Yet, weary soul! let not thy faith be shaken;
Gaze up
and onward to the blissful clime,
Where all thy powers shall to new life awaken,
And feel the chilling blight of earth and time
CHILDHOOD.
THE merry voice of childhood!
How it falls upon the ear,
Like the soft and silvery cadence
Of a fountain gushing near!
Whether it lisp the evening prayer,
Or half-formed words of love,
Which fall like dew-drops on her heart
Who bends its couch above!
The joyous laugh of childhood!
It has a magic spell,
Which every truthful human soul
Can understand full well.
It ringeth through the forest-aisles,
And through the greenwood dim,
And thrilleth every spirit
Like a sanctuary hymn!
The lightsome step of childhood!
Gayly dancing on the sward,
Or keeping lively measure
To the shouts that ring abroad;
Those little steps may vagrant be,
But wheresoe'er they roam,
Those tiny steps go pattering out
Amid the winter snow,
And through the grassy meadow-lanes,
What time the spring-flowers blow;
They find the bluest violets
On the hill-side, by their scent,
And many a pale wood-blossom
Where only they frequent.
The precious faith of childhood-
Alas, that 't is so brief!
For time, the great magician,
Is a remorseless thief!
Too soon they learn that perfect Truth
On earth is rarely known,
And that Life's surest, only hope, •
Is found in Heaven alone!
The free, light heart of childhood,
It is a holy thing!
And ever o'er its inmost shrine
An angel spreads his wing.
Be faithful to your sacred trust,
Ye to whose charge 't is given-
For is it not a hallowed task,
To train the HEIRS OF HEAVEN!
THE EARLY DEAD.
O BLEST is the lot of the early dead,
Who have gone from our midst with a noiseless tread!
And softer than pillows of down, I ween,
Is their couch of rest in the church-yard green!
They have passed away from the noise and strife,
From the busy turmoil of mortal life;
They have followed the path which the Saviour trod,
Through the darksome tomb, to the arms of God!
The early dead! they have passed away,
In their opening bloom, like the blooms of May;
From the chilling frosts and the storms of time,
They rest secure in the Eden-clime.
Ere clouds of sorrow arose, to dim
The gems of hope on life's fountain-brim, -
Ere shadows of falsehood had darkened round,
And their feet seemed treading enchanted ground,
Ere sin had come, with its withering blight,
And veiled their spirits in deepest, night,-
While their steps were light, and their hearts were gay,
The young and the lovely have passed away!
O, blessed are they who in youth depart,
With a stainless brow and a sinless heart;
For the purest tears of our souls are shed
Above the graves of the early dead!
"BEAR THE CROSS AND WEAR THE CROWN."
Lo! from Calvary's awful height,
Breaks a flood of living light;
There, to win a royal prize,
On the Cross Emanuel dies!
Christian Pilgrim! onward press
To the goal of righteousness;
Counting worldly gain as loss,
Like thy Master, bear the Cross.!
Ye who tears of blood have wept
O'er the graves where loved ones slept,
Let not grief your thoughts engross-
Meekly strive to bear your Cross!
Thou, whose proud, aspiring soul
Burns to win a loftier goal!
Earthly honors are but dross
Follow Christ, and bear his Cross!
Whether through the flowery mead,
Or up the steep ascent, it lead,
Or where mountain-billows toss,
There, unshrinking, bear the Cross!
Thou whose spirit has been tried
By the scoffs and sneers of pride,
Heed thou not the world's cold frown,
"BEAR THE CROSS, AND WIN THE CROWN!"
"Bear the Cross," the Master saith;
"Be ye faithful unto death-
Firm and dauntless mid the strife,
Ye shall wear a CROWN OF LIFE!"
YEARNINGS FOR THE DEPARTED.
COME back to me, beloved!
My fainting spirit is so lone and weary,
And life doth seem to me so dark and dreary,
Now thou art gone!
I miss thy smile amid the dear home-faces,
And thy light step in old familiar places.
Come, with thy gladsome voice
With its rich floods of music ever gushing,
The heart's wild tumult into stillness hushing,
With its all-potent spell!
Touch the heart-lyre with thy seraphic finger,
And Joy and Peace amid its chords shall linger.
I watch for thee in vain;
In the green meadow-paths, where violets, springing,
Their dewy fragrance on the air are flinging,
And by the moss-rimmed fount,
When gentle Eve the earth in tears is steeping,
Or Night's dark curtain-folds are round it sweeping.
I see thy blue eyes' light
In the soft radiance of star-light gleaming;
Thy golden hair, in the broad sunshine streaming;
In the white clouds, thy brow!
I hear thy voice in the soft noontide showers,
And the low breathings of the nodding flowers!
Wilt thou be mine no more except in spirit,
Thou who my heart's whole kingdom didst inherit—
Nor feel thy loving arms
Around my neck, with soft caresses, twining,
Or thy dear head upon my breast reclining?
It may not be. I dream!
But when the misty veil at length is riven,
That hides the glories of the upper heaven,
And we see "face to face!"
Then shall our souls be joined, no more to sever,
And thou 'lt be mine, my best-beloved, forever!
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