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Yea, through life, death, through sorrow and Despised with Jesus, sorrowful and lonely,
through sinning,

Yet calmly looking upward in its strife.
He shall susfice me, for he hath sufficed :
Christ is the end, for Christ was the beginning, In meek obedience to the heavenly Teacher,
Christ the beginning, for the end is Christ. | Thy weary soul can find its only peace;
FREDERIC W. H. MYERS. Seeking no aid from any human creature, ---

Looking to God alone for his release.

ANONYMOUS.

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And he will come in his own time and power THE CHRISTIAN CALLING.

To set his earnest-hearted children free:

Watch only through this dark and painful hour,
The night is dark; behold, the shade was deeper And the bright morning yet will break for thee.
In the old garden of Gethsemane,
When that calm voice awoke the weary sleeper :
“Couldst thou not watch one hour alone with me?”

THE SOUL'S CRY.
() thou, so weary of thy self-denials !

"I cry unto Thee daily.” — Ps. lxxxvi. 3.
And so impatient of thy little cross,

0, EVER from the deeps
Is it so hard to bear thy daily trials,
To count all earthly things a gainful loss ?

Within my soul, oft as I muse alone,

Comes forth a voice that pleads in tender tone;
What if thou always suffer tribulation,

As when one long unblest
And if thy Christian warfare never cease ;

Sighs ever after rest;
The gaining of the quiet habitation

Or as the wind perpetual murmuring keeps.
Shall gather thee to everlasting peace.

I hear it when the day

Fades o’er the hills, or 'cross the shimmering sea;
But here we all must suffer, walking lonely

In the soft twilight, as is wont to be,
The path that Jesus once himself hath gone :

Without my wish or will,
Watch thou in patience through the dark hour

While all is hushed and still,
only,
This one dark hour, — before the eternal dawn.

Like a sad, plaintive cry heard far away.

Not even the noisy crowd,
The captive's oar may pause upon the galley,

That like some mighty torrent rushing down
The soldier sleep beneath his plumèd crest,

Sweeps clamoring on, this cry of want can drown;
And Peace may fold her wing o'er hill and valley,

But ever in my heart
But thou, O Christian ! must not take thy rest.

| Afresh the echoes start;

| I hear them still amidst the tumult loud.
Thou must walk on, however man upbraid thee,
With Him who trod the wine-press all alone ;

| Each waking morn anew
Thou wilt not find one human hand to aid thee, l'he sense of many a need returns again :
One human soul to comprehend thine own.

I feel myself a child, helpless as when
Heed not the images forever thronging

I watched my mother's eye,

| As the slow hours went by,
From out the foregone life thou liv'st no more ;

And from her glance my being took its hue.
Faint-hearted mariner! still art thou longing
For the dim line of the receding shore.

I cannot shape my way

Where nameless perils ever may betide,
Canst thou forget thy Christian supersciption,

O’er slippery steeps whereon my feet may slide ; “ Behold, we count them happy which endure”?

Some mighty hand I crave,
What treasure wouldst thou, in the land Egyptian, | To hold and help and save.
Repass the stormy water to secure ?

And guide me ever when my steps would stray.
Poor, wandering soul! I know that thou art seeking There is but One, I know,
Some easier way, as all have sought before,

That all my hourly, endless wants can meet;
To silence the reproachful inward speaking, —

Can shield from harm, recall my wandering feet; Some landward path unto an island shore.

My God, thy hand can feed

And day by day can lead 0, that thy faithless soul, one great hour only,

Where the sweet streams of peace and safety flow. Would comprehend the Christian's perfect life; |

RAY PALMER.

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dears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,

Tears from the depth of some drone despair
Rise in the heart & gather to the eyes
In looking on the happy autumn fields,
And thinking on the days that are no more.

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They turned to the Earth, but she frowns on her child;

They turned to the sea, and he smiled as of old:
Sweeter was the peril of the breakers white and wild,

Sweeter than the land, with its bondage and gold!

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Sayard Taylor

POEMS OF NATURE.

WORLDLINESS.

To chasten and subdue. And I have felt

A presence that disturbs me with the joy THE World is too much with us ; late and soon,

soon, | Of elevated thoughts ; a sense sublime Getting and spending, we lay wasté our powers; of

WEBD | Of something far more deeply interfused, Little we see in nature that is ours ;

| Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon !

And the round ocean, and the living air, This sea that bares her bosom to the moon,

And the blue sky, and, in the mind of man, The winds that will be howling at all hours

A motion and a spirit that impels And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,

| All thinking things, all objects of all thought, For this, for everything, we are out of tụne;

And rolls through all things. Therefore am I It moves us not. -- Great God! I'd rather be | A lover of the meadows, and the woods, A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn,

And mountains, and of all that we behold So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, From this green earth ; of all the mighty world

Haveglimpses that would make me less forlom; ( Of eye and ear, both what they half create Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea ;

| And what perceive; well pleased to recognize Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn. In nature and the language of the sense WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. The anchor of my purest thoughts.

.. WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

still

CORRESPONDENCES.

HEXAMETERS AND PENTAMETERS. Because my feet find measure with its call; . All things in nature are beautiful types to the The birds know when the friend they love is nigh, soul that reads them; For I am known to them, both great and small. Nothing exists upon earth but for unspeakable The flower that on the lonely hillside grows

ends; Expects me there when spring its bloom has given; Every object that speaks to the senses was meant And many a tree and bush my wanderings knows for the spirit; And e'en the clouds and silent stars of heaven ;) Nature is but a scroll; God's handwriting For he who with his Maker walks aright,

thereon. Shall be their lord as Adam was before ; .; | Ages ago, when man was pure, ere the flood overHis ear shall catch each sound with new delight, whelmed him, Each object wear the dress that then it wore; And he, as when erect in soul he stood,

Everything stood as a letter or word of a language Hear from his Father's lips that all is good.

familiar, JONES VERY. | Telling of truths which now only the angels

can read.

Lost to man was the key of those sacred hieroTINTERN ABBEY.

· glyphics, I HAVE learned

Stolen away by sin, till Heaven restored it ; To look on nature, not as in the hour

Now with infinite pains we here and there spell Of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes

out a letter, The still, sad music of humanity,

Here and there will the sense feebly shine Not harsh nor grating, though of ample power

through the dark.

S

!

S

When we perceive the light that breaks through | Press to one center still, the general good. the visible symbol,

See dying vegetables life sustain, What exultation is ours! We the discovery See life dissolving vegetate again : have made,

All forms that perish other forms supply Yet is the meaning the same as when Adam lived (By turns we catch the vital breath, and die); sinless in Eden,

| Like bubbles on the sea of matter borne, Only long hidden it slept, and now again is | They rise, they break, and to that sea return. revealed.

Nothing is foreign ; parts relate to whole ; Man unconsciously uses figures of speech every One all-extending, all-preserving Soul moment,

Connects each being, greatest with the least; Little dreaming the cause why to such terms Made beast in aid of man, and man of beast; he is prone,

All served, all serving; nothing stands alone ; Little dreaming that everything here has its own The chain holds on, and where it ends, unknown. correspondence

Has God, thou fool! worked solely for thy good, Folded within its form, as in the body the soul. Thy joy, thy pastime, thy attire, thy food ? Gleams of the mystery fall on us still, though Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn,

much is forgotten, And through our commonest speech illumine Is it for thee the lark ascends and sings ? the path of our thoughts.

Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings. Thus doth the lordly sun shine forth a type of Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat ? God-head;

Loves of his own and raptures swell the note. Wisdom and love the beams that stream on a The bounding steed you pompously bestride darkened world.

Shares with his lord the pleasure and the pride. Thus do the sparkling waters flow, giving joy to Is thine alone the seed that strews the plain ? the desert,

The birds of heaven shall vindicate their grain. And the fountain of life opens itself to the Thine the full harvest of the golden year? thirst.

Part pays, and justly, the deserving steer : Thus doth the word of God distill like the rain The hog that plows not, nor obeys thy call, and the dew-drops ;

Lives on the labors of this lord of all. Thus doth the warm wind breathe like to the Know, Nature's children all divide her care ; spirit of God;

The fur that warms a monarch warmed a bear. And the green grass and the flowers are signs of While man exclaims, “See all things for my use!” the regeneration.

“See man for mine!” replies a pampered goose :

And just as short of reason he must fall O thou Spirit of Truth, visit our minds once

Who thinks all made for one, not one for all. more;

Grant that the powerful still the weak control; Give us to read in letters of light the language

Be man the wit and tyrant of the whole : celestial,

Nature that tyrant checks; he only knows, Written all over the earth, written all over the

And helps, another creature's wants and woes.

Say, will the falcon, stooping from above, the sky, — Thus may we bring our hearts once more to know

Smit with her varying plumage, spare the dove ? our Creator,

Admires the jay the insect's gilded wings ? Seeing in all things around, types of the Infi

Or hears the hawk when Philomela sings ?
nite Mind.

Man cares for all : to birds he gives his woods,
To beasts his pastures, and to fish his floods;
For some his interest prompts him to provide,
For more his pleasure, yet for more his pride :

All feed on one vain patron, and enjoy
NATURE'S CHAIN.

The extensive blessing of his luxury.

That very life his learned hunger craves,
FROM "THE ESSAY ON MAN."

He saves from famine, from the savage saves ; LOOK round our world; behold the chain of love Nay, feasts the animal he dooms his feast, Combining all below and all above,

And, till he ends the being, makes it blest; See plastic nature working to this end,

Which sees no more the stroke, or feels the pain, The single atoms each to other tend,

Than favored man by touch ethereal slain. Attract, attracted to, the next in place,

The creature had his feast of life before ; Formed and impelled its neighbor to embrace. Thou too must perish when thy feast is o'er ! See matter next, with various life endued,

ALEXANDER POPE.

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