BEY A Little While. EYOND the smiling and the weeping Beyond the waking and the sleeping, Beyond the sowing and the reaping, Love, rest, and home! Sweet hope! Lord, tarry not, but come. Beyond the blooming and the fading Beyond the shining and the shading, I shall be soon. Love, rest, and home! Sweet hope! Lord, tarry not, but come. Beyond the rising and the setting Beyond the calming and the fretting, Love, rest, and home! Sweet hope! Lord, tarry not, but come. Beyond the gathering and the strowing Beyond the ebbing and the flowing, Beyond the coming and the going, I shall be soon. Love, rest, and home! Sweet hope! Lord, tarry not, but come. RESTLESSNESS. Beyond the parting and the meeting Beyond the farewell and the greeting, Love, rest, and home! Sweet hope! Lord, tarry not, but come. Beyond the frost-chain and the fever Beyond the rock-waste and the river, I shall be soon. Love, rest, and home! Sweet hope! Lord, tarry not, but come. 333 HORATIUS BONAR. D Restlessness. OWN in the harbor the ships lie moored, Weary sea-birds with folded wing, Anchors sunken and sails secured: ; Rock and swing, As though each keel were a living thing. Silence sleeps on the earth and air, - Never a breath does the sea-breeze blow, Yet like living pendulums there, Down in the harbor, to and fro, To and fro, Backward and forward the vessels go. As a child on its mother's breast, Yet, half-conscious of joy and rest, Varies its breathing, and moves and sighs, Yet neither wakes nor opens its eyes. Or it may be, the vessels long For almost human they seem to me For the leaping waves, and the storm-wind strong, Out at sea, And feel their rest a captivity. So as a soul from a higher sphere, Longing to break them and flee away, Strive the ships in their restlessness, Backward and forward the vessels go. ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN. Here's to them that are gane. HERE ERE 's to them, to them that are gane; Here's to them that were here, the faithful and dear, That will never be here again— no, never. They're gane to the light that fears not the night, ST. AGNES. Here's to them, to them that were here; Here's to them, to them that were here; Oh, bright was their morning sun! Yet, lang ere the gloaming, in clouds it gaed down; Fareweel, fareweel! parting silence is sad; 335 But that silence shall break, where no tear on the cheek That waft us where pilgrims would be; To the regions of rest, to the shores of the blest, LADY NAIRNE. D St. Agnes. EEP on the convent-roof the snows My breath to heaven like vapor goes: The shadows of the convent-towers Still creeping with the creeping hours Make Thou my spirit pure and clear As are the frosty skies, Or this first snowdrop of the year That in my bosom lies. As these white robes are soiled and dark, As this pale taper's earthly spark, To yonder argent round; So shows my soul before the Lamb, So in mine earthly house I am, To that I hope to be. Break up the heavens, O Lord! and far, He lifts me to the golden doors; Roll back, and far within For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits, To make me pure of sin. The sabbaths of Eternity, One sabbath deep and wide A light upon the shining sea — The Bridegroom with his bride! ALFRED TENNYSON. The Pauper's Death-bed. READ softly! bow the head – In reverent silence bow! No passing-bell doth toll; Yet an immortal soul In passing now. |