And higher than the highest crystal orb,
Up through the vales of Eden rose their prayer,
And moved Jehovah on His lofty throne.

Seraphs were bending o'er their shining seats,
And looking down upon them, while their harps
Hung for some moments on the Tree of Life.

"Who stands without that dwelling on the down,
Wrapp'd in sweet thought, with basket on his arm,
And hand upon the latch, listening with awe,
And ever and anon wiping a tear,

And lifting up his eyes toward the sky,
As if he saw an angel with his lyre?
It is a farmer from a distant field,
Who in the furrow left his ancient plough

And oxen standing still; for, as he toil'd,

A voice came to him from the depths of heaven: 'Relieve the widow on the common's side.'

And so he fill'd his basket to the brim

With bread and meat and eggs and wholesome cheese, And came and heard them praying.

Joy was there

And holy harpings in that humble home

Which emperors might envy. Thus saith God: 'Before thou callest, I will answer thee.'

ઃઃ

"I knew a rustic poet by a brook;

He woke one morn in boyhood's golden dream,
And, while the lark was singing o'er the mist,
God placed the lyre within his trembling hands.
It was a priceless treasure: day and night,
In cloud and sunshine, here was joy for him.
When sorrow smote, or cruel Death bereaved,
The Muse brought comfort to his stricken heart.

But though his soul was as some precious thing,
Dwelling apart among the works of God,
And shining like a diamond in its cell,
So very humble were his ways and words
That men pass'd by him as a common thing,
Nor heeded they his mission. Like a well
That bubbles up among the village huts,
And glides into the meadows unperceived,
Refreshing fern and floweret on its way,
And adding greenness to the thing that's green,
And beauty to the already beautiful;

So pass'd the poet through this weary world.
I met him yester-eve among the rocks:

I knew him by his striking breadth of brow;
And, pausing where the banks were gay with flowers,
He look'd towards the setting sun, and said,

'I have two visions with me evermore :
One is an aged matron, kind and good;
The Bible her chief comfort, heaven her home.
She dwells upon the borders of a croft,

In a low hovel fronting the

grey morn.

This is my loving mother. Hid with firs,
Within a valley water'd by a rill,

A lonely chapel stands in Gothic garb

And dim seclusion, holy as a saint:
Before it a small grave-yard always green,

Save when a new tomb's open'd; and a mound
Beneath a young elm, where the daisies grow,
Is ever with me 't is my daughter's grave.
She faded quickly, home's all-cheering flower,
Even while I gazed upon her loveliness.
Then heaven's bright portals let her in to God.'
And down the ravine stole the pensive bard.

D

"In moonlight mantles these hoar rocks stand up,
And woo me to their cloisters. I have learnt
In whatsoever state to be content.

This Thou has taught me, Father. I feel not
The least desire to leave my heathy heights.
This mountain is my world, these crags my throne,
And glancing fairies are my retinue;

The night-bird is my poet, and the rill

My sweet musician trickling down the rocks;
Wing'd spirits, bearing harps, my ministers;
And God my audience, looking down from heaven.
O hear me while I lift my heart to Thee!
I thank Thee for Thy guidance: Thou art Love;
Thy name is sweeter than the breath of flowers;
Thy heart is full of holy tenderness.

Hast Thou not promised to uphold the weak,
To be the prop of age, and in the stream
Of death itself to cheer the trusting saint?
I hang upon Thy mercy, and believe
The gates of glory will be oped for me.

"O what a strong tower has Thy presence been
In days of darkness and in nights of woe!
When the grim tempter, as a lion roused,
Rampant and huge, alarms the quaking wood,
And rushes raving through the tangled brake,
With red fire flaming from his rolling eyes,
Lashing his great sides with his shaggy tail,
And shaking dew-drops from his monster mane;
So rush'd the devil down upon a worm.
But Thou didst save me in that perilous hour,
And drive the monster back into his smoke.
And Thou wilt save me to Thyself at last,

And clothe me with a fair immortal vest,
Safe in the jasper home of the redeem'd.

"Enter yon room, and mark that praying one:
No voice to hers responded. Through the heavens
The black clouds wander'd weeping evermore,
With thunder on their fronts and wings of flame.
Dark were the moon and stars, the frantic winds
Rush'd down the mountains like a sea of waves,
So that the grateful cottar in his home

Thought of the sailor through a shining tear,
Half-oped his door, and murmur'd, 'What a storm!
High in her chamber, all alone with Heaven,
As she was wont, a pious mother prays

That God would bless her and her household train
With grace to bear the chastenings of His hand,
And lead them all to Christ the loving One:
And peace hung brooding o'er her brighten'd soul.
That day Disaster like a sheeted ghost

Stole through her dwelling, scaring each in turn.
The boys shrank from the spectre, some to play,
And some to riot with companions rude,
And some to revel in the glow of wine,
Which only makes the sad one sadder still;
The maids to dress and parties, she to God:
They to return with anguish more intense;
She, bright with radiance from the' eternal throne.

"Hers was an influence quiet as the dews
That drop at nightfall on the golden flower,
To cheer it opening in the light of morn;
And day by day thus secretly she shed

A holy halo over all her house,

Till by the Spirit love fill'd up the place.
For one cold winter's eve, beside the fire,
Her six brave sons, to ruddy manhood grown,
Were sitting musing on the chequer'd past,
When down upon them fell the breath of heaven,
And one by one pray'd silently and still';
And one by one determined for the Lord;
And one by one confessed the second birth,
And pass'd from darkness into Zion's light;
Till all embraced the promised Comforter,
Rejoiced in hope, and praised the Trinity.
How grand the gracious scheme to save mankind,
Wrought in the halls of old eternity,
And perfected on Calvary's rocky crest!
The living doctrines of the Saviour hang
Like golden sunbeams round the icy north,
And span the summits of the spicy south;
And soon their light shall fill the gladden'd globe.

"Time travell'd on with much of care and change;
Her children had departed; some at sea,
And some on land, and some were in their graves;
All, save a darling daughter, like a bud
Left by the March blast on a stricken spray.
And so she loved her with life's latest love,
That linger'd in her bosom like a brand.
Go to the chapel by the ancient bridge,
When Sabbath songs are carol'd by the choir:
They both sit down together side by side,
That widow'd mother, and her darling dove,
With tearful eyes fix'd on the Minister.

"No day without its mercies:. how they throng