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O Thou, who "spake creation into birth,”
Then formed the Soul as sovereign of the earth,
Naught is so vast in thy majestic plan,

As thine own image symbolized in man!
Teach us to know, and humbly to revere
The mighty marvels thou hast centred here;
To bow with awe before each inward light,
The sense of wrong, the consciousness of right.
The aspirations which to heaven would soar, -
The power to love, contemplate, and adore;
Mysterious thought, which with an eagle glance
Measures the depth of infinite expanse;
Immortal hope, that may for ever shine; -
These live within, and burn with power divine!

Arouse thee, Soul! and turn thy piercing eye
On thine own inward being! Learn the high
And holy purposes for which on earth
Jehovah gave thy wondrous spirit birth:
Ponder each heavenly hope, each earthly strife,
And know the long-forever- of thy life!

Up! child of earth, and, wondering, behold
This world of thought. Let all its powers unfold
Before thine awe-struck vision. Guard with care
The faintest spark which God has kindled there;
Let no untimely frost, nor blight of sin,
Blast the immortal life which buds within!

THE BUILDING OF THE HOUSE.

CHARLES MACKAY.

I HAVE a wondrous house to build,
A dwelling, humble yet divine;
A lowly cottage to be filled

With all the jewels of the mine. How shall I build it strong and fair,This noble house, this lodging rare,

So small and modest, yet so great? How shall I fill its chambers bare With use, with ornaments, with state?

My God hath given the stone and clay ;
"T is I must fashion them aright;
"T is I must mould them day by day,

And make my labor my delight;
This cot, this palace, this fair home,
This pleasure-house, this holy dome,
Must be in all proportions fit,
That heavenly messengers may come
To lodge with him who tenants it.

No fairy bower this house must be,
To totter at each gale that starts,
But of substantial masonry,

Symmetrical in all its parts:

THE BUILDING OF THE HOUSE.

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Fit in its strength to stand sublime,
For seventy years of mortal time,

Defiant of the storm and rain,
And well attempered to the clime
In every cranny, nook, and pane.

I'll build it so, that if the blast
Around it whistle loud and long,
The tempest when its rage has passed
Shall leave its rafters doubly strong.
I'll build it so that travellers by
Shall view it with admiring eye,

For its commodiousness and grace: Firm on the ground, — straight to the sky,A meek, but goodly dwelling-place.

Thus, noble in its outward form,

Within I'll build it clean and white; Not cheerless cold, but happy warm, And ever open to the light.

No tortuous passages or stair,

No chamber foul, or dungeon lair,
No gloomy attic, shall there be,
But wide apartments, ordered fair,
And redolent of purity.

With three compartments furnished well,
The house shall be a home complete;
Wherein, should circumstance rebel,
The humble tenant may retreat.

The first, a room wherein to deal
With men for human nature's weal,
A room where he may work or play,
And all his social life reveal

In its pure texture, day by day.

The second, for his wisdom sought,
Where, with his chosen book or friend,
He may employ his active thought

To virtuous or exalted end.

A chamber lofty and serene,

With a door-window to the green,

Smooth-shaven sward, and arching bowers, Where lore, or talk, or song between May gild his intellectual hours.

The third an oratory dim,

But beautiful, where he may raise,
Unheard of men, his daily hymn

Of love and gratitude and praise;
Where he may revel in the light
Of things unseen and infinite,

And learn how little he may be,
And yet how awful in thy sight,
Ineffable Eternity!

Such is the house that I must build;
This is the cottage, this the dome,
And this the palace, treasure-filled,
For an immortal's earthly home.

NEW YEAR'S DAY.

O noble work of toil and care!

O task most difficult and rare!

O simple but most arduous plan! To raise a dwelling-place so fair, The sanctuary of a Man.

NEW YEAR'S DAY.

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W. B. 0. PEABODY.

How fast the rushing files of years
Move on their stern array!

The messenger of joy and tears,
Of rising or decay.

While many a weary heart grows cold

To see how soon the tale is told,

The young heart wakes,—the young eye seems

To catch new brightness from the gleams

Of glorious and reviving beams

That crown the New Year's day.

This day reminds us of the past,
When young existence ran,

A radiant current, bright and fast,
Before the storms began,

And threw the shadow of their wrath
Across the brightness of our path,

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