Each white robe spotless, blooming every palm,
Even safe as we by this still fountain side,
So shall the Church, Thy bright and mystic
Bride,

Sit on the stormy gulf a halcyon bird of calm.
Yes, 'mid yon angry and destroying signs,
O'er us the rainbow of Thy mercy shines;
We hail, we bless the covenant of its beam,
Almighty to avenge, Almightiest to redeem !

HENRY HART MILMAN.

Where Streams of Living Water Run.

ETHINKS, when on the languid eye

ΜΕ

Life's autumn scenes grow dim ;

When evening's shadows veil the sky,
And Pleasure's syren hymn

Grows fainter on the tuneless ear,
Like echoes from another sphere,

Or dream of seraphim,

It were not sad to cast away

This dull and cumbrous load of clay.

It were not sad to feel the heart
Grow passionless and cold;
To feel those longings to depart

That cheer'd the good of old;
To clasp the faith which looks on high,
Which fires the Christian's dying eye,
And makes the curtain-fold

That falls upon his wasting breast
The door that leads to endless rest.

It were not lonely thus to lie
On that triumphant bed,

Till the pure spirit mounts on high,
By white-wing'd seraphs led:
Where glories earth may never know
O'er "many mansions" lingering glow,
In peerless lustre shed;

It were not lonely thus to soar,

Where sin and grief can sting no more.

And, though the way to such a goal
Lies through the clouded tomb,
If on the free, unfetter'd soul

There rest no stains of gloom,
How should its aspirations rise
Far through the blue unpillar'd skies,
Up, to its final home!

Beyond the journeyings of the sun,
Where streams of living waters run.

WILLIS G. CLARK.

Watch, and Pray.

TO him who in the love of Nature holds

Communion with her visible forms, she speaks

A various language; for his gayer hours
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile

And eloquenee of beauty, and she glides
Into his darker musings, with a mild
And healing sympathy, that steals away
Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts
Of the last bitter hour come like a blight
Over thy spirit, and sad images

Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,
And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,
Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart ;—
Go forth, under the open sky, and list
To Nature's teachings, while from all around-
Earth and her waters, and the depths of air,-
Comes a still voice-Yet a few days, and thee
The all-beholding sun shall see no more
In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,
Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears,
Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist

Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim

Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again,
And, lost each human trace, surrendering up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go
To mix for ever with the elements,

To be a brother to the insensible rock
And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain
Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak
Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould.

Yet not to thine eternal resting-place

Shalt thou retire alone-nor couldst thou wish

Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down With patriarchs of the infant world-with kings,

The powerful of the earth-the wise, the good,
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulchre.-The hills
Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun,-the vales
Stretching in pensive quietness between ;
The venerable woods-rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks
That make the meadows green; and, poured
round all,

Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste,-
Are but the solemn decorations all

Of the great tomb of man.

The golden sun, The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.-Take the wings Of morning and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings-yet-the dead are there; And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep-the dead reign there alone. So shalt thou rest-and what if thou withdraw Unheeded by the living, and no friend Take note of thy departure? All that breathe Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one as before will chase His favourite phantom; yet all these shall leave

Their mirth and their employments, and shall

come,

And make their bed with thee. As the long train
Of ages glide away, the sons of men,

The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes
In the full strength of years, matron, and maid,
And the sweet babe, and the gray-headed man,-
Shall one by one be gathered to thy side,
By those, who in their turn shall follow them.

So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan, that moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,

Thou go not like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed

By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. W. C. BRYANT.

WA

Walk in the Light.

ALK in the light! so shalt thou know
That fellowship of love,

His Spirit only can bestow

Who reigns in light above.

Walk in the light! and sin abhorred

Shall ne'er defile again;

The blood of Jesus Christ the Lord,