Though tears may dim my hours of joy, THOU reign'st where grief cannot annoy; And e'en when midnight's solemn gloom, I dream of that fair land, O Lord, To the Memory of a Brother.-ANONYMOUS. BEHOLD the glorious morn! and where art thou, And stand, with the spring flowers about thee waking, Were these to thee a weariness-the birds, A mother's love, whose holy influence fell, "Young brother!" had the sound no joy for thee, O, there be yearnings for thee, gentlest one, Gone with thy grace and thy sweet laughter's tone. Meet were thy footsteps for the world of flowers, Of the crowned summer's reign; And there are dancing o'er the joyous earth The clasping of thy gentle hand, thou child, Now parted from their lot. But I will speak of thee at eventide, When, in their watchfulness, the pure stars glide And when, alas! shall come the morning's gleam I will remember, and the dream shall be And I will deem thou'rt standing even now, A Home everywhere.-S. GRAHAM. HEAVE, mighty ocean, heave, And blow, thou boisterous wind; Away, away we steer, Upon the ocean's breast; And dim the distant heights appear, Like clouds along the west. There is a loneliness Upon the mighty deep; And hurried thoughts upon us press, Our home-O, heavens-that word! My wife and little one Are with me as I go; And they are all, beneath the sun, With them, upon the sea Or land, where'er I roam, Heave, mighty ocean, heave, And blew, thou boisterous wind: Where'er we go, we cannot leave Our home and friends behind. Then come, my lovely bride, Since we have nought on earth beside, We heed not earthly powers, We heed not wind nor weather; For, come what will, this joy is ours- And if the storms are wild, And we perish in the sea, We'll clasp each other and our child: And neither shall remain To meet, and bear alone, The cares, the injuries, the pain, And there's a sweeter joy, Danger nor death can e'er destroy Then wherefore should we grieve? Or what have we to fear? Though home, and friends, and life, we leave, Our God is ever near. If He who made all things, And rules them, is our own, Then come, my gentle bride, What if we've nought on earth beside? Sweep, mighty ocean, sweep; The Time to weep.-ANONYMOUS. THERE is a time to laugh, When Joy may raise his billows like the deep, And twine with wreaths of flowers the cup we quaff;But, O, when is the season not to weep? Is it when vernal suns Unfold the silken flower and satin leaf? Or when the hoar frost nips the fading ones, That frailer beings may refrain from grief? Is it when health and bloom Are painted on the smiling cheek of youth? Look not upon the brow, That shows no furrow from the plough of years; The prattling child at play May charm itself, and dry its tears awhile; Destruction has its home, And Mirth is destined to some favorite spot; Thou hast thy dark abode In the lone desert-in the prison's cell; And in the gayest scene, where ever flowed The tide of wine and music, thou dost dwell. Thou art where friends are torn And held asunder by reluctant space; And meeting friends-O, do they never mourn When Memory paints thine image on the face? Thy inmates of the breast All other passions-are but weak and brief; Joy, Hope, Pride, Love and Hatred have a rest, But thou art constant as our breath, O Grief! Then let the trifler laugh, And Joy lift his glad billows like the deep, And twine with wreaths of flowers the cup we quaff; It is far better for the wise to weep. The Autumn Evening.—PEABODY. BEHOLD the western evening light! The winds breathe low; the withering leaf Scarce whispers from the tree; So gently flows the parting breath, How beautiful on all the hills The crimson light is shed! "Tis like the peace the Christian gives |