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Tokeus are dead if the things do not live.

light everlasting Unto the blind man is not, bnt is born of the eye

that has vision. JNeither in bread nor in wine, bnt in the heart

that is hallowed Lieth forgiveness eushrined; the intention alone

of amendment Fruits of the earth eunobles to heaveuly things,

and removes nil Sin and the gnerdon of sin. Ouly Love with his

arms wide extended, Penitence weeping and praying; the Will that is

tried, and whose gold flows Purified forth from the flames; in a word, mankind by Atonement Breaketh Atonement's bread, and drinketh

Atonement's wine-cup. Bnt he who cometh up hUher, unworthy, with

hate in his bosom, Scoffing at men and at God, is guilty of Christ's

blessed body. And the Redeemer's blood! To himself he cateth

and drinketh Death and doom! And from this preserve us,

tlion heaveuly Father! Are yc ready, ye children, to eat of the bread of

Atonement?" Thus with emotion he asked, and together answered the children Yes! with deep sobs interrupted. Then read he

the dne supplicatious, Read the Form of Conuminion, and in chimed

the organ and antticiti: O! Holy Lamb of God, who tukest away onr

trausgressions

The Hear us! give us thy yeace! have merey, have

merey upon us: Th' old mun, with trembiinc hand, and heaveuly

pearls upon his eyelids. Fllled now the chulfeo and paten, and dealt

ronnd the mystical symbols. Oh! thai seemed it to me, us if God, with the

broad eye of mid-day. Clearer looked in at the windows, and all the

trees in the churehyard Bowed down their Mnmnits of green, and the

Crass on the graves 'gan to shiver. Bnt in the children (I noted it well; I knew it)

there ran a Tremor of holy rapture along throngh their ieycold members. Decked like an altar before them, there stood

the green earth, ami above it Heaven opened itself, us of old before Stephen;

they saw there Radiant in glory the Father, and on his right

hand the Redeemer. Under them hear they the clung of harpstrings,

and angels from gold clonds Beckon to them like brothers, and fan with their

pinious of purple. Closed was the Teacher's tn.dc, and with heaven in their hearts and their faces, Uprose the children all. and each bowed him,

weeping full sorely, Downward to kiss t hnt reverend hand, bnt all

of them pressed he. Moved to his bosom, and laid with a praver, his

hands full of blessings. Now on the holy breast, and now on the Innocent

tresses.

BY THE SEASIDE AND THE FIRESIDE.

DEDICATION.
As one who, walking in the twilight gloom,

Hours ronnd abont him voices as it darkeus. And secing not the forms from which they come. Pauses from time to time, and turus and hearkeus;

So walking'here in twilight, O my friends!

I hear yonr voices, softened by'the distance. And pause, and turn to listen, as each sends

His words of friendship, comfort, and assistance.

If any thonght of mine, or sung or told.

Has ever given delight or cousolation,
I e have repaid ine back a thonsand-fold,

By every friendly sigu and salntation.
Thanks for the sympathies that ye have shown,

.thanks for each Kindly word, cacli silent token, That teaches me, when seeming most alone

friends are aronnd us, thongh no word be

Kind messages, that pass from land to land:
Kind letters that betray the heart's deep his-

In which we feel the pressure of a hand,—
One tonch of fire, and all the rest is mystery!

The pleasant books that silently among
Our honsehold treasures take familiar places

And are to us as if a living tongne
Spake from the printed leaves or pietured

p»r!;aps on earth I never shall behold,
With eye of seuse yonr ontward form and sem-
blance

Therefore to mo yon never will grow old. lint live for ever yonng in my remembrance.

Never grow old, nor change, nor pass awav I

wi,TMri,?entlc T0i,ces wi" now 0» /or ever. When life grows bare, and farnished with decav. As throngh a leafless landscape flows a river.

N?!„?,','Snef.of !'-irth or Place 1,as "Moo >is friends, nationTM " "!""rent tongnes and

BS5.tte c,nde'avour for the selfsame ends.

So S"m0 h0P°S' and felu'3' "nd usl'!ra

Therefore I hope to join yonr sea-side walk.
Saddened, and most silent, with emotion

Nor interrupting with intrusive talk
the grand, majestic symphonies of ocean.

Therefore I hope, as no unwelcome guest

flighted""TM nresWc' when tne laTMPs are

xwIf.T !ilaec reserv',|l among the rest, INor stand as one uusonght or uninvited!

BY THE SEASIDE.

THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP. "Build rac straight, O worthy Master!

Staunch and strong, a goodly vessel. That shall laugh at all disaster,

And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!" The merehant's word Delighted the Master heard: For his heart was in his work, and the heart GIveth grace unto every Art. A. quiet smile played ronnd his lips, As the eddies and dimples of the tide Play ronnd the bows of ships, That steadily at anchor ride. And with a voice that was full of glee He auswered, "Ere long wo will launch A vessel as gOodly. and strong, and staunch. As ever weathered a wintry sea!" And first with nicest skill and art, Perfeet and finished in evev part, Al ittle model the Master wronght, Winch shonld be to the larger plan What the child is to the man, Its connterpart in miniature; That with a hand more swift and sure The greater labonr might be bronght To answer to his inward thonght. And as he labonred his mind ran o'er Ihe varions ships that were built of yore. And above them all, and strangest of all. Towered the Great Harry, crank and tall. Whose pieture was hanging here and there. And sigual lanterus and flags afloat, And eight ronnd towers, like those that frown From some old castle, looking down Upon the drawbridge and (lie moat. 1.. „, 8"ld w"h n smllc. "Our ship, I wis, bhall bo of another form than this.'

It was of another form, indeed:

Built for freight, and yet for sliced,

A beantiful and gallant craft;

Broad in the beam, that the stress of the blast.

1 ressing down upon sail and mast.

Might not the sharp bows overwheim •

Broad in the beam, hnt sloping aft

With graceful curve and slow degrees.

That she might be docile to the heim.

And that the currents of parted seas.

Closing behind, with mighty foree.

Might aid and not impede her conrse.

In the ship-yard stood the Master,

With the model of the vessel,
That shall laugh at all disaster.

And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!
Covering many a rood of gronnd,
Lay the timber piled aronnd:
Timber of chestnnt, and eim, and oak,

And scattered here and there, with those,

The knarred and crooked cedar knees;

Bronght from regious far away,

From Pascagonhi's suuny hay'

And the hanks of the roaring Roanoke!

Ah! what a wondrons thing it is

To note how many wheels of toll

One thonght, one word, can set in motion I

There's not a ship that sails the ocean,

Bnt every climate, every soil,

Must bring its tribnte, great or small.

And help i0 build the wooden wall I

The sun was rising o'er the sea,
And long the level shadows lay.
As if they, too, the beams wonld be
Of some great, airy argosy,
Framed and launched in a single day.
The silent arehiteet, the sun,
Had hewn and laid them every one.
Ere the work of man was yet begun.
Beside the Master, when he spoke,
A yonth, agaiust an anchor leaning.
Listened, to catch his slightest meaning,
Ouly the long waves, as they broke
In ripples on the pebbly beach.
Interrupted the old man's speech.

Beantiful, they were, in sooth.

The old man and the fiery yonth!

The old man, in whose busy brain

Many:a ship that sailed the main

Was modelled o'er and o'er again;—

The fiery yonth, who was to be

The heir of his dexterity,

The heir of hishonse, and his daughter's hand,

When he had built and launched from land

What the elder head had plauned.

"Thus," said he, "will we build this ship;

Lay square the blocks upon the slip,

And follow well this plan of mine.

Choose the timbers with greatest care;

Of all that is uusonnd beware;

For ouly what is sonnd and strong

To this vessel shall belong,

Cedar of Maine and Georgia pine

Here together shall combine.

A goodly frame, and a goodly fame,

And the Union be her name!

For the day that gives her to the sea

Shall give my daughter unto thee!"

The Master's word

Euraptured the yonng man heard;

And as ho turned his face aside,

With a look of joy and a thrill of pride,

Standing before

Her father's door.

He saw the form of his promised bride.

The sun shone on her golden hair,

And her cheek was glowing fresh and fair,

With the breath of morn and the soft sea air,

Like a beanteons barge was she,

Still at rest on the sandy beach.

Just beyond the billow's reach;

Bnt he

Was the restless, seething, stormy sea!

Ah. how skilful grows the hand
That obeyeth Love's command!
It is the heart, and not the brain,
That to the highest doth attain,
And he who followeth Love's behest
Far exceedeth all the rest!

Thus with the rising of the sun

Was the noble task begun,

And soon thronghont the ship-yard's bonnds

Were heard the intermingled sonnds

Of axes and of mallets, applied

Witli vigorons arms on every side!

Piled so deftly and so well,

That, ere the shadows of evening fell,

The keel of oak for a noble ship,

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Scarfed and bolted, straight and strong,
Was lying ready, aad liretched along
The blocks, well plured upon the slip.
Happy, thrice happy, mry one
Who sees his taboor well began.
And not perplexed and umltiplied,
By idly waiting for time and tide!
And when tha hot long day was o'er,
The yonng man at the Master's door
Sat with the maiden caim and still.
And within the porch, a little more
Removed beyond the evening chill,
The father sat and told them tales,
Of wrecks in the September gales,
Of pirates upon the Spanish main,
And ships that never came back again,
The chance and change of a sailor's life,
Want and plenty, rest and strife,
His roving faney, like the wind,
That nothing can stay and nothing can bind,
And the magic charm of foreigu lands,
With shadows of palms and shining sands,
Where the tumbling surf.
O'er the coral reefs of Madagascar,
Washes the feet of the swarthy Lascar,
As he lies alone and asleep on the turf.
And the trembling maiden held her breath
At the tales of that awful pitiless sea,
With all jt terror and mystery.
The dim, dark sea, so like unto Death,
'That divides and yet unites mankind!
And whenever the old man paused, a gleam
From the bowl of his pipe wonld awhile illume
The silent gronp in the twilight gloom,
And thonghtful faces, as in a dream;
And for a moment one might mark.
What had been hidden by the dark,
That the head of the maiden lay at rest,
Tenderly on the young man's breast!

Day by day the vessel grew,

With timbers fashioned strong and trne,

fltemson and keelson and steruson-knee,

Till, framed with perfeet symmetry,

A skeleton shfp rose up to View!

And aronnd the bows and aronnd the side

The heavy hammers and mallets plied,

Till after many a week, at length,

Wonderful for form and strength,

Sublime in its enormons hulk,

Loomed aloft the shadowy hulk!

And aronnd it columus of smoke upwreathing,

Rose from the boiling, bubbling, seething

Cauldron that glowed,

And overflowed

With the black tar, heated for the sheathing.

And amid the clamonrs

Of clattering hammers,

He who listened heard now and then

The song of the Master and his men :—

"Build me straight. O worth Master,
Staunch and strong, a goodly vessel,

That shall laugh at all disaster,
And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!"

With oaken brace and copper band,

Lay the rndder on the sand.

That, like a thonght shonld have control

Over the movement of the whole;

And near it the anchor whose giant hand

Wonld reach down and grapple with the land,

And immovable and fast

Hold the great ship agaiust the bellowing blast?

And at the bows an image stood.

By cuuning artist carved in wood,

With robes of white that far behind

Seemed to be flnttering in the wind.

It was not shaped in a classic monld,

Nor like a Nymph or Goddess of old,

Or Naiad rising from the water,

Bnt modelled from the master's daughter!

On many a dreary and misty night,

'Twill be seen by the rays of the sigual light,

Speeding along throngh the rain and the dark.

Like a (,'host in its show-white sark,

The pilot of somc phantom bark,

(iniding the vessel in its flight,

By a path none other knows aright!

Behold, at Iust,
Each tall and tapering mast
Is swung into its place;
Shronds and stays
Holding it lirin and fast!

Long ago.

In the deer-haunted forests of Maine,

When upon monntain and plain

Lay the suow,

They fell,— those lordly pines!

Those grand, majestic pines!

'Mid shonts and cheers

The jaded steers,

Panting beneath the goad,

Dragged down the weary, winding road

Those captive kings so straight and tall,

To he shorn of their streaming hair,

And, naked and hare,

To feel the stress and the strain

Of the wind and the reeling main,

Whose roar

Wonld remind them for evermore

Of their native forests they shonld not see again.

And everywhere

The slender, graceful spars

Poise aloft in the air,

And at the mast-head,

White, blne, and red,

A flag uurolls the stripes and stars.

Ah! when the wanderer, lonely, friendless,

In foreigu harbonrs shall behold

That flag uurolled,

'Twill be as a friendly hand

Stretched ont from his native land,

Fllling his heart with memories sweet arid endless;

All is finished! and at length

Has come the bridal day

Of beanty and of strength.

To-day the vessel shall be launched!

With fleecy clonds the sky is blanched,

And o'er the bay,

Slowly, in nil his splendonrs dight,

The great sun rises to behold the sight

The ocean old,

Centuries old,

Strong as yonth, and as uncontrolled,

Paces restless to and fro,

Up and down the sands of gold.

Hls beating heart is not nt rest;

And far and wide,

With ceaseless flow,

His beard of suow

Heaves with the heaving of his breast.

He waits Impatient for his bride.

There she stands.

With her foot upon the sands,

Decked with flags and streamers gay,

In hononr of her marriage day.

Her suow-white siguals flnttering, blending,

Ronnd her like a veil descending,

Ready to be

The bride of the gray, old sea.

On the deck another bride
Is standing by her lover's side.
Shadows from the flags and shronds,
Like the shadows cast by clonds,
Broken by many a suuny fleck,
Fall aronnd them on the deck.

The prayer is said,

The service read,

The joyons bridegroom hows his head;

And in tears the good old Master

Shakes the brown hand of his son,
Kisses his daughter's glowing check
In silence, for lie cannot speuk,
And ever faster

Down his own the tears begin to run.
The worthy pastor—
The shepherd of that wandering flock,
That has the ocean for its wold,
That has the vessel for its fold,
Leaping ever from rock to rock—
Spake, with aecents mild and clear,
Words of warning, words of cheer.
Bnt tedions to the bridegroom's ear.
He knew the chart
Of the sailor's heart.
All its pleasures and its griefs.
All its shallows and rocky reefs.
All those secret currents" that flow
With snch resistless undertow.
And lift and drift, with terrible foree.
The will from its moorings ami its conrse,
Therefore he spake, and tints said he: —

"Like unto ships far off at sea.

Ontward, or homeward bonnd, are we.

Before, behind, and all aronnd.

Floats and swings the horizon's bonnd,

Seems at its distant rim to rise

And climb the crystal wall of the skies,

And then again to turn and sink.

As if we conld slide from its onter brink.

Ah! it is not the sea.

It is not the sea that sinks and shelves,

Bnt onrselves

That rock and rise

With endless and uneasy motion,

Now tonching the very skies,

Now sinking into the depths of ocean.

Ah! if onr sonls bnt noise and swing

Like the compass in its brazen ring,

Ever level and ever trne

To the toil and the task we have to do,

We shall securely, and safely reach

The Fortunate Isles, on whose shining beach

The sights we see, and the sonnds we hear,

Will be those of joy and not of fear!"

Then the Master

With a gesture of command,

Waved his hand;

And at the word,

Lond and sndden there was heard,

All aronnd.them and below.

The sonnd of hammers, blow on blow.

Knocking away the shores and spurs.

And see! she stirs!

She starts,—she moves.—she seems to feel

The thrill of life along her keel.

And. spurning with her foot the gronnd,

With one exulting, joyons bonnd.

She leaps into the ocean's arms!

And lo! from the assembled crowd
There rose a shont, prolonged and lond,
That to the ocean seemed to say,—
"Take her, O bridegroom, old and grey,
Take her to thy proteeting arms.
With all her yonth and all her charms."

How beantiful she is! How fair
She lies within those arms, that press
Her form witli many a soft caress
Of tenderness and watchful care!

Sail forth into the sea, O ship!

Throngh wind and wave, right onward steer!

The moistened eye. the trembling lip,

Are not the sigus of donbt or fear.

Sail forth into the sea of life,

O gentle, loving, trusting wife,

And safe from all adversity

Upon the bosom of that sea

Thy comings and thy goings be!

For gentleness and love and trust

Prevail o'er angry wave and gust!

And in flic wreck of noble lives
Something immortal still survives!

TUon. too. sail on, O Ship of State!

Sail on, O Union, strong and great!

Humanity with all its fears.

With all the hopes of fnture veurs.

Is hanging breathiess on thy fate!

We know what Master laid thy keel.

What Workmen wronght thy ribs of steel,

Who made each mast, and sail, um! rope,

What anvils rang, what hammers boat,

In what a forge and what a heat

Were shaped the anchors of thy hope!

Fear not each sndden sonnd and shock,

"Tis of the wave and not the rock;

'Tis bnt the flapping of the sail.

And not a rent made by the gale!

In spite of rock and tempest's roar,

In spite of false lights on the shore,

Sail on, nor fear to breast the son!

Our hearts, onr hopes, are all with thee.

Our hearts, onr hopes, onr prayers, onr tears,

Our faith trinmphant o'er our fears,

Are all with thee,—are all with thee!

THE EVENING STAR. Just above yon sandy bar,

As the day grows fainter und dimmer, Lonely and lovely, a single star

Lights the air with a dusty glimmer.

Into the ocean faint and far

Falls the trail of its golden splendonr, And the gleam of that single star

Is ever refulgent, soft, and tender.

Chrysaor rising ont of the sen.

Showed thus glorions and thus eumlons, Leaving the arms of Cailirrhoe,

For ever tender, soft, and treumlons.

Thus o'er the ocean faint and far

Trailed the gleam of his falchion brightly; Is it a God, or is it a star.

That, entranced, I gaze on nightly'

THE SECRET OF THE SEA.

Ah! what pleasant visious haunt ine,

As I gaze upon the sea!
Al l the old romantic legends.

All my dreams, come back to me.

Sails of silk and ropes of sendnl,
Snch as gleam in ancient lore;

And the singing of the sailors.
And the auswer from the shore!

Most of all, the Spanish ballad
Haunts me oft, and tarries long,

Of the noble Connt Arnaldos
And the sailor's mystic song.

Like the long waves on a sen-beach,
Where the sand as silver shines,

With a soft, monotonons cadence,
Flow its uurhymed lyric lines;

Telling how the Connt Arnaldos,
With his hawk upon his hand.

Saw a fair and stately galley.
Steering onward to the land ;—

How he heard the ancient heimsman
Chant a song so wild and clear,

That the sailing sea-bird slowly
Poised upon the mast to hear.

Till his sonl was full of longing.
And he cried with impulse strong,—

"Heimsman! for the love sf heaven.
Teach, roe, too, that wondrons song!"

"Wonldst thon,"—so the heimsman auswered,

'. Learn the secret of the sea? Ouly those who brave its dangers

Comprehend its mystery!''

In each sail that skims the horizon.
In each landward-blowing breeze,

1 behold that stately galley.
Hear those monrnful melodies;

TNI my sonl is full of longing,

For the secret of the sea.
And the heart of the great ocean

Sends a thrilling pulse throngh me

TWILIGHT.

The twilight is sad and clondy,
The wind blows wild and free.

And like the wings of sea-birds
Flash the white caps of the sea

Bnt in the fisherman's cottnee,

There shines a rnddier light.
And a little face at the window

Peers ont into the night.

Close, close it is pressed to the window,

As if those childish eyes
Were looking into the darkness,

To see some form arise.

And a woman's waving shadow

Is passing to and fro,
Now rising to the ceiling,

Now bowing and bending low.
What tale do the roaring ocean.

And the night-wind, bleak and wild,
As they beat at the crazy casement,

Tell to that little cliild?

And why do the roar ing ocean.
And the night-wind, wild and bleak.

As they beat at the heart of the mother,
Drive the colonr from her cheek?

SIR HUMPHREY GILBERT.

Southwaed with fleet of Ice

Sailed the corsair Death; Wild and fast blew the blast,

And the east wind was his breath.

His lordly ships of Ice

Glistened in the sun;
On each side, like peunous wide.

Flashing crystal streamlets run.

His sails of white sea-mist

Dripped with silver ruin; Bnt where he passed there were cast

Leaden showers o'er the main.

Eastward from Campobello
Sir Humphrey Giibert sailed:

Three days or more seaward he bore,
Then, alas! the land-wind failed.

Alas! the land-wind failed,
And ice-cold grew the night:

And never more, on sea or shore.
Shonld Sir Humphrey see the light.

He sat upon the deck,
The Book was in his hand;

"Do not fear! Heaven is as near."
He said, "by water as by land!"

In the first watch of the night.

Withont a sigual's s'?und. Ont of the sea. mysterionsly,

The fleet of Death rose all aronnd.

The moon and the evening star
Were hanging in the shronds;

Every mast, as it passed,
Seemed to rake the passing clonds.

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