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Then let us wait the coming light
All bodeless phantoms scorning;
HERE is a creed whose pure and gentle teaching
Will save the heart from error and from sin,
With gentle, loving words, it striveth ever
We need not seek the lofty, proud cathedral,
Where the soft light through painted windows gleaming,
And labor's sons may con its holy lessons,
No learned divine with skillful art hath framed it,
Nor is it taught alone by church and synod,
Where men for worship rear the hallowed stone. Where was it taught? What are its blessed pre cepts ?
What voice of power first gave them to the world? Were they proclaimed within the princely palace, With gorgeous rites, and triumph flags unfurled?
Long years ago, 'neath Olivet's green shadows,
Where Kedron's silvery brook winds through the valley,
And Sharon's palms wave 'neath a sunny sky-
And deeds of power attested His high mission,
Condemned them not, but said: "Go, sin no more."
"As thou dost love thyself, so love thy neighbor,
Vain are thy prayers, and vain the costly offering
T Carmel's mount the prophet laid
And fire descended from the skies,
No conqueror o'er fields has gone,
To blast with war our summer bowers,
Bright with autumn's richest tints,
And wind, and stream, and lake, and sea,
It is the festival of earth
The flame of love o'er nature burns,
Like incense from a thousand urns;
GEORGE D. PRENTICE.
WAITING FOR EASTER.
HARK! the clarion March wind! its wild, defiant
Rouses moor and forest, rouses hill and sea—
Stormy as the bugles that call when hosts are meeting, Rich as notes from Alp to Alp when horns make jubilee !
Down the darkening sunset a single star is shining
Hark! the stately chorus! away, my soul's dejection !
Bold as blown by Israfil across some burial plain!
Sturdier stand the maples as past them rolls its pœan; Thrill with joy the elm boughs, swaying light and
Back to dell and garden come dreams of scents Sabean, Back to brook and river tide the splendors of the sea.
"Welcome!" sigh the leaf-buds, though chill its rough caressing;
Hid in snow the crocus lifts a heart of gold;
Mayflower and anemone know well its wrath is blessing, Flushing pink for answer sweet in woodland moss and mold.
Hark! the clarion March wind, its wild, defiant greeting Rouses moor and forest, rouses hill and sea
Stormy as the bugles that call when hosts are meeting, Rich as notes from Alp to Alp when horus make jubilee!
Wind of life, sweep onward; bring a world diviner; Laughing meadows, mountains soft in purple air, Rosier dawns and twilights, suns and moons benigner, All that heaven and earth can give to fashion April fair.
Nay, bring nobler courage; faith that never falters;