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But in the traveller's heart a secret sense
Of nature plastic to benign intents,
And an eternal good in Providence,

Lifts to the starry calm of heaven his eyes ;
And lo! rebuking all earth's ominous cries,
The Cross of pardon lights the tropic skies !
“ Father of all !” he urges his strong plea,
“ Thou lovest all: thy erring child may be
Lost to himself, but never lost to Thee!

“ All souls are Thine; the wings of morning bear None from that Presence which is everywhere. Nor hell itself can hide, for Thou art there.

“ Through sins of sense, perversities of will, Through doubt and pain, through guilt and shame

and ill,

Thy pitying eye is on Thy creature still.

“ Wilt thou not make, Eternal Source and Goal! In Thy long years, life's broken circle whole, And change to praise the cry of a lost soul ? ”

ITALY.

Across the sea I heard the groans

Of nations in the intervals
Of wind and wave.

Their blood and bones
Cried out in torture, crushed by thrones,

And sucked by priestly cannibals.
I dreamed of freedom slowly gained

By martyr meekness, patience, faith.
And lo! an athlete grimly stained,

With corded muscles battle-strained,

Shouting it from the fields of death!

I turn me, awe-struck, from the sight,

Among the clamoring thousands mute,
I only know that God is right,
And that the children of the light

Shall tread the darkness under foot.

I know the pent fire heaves its crust,

That sultry skies the bolt will form To smite them clear; that Nature must The balance of her powers adjust,

Though with the earthquake and the storm. God reigns, and let the earth rejoice!

I bow before His sterner plan. Dumb are the organs of my choice; He speaks in battle's stormy voice,

His praise is in the wrath of man!
Yet, surely as He lives, the day

Of peace He promised shall be ours,
To fold the flags of war, and lay
Its sword and spear to rust away,

And sow its ghastly fields with flowers !

THE RIVER PATH

No.bird-song floated down the hill,
The tangled bank below was still;

No rustle from the birchen stem,
No ripple from the water's hem.

The dusk of twilight round us grew,
We felt the falling of the dew;

For, from us, ere the day was done,
The wooded hills shut out the sun.

But on the river's farther side
We saw the hill-tops glorified, -

A tender glow, exceeding fair,
A dream of day without its glare.

With us the damp, the chill, the gloom :
With them the sunset's rosy bloom ;

While dark, through willowy vistas seen,
The river rolled in shade between.

From out the darkness where we trod
We gazed upon those hills of God,

Whose light seemed not of moon or sun.
We spake not, but our thought was one.
We paused, as if from that bright shore
Beckoned our dear ones gone before;

And stilled our beating hearts to hear
The voices lost to mortal ear!

Sudden our pathway turned from night;
The hills swung open to the light;

Through their green gates the sunshine showed, A long, slant splendor downward flowed.

Down glade and glen and bank it rolled ;
It bridged the shaded stream with gold;
And, borne on piers of mist, allied
The shadowy with the sunlit side !

“So,” prayed we, “ when our feet draw near The river dark, with mortal fear,

" And the night cometh chill with dew,
O Father !- let thy light break through!

" So let the hills of doubt divide,
So bridge with faith the sunless tide!

“ So let the eyes that fail on earth On thy eternal.hills look forth ;

“ And in thy beckoning angels know The dear ones whom we loved below !”

A MEMORIAL.

M. A. C.

O THICKER, deeper, darker growing,

The solemn vista to the tomb
Must know henceforth another shadow,

And give another cypress room.
In love surpassing that of brothers,

We walked, O friend, from childhood's day;
And, looking back o'er fifty summers,

Our footprints track a common way.
One in our faith, and one our longing,

To make the world within our reach
Somewhat the better for our living,

And gladder for our human speech.
Thou heardst with me the far-off voices,

The old beguiling song of fame,
But life to thee was warm and present,

And love was better than a name.

To homely joys and loves and friendships

Thy genial nature fondly clung ; And so the shadow on the dial

Ran back and left thee always young.
And who could blame the generous weakness

Which, only to thyself unjust,
So overprized the worth of others,

And dwarfed thy own with self-distrust ? All hearts grew warmer in the presence

Of one who, seeking not his own, Gave freely for the love of giving,

Nor reaped for self the harvest sown. Thy greeting smile was pledge and prelude

Of generous deeds and kindly words ; In thy large heart were fair guest-chambers,

Open to sunrise and the birds !

The task was thine to mould and fashion

Life's plastic newness into grace ; To make the boyish heart heroic,

And light with thought the maiden's face. O'er all the land, in town and prairie,

With bended heads of mourning, stand The living forms that owe their beauty

And fitness to thy shaping hand.

Thy call has come in ripened manhood,

The noonday calm of heart and mind, While I, who dreamed of thy remaining

To mourn me, linger still behind : Live on, to own, with self-upbraiding,

A debt of love still due from me,The vain remembrance of occasions,

Forever lost, of serving thee.

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