WEARY, LONELY, RESTLESS, HOMELESS.

39

Broken hearts! broken hearts! ye are desolate and lone,
And low voices from the past o'er your present ruins moan;
In the sweetest of your pleasures there was bitterest alloy,
And a starless night hath followed on the sunset of your
joy.

Broken hearts! God is joy.

Homeless hearts! homeless hearts! through the dreary, dreary years,

Ye are lonely, lonely wanderers, and your way is wet with tears;

In bright or blighted places, wheresoever ye may roam,

Ye look away from earthland, and ye murmur, "Where is Home?"

Homeless hearts! God is home.

A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA.

A

A. CUNNINGHAM.

WET sheet and a flowing sea,

A wind that follows fast,

And fills the white and rustling sail,

And bends the gallant mast,

And bends the gallant mast, my boys,
While, like the eagle free,

Away the good ship flies, and leaves
Old England on our lee.

O for a soft and gentle wind!
I heard a fair one cry;

But give to me the swelling breeze,
And white waves heaving high,-

The white waves heaving high, my lads,
The good ship tight and free;
The world of waters is our home,
And merry men are we.

There's a tempest in yon horned

And lightning in yon cloud;
And hark! the music, mariners,

moon,

The wind is wak'ning loud,--
The wind is wak'ning loud, my boys,
The lightning flashes free;
The hollow oak our palace is,

Our heritage the sea.

If I should put the glasses on
And look in grandma's eyes,
Do you suppose that I should be
So very, very wise?

Now, what if I should find it true

That grandma had been naughty, too?

But ah! what am I thinking of?

To dream that grandma could

Be anything in all her life

But sweet and kind and good!

I'd better try myself to be

So good that when she looks at me
With eyes so loving all the day
I'll never want to turn away.

Touch us gently, Time!

Let us glide adown thy stream Gently, as we sometimes glide Through a quiet dream!

Humble voyagers are we,

Husband, wife, and children three,-

(One is lost,-an angel fled

To the azure overhead!)

Touch us gently, Time!

We've not proud nor soaring wings;

Our ambition, our content,

Lies in simple things.

Humble voyagers are we,
O'er life's dim, unsounded sea,
Seeking only some calm clime ;-

Touch us gently, gentle Time!