When through the dark and stormy night, Which through the forest gloom he spies! That loving hearts will greet him there, The Light at Home - whene'er, at last, That beats upon his manly form. Since Mary gave the parting kiss, The Light at Home! how still and sweet When the rough toils of day are o'er. The blessings that its beams impart, "WE'LL ALL MEET AGAIN IN THE MORNING.” 0 H! wild is the tempest, and dark is the night, But soon will the daylight be dawning; Then the friendships of yore Shall blossom once more, "And we'll all meet again in the morning." Art thou doomed in a far-distant region to roam, To meet the cold gaze of the stranger; Dost thou yearn for the smiles of the loved ones at home, And thou'lt mingle once more With the loved ones on shore "For we'll all meet again in the morning." Dost thou miss the sweet voice of a fond, loving wife, Didst thou see her decline in the sunset of life, Oh, cheer up, dear brother! the night may be dark, Of all ties bereft, One hope is still left "We'll all meet again in the morning." Art thou wearied, O pilgrim, on life's desert waste; Then the dreams which have fled Shall arise from the dead "And all will be bright in the morning." O servant of Christ! too heavy the cross, Has thy trust in thy Master been shaken ? We have borne from our birth "Will all be made right in the morning!" ESTO PERPETUA. STO PERPETUA! ever enduring, ESTO Still may the national glory increase; Union and harmony ever securing, Prosperity, freedom, religion, and peace. Great God of the nations, thy goodness hath crowned us, A land and a people peculiar to thee; Let thy wisdom and power, still mantled around us, Preserve what that goodness hath taught to be free! Esto perpetua! oh, be it written On every bright link of the sisterhood's chain! Let it shine on the folds of our banner outflowing, Esto perpetua! who would erase it From the mount where so long like a beacon it stood, Where the sages of freedom delighted to place it, And martyrs have shaded each letter with blood? From Marshfield, the warning in thunder is breaking, Dissever our Union? Oh! how would the measure Her battle-fields fertile with valorous daring - Her monument tributes their memory sharing With the North and the South, the East and the West? The fame of her Jefferson proudly defying, Like his own Declaration, the mildew of time; The fame of her Franklin, whose genius ascended The fame of her Henry, whose eloquence breaking And ringing the knell of oppression and wrong; The fame of her Washington, broad as creation, The pride and perfection of every age— These national jewels, oh! cherish their lustre, THE ISLE OF LONG AGO. H! a wonderful stream is the River of Time, How the winters are drifting, like flakes of snow, And the year in the sheaf-so they come and they go, On the river's breast, with its ebb and flow, As it glides in the shadow and sheen. There's a magical Isle up the River of Time, And the Junes with the roses are staying. And the name of that Isle is the Long Ago, There are brows of beauty and bosoms of snow There are heaps of dust but we loved them so!There are trinkets and tresses of hair: There are fragments of song that nobody sings, And a part of an infant's prayer; There's a lute unswept, and a harp without strings; There are broken vows, and pieces of rings, And the garments that she used to wear. There are hands that are waved, when the fairy shore By the mirage is lifted in air; And we sometimes hear, through the turbulent roar, Sweet voices we heard in the days gone before, When the wind down the river is fair. Oh, remembered for aye be the blessèd Isle, When the evening comes with its beautiful smile, 'TWA THE JOLLY OLD PEDAGOGUE. WAS a jolly old pedagogue, long ago, Tall and slender, and sallow, and dry; His form was bent and his gait was slow, His long, thin hair was as white as snow; |