O day of freedom from despair,

And melody complete;

Of rest upon the harbor fair,
And quiet in the street.

The mountains to the little hills.
Sing out their songs of joy;

The hills clap hands to all the vales,
The birds their notes employ.

It is the Sabbath of God's mirth,
The proof that love prevails;
Where all creation had its birth,
And life that never fails.

Sing forth his love through all the earth, As he the mission gives;

And tell the whole despairing world,

That now the sinner lives.

No more shall guilt infest the ground,
Nor death the flowers invade;
But life and health breathe sweetly round,
O'er hill and vale and glade,

Where blossoms spring with daisy buds

And flowers forever bright,

And trees of Paradise are found

By rivers of delight;

And New Jerusalems arise,

Where guardian-angels meet,

And throngs of merry boys and girls
Are playing in the street.

They call your names with glad surprise,
Each other there to greet,

For never in their dreams did rise
A vision half so sweet.

O Lamb of God, whose precious blood
Brings such a joy to me,

In the dear hope that once for all
We may thy glory see,

Because thy dying love hath gained
In heaven such rest to be,
Salvation from the guilt and death.
Of earth's idolatry!

Transcendent gift of Jesus' love,

Bestowed on such as me!

God help me to believe, each hour,
That mine such bliss can be!

Forever shall our souls, dear Lord,
Breathe thy beloved name,
And sing the everlasting song
Of Moses and the Lamb!

THE PROPHECIES OF SPRING.

OFT-STEALING Spring! from thy daybreak

SOFT-STEALING

Our world a brighter air doth take.
Commencing with the violet's birth,
A bridal morn spreads o'er the earth;
And all the flowers from March to May
Will soon have blossomed into day.

The tender fragrant brake unweaves
To the sun its pale compacted leaves;
'Neath tufts of glossy evergreen
The crimson berries hide unseen;
But well the truant schoolboys know
Where ivy buds and berries grow.

Returning birds are on the wing
At thy loved call, enchanting Spring!
And budding forth with fearless haste,
Intruding on the winter's waste,
Thy snow-drops in the chilly air
Renew my faith, reprove my care.

The mazy brooks, at thy loud call
Released from winter's icy thrall,
Merry as girls let loose from school,
And unrestrained by art or rule,

Sing to the moss flowers, where they grow,
Sing to the melting wreaths of snow.

Filled with the sunshine of the soul,
Sweet thoughts steal forth at thy control;
The humming of the busy bee
Foretells the summer's minstrelsy,

And all the pulses of the heart
Into new life ecstatic start.

O blessed Spring! sweet time of hope!
Thou lift'st my drooping spirit up;
Thou send'st me forth truth's seeds to sow
Where'er the living waters flow;

Thy promises my faith employ, —
Who sow in tears, shall reap in joy.

O maiden fair, at thy dear voice
The mountains and the vales rejoice;
Once more the woods with music ring,
West winds of thee are whispering,
And every stream re-echoes sweet
The silver bells upon thy feet.

O prophesying Spring! in thee
The lesson of our life we see

Compact with germs of truth and right,
That struggle upwards to the light,
And disciplined with April showers

Break forth in summer fruits and flowers.

And when the golden harvests wave,
And snow lies on the Winter's grave;
When for the Resurrection day

We lay our mortal dress away, ·

The ascended soul within heaven's gate Shall her divine companion wait.