278

RESIGNATION.

Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken
The bond which nature gives,

Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken,
May reach her where she lives.

Not as a child shall we again behold her;
For when with raptures wild

In our embraces we again enfold her,
She will not be a child;

But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion,
Clothed with celestial grace;

And beautiful with all the soul's expansion
Shall we behold her face.

And though at times, impetuous with emotion
And anguish long suppressed,

The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean
That cannot be at rest;

We will be patient! and assuage the feeling

We cannot wholly stay;

By silence sanctifying, not concealing,

The grief that must have way.

LONGFELLOW.

THE ALPINE SHEPHERD.

279

THE ALPINE SHEPHERD.

WHEN on my ear your loss was knelled.
And tender sympathy upburst,

A little rill from memory swelled,
Which once had soothed

my

bitter thirst.

And I was fain to bear to you
Some portion of their mild relief,
That it might be as healing dew,

To steal some fever from your grief.

After our child's untroubled breath
Up to the Father took its way,
And on our home the shade of death
Like a long twilight haunting lay;

And friends came round with us to weep
Her little spirit's swift remove,

This story of the Alpine sheep
Was told to us by one we love :

"They in the valley's sheltering care

Soon crop the meadow's tender prime, And when the sod grows brown and bare,

The shepherd strives to make them climb

280

THE ALPINE SHEPHERD.

"To airy shelves of pasture green,

That hang along the mountain's side,
Where grass and flowers together lean,

And down through mist the sunbeams slide.

"But naught can tempt the timid things
The steep and rugged path to try,
Though sweet the shepherd calls and sings,
And seared below the pastures lie,

"Till in his arms the lambs he takes,
Along the dizzy verge to go,

Then, heedless of the rifts and breaks,
They follow on o'er rock and snow.

"And in those pastures lifted fair,

More dewy soft than lowland mead,
The shepherd drops his tender care,
And sheep and lambs together feed."

This parable, by Nature breathed,
Blew on me as the south-wind free
O'er frozen brooks, that float unsheathed
From icy thraldom to the sea.

A blissful vision through the night
Would all my happy senses sway,
Of the Good Shepherd on the height,
Or climbing up the starry way,

GOING HOME.

Holding our little lamb asleep,
And like the burden of the sea
Sounded that voice along the deep,
Saying, "Arise, and follow me!"

281

MARIA LOWELL.

GOING HOME.

"Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of Heaven."

THEY are going

only going

Jesus called them long ago;

All the wintry time they 're passing
Softly as the falling snow.
When the violets in the spring-time

Catch the azure of the sky,
They are carried out to slumber
Sweetly where the violets lie.

They are going

- only going

When with summer earth is dressed,
In their cold hands holding roses

Folded to each silent breast;
When the autumn hangs red banners

Out above the harvest sheaves,

They are going. ever going

Thick and fast, like falling leaves.

282

GOING HOME.

All along the mighty ages,
All adown the solemn time,
They have taken up their homeward
March to that serener clime,
Where the watching, waiting angels
Lead them from the shadow dim,
To the brightness of His presence
Who has called them unto him.

They are going-only going -
Out of pain and into bliss
Out of sad and sinful weakness

Into perfect holiness.

Snowy brows

no care shall shade them;

Bright eyes tears shall never dim ; Rosy lips no time shall fade them;

Jesus called them unto him.

Little hearts forever stainless,

Little hands as pure as they,
Little feet by angels guided
Never a forbidden way!
They are going-ever going
Leaving many a lonely spot;
But 't is Jesus who has called them
Suffer and forbid them not.