
 Beauty,  and  power,  and  wonder  have  not  ended — 
 
 How  is  it  that  we  fear  the  winters  now  ? 
 
 The  house-fires  fall  as  bright  on  hearth  and  chamber 
 
 The  northern  star-light  shines  as  coldly  clear  : 
 The  woods  still  keep  their  holly  for  December, 
 
 The  bells  ring  joyous  still  for  the  New  Year — 
 And  far  away,  in  old-remembered  places, 
 
 The  snow-drop  rises,  and  the  robin  sings, 
 The  sun  and  moon  still  look  with  loving  faces — 
 
 Why  have  our  days  forgot  such  goodly  things  ? 
 
CHANGE.  469 
 
 It  is  that  now  the  north  wind  finds  us  shaken 
 
 By  tempests  fiercer  than  its  bitter  blast, 
 Which  fair  beliefs,  and  friendships  too  have  taken 
 
 Away  like  summer  foliage  as  they  passed, 
 And  made  life  leafless  in  its  pleasant  valleys 
 
 Waning  the  light  of  promise  from  our  day, 
 Till  mists  meet  even  in  the  inward  palace 
 
 A  dimness, — not  like  theirs,  to  pass  away ! 
 
 It  was  not  thus,  when  dreams  of  loves  and  laurels 
 
 Gave  sunshine  to  the  winters  of  our  youth, 
 Before  its  hopes  had  died  in  Fate's  keen  quarrels, 
 
 Or  Time  had  bowed  them  with  its  heavy  truth  : 
 Ere  yet  the  twilight  found  us  strange  and  lonely, 
 
 With  shadows  thickening,  as  the  fire  burns  low. 
 To  tell  of  distant  graves  and  losses  only — 
 
 The  past,  that  cannot  change  and  will  not  go. 
 
 Alas !  dear  friends,  the  winter  is  within  us  ; 
 
 Hard  is  the  ice  that  grows  about  the  heart ; 
 For  petty  cares  and  vain  regrets  have  won  us 
 
 From  life's  true  heritage  and  better  part. 
 Seasons  and  skies  rejoice,  nay  worship  rather. 
 
 But  myriads  toil  and  tremble  e'en  as  we, 
 Hoping  for  harvests  they  will  never  gather, 
 
 Fearing  the  winters  they  may  never  see. 
 
THE    D  Y  IN  G     YEAR. 
 
 ifirs.  Sujoumts. 
 
 Voice  of  the  dying  year  !  I  hear  thy  moan. 
 
 Like  some  spent  breaker  of  the  distant  sea 
 
 Chafing  the  fretted  rock.     Is  this  the  end 
 
 Of  thy  fresh  morning  music,  gushing  out. 
 
 In  promises  of  hope  ?     Have  the  bright  flush 
 
 Of  Spring's  young  beauty,  crowned  with  budding  flowers, 
 
 The  passion  vow  of  Summer,  and  the  pledge 
 
 Of  faithful  Autumn,  come  to  this  ? 
 
 I  See  the  youngling  moon  go  down  the  west. 
 
 The  midnight  clock  gives  warning,  and  its  stroke 
 
 Must  be  thy  death-knell.     Is  its  quivering  «-asp 
 
 The  last  sad  utterance  of  thy  agony  ? 
 
 I  see  thy  clay-cold  fingers  strive  to  clasp 
 
 Some  prop — in  vain  ! 
 
 And  so  thou  art  no  more — 
 No  more  !     Thy  rest  is  with  oblivious  years 
 Beyond  the  flood.     Yet  when  the  Trump  shall  sound. 
 Blown  by  the  strong  Archangel,  thou  shalt  wake 
 From  the  dim  sleep  of  ages.     When  the  tombs 
 That  lock  their  slumbering  tenants  cleave  in  twain. 
 Thou  shalt  come  forth.     Yea,  thou  shalt  rise  again. 
 And  1  shall  look  upon  thee  when  the  dead 
 Stand  before  God.     But  come  not  murmuring  forth, 
 Unwillingly,  like  Samuel's  ghost,  summoned 
 
AUTUMN    FLOWERS.  471 
 
 To  daunt  me  at  the  Judgment.     No,  be  kind — 
 Be  pitiful — bear  witness  tenderly  ; — 
 And  if  thou  hast  a  dark  account  for  me, 
 Go,  dip  thy  dread  scroll  in  Redeeming  Blood ! 
 
 A  U  T  UMN   FL  0  WER  S. 
 iHrs.  ScutfjeD. 
 These  few  pale  autumn  flowers  ! 
 
 How  beautiful  they  are — 
 Than  all  that  went  before. 
 Than  all  the  summer  store, 
 
 How  lovelier  far ! 
 
 And  why  ? — they  are  the  last — 
 
 The  last— the  last ! 
 Oh,  by  that  little  word 
 How  many  thoughts  are  stirr'd  ! 
 
 That  sister  of  the  past ! 
 
 Pale  flowers — pale  fading  flowers  ! 
 
 Ye're  types  of  precious  things  : 
 Types  of  those  better  moments 
 That  flit  like  life's  enjoyments 
 
 On  rapid,  rapid  wings. 
 
 Last  hours  with  parting  dear  ones, 
 (That  time  the  fastest  spends.) 
 
 Last  tears — in  silence  shed, 
 
 Last  words — half  uttered, 
 Last  looks  of  dying  friends ! 
 
472  THE   DEAD    YEAR. 
 
 Who  but  would  fain  compress 
 
 A  life  into  a  day  ; 
 The  last  day  spent  with  one 
 Who,  ere  the  morrow's  sun, 
 
 Must  leave  us — and  for  aye  ? 
 
 0  precious,  precious  moments  ! 
 Pale  flowers,  ye're  types  of  those- 
 
 The  saddest — sweetest — dearest ! 
 Because,  like  those  the  nearest 
 Is  an  eternal  close. 
 
 Pale  flowers — pale  fading  flowers  ! 
 I  woo  your  gentle  breath  ; 
 
 1  leave  the  summer-rose 
 For  younger,  fairer  brows — 
 
 Ye  tell  of  change  and  death  ! 
 
 THE    DEAD     YEAR. 
 
 2teait  3ngcIofo. 
 
 Ojst  her  bier 
 Quiet  lay  the  buried  year  ; 
 I  sat  down  where  I  could  see 
 Life  without,  and  sunshine  free- 
 Death  within.     And  I  between, 
 Waited  mv  own  heart  to  wean 
 
WITHERING.  473 
 
 From  the  shroud,  that  shaded  her 
 In  the  rock-hewn  sepulchre  ; 
 Waited  till  the  dead  should  say, 
 "  Heart,  be  free  of  me  this  day" — 
 Waited  with  a  patient  will — 
 And  I  wait  between  them  still. 
 
 WITHERING. 
 
 ©fjarUs  jltitno  Hoffman. 
 
 Withering — withering !  all  are  withering — 
 All  of  Hope's  flowers  that  youth  hath  nursed. — 
 
 Flowers  of  Love — too  early  blossoming  ; — - 
 
 Buds  of  Ambition — too  frail  to  burst. 
 
 Faintly,  faintly,  0  !  how  faintly 
 I  feel  life's  pulses  ebb  and  flow ! 
 
 Yet,  Sorrow,  I  know  thou  dealest  daintily 
 
 With  one  who  should  not  wish  to  live  moe. 
 
 Nay,  why  young  heart  thus  timidly  shrinking? 
 
 Why  doth  thy  upward  wing  thus  tire  ? 
 Why  are  thy  pinions  so  droopingly  sinking, 
 When  they  should  only  waft  thee  higher?— - 
 Upward — upward,  let  them  be  waving, 
 
 Lifting  thy  soul  toward  her  place  of  birth. 
 There  are  guerdons  There,  more  worth  thy  claiming, 
 
 Far  more  than  any  that  lure  on  earth. 
 
LIFE. 
 
 fticfcarli  i£.  Miltt. 
 
 My  life  is  like  the  summer  rose 
 
 That  opens  to  the  morning  sky, 
 But  ere  the  shades  of  evening  close. 
 Is  scattered  on  the  ground  to  die ! 
 Yet  on  the  rose's  humble  bed 
 The  sweetest  dews  of  night  are  shed, 
 As  if  she  wept  the  waste  to  see — 
 But  none  shall  weep  a  tear  for  me  ! 
 
 My  life  is  like  the  autumn  leaf 
 
 That  trembles  in  the  moon's  pale  ray  ; 
 Its  hold  is  frail — its  date  is  brief, 
 
 Restless — and  soon  to  pass  away  ! 
 Yet  ere  that  leaf  shall  fall  and  fade, 
 The  parent  tree  will  mourn  its  shade, 
 The  winds  bewail  the  leafless  tree — 
 But  none  shall  breathe  a  sigh  for  me ! 
 
 My  life  is  like  the  prints  which  feet 
 
 Have  left  on  Tampa's  desert  strand — 
 Soon  as  the  rising  tide  shall  beat. 
 
 All  trace  will  vanish  from  the  sand. 
 Yet,  as  if  grieving  to  efface 
 All  vestige  of  the  human  race 
 On  that  lone  shore  loud  moans  the  sea, 
 But  none,  alas  !  shall  mourn  for  me ! 
 
A    LAMENT. 
 
 %f)tUzr>. 
 
 Swifter  far  than  summer's  flight, 
 Swifter  far  than  youth's  delight, 
 Swifter  far  than  clouds  by  night, 
 
 Art  thou  come  and  gone — 
 As  the  earth  when  leaves  are  dead, 
 As  the  night  when  sleep  is  sped, 
 As  the  heart  when  joy  is  fled, 
 
 I  am  left  alone. 
 
 The  swallow-summer  comes  again, 
 The  owlet-night  resumes  her  reign. 
 But  the  wild  swan-youth  is  fain 
 
 To  fly  away  as  thou. 
 My  heart  each  day  desires  the  morrow 
 Sleep  itself  is  turned  to  sorrow  ; 
 Vainly  would  my  winter  borrow 
 
 Leaves  from  any  bough. 
 
 Lilies  for  an  infant's  bed, 
 Eoses  for  a  matron's  head, 
 Violets  for  a  maiden  dead, 
 
 Pansies  my  flowers  shall  be. 
 On  the  living  grave  I  bear, 
 Scatter  them  without  a  tear — 
 Let  no  friend,  however  dear, 
 
 Waste  one  thought  for  me. 
 
THE   DAYS    THAT  ARE   PAST. 
 
 HEprs  .Sargent. 
 
 We  will  not  deplore  them,  the  days  that  are  past ; 
 The  gloom  of  misfortune  is  over  them  cast — 
 They  are  lengthened  by  sorrow,  and  sullied  by  care, 
 Their  griefs  were  too  many,  their  joys  were  too  rare  ; 
 Yet,  now  that  their  shadows  are  on  us  no  more, 
 Let  us  welcome  the  prospect  that  brightens  before  ! 
 
 We  have   cherished   fair   hopes,  we   have   plotted   brave 
 
 schemes, 
 We  have  lived  till  we  find  them  illusive  as  dreams  ; 
 Wealth  has  melted  like  snow  that  is  held  in  the  hand, 
 And  the  steeps  we  have  climbed  have  departed  like  sand  ; 
 Yet  should  we  despond  while  of  health  unbereft, 
 And  honor,  bright  honor,  and  freedom  are  left? 
 
 0,  shall  we  despond  while  the  pages  of  Time 
 
 Yet  open  before  us  their  pages  sublime  ! 
 
 While  ennobled  by  treasures  more  precious  than  gold, 
 
 We  can  walk  with  the  martyrs  and  heroes  of  old  ; 
 
 While  Humanity  whispers  such  truths  in  the  ear. 
 
 Which  softens  the  heart  like  sweet  music  to  hear  ? 
 
 0,  shall  we  despond,  while  with  visions  still  free, 
 We  can  gaze  on  the  sky,  and  the  earth,  and  the  sea  : 
 
DEPARTED    DAYS.  477 
 
 While  the  sunshine  can  waken  a  burst  of  delight, 
 And  the  stars  are  our  joy,  and  a  glory  by  night  ; 
 While  each  harmony  running  through  Nature  can  raise 
 In  our  spirits  the  impulse  of  gladness  and  praise  ? 
 
 0  !  let  us  not  longer,  then,  vainly  lament 
 Over  scenes  that  are  faded,  and  days  that  are  spent  ; 
 But,  by  Faith  unforsaken — unawed  by  mischance, 
 On  Hope's  waving  banner  still  iix'd  be  our  glance  : — 
 And  should  Fortune  prove  cruel  and  false  to  the  last, 
 Let  us  look  to  the  Future — and  not  to  the  Past. 
 
 DEPARTED    DA  VS. 
 
 Yes,  dear  departed,  cherished  days. 
 
 Could  Memory's  hand  restore 
 Your  morning  light,  your  evening  rays, 
 
 From  Time's  gray  urn  once  more, 
 Then  might  this  restless  heart  be  still. 
 
 This  straining  eye  might  close. 
 And  Hope  her  fainting  pinions  fold. 
 
 While  the  fair  phantom  rose. 
 
 But,  like  a  child  in  ocean's  arms. 
 
 We  strive  against  the  stream. 
 Each  moment  further  from  the  shore 
 
 Where  Life's  young  fountains  gleam— 
 
478  SOJOURNING    AT    AN    INN. 
 
 Each  moment  fainter  wave  the  fields, 
 
 And  wilder  rolls  the  sea  ; 
 The  mist  grows  dark — the  sun  goes  down — 
 
 Day  fades — and  where  are  we  ? 
 
 SOJOURNING    AT   AN   INN. 
 
 a.  59.  JF.  ftanirolplj. 
 
 I  look  abroad  upon  the  verdant  fields  ; 
 
 The  song  of  birds  is  on  the  summer  air  ; — 
 Within,  how  many  a  treasure  something  yields, 
 To  bless  my  life,  and  round  the  edge  of  care  ! 
 And  yet,  the  earth  and  air. 
 All  that  seems  good  and  fair, 
 That  still  is  mine — or  once  hath  been, 
 Now  teach  that  I  am  but  a  Pilgrim  here, 
 Without  a  home — and  dwelling  at  an  Inn. 
 
 Not  ever  has  the  out-look  been  so  clear — 
 
 There  have  been  days,  when  stormy  gusts  went  by  ; 
 Nights,  when  my  wearied  heart  was  full  of  fear, 
 And  God  seemed  further  off  than  stars  or  sky. 
 E'en  then,  when  grief  was  nigh, 
 My  soul  could  sometimes  cry 
 Out  of  the  depths  of  sorrow  and  of  sin, 
 That  I,  at  worst,  was  but  a  Pilgrim  here, 
 With  home  beyond,  while  dwelling  at  an  Inn. 
 
SOJOURNING    AT   AN   INN.  479 
 
 Now,  I  complain,  not  of  this  life  of  mine, 
 
 I  less  of  shade  have  had,  than  of  the  sun  ; 
 The  gracious  Father,  with  a  hand  Divine, 
 
 Has  crowned  with  mercies  His  unworthy  one  ; 
 My  cup  has  overrun, 
 And  I,  His  will  undone, 
 Have  changed  His  blessings  into  pin, 
 As  I  forgot  I  was  a  Pilgrim  here, 
 Homeless  at  best,  and  dwelling  at  an  Inn. 
 
 Look  at  me,  Lord  !     Have  I  not  need  to  pray 
 
 That  this  fair  world,  which  gives  so  much  to  me, 
 Serve  not  to  lead  my  steps  so  far  astray, 
 
 That  at  the  end  they  leave  me  not  with  Thee  ? 
 Dear  Lord,  let  not  this  be  ; 
 Nay,  rather  let  me  see 
 Beyond  this  life  my  days  begin  ; 
 And  singing  on  my  way,  a  Pilgrim  here, 
 Rejoice  that  I  am  dwelling  at  an  Inn. 
 
 Dear  Son  of  God!  by  whom  this  world  was  made, 
 
 Yet  homeless,  had  not  where  to  lay  Thy  head, 
 (Not  e'en  by  kindred  was  Thy  body  laid 
 
 In  Joseph's  tomb — Thou  Lord  of  quick  and  dead !) 
 By  Thy  example  led, 
 Of  me  may  it  be  said, 
 When  I  shall  rest,  and  peace  begin, 
 He  lived  as  one  who  was  a  Pilgrim  here, 
 And  found  his  home,  while  dwelling  at  an  Inn. 
 
LOOKING    HOMEWARD 
 Spitta. 
 
 Ah  !  this  heart  is  void  and  chill, 
 'Mid  earth's  noisy  thronging — 
 
 For  the  Father's  mansion  still 
 Vehemently  is  longing ! 
 
 In  the  garments  once  so  strong 
 Xow  are  rents  distressing  : 
 
 And  the  sandals  borne  so  long 
 Heavily  are  pressing. 
 
 Ah  !  to  be  at  home,  and  gain 
 All  for  which  we're  sighing — 
 
 From  all  earthly  want  and  pain 
 To  be  swiftly  flying ! 
 
 With  this  load  of  sin  and  care, 
 
 Then  no  longer  bending, 
 But  with  waiting  angels,  there, 
 
 On  our  Lord  attending  ! 
 
 Ah  !  how  greatly  blessed  they 
 Who  have  rightly  striven. 
 
 And  rejoice  eternally 
 
 With  the  Lord,  in  Heaven ! 
 
I   AM    WEAR  Y. 
 
 "  pjmits  of  Iftc  &fjun&  ftliiitant." 
 
 I  am  weary  of  straying  ;  oh,  fain  would  I  rest 
 In  the  far-distant  land  of  the  pare  and  the  blest, 
 Where  sin  can  no  longer  its  blandishments  spread, 
 And  fears  and  temptations  forever  are  fled ! 
 
 I  am  weary  of  hoping,  where  hope  is  untrue, 
 As  fair,  but  as  fleeting,  as  morning's  bright  dew  ; 
 I  long  for  that  land  whose  blest  promise  alone 
 Is  changeless  and  sure  as  Eternity's  throne ! 
 
 I  am  weary  of  sighing  o'er  sorrows  of  earth, 
 O'er  joy's  glowing  visions,  that  fled  at  their  birth  ; 
 O'er  the  pangs  of  the  loved,  that  we  cannot  assuage, 
 O'er  the  brightness  of  youth,  and  the  weakness  of  age. 
 
 I  am  weary  of  loving  what  passes  away  : 
 The  sweetest,  the  dearest,  alas  !  may  not  stay  ; — 
 I  long  for  that  land  where  these  partings  are  o'er, 
 And  death  and  the  grave  can  divide  hearts  no  more  ! 
 
 I  am  weary,  my  Saviour,  of  grieving  Thy  love  ; 
 Oh,  when  shall  I  rest  in  Thy  presence  above? 
 I  am  weary — but  oh  !  let  me  never  repine, 
 While  Thy  word,  and  Thy  love,  and  Thy  promise  are 
 mine ! 
 
 31 
 
THE    LAND    0'     THE    LEAL 
 
 lotirns. 
 
 I'm  wearin'  awa',  Jean, 
 Like  sna' — wraiths  in  tha',  Jean, 
 I'm  wearin'  awa' 
 
 To  the  Land  o'  the  Leal. 
 There's  nae  sorrow  there,  Jean, 
 There's  nither  could  nair  care,  Jean, 
 The  days  are  a'  fair 
 
 I'  the  Land  o'  the  Leal. 
 
 0,  dry  your  glistening  e'e,  Jean, 
 My  soul  langs  to  be  free,  Jean. 
 And  angels  beckon  me 
 
 To  the  Land  o*  the  Leal. 
 Ye  have  been  gude  an'  true,  Jean, 
 Your  task's  near  ended  noo,  Jean, 
 And  I'll  welcome  you 
 
 To  the  Land  o'  the  Leal. 
 
 Our  bonny  bairn's  there,  Jean, 
 She  was  baith  gude  and  fair,  Jean, 
 And  we  grudged  her  sair 
 
 To  the  Land  o'  the  Leal ! 
 But  sorrow's  sel'  wears  past,  Jean. 
 And  joys  are  coming  fast,  Jean, 
 The  joy  that's  aye  to  last, 
 
 I'  the  Land  o'  the  Leal. 
 
"my  ain  countree."  483 
 
 Our  friends  are  a'  gane,  Jean, 
 We've  long  been  left  alane,  Jean, 
 We'll  a'  meet  again 
 
 I'  the  Land  o'  the  Leal. 
 Then  fare  thee  weel,  my  ain  Jean, 
 This  warld's  cares  are  vain,  Jean, 
 We'el  meet,  an'  a'  11  be  plain, 
 
 I'  the  Land  o'  the  Leal ! 
 
 "MY   AIN    COUNTREE^ 
 
 I  am  far  frae  my  hame,  an'  I'm  weary  oftenwhiles, 
 For  the  langed-for  hame — -bringing,  an'  my  Father's  wel- 
 come smiles  ; 
 I'll  ne'er  be  fu'  content,  until  my  een  do  see 
 The  gowden  gates  o'  Heaven,  an'  my  ain  Countree  ! 
 
 The  earth  is  flecked  wi'  flowers,  mony-tinted,  fresh  an'  gay. 
 The  birdies  warble  blithely,  for  my  Father  made  them  sae  ; 
 But  these  sights  an'  these  soun's  will  be  naetliing  to  me. 
 When  I  hear  the  Angels  singing,  in  my  ain  Countree ! 
 
 I've  His  gude  word  of  promise,  that  some  gladsome  day  the 
 
 King 
 To  His  ain  royal  palace  His  banished  hame  will  bring  : 
 Wi'  een  an'  wi'  hearts  running  o'er,  we  shall  see 
 The  King  in  His  beauty,  an'  our  ain  Countree ! 
 
484 
 
 My  sins  have  been  mony,  an'  ray  sorrows  ha'  been  sair, 
 But  There,  they'll  nair  mair  vex  me.  nair  be  remembered 
 
 mair  ; 
 His  bluid  hath  made  me  white,  His  hand  shall  dry  mine  ec, 
 When  He  brings  me  hame  at  last,  to  my  ain  Countree ! 
 
 Like  a  bairn  to  its  inither,  a  wee  birdie  to  its  nest, 
 I  wad  fain  be  ganging  noo,  unto  my  Saviour's  breast  : 
 For  He  gathers  in  His  bosom  witless,  worthless  lambs  like 
 
 me, 
 An'  He  carries  them  Himsel'  to  His  ain  Countree! 
 
 He's  faithfu'  that  hath  promised  ;  He'll  surely  come  again  : 
 He'll  keep  his  tryst  wi'  me,  at  what  hour  I  dinna  ken  : 
 But  He  bids  me  still  to  watch,  an'  ready  aye  to  be 
 To  gang  at  ony  moment  to  my  ain  Countree ! 
 
 So  I'm  watching  aye  an'  singing  o'  my  harae,  as  I  wait, 
 For  the  sounin'  o'  His  foot-fa'  this  side  the  Gowden  Gate. 
 God  gie  His  grace  to  ilk  ane  wha  listens  noo  to  me, 
 That  we  a'  may  gang  in  gladness  to  our  ain  Countree ! 
 
 "  ONL  Y    WAITING:' 
 
 '••  Only  waiting"  till  the  shadows 
 Are  a  little  longer  grown  : 
 
 "  Only  waiting"  till  the  glimmer 
 Of  the  day's  last  beam  has  flown  ; 
 
"only  waiting.7'  485 
 
 Till  the  night  of  earth  is  faded 
 
 From  the  heart,  once  full  of  day  ; 
 Till  the  stars  of  heaven  are  breaking 
 
 Through  the  twilight  soft  and  gray. 
 
 "  Only  waiting"  till  the  reapers 
 
 Have  the  last  sheaf  gathered  home. 
 For  the  summer's  time  is  faded, 
 
 And  the  autumns  winds  have  come. 
 Quickly,  reapers  !  gather  quickly 
 
 The  last  ripe  hours  of  my  heart — 
 For  the  bloom  of  life  is  withered, 
 
 And  I  hasten  to  depart, 
 
 "  Only  waiting"  till  the  angels 
 
 Open  wide  the  Mystic  Gate, — 
 At  whose  feet  I  long  have  lingered, 
 
 Weary,  poor,  and  desolate  : 
 Even  now  I  hear  their  footsteps, 
 
 And  their  voices,  far  away  ; 
 If  they  call  me,  I  am  waiting — 
 
 Only  waiting  to  obey. 
 
 "  Only  waiting''"  till  the  shadows 
 
 Are  a  little  longer  grown  ; 
 Only  waiting  till  the  glimmer 
 
 Of  the  day's  last  beam  has  flown  : 
 Then,  from  out  the  gathering  darknesss, 
 
 Holy,  deathless  stars  shall  rise, 
 By  whose  light  my  soul  shall  gladly 
 
 Tread  its  pathway  to  the  skies ! 
 
INDEX 
 
 Above  the  Stars, 
 Aerial  Messengers, 
 Affliction,  On,  . 
 A  Little  Longer,     . 
 A  Little  Longer  Yet, 
 Allurements  of  Heaven 
 Angels,  (Spenser,) 
 Angels,  (Milman,) 
 Angel's  Visit,   . 
 Angel  of  Hope, 
 Angel  of  Patience, 
 Angels  of  Sorrow, 
 Angelic  Ministrants, 
 Anticipation, 
 Anxiety  to  Depart, 
 Ardent  Aspirations, 
 Asleep,  . 
 
 As  the  Lightning, 
 Ascension  Hymn, 
 Attractions  of  Heaven 
 At  Home! 
 At  Rest!       . 
 At  the  Gate,     . 
 Autumn  Flowers,   . 
 Ave  Maris  Stella, 
 
 Baby's  Song, 
 Bells,      . 
 
 PAGE 
 
 41 
 275 
 333 
 
 139 
 90 
 48 
 222 
 223 
 361 
 389 
 388 
 387 
 275 
 229 
 169 
 172 
 356 
 341 
 166 
 46 
 188 
 182 
 127 
 471 
 267 
 
 355 
 
 457 
 
488 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Bear  out  the  Dead, 
 
 401 
 
 Bereaved,  The,              .... 
 
 .    340 
 
 Beyond  the  River, 
 
 179 
 
 Blessings,           ..... 
 
 .    455 
 
 Blessed  are  they  that  Mourn, 
 
 350 
 
 Blindness,          ..... 
 
 .    345 
 
 Boldness,      ..... 
 
 319 
 
 Border-Lands,  The,       .... 
 
 .     142 
 
 Broken  Ties,            .... 
 
 428 
 
 Burial  of  the  Dead,    .... 
 
 .      75 
 
 Burial  of  a  Class-mate,     . 
 
 384 
 
 Burial  Service,  The,     .... 
 
 .      79 
 
 Calmness,     ..... 
 
 321 
 
 Celestial  Army,  The, 
 
 .    254 
 
 Celestial  Country,  The,      . 
 
 7 
 
 Change,              ..... 
 
 .     468 
 
 Children,       ..... 
 
 352 
 
 Christ  on  the  Cross,  To, 
 
 .    207 
 
 Christ  Unchanging, 
 
 86 
 
 Church- Time,    ..... 
 
 .     298 
 
 City  of  Rest, 
 
 39 
 
 Climbing  the  Stair,     .... 
 
 .     150 
 
 Communings,           .... 
 
 82 
 
 Contentment,     ..... 
 
 .     311 
 
 Contemplation,        .... 
 
 10 
 
 Consolation,       ..... 
 
 273,  314 
 
 Courage,       ..... 
 
 348 
 
 Crushed  Bud,  The,      .... 
 
 .     338 
 
 Dark  River,  The,    .... 
 
 153 
 
 Day  of  Doom,  The,     . 
 
 .    190 
 
 Day  of  Judgment,  The,    . 
 
 195 
 
 Days  that  are  Past,     .... 
 
 .    476 
 
 Dead  are  Everywhere,  The, 
 
 411 
 
 Dead  Year,  The,          .... 
 
 .    472 
 
INDEX. 
 
 489 
 
 Death, 
 
 Death  of  a  Young  Girl, 
 
 Death,  (Dr.  Hinds,) 
 
 Death  ever  in  Life,     . 
 
 Death  and  Resurrection, 
 
 Death's  Impress, 
 
 Death  Swallowed  up  in  Victory, 
 
 Departed  Days, 
 
 Desired  Haven,  The, 
 
 Dialogue — Anthem, 
 
 Dies  Irse, 
 
 Dies  Vitae, 
 
 Dirge, 
 
 Dirge  for  a  Young  Girl, 
 
 Discipline,    . 
 
 Dreams, 
 
 Dropping  Down  the  River, 
 
 Dwelling-Place  above,  The 
 
 Dying  Words  of  .Neander, 
 
 Dying  Year,  The, 
 
 Earth! 
 
 Easter-Day, 
 
 Early  Dead,  The,   . 
 
 Early  Called,  The,       . 
 
 Earth  and  Heaven, 
 
 Endurance, 
 
 Emblem, 
 
 "Equal  unto  the  Angels,' 
 
 Eternity, 
 
 Eternal  Light, 
 
 Evening  Hymn, 
 
 Evening  Watch,  The, 
 
 Everlasting  Light, 
 
 Euthanasia, 
 
 165, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I  87 
 375 
 324 
 67 
 61 
 122 
 190 
 477 
 135 
 167 
 193 
 199 
 404 
 407 
 307 
 279 
 137 
 13 
 103 
 470 
 
 313 
 
 71 
 
 371 
 
 376 
 
 319 
 
 315 
 
 69 
 
 181 
 
 204 
 
 70 
 
 281 
 
 164 
 
 235 
 
 247 
 
490 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 X 
 
 Faithful  Dead,  The, 
 Fatherland,  The, 
 Farewell, 
 Fear  of  Death, 
 Forbearance, 
 For  Evermore, 
 Forgiveness, 
 Footsteps  of  Angels, 
 Fortitude,     . 
 Fortune-Telling  Bells, 
 Funeral  Hymn, 
 Funeral  Song,  A, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 102 
 
 129 
 
 89 
 
 318 
 
 408 
 
 318 
 
 420 
 
 328 
 
 457 
 
 72 
 
 75 
 
 Gates  of  the  Celestial  City, 
 
 Glorified,  The, 
 
 Glorious  Sunnes,     . 
 
 Glad  Evangel,  The,     . 
 
 God  Calling  Yet  !  . 
 
 Going  Home, 
 
 Going  Home  to  God, 
 
 Gone  into  Light, 
 
 Goodly  Land,  The, 
 
 Graves  of  a  Household, 
 
 Graves  of  the  Heart, 
 
 Grief, 
 
 Griefs,  (Herbert,)     . 
 
 Guardian  Angels, 
 
 Guardian  Spirits,    . 
 
 54 
 
 106 
 330 
 
 94 
 124 
 92 
 15 
 402 
 335 
 315 
 328 
 390 
 395 
 
 Happy  Country,  The, 
 
 Hallowed  Ground, 
 
 Haunted, 
 
 Haunted  Houses.     . 
 
 Haunted  Palace,  The, 
 
 Heart's  Melodies,  The, 
 
 Heart's  Song,  The, 
 
 221 
 447 
 439 
 443 
 441 
 450 
 280 
 
INDEX. 
 
 491 
 
 Heavenly  Aspirations, 
 
 Heaven's  Glories, 
 
 Heaven's  Joys, 
 
 Heaven  Near,  . 
 
 Heaven's  Rest, 
 
 Heaven  of  Heavens,    . 
 
 Heavenward, 
 
 Hereafter, 
 
 Here  and  There,     . 
 
 His  Throne  and  Temple, 
 
 Hinder  Me  Not,      . 
 
 His  Voice ! 
 
 Homes, 
 
 How  Can  we  Know  the  Way? 
 
 How  Long,  O  Lord? 
 
 Hush !  Heaven ! 
 
 /- 
 
 PAGE 
 
 38 
 
 1 
 
 5 
 
 36 
 
 53 
 
 257 
 
 225 
 
 343 
 
 11 
 
 32 
 
 139 
 
 285 
 
 431 
 
 27 
 
 202 
 
 108 
 
 I  am  Weary, 
 
 It  is  not  Dying, 
 
 Immortality, 
 
 I  See  Thee  Still, 
 
 I  would  Fly  Away, 
 
 In  Heaven  alone  is  Rest, 
 
 Into  the  City, 
 
 In  the  Valley,  . 
 
 In  the  Green  Pastures, 
 
 In  Memoriam,  . 
 
 Idol  Broken,  The, 
 
 481 
 105 
 161 
 415 
 232 
 29 
 126 
 119 
 212 
 374 
 364 
 
 Jesu  Decus  Angelicum, 
 Jesus — St.  Bernard, 
 Jewish  Apologue,  A,  . 
 Judgment  Day, 
 Judgment  Hymn, 
 
 299 
 298 
 115 
 197 
 196 
 
 Ki 
 
 177 
 
492 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Labor,    . 
 
 Labor  and  Rest, 
 
 Lady  Mary, 
 
 Ladder,  The, 
 
 Lament,  A, 
 
 Land  o'  the  Leal,  . 
 
 Land  to  which  I  am  Going, 
 
 Lambs  of  Christ,  The, 
 
 Let  me  Depart, 
 
 Letting  go  Earth, 
 
 Libera  Nos  Domine !    . 
 
 Life,      .... 
 
 Life  of  Man,  The, 
 
 Little  Children, 
 
 Longings, 
 
 Longings  for  Immortality, 
 
 Love, 
 
 Love  Divine, 
 
 Loved  Once, 
 
 Looking  Homeward, 
 
 Lost  Pleiad,  The, 
 
 Lost  Treasures, 
 
 Lock  of  Hair,  The,      . 
 
 379 
 359 
 475 
 
 482 
 98 
 372 
 123 
 151 
 70 
 474 
 66 
 323 
 170 
 171 
 303 
 338 
 445 
 480 
 261 
 430 
 422 
 
 Many  Saints,  On,    . 
 
 Matins,  . 
 
 Memory, 
 
 Memories, 
 
 Memory  of  the  Dead, 
 
 Meeting  Above, 
 
 Meeting-Place,  The, 
 
 Meeting  Again, 
 
 More  Blest  than  Eden 
 
 Moonlight, 
 
 Moon,  To  the, 
 
 Moonbeam,  To  a, 
 
 113 
 289 
 435 
 
 241 
 
 84 
 
 52 
 
 49 
 
 147 
 
 31 
 
 267 
 
 264 
 
 266 
 
INDEX. 
 
 493 
 
 Morning  Watches, 
 
 Mor  tali  tie,  (Spenser,)    . 
 
 Mortalitie,    . 
 
 Mutabilitie, 
 
 Music  and  Flowers, 
 
 My  Country's  Loveliness, 
 
 My  ain  Countree,  . 
 
 My  Lambs, 
 
 Mv  Native  Land,    . 
 
 PAGE 
 
 291 
 313 
 65 
 312 
 456 
 237 
 483 
 366 
 236 
 
 Nature's  Altars, 
 
 Near  Home, 
 
 Nearer  Home,  . 
 
 New  Jerusalem,  The, 
 
 New  Song,  The, 
 
 Night, 
 
 Night  Reverie,  A, 
 
 Night  Study, 
 
 Night  Thoughts, 
 
 No  Graves  in  Heaven, 
 
 No  Night  is  There,     . 
 
 None  in  Heaven  but  Thee 
 
 Noche  Serena, 
 
 Not  There, 
 
 Not  very  Far,  . 
 
 None  but  Thee  !      . 
 
 302 
 
 145 
 
 144 
 
 17 
 
 110 
 
 263 
 
 259 
 
 245 
 
 252 
 
 44 
 
 43 
 
 28 
 
 248 
 
 133 
 
 23 
 
 287 
 
 Ode  to  Sleep,    . 
 
 Of  Death,     . 
 
 Old  Familiar  Faces,     . 
 
 Old  Church-Bell,     . 
 
 One  by  One, 
 
 On  his  Blindness,  (Milton,) 
 
 Only  a  Year,     . 
 
 Only  a  Little  Curl, 
 
 Only  Waiting, 
 
 278 
 329 
 444 
 458 
 332 
 346 
 423 
 369 
 484 
 
494 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 One  Wanted, 
 
 Open  Gate,  The, 
 
 Onward  into  Light, 
 
 O  Sacred  Head  now  Wounded 
 
 Our  Dead,    . 
 
 Our  Youngest, 
 
 Over  the  River, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 373 
 
 154 
 236 
 
 208 
 
 9G 
 
 416 
 
 117 
 
 Paradise  must  Fairer  be, 
 
 Parting, 
 
 Passing  Away, 
 
 Past  and  Present  Years,   . 
 
 Pity, 
 
 Pilgrim  Song,  The, 
 
 Phantoms, 
 
 Peace, 
 
 Penitence, 
 
 Planets  and  Stars, 
 
 Prayer,  (Herbert,) 
 
 Prayer,  (Hartly  Coleridge,) 
 
 Prayer,  (Trench,) 
 
 Protected  Kills, 
 
 Psalm  Twenty-third,    . 
 
 Reappearing, 
 
 Rejoicing  in  Heaven, 
 
 Redeemed,  The, 
 
 Rest,  (Goethe,) 
 
 Rest,  (Miss  Wink  worth,)  . 
 
 Rest,  (Palmer,) 
 
 Rest  in  God, 
 
 Resignation, 
 
 Returning  not  Departing, 
 
 Reverie,  A, 
 
 Resurrection, 
 
 Reunion, 
 
 184 
 96 
 100 
 464 
 306 
 21 
 437 
 305 
 317 
 256 
 295 
 297 
 296 
 360 
 300 
 
 186 
 134 
 219 
 321 
 230 
 228 
 344 
 309 
 131 
 242 
 324 
 48 
 
INDEX. 
 
 495 
 
 Ruins, 
 
 Rural  Funerals, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 410 
 
 398 
 
 Sabbath,  The, 
 
 Saints,    ..... 
 
 Sanctified,  The, 
 
 Seat  of  Glory,  The,      . 
 
 Sic  Vita,       .... 
 
 Sleepe,   .  .  .  . 
 
 Sonnet  to  Sleepe,   . 
 
 Sleep,     ..... 
 
 She  Fell  Asleep,     . 
 
 She  is  in  Heaven, 
 
 She  Sleeps  that  Still  and  Placid  Sleep. 
 
 Silence,  .... 
 
 Solitude,       .... 
 
 Sometimes  Seen, 
 
 Sojourning  at  an  Inn, 
 
 Soaring  to  God, 
 
 Smiling  in  Death, 
 
 Soon  and  Forever, 
 
 Sorrow,         .... 
 
 Spring  and  Easter, 
 
 Spare  my  Heart  from  Growing  Old, 
 
 Speedy  Release, 
 
 Spirit  Voices, 
 
 Spirits  of  the  Dead,    . 
 
 Stars,  .... 
 
 Star  of  Bethlehem, 
 
 Starlight,      .... 
 
 St.  Francis  Xavier, 
 
 St.  Hylary's  Morning  Hymn 
 
 Stricken,  The,  .... 
 
 Submission, 
 
 Sunny  Days  in  Winter, 
 
 Sunset,    .... 
 
 462 
 114 
 
 109 
 18 
 65 
 276 
 276 
 277 
 378 
 382 
 377 
 273 
 272 
 163 
 478 
 63 
 120 
 158 
 314 
 326 
 451 
 148 
 293 
 333 
 260 
 253 
 434 
 111 
 290 
 342 
 31 G 
 448 
 270 
 
4% 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 PAGH 
 
 Sunset  Reveries,           ..... 
 
 .    270 
 
 Syon  the  Golden,   .             . 
 
 56 
 
 Taking  Wing,              ..... 
 
 .    234 
 
 That  Land !              ...... 
 
 19 
 
 That  City,         ...... 
 
 .      25 
 
 The  Departed,         .             ... 
 
 413 
 
 The  Dead  are  Everywhere,    .... 
 
 .    411 
 
 The  Good  Shepherd,           ..... 
 
 211,  301 
 
 The  other  World,        ..... 
 
 v   .      34 
 
 The  other  Side,         ...... 
 
 178 
 
 The  Past,          ....... 
 
 .      405 
 
 The  Shadow  o'er  the  Household, 
 
 418 
 
 The  Two  Angels,         ..... 
 
 .    362 
 
 They  shall  be  Mine,           ..... 
 
 427 
 
 Thy  Natal  Day,           ..... 
 
 .    351 
 
 Thou  shalt  never  Die,       ..... 
 
 284 
 
 Thou  wilt  never  Grow  Old, 
 
 .    425 
 
 Thoughts  at  a  Funeral,     ..... 
 
 80 
 
 Time's  Footsteps,          ..... 
 
 .    466 
 
 To  be  Ready, 
 
 130 
 
 To  be  There,    ...... 
 
 .      33 
 
 To  Flowers,              ...... 
 
 116 
 
 Treasures,          ...... 
 
 .    454 
 
 Trials,           .             .             ... 
 
 331 
 
 Trodden  Flowers,          ..... 
 
 .    336 
 
 True  Courage,         ...... 
 
 330 
 
 Trust,     ....... 
 
 .    308 
 
 Twilight  Reveries,              ..... 
 
 452 
 
 Up  Above, 
 
 .     155 
 
 Undivided,  The,      ...... 
 
 174 
 
 Uses  of  Grief,                ..... 
 
 .    349 
 
 Valediction,  A,         ..... 
 
 334 
 
 Veiled  Angels,              ..... 
 
 .    386 
 
INDEX.  .  491 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Vespers,        ........  271 
 
 Vesper  Bells,     ........     450 
 
 Vigils,  ........  460 
 
 Voice  of  the  Departed,  .  ...  .  .175 
 
 Visits  of  Angels,     .......  395 
 
 Waiting,  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .204 
 
 Watches  of  the  Night,      ......  282 
 
 We  shall  be  Changed,  .  .  .  .  .  .     168 
 
 We  shall  see  Him  as  he  is.  ....  .  227 
 
 What  are  They  like.  .  .  .  .  .  .     854 
 
 Where  is  Thy  Sting, 168 
 
 When  will  He  come'.''  ......     201 
 
 Who  are  These  in  Bright  Array,  ....  215 
 
 Who  are  Those?  .  .  .  .  .  .  .216 
 
 Wings,  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  274 
 
 White  Wings, 397 
 
 With  Thee!  .  .  .  •    .  .  .292 
 
 Withering!        .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .478 
 
 Who  would  Recall  Her? 381 
 
 With  Palms  in  their  Hands?  .  .  .  .  .214 
 
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