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14

EVENING PRAYER.

With all their clustering locks, untouched by care, And bowed-as flowers are bowed with night-in prayer.

Gaze on, 'tis lovely!-childhood's lips and cheek, Mantling beneath its earnest brow of thought! Gaze, yet what seest thou in those fair, and meek, And fragile things, as but for sunshine wrought?Thou seest what grief must nurture for the sky, What death must fashion for eternity!

O joyous creatures! that will sink to rest
Lightly, when those pure orisons are done,
As birds with slumber's honey-dew oppressed,
Midst the dim folded leaves, at set of sun;
Lift up your hearts! tho' yet no sorrow lies
Dark in the summer-heaven of those clear eyes.

Though fresh within your breast th' untroubled springs

Of hope make melody where'er ye tread, And o'er your sleep bright shadows, from the wings

Of spirits visiting but youth, be spread; Yet in those flute-like voices, mingling low, Is woman's tenderness-how soon her woe!

15

EVENING PRAYER.

Her lot is on you!-silent tears to weep,
And patient smiles to wear through suffering's

hour,

And sunless riches, from affections deep, To pour on broken reeds-a wasted shower! And to make idols, and to find them clay, And to bewail that worship-therefore pray! Her lot is on you!-to be found untired, Watching the stars out by the bed of pain, With a pale cheek, and yet a brow inspired, And a true heart of hope, though hope be vain! Meekly to bear with wrong, to cheer decay, And, oh! to love through all things-therefore

pray!

And take the thought of this calm vesper-time, With its low murmuring sounds and silvery

light,

On through the dark days fading from their prime,
As a sweet dew to keep your souls from blight!
Earth will forsake-Oh! happy to have given
Th' unbroken heart's first fragrance unto heaven!

Che Better Land.

BY F. HEMANS.

I HEAR thee speak of the better land;
Thou call'st its children a happy band;
Mother! oh where is that radiant shore,-
Shall we not seek it, and weep no more?
Is it where the flower of the orange blows,
And the fire-flies dance through the myrtle boughs?
"Not there, not there, my child.”

Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise,
And the date grows ripe under sunny skies,
Or 'midst the green islands of glittering seas,
Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze,
And strange bright birds, on their starry wings,
Bear the rich hues of all glorious things?

"Not there, not there, my child."

Is it far away, in some region old,

Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold-
Where the burning rays of the ruby shine,
And the diamond lights up the secret mine,

THOUGHT AND DEED.

17

And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand—
Is it there, sweet mother, that better land?
"Not there, not there, my child!"

Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy!
Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy;
Dreams cannot picture a world so fair,
Sorrow and death may not enter there;
Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom;
For beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb,
It is there, it is there, my child!

Chought and Deed.

BY C. B. KENNEDY.

FULL

many a light thought man may cherish, Full many an idle deed may do;

Yet not a deed or thought shall perish
Not one but he shall bless or rue.

18

THOUGHT AND DEED.

When by the wind the tree is shaken,
There's not a bough or leaf can fall,
Yet of its falling heed is taken,

By One who sees and governs

all.

The tree may fall and be forgotten,
And buried in the earth remain,
Yet from its juices, rank and rotten,
Springs vegetating life again.

The world is with creation teeming, i
And nothing ever wholly dies,

And things that are destroyed in seeming,
In other shapes and forms arise.

And Nature still unfolds the tissue
Of unseen works by spirit wrought,
And not a work but has its issue

With blessings or with evil fraught.

And thou mayst seem to leave behind thee
All memory of the sinful past,

Yet oh, be sure thy sin shall find thee,

And thou shalt know its fruit at last.

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