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BY ROBERT T. CONRAD.
SONNETS ON THE LORD'S PRAYER Then, known no more the guile of gain, the leer
Of lewdness, frowning power, or pallid sear,
The shriek of suffering or the howl of crime !
All will be Thine--all best! Thy kingdom come! Our Father! Holiest name, first, fondest, best!
Then in Thy arms the sinless earth will rest, Sweet is the murmured music of the vow
As smiles the infant on its mother's breast. When young love's kiss first prints the maiden's The dripping bayonet and the kindling drum brow;
Unknown--for not a foe : the thong unknownBut sweeter, to a father's yearning breast
For not a slave : the cells, o'er which Despair His blue-eyed boy's soft prattle. This is love!
Flaps its black wing and fans the sigh-swoll'n air, Pure as the streamlets that distil through moun
Deserted ! Night will pass, and hear no groan!
Glad Day look down nor see nor guilt nor gnile; And drop, in diamonds, in their cavern'd fountains; And all that Thou hast made reflect Thy smile; Warm as our heart-drops; true as truth above. And is such Thine ? For whom? For all-ev'n me!
V. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Thou to whom all that is which sight can reach Thy will be done on earth as 't is in heaven! Is but a sand-grain on the ocean beach
That will which chords the music-moving spheres, Of being! Down my soul : it cannot be!
With harmonies unheard by mortal ears;
Swept by the hand of sin, its guilty tones
Startle the spheres with discord and with groans ; Who art in Heaven! Thou know'st nor mete nor By virtue, peace, hope-all but Thee-forsaken! bound.
Oh, be its chords restrung! Thy will be done! *Thy presence is existence. 'Neath thine eye, Mysterious law! Our griefs approve that will:
Systems spring forth, revolve, and shine—and die; For as shades haunt the night, grief follows ill ; Ev'n as, to us, within their little round,
And bliss tends virtue, as the day the sun. The bright sands in the eddying hill-side spring, Homage on earth, as 'tis on high, be given :
Sparkle and pass for ever down the stream. For when Thy will is done, then earth is heaven!
Slow-wheeling Saturn, of the misty beam, Circles but atoms with his mighty wing;
VI. Give us this day our daily bread. And bright-eyed Sirius, but a sentry, glows
Give us this day our daily bread! Thou art Upon the confines of infinity.
Lord of the harvest. Thou hast taught the song Where Thou art not, ev'n Nothing cannot be!
Sung by the rill the grassy vale along; Where Thy smile is, is Heaven ; where not-all And 't is Thy smile, when Summer's zephyrs start, woes,
That makes the wavy wheat a sea of gold ! Sin's chaos and its gloom. Grant thy smile be
Give me to share thy boon! No miser hoard My light of life, to guide me up to Thee!
I crave; no splendor ; no Apician board;
Freedom, and faith, and food—and all is told;
I ask no more. But spare my brethren! they Hallowéd be Thy name! In every clime,
Now beg, in vain, to toil; and cannot save 'Neath every sky! Or in this smiling land, Their wan-eyed lov'd ones, sinking to the grave. Where Vice, bold-brow'd, and Craft walk hand in Give them their daily bread! How many pray, hand,
Alas, in vain, for food! Be Famine fed;
Where Pagans tremble at their rough-hewn God; VII. Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those
who trespass against us. Sacred Thy name! The skeptic wild and vain;
Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive Rous'd from his rosy joys, the Osmanlite;
Those who against us trespass! Though we take The laughing Ethiop; and the dusk Hindoo :
Life, blessings, promis'd heaven, from Thee; we Thy sons of every creed, of every hue ;
make Praise Thee! Nor Earth alone. Each star of night, Life a long war 'gainst Him in whom we live! Join in the choir! till Heaven and Earth acclaim-- Pure once; now like the Cities of the Plain, Still, and for ever, Hallowed be Thy name !
A bitter sea of death and darkness rolls
Its heavy waves above our buried souls.
Yet wilt Thou raise us to the light again,
That grovels in our way.
How light the cost, And yet how hard the task! For we are lost In sin. Do thou my soul uphold and form! Bankrupt and lost to all but hope and Thee; Teach me to pardon; and oh, pardon me!
BY EBENEZER ELLIOTT.
Within the sun-lit forest,
Our roof the bright blue sky, Where fountains flow, and wild flowers blow,
We list our hearts on high : Beneath the frown of wicked men
Our couniry's strength is bowing ; But thanks to God! they can't prevent
The lone wild flowers from blowing!
VIII. And lead us not into temptation. Lead us not into temptation! The earth's best
Find, but in flight, their safety; and the wise
Shun, with considerate steps, its Basilisk eyes. Save us from Pleasure, with the heaving breast And unbound zone; from Flattery's honeyed tongue;
A varice, with golden palm and icy heart;
Ambition's marble smile and earthly art; The rosy cup where aspic death is hung ! Better the meal of pulse and bed of stone,
And the calmy safety of the Anchorite,
Than aught that life can give of wild and bright. Be thou my joy, my hope, my strength alone! Save from the tempter!
Should he woo to ill, Be thou my rock, my shield, my safety still !
High, high above the tree tops
The lark is soaring free; Where streams the light through broken clouds
His speckled breast I see.
The poor man's worth is dying;
The lark still warbles flying !
IX. But deliver us from evil.
The preacher says, “ Lord bless us !"
* Lord bless us !" echo cries ; " Amen!" the breezes murmur low,
- Amen!" the rill replies; The ceaseless toil of wo-worn hearts
The proud with pangs are paying; But here, oh God of earth and heaven!
The humble heart is praying:
Deliver us from evil! Hapless race !
Our life a shadow and our walk a dream;
Our gloom a fate, our joy a fitful gleam; Where is our hope but Thee! Oh give us grace To win thy favor! Save from loud-voic'd Wrong,
And creeping Craft! Save from the hate of foes;
The treachery of friends; the many woes, Which, to the clash of man with man belong! Save those I love from want, from sickness, pain!
And-spared that pang of pangs--oh let me die
Before, for them, a tear-drop fills my eye;
How softly in the pauses
Of song, re-echoed wide, The cushat's coo, the linnet's lay,
O'er rill and river glide. With evil deeds of men
The affrighted land is ringing; But still, oh Lord! the pious heart
And soul-toned voice are singing.
X. For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the
glory, for ever, Amen.
Hush! hush! the preacher preacheth,
« Wo to the oppressor, wo!"
And saddened flowers below:
Deride his indignation,
Your day of tribulation !
Thine is the kingdom, power and glory! Thine
A kingdom, based on past eternity,
beWould crush the mind; a power that wills should
shine A million worlds; they shine-should die; they die:
A glory to which the sun is dim;
And from whose radiance e'en the saraphim, Heaven-born, must veil the brow and shade the eye! And these are Thine, Forever! Fearful word,
To us, the beings of a world of graves
And minutes! Yet Thy cov'nant promise saves : Our trust is in Thee, Father uviour, Lord ! Holy, thrice holy, Thou! Forever, then, Be kingdom, power and glory Thine!
Speak low, thou heaven-paid teacher!
The tempest bursts above;
The terrors of his love !
The base their wrath are wreaking; But thank'd be God! they can't prevent
The storm of heaven from speaking
VOICES OF THE TRUE HEARTED.
THE HUMAN SACRIFICE.
BY JOHN G. WHITTIER.
Like some foul devil-altar there
Built up by demon hands at night.
And, maddened by that evil sight,
In vain he turned the holy book,
Creak, as the wind its timbers shook. No dream for him of sin forgiven,
While still that baleful spectre stood,
With its hoarse murmur, - Blood for Blood !!! Between him and the pitying Heaven !
Some of the leading sectarian papers have lately published the letter of a clergyman, giving an account of his attendance upon a criminal, (who had committed murder during a fit of intoxication) at the time of his execution, in Western New York The writer describes the agony of the wretched being-his abortive attempts at prayer—his appeal for life—his horror of a violent death; and after declaring his belief that the poor victim died without hope of salvation, concludes with a warm enlogy upon the Gallows, being more than ever convinced of its utility, by the awful dread and horror which it inspired. Far from his close and noisome cell,
By grassy lane and sunny stream, Blown clover-field and strawberry dell, And green and meadow freshness, fell
The footsteps of his dream. Again from careless feet, the dew
Of summer's misty morn he shook : Again with merry heart he threw
His light line in the rippling brook.
He urged the ball and quoit again,
Come ringing down the walnut glen.
Its scent of flowers and crisping hay;
He saw the quivering sun-light play.
A horror in God's blessed air-
Low on his dungeon floor he knelt,
And smote his breast; and on his chain, Whose demon clasp he always felt,
His hot tears fell like rain :
And tone of one whose formal part,
Unwarmed, unsoftened of the heart,
He saw the victim's tortured brow
The sweat of anguish starting thereThe record of a nameless woe
In the dim eye's imploring stare,
Seen hideous thro’ the long, damp hairFingers of ghastly skin and bone Working and writhing on the stone ! And heard, by mortal terror wrung From heaving breast and stiffened tongue,
The choking sob and low hoarse prayer ; As o'er his half-crazed fancy came A vision of the eternal flameIts smoky cloud of agoniesIts demon-worm that never diesThe everlasting rise and fall Of fire waves round the infernal wall : While high above that dark red flood, Black, giant like, the Gallows stood : Two busy fiends attending there ; One with cold mocking rite and prayer, The other with impatient grasp, Tightening the death-rope's strangling clasp!
Thon, unto whom the blind and lame,
The fiends of his revenge, were sent
From Thy pure Gospel's element
Who in that name the Gallows rears,
On the blind eyes which know Thee not, And let the light of thy pure day
Melt in upon his darkened thought. Soften his hard, cold heart, and show
The power which in forbearance lies, And let him feel that Mercy now
's better than old sacrifice.
The unfelt rite at length was done
The prayer unheard at length was said-
Smote on the features of the dead !
An earnest of the victim's fate,
The kindlings of Eternal Hate-
Against the crime of Law, which gave
His brother to that fearful grave, Whereon Hope's moon-light never lies,
And Faith's white blossoms never wave To the soft breath of Memory's sighs ;Which sent a spirit marred and stained, By fiends of sin possessed, profaned, In madness and in blindness stark, Into the silent unknown dark ? No—from the wild and shrinking dread With which he saw the victim led
Beneath the dark veil which divides Ever the living from the dead,
And Nature's solemn secret hides, The man of prayer can only draw New reasons for his bloody Law; New faith in staying Murder's hand, By murder at that Law's command; New reverence for the Gallows-rope, As human nature's latest hope ; Last relic of the good old time, When Power found license for its crime, And held a writhing world in check By that fell cord about its neck; Stifled Sedition's rising shout, Choked the young breath of Freedom out, And timely checked the words which sprung From Heresy's forbidden tongue; While, in its noose of terror bound, The Church its cherished union found, Conforming, on the Moslem plan, The motley-colored mind of man, Not by the Koran and the Sword, But by the Bible and the Cord!
As on the White Sea's charmed shore,
The Parsee sees his holy hill With dunnest smoke-clouds curtained o'er, Yet knows beneath them evermore
The low pale fire is quivering still; So, underneath its clouds of sin
The heart of man retaineth yet Gleams of its holy origin:
And half quenched stars that never set Dim colors of its faded bow,
And early beauty, linger there, And o'er its wasted desert blow
Faint breathings of its morning air. Oh! never yet upon the scroll of the sin-stained but priceless soul,
Hath Heaven inscribed - DESPAIR !" Cast not the clouded gem away, Quench not the dim but living ray
My brother man, Beware! With that deep voice which, from the skies Forbade the Patriarch's sacrifice,
God's angel cries, Forbear!
Oh Thou! at whose rebuke the grave
Poetry has been to me its own “exceeding great reward ;" it has soothed my affliction ; it has multiplied and refined my enjoyments; it has endeared solitude; and it has given me the habit of wishing to discover the good and the beautiful in all that meets and surrounds me.-COLERIDGE.
You cannot live for men, without living with them.
POEMS BY WILLIAM H. BURLEIGH.
« THE EARTH IS THE LORD'S."
Hills arrayed in living green,
Where the sunshine loves to linger,
Waters singing as they pass, (Pauses none to intervene,)
With a low and pleasant tune,
On their verdant slopes, and glancing Downward to their deepest beds
Forests, regally uplifting To the clouds their crowned leadsAnd the undulating plain Swaying with the swaying grainThese are Thine-and Thine the sky, With its gorgeous pageantry,
And its shadows ever shifting. Wait they all upon thy word, Nature's universal Lord!
Then to Thee, of life the Giver,
Thanks and songs for ever givenEvery voice in concert sounding, Every heart with rapture bounding, All harmonious anthems blending, Louder swelling as ascending
Tribute of the earth to Heaven!
Lord! the earth is thine,
And the fulness of the sea-
All belong to Thee!
Where the great sea-monsters roam, Thou hast hollowed wond'rous caves
For their ocean home.
Revels in his kingly might
Thou hast fashioned grottos rarer
There uncounted treasures lie
Sparkle aye in starry beams.
All the gems that flash and shine
Underneath the ocean-brine,
And the fulness of the earth!
O'er the formless void went forth,
And the darkness fled !
In their orbits sped.
In their virgin beauty drest,
From the sluggish worm that crawls
O'er the dungeon's slimy walls,
Flashes in the glad sunshine,
Gifts of song that seem divine
Insect, beast, and bird are thine! Formed by Thy creating hand, Heedful all to Thy command.
H. A. B.
Deem not, Beloved! that the glow
Of love with youth will know decayFor though the wing of time may throw
A shadow o'er our way ;
The calmness of a holy trust,
Consigns our « dust to dust!" The fervid passion of our youth-
The fervor of Affection's kiss Love, born of purity and truth
All pleasant memoriesThese still are ours, while looking back
Upon the Past with dewy eyes ; Oh dearest! on Life's vanished track
How much of sunshine lies!
Men call us poor-it may be true
Amid the gay and glittering crowd
Yet envy not the proud.
Heart-sheltered through long years of want, Pure hopes and quiet joys are ours,
That wealth could never grant.