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 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, With all his flock around, He witches the still air with modulated 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. 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, O love, in thee; Ah, then my soul should know, Beloved, where thou liest at noon of day, And, from this place of wo Released, should take its way To mingle with thy flock, and never stray. The Sunday School.-MRS. SIGOURNEY. GROUP after group are gathering. Such as pressed And round Jehovah's sacred altar meet, Yet some there are, upon whose childish brows The "coat of many colors" proves His love, And ye, blessed laborers in this humble sphere, Come forth to gird the weak, untutored mind,— Of grateful love,-one tear of contrite pain,- The rest of earthly Sabbaths.-Be your gain "They went out into the Mount of Olives."-J. PIERPOINT. THERE'S Something sweet in scenes of gloom To hearts of joy bereft, When hope has withered in its bloom, When friends are going to the tomb, Or in the tomb are left. 'Tis night-a lovely night;—and, lo! The Savior and his brethren go, Led by heaven's lamp serene,— From Salem's height, o'er Kedron's stream, To Olivet's dark steep, There, o'er past joys, gone like a dream, O'er future woes, that present seem, In solitude to weep. Heaven on their earthly hopes has frowned; Blast not, O God, this hope of ours, Then, when our friends the grave devours, The Lily.-J. G. PERCIVAL. I HAD found out a sweet green spot, The din of the city disturbed it not, I found that lily's bloom When the day was dark and chill: It smiled, like a star in the misty gloom, I sat by the lily's bell, And watched it many a day : The leaves, that rose in a flowing swell, And the flower had flown away. I looked where the leaves were laid, In withering paleness, by, And, as gloomy thoughts stole on me, said, The Last Evening before Eternity.-HILLHOUSE. By this, the sun his westering car drove low: Round his broad wheel full many a lucid cloud Floated, like happy isles, in seas of gold: Turrets and towers, whose fronts, embattled, gleamed With deeper light the ruby blushed; and thick * Round I gazed, Where, in the purple west, no more to dawn, Mild twinkling through a crimson-skirted cloud While gazing wistful on that peerless light, In dreams, strange images will mix,) sad thoughts Wyoming.-F. G. HALLECK. "Dites si la Nature n'a pas fait ce beau pays pour une Julie, pour une Claire, et pour un St. Preux, mais ne les y cherchez pas." THOU Com'st, in beauty, on my gaze at last, I breathed, in fancy, 'neath thy cloudless skies, I then but dreamed: thou art before me now, I've stood upon the wooded mountain's brow, And now, where winds thy river's greenest shore, And winds, as soft and sweet as ever bore The fragrance of wild flowers through sun and shade, Are singing in the trees, whose low boughs press my head. Nature hath made thee lovelier than the power With more of truth, and made each rock and tree In the dark legends of thy border war, With woes of deeper tint than his own Gertrude's are. But where are they, the beings of the mind, The bard's creations, moulded not of clay, Hearts to strange bliss and suffering assigned Young Gertrude, Albert, Waldegrave-where are they? We need not ask. The people of to-day Appear good, honest, quiet men enough, And hospitable too-for ready pay,— With manners, like their roads, a little rough, And hands whose grasp is warm and welcoming, tho' tough. |