Even in the motions of the storm, Grace that shall mould the maiden's form By silent sympathy. "The stars of midnight shall be dear To her; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round; And beauty, born of murmuring sound, Shall pass into her face. "And vital feelings of delight Shall rear her form to stately height, Her virgin bosom swell: Such thoughts to Lucy I will give, So Nature spoke; the work was done; This heath, this calm and quiet scene, And nevermore shall be. In all the land of Savatthe. She had one child, as sweet and gay, As dear to her as the light of day. She was so young and he so fair,' The same bright eyes, and the same dark hair. They seemed two children at their play. There came a death-dart from the sky, The glimmering shades his eye invades, The smile gone out forevermore. But when she saw her child was dead And seized the small corpse, pale and sweet, "Master! all helpful! help me now; And kissed the dead child o'er and o'er, And suddenly upon the air, There fell the answer to her prayer; "Bring me to-night a Lotus tied With thread from a house where none has died." She rose and laughed with thankful joy, 66 Kilvany, thou hast lost thy head; Nothing can help a child that's dead. "There stands not by the Ganges side By wattled huts of poverty, The same refrain heard poor Kilvany, The evening came so still and fleet, There stands no house where none hath died." And Buddha answered in a tone, Soft as a flute at twilight blown, But grand as heaven, and strong as death, "Child, thou art answered! Murmur not! Bow, and accept the common lot!" Kilvany heard with reverence meet, THE PRESENT AND FUTURE FAITHS. PHILLIPS BROOKS. ARRANGED. "ACHILLES ponders in his tent, The kings of modern thought are dumb, And wait to see the future come.' 99 Silent, while years engrave the brow; Silent, the best are silent now. We all feel certainly a disposition of the best and deepest part of us to share this silence, to be still and wait. It is the natural symptom of a time that is not sure how much of the past is good and not sure what there is waiting in the future; a time and men "wandering between two worlds; one dead, the other powerless to be born." I do not certainly say that such a time is best, though really in my heart I do not think the world has ever seen a better. There must be better ones to come. "We are The story of the world is not told yet. ancients of the earth and in the morning of the times." How in a time like this can a man live and get the best out of it, and at the same time shun its worst? In all the uncertainty and change it is the true man's place to find what there is that is permanent and certain, and to cling to that. In other sorts of times men do not distinguish between what is lasting and what is transitory. All seems fixed together. Ice and rock alike are solid. In times like these, when the ice breaks up, the rocks stand out solid and strong among the loosened waves. It is a time to find out what is sure and certain and eternal. "DOST THOU LOOK BACK?" ALFRED TENNYSON. EXTRACT. Dost thou look back on what hath been, Who breaks his birth's invidious bar, Who makes by force his merit known, |