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QUIET FROM GOD.

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Above the waters dark,

And o'er the desert's sod.

How beautiful within our souls to keep
This treasure, the All-merciful hath given;
To feel, when we awake, and when we sleep,
Its incense round us, like a breeze from heaven!
Quiet at heart and home,

Where the heart's joys begin;

Quiet where'er we roam,

Quiet around, within.

Who shall make trouble? Not the evil minds Which like a shadow o'er creation lower. The spirit peace hath so attuned finds

There feelings that may own the Calmer's power. What may she not confer,

E'en where she must condemn ?

They take not peace from her;

She may speak peace to them.

What shall make trouble? Not an adverse fate, Not chilly poverty, nor worldly care;

They who are tending to a better state

Want but that peace to make them feel they are.

Care o'er life's little day

The tempest-cloud may roll;

Peace o'er its eve will play,

The moonlight of the soul.

Who shall make trouble? Not the holy thought that will be a part

Of the departed,

Of those undying things which peace hath

wrought

Into a world of beauty in the heart:
Not the forms passed away,

Which time's strong current bore;
The dark stream might not stay,
The ocean will restore.

Who shall make trouble? Not slow-wasting pain, Not the impending, certain stroke of death; These do but wear away, then snap the chain Which bound the spirit down to things beneath. The quiet of the grave

No trouble can destroy ;

He who is strong to save

Shall break it, but with joy.

BALLAD OF THE TEMPEST.

J. T. FIELDS.

We were crowded in the cabin,
Not a soul would dare to sleep, –
It was midnight on the waters,
And a storm was on the deep.

BALLAD OF THE TEMPEST.

233

'Tis a fearful thing in winter
To be shattered in the blast,
And to hear the rattling trumpet
Thunder, "Cut away the mast!"

So we shuddered there in silence,
For the stoutest held his breath,
While the hungry sea was roaring,
And the breakers talked with Death.

As thus we sat in darkness,
Each one busy in his prayers,
"We are lost!" the captain shouted,
As he staggered down the stairs.

But his little daughter whispered,
As she took his icy hand,
"Is n't God upon the ocean,

Just the same as on the land?

Then we kissed the little maiden,
And we spoke in better cheer,
And we anchored safe in harbor

وو

When the morn was shining clear.

20*

WRITTEN IN SICKNESS.

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.

LORD of all worlds! let thanks and praise
To thee for ever fill my soul;

With blessings thou hast crowned my days,-
My heart, my head, my hand control :

O let no vain presumption rise,

No impious murmur in my heart,
To crave the boon thy will denies,
Or shrink from ill thy hands impart!

My soul, with endless being fraught,
Created by thy gracious laws,
With fancy, reason, judgment, thought,
The links between effect and cause,
Are gifts of goodness all divine,

Sprung from the clod, to heaven they rise,

Immortal life with dust combine,

And blend in union earth and skies.

Life, health, and nurture to the boy
See from the mother's breast supplied;
Yet not for ever streams the joy,

That flowing fountain must be dried :
Weaned, the fond mother's darling still
Without complaint bereavement bears,
No longer drains the milky rill,

But still the flood of bounty shares.

WRITTEN IN SICKNESS.

That child am I, and not an hour,
Revolving in the orbs above,
But brings some token of thy power,
But brings some token of thy love.
And shall this bosom dare repine,
In darkness dare deny the dawn,
Or spurn the treasures of the mine,
Because one diamond is withdrawn?

The fool denies, the fool alone,

Thy being, Lord, and boundless might,
Denies the firmament thy throne,
Denies the Sun's meridian light,

Denies the fashion of his frame,

The voice he hears, the breath he draws :

O idiot atheist! to proclaim

Effects unnumbered without cause!

Matter and mind, mysterious one,

Are man's for threescore years and ten;
Where, ere the thread of life was spun ?
Where, when reduced to dust again?
All-seeing God! the doubt suppress,
The doubt thou only canst relieve;
My soul thy Saviour Son shall bless,
Fly to thy Gospel, and believe.

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