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And the nightingale shall cease to chant the evening long.

The kine of the pasture shall feel the dart that kills,

And all the fair white flocks shall perish from the hills.

The goat and antlered stag, the wolf and the fox, The wild boar of the wood, and the chamois of the rocks,

And the strong and fearless bear, in the trodden dust shall lie ;

And the dolphin of the sea, and the mighty whale, shall die.

And realms shall be dissolved, and empires be

no more,

And they shall bow to death, who ruled from shore to shore ;

And the great globe itself, so the holy writings tell,

With the rolling firmament, where the starry armies dwell,

Shall melt with fervent heat, - they shall all

pass away,

Except the love of God, which shall live and last

for aye.

From the Provençal of BERNARD RASCAS. Translation of WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

THE MASTER'S TOUCH.

IN the still air the music lies unheard;
In the rough marble beauty hides unseen :
To make the music and the beauty, needs

The master's touch, the sculptor's chisel keen.

Great Master, touch us with thy skilful hand;
Let not the music that is in us die?
Great Sculptor, hew and polish us; nor let,
Hidden and lost, thy form within us lie!

DIFFERENT MINDS.

SOME murmur when their sky is clear And wholly bright to view,

If one small speck of dark appear

In their great heaven of blue; And some with thankful love are filled If but one streak of light, One ray of God's good mercy, gild The darkness of their night.

In palaces are hearts that ask,

In discontent and pride,
Why life is such a dreary task,

And all good things denied ;
And hearts in poorest huts admire
How Love has in their aid
(Love that not ever seems to tire)
Such rich provision made.

RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH.

CANA.

DEAR Friend! whose presence in the house,
Whose gracious word benign,
Could once, at Cana's wedding feast,
Change water into wine;

Come, visit us! and when dull work
Grows weary, line on line,
Revive our souls, and let us see

Life's water turned to wine.

Gay mirth shall deepen into joy, Earth's hopes grow half divine, When Jesus visits us, to make Life's water glow as wine.

The social talk, the evening fire,

The homely household shrine, Grow bright with angel visits, when The Lord pours out the wine.

For when self-seeking turns to love,
Not knowing mine nor thine,
The miracle again is wrought,
And water turned to wine.

JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE

O World, thou choosest not the better part!
It is not wisdom to be only wise,

And on the inward vision close the eyes,
But it is wisdom to believe the heart.
Columbus found a world, and had no chart,
Save one that faith deciphered in the skies;
To trust the soul's invincible surmise
Was all his science and his only art.
Our knowledge is a torch of smoky pine.
That lights the pathway but one step ahead
Across a void of mystery and dread.
Bid, then, the tender light of faith to shine
By which alone the mortal heart is led
Unto the thinking of the thought divine.

GEORGE SANTAYANA.

PRESENTIMENT is that long shadow on the lawn.
Indicative that suns go down;

The notice to the startled grass
That darkness is about to pass.

I NEVER saw a moor,

I never saw the sea;

Yet know I how the heather looks,

And what a wave must be.

I never spake with God,
Nor visited in heaven;

Yet certain am I of the spot

As if the chart were given.

EMILY DICKINSON.

Again the gaunt Paulinus

To ruddy Edwin spake : "God offers life immortal

For his dear Son's own sake! Wilt thou not hear his message, Who bears the keys and sword?” But Edwin looked and pondered, And answered not a word.

Rose then a sage old warrior

Was fivescore winters old; Whose beard from chin to girdle

Like one long snow-wreath rolled :"At Yule-time in our chamber

We sit in warmth and light, While cold and howling round us Lies the black land of Night.

"Athwart the room a sparrow
Darts from the open door :
Within the happy hearth-light
One red flash, and no more!
We see it come from darkness,
And into darkness go:
So is our life, King Edwin!
Alas, that it is so!

"But if this pale Paulinus

Have somewhat more to tell;

Some news of Whence and Whither,
And where the soul will dwell;
If on that outer darkness

The sun of hope may shine; -
He makes life worth the living!
I take his God for mine!"

So spake the wise old warrior;
And all about him cried,
"Paulinus' God hath conquered!
And he shall be our guide:-
For he makes life worth living
Who brings this message plain,
When our brief days are over,
That we shall live again."

ANONYMOUS.

Yet hindrances strew all the way; I aim at thee, yet from thee stray.

"T is mercy all that thou hast brought My mind to seek her peace in thee. Yet while I seek but find thee not

No peace my wand'ring soul shall see. Oh! when shall all my wand'rings end, And all my steps to-thee-ward tend?

Is there a thing beneath the sun

That strives with thee my heart to share? Ah! tear it thence and reign alone,

The Lord of every motion there. Then shall my heart from earth be free, When it has found repose in thee.

Oh! hide this self from me, that I
No more, but Christ in me, may live.
My vile affections crucify,

Nor let one darling lust survive.
In all things nothing may I see,
Nothing desire or seek but thee.

O Love, thy sovereign aid impart,
To save me from low-thoughted care;
Chase this self-will through all my heart,
Through all its latent mazes there.
Make me thy duteous child, that I
Ceaseless may Abba, Father, cry.

Ah! no; ne'er will I backward turn:
Thine wholly, thine alone I am.
Thrice happy he who views with scorn

Earth's toys, for thee his constant flame.
Oh! help, that I may never move
From the blest footsteps of thy love.

Each moment draw from earth away My heart, that lowly waits thy call. Speak to my inmost soul, and say,

"I am thy Love, thy God, thy All." To feel thy power, to hear thy voice, To taste thy love is all my choice.

JOHN WESLEY.

THE LOVE OF GOD SUPREME.

THOU hidden love of God, whose height,
Whose depth unfathomed no man knows,
I see from far thy beauteous light,
Inly I sigh for thy repose.
My heart is pained, nor can it be
At rest till it finds rest in thee.

Thy secret voice invites me still

The sweetness of thy yoke to prove, And fain I would; but though my will Be fixed, yet wide my passions rove.

THE RIGHT MUST WIN. O, IT is hard to work for God, To rise and take his part Upon this battle-field of earth,

And not sometimes lose heart!

He hides himself so wondrously,

As though there were no God; He is least seen when all the powers Of ill are most abroad.

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