PART II.

It was a wicked deed, and Heaven
All wickedness doth hate;
And vengeance on the oppressor,
It cometh soon or late,-

As you will see. There something was,
Even from the very night
Whereon the captain stole the child,
On board that was not right.
From out the cabin evermore,

Where they were all alone,
We heard, oh piteous sounds to hear,
A low and quiet moan;
And now and then cries sad enough
To move a heart of stone.

The captain had a conscious look,

Like one who doeth wrong, And yet who striveth all the time

Against a conscience strong.
The seamen did not work at all

With a good will or a free;
And the ship, as she were sullen too,
Went slowly over the sea.
"Twas then the captain from below
Sent down in haste for me.

I found him lying on his bed,

Oppressed with fever-pain;
And by his death-struck face, I saw
That he would not rise again, —
That he, so lately hale and strong,
Would never rise again.

"I have done wickedly," said he,

"And Christ doth me condemn ;

I have children three on land," groaned he, "And woe will come to them!

"I have been weighed, and wanting found; I've done an evil deed!

I pray thee, inate, 'tis not too late,

Take back this child with speed!

"I have children three," again groaned he,
And I pray that this be done!-
Thou wilt have order of the ship
When I am dead and gone: -
I pray thee do the thing I ask,

That mercy may be won!"

I vowed to do the thing he asked,
Upon the Testament;

And true enough, that very day
To his account he went.

I took the little child away,
And set him on my knee,
In the free fresh air upon the deck,
But he spoke no word to me.
I feared at first that all his grief

Had robbed him of his speech,
And that I ne'er by word or look,
His sunken soul could reach.

At length he woke from that dead woe,
Like one that long hath slept,
And cast his arms about my neck,
And long and freely wept.

I clasped him close unto my breast,
Yet knew not what to say,
To wile him from the misery
That on his spirit lay.

At length I did bethink me

Of Jesus Christ; and spake To that poor lamb of all the woe He suffered for our sake.

"For me and thee, dear child," I said,
"He suffered, and be sure
He will not lay a pang on thee
Without he give the cure!"

Like as the heavy clouds of night
Pass from the coming day,
So cleared the sullen weight of woe
From his dear soul away.

Oh happy hours of converse sweet; -
The Christian's hope he knew,
And with an eager heart he gained

That knowledge sweet and new.

And ever by my side he kept,

Loving, and meek, and still: But never more to him returned

His bold and wayward will:He had been tried and purified From every taint of ill.

"Oh give to me my boat!" he cried,

And give to me mine oar!" Just then we saw another boat Pushed from the island-shore.

A carved boat of sandal-wood,

Its sail a silken mat,

All richly wrought in rainbow-dyes,
And three within her sat.

Down from the ship into the sea

The little boy he sprung;
And the mother gave a scream of joy,
With which the island rung.

Like some sea-creature beautiful
He swam the ocean-tide,
And ere we wondered at his skill
He clomb the shallop's side.

Next moment in his mother's arms
He lay, O sweet embrace!
Looking from her dear bosom up
Into her loving face.

The happiest and the sweetest sight
That e'er mine eyes will see,

Was the coming back of this poor child
Unto his family!

-Now wot ye of his parentage?
Sometime I'll tell you it;
Of meaner matter many a time
Has many a book been writ.

"T would make a pleasant history
Of joy scarce touched by woe,
Of innocence and love; but now
This only must you know.
His mother was of English birth,
Well-born, and young, and fair;
In the wreck of an East-Indiaman
She had been saved there.
His father was the island's chief,
Goodly as man can be;
Adam, methinks, in Paradise
Was such a one as he.

"T is not for my weak speech to tell
The joy so sweet and good,
Of these kind, simple islanders,
Nor all their gratitude.

Whate'er the island held they gave;
Delicious fruits and wines,
Rich-tinted shells from out the sea,
And ore from out their mines.

But I might not stay; and that same day
Again we turned about,

And, with the wind that changed then

Went from the harbour out.

-"T is joy to do an upright deed;

"Tis joy to do a kind;

And the best reward of virtuous deeds

Is the peace of one's own mind.

But a blessing great went with the ship,
And with the freight she bore ;
The pearl-shells turned to great account,
So did the island's ore;--
But I someway lost my reckoning,
Nor found the island more.

And how the child became a man,
Or what to him befel,

As I never trod the island more,
Is not for me to tell.

EASTER HYMNS.

HYMN I.

THE TWO MARYS.

Oh dark day of sorrow,
Amazement and pain;
When the promise was blighted
The given was ta'en!

When the master no longer

A refuge should prove;
And evil was stronger
Than mercy and love!

Oh dark day of sorrow,
Abasement and dread,
When the Master beloved
Was one with the dead!
We sate in our anguish
Afar off to see,

For we surely believed not
This sorrow could be!

But the trust of our spirits
Was all overthrown;
And we wept, in our anguish,
Astonished, alone!

At even they laid him
With aloes and myrrh,
In fine linen wound, in
A new sepulchre.

There, there will we seek him:
Will wash him with care;
Anoint him with spices:
And mourn for him there

Oh strangest of sorrow!
Oh vision of fear!
New grief is around us-
The Lord is not here!

Weep not, nor tremble; And be not dismayed; The Lord hath arisen! See where he was laid!

The grave-clothes, behold them; The spices; the bier;

The napkin that bound him;But he is not here!

Death could not hold him;

The grave is a prison

That keeps not the living;

The Christ has arisen!

HYMN III.

THE LORD JESUS.

Why are ye troubled?
Why weep ye and grieve?

What the prophets have written
Why slowly believe?

"Tis I, be not doubtful!

Why ponder ye so?
Behold in my body
The marks of my woe!

The willing hath suffered; The chosen been slain; The end is accomplished! Behold me again!

Death has been conquered · The grave has been rivenFor sin a remission

Hath freely been given!

Fearless in spirit,

Yet meek as the dove, Go preach to the nations This gospel of love.

For the night of the mighty Shall o'er you be cast; And I will be with you, My friends, to the last.

I go to the father,
But I will prepare
Your mansions of glory,
And welcome you there.

There life never-ending;
There bliss that endures;
There love never-changing,
My friends, shall be yours!

But the hour is accomplished!
My children, we sever-
But be ye not troubled,
I am with you for ever!

HYMN IV.

THE ELEVEN.

THE Lord is ascending!
Rich welcomes to give him:
See, angels descending! -
The heavens receive him!

See, angels, archangels
Bend down to adore! -
The Lord hath ascended,
We see him no more!

The Master is taken;
The friend hath departed
Yet we are not forsaken,
Nor desolate-hearted!

The Master is taken;
The holy, the kind;

But the joy of his presence
Remaineth behind!

Our hearts burned within us

To hear but the word

Which he spake, ere our spirits
Acknowledged the Lord!

The Lord hath ascended!
Our hope is secure,

We trusted not lightly; — The promise is sure!

The Lord hath ascended; And we, his true-hearted, Go forth with rejoicing, Though he hath departed!

CORN-FIELDS.

In the young merry time of spring,
When clover 'gins to burst;
When blue-bells nod within the wood,

And sweet May whitens first; When merle and mavis sing their fill, Green is the young corn on the hill.

But when the merry spring is past,
And summer groweth bold.
And in the garden and the field
A thousand flowers unfold;
Before a green leaf yet is sere,
The young corn shoots into the ear.

But then as day and night succeed,
And summer weareth on,
And in the flowery garden-beds

The red-rose groweth wan,
And holly-hock and sunflowers tall
O'ertop the mossy garden wall:

When on the breath of autumn breeze,
From pastures dry and brown,
Goes floating, like an idle thought,
The fair, white thistle-down;

O, then what joy to walk at will, Upon the golden harvest-hill!

What joy in dreamy ease to lie

Amid a field new-shorn, And see all round on sun-lit slopes The piled-up shocks of corn, And send the fancy wandering o'er All pleasant harvest-fields of yore.

I feel the day; I see the field;

The quivering of the leaves And good old Jacob and his house Binding the yellow sheaves; And at this very hour I seem To be with Joseph in his dream.

I see the fields of Bethlehem,

And reapers many a one, Bending unto their sickles' stroke, And Boaz looking on; And Ruth, the Moabitess fair, Among the gleaners stooping there.

Again, I see a little child,

His mother's sole delight; God's living gift of love unto

The kind, good Shunamite ; To mortal pangs I see him yield, And the lad bear him from the field.

The sun-bathed quiet of the hills;
The fields of Galilee,
That eighteen hundred years agone
Were full of corn, I see,

And the dear Saviour take his way
'Mid ripe ears on the Sabbath-day.

O golden fields of bending corn,

How beautiful they seem! — The reaper-folk, the piled-up sheaves, To me are like a dream; The sunshine and the very air Seem of old time, and take me there!

THE TWO ESTATES.

They eat from gold and silver all luxuries wealth can buy ;

They sleep on beds of softest down, in chambers rich and high.

They dwell in lordly houses, with gardens round about,

And servants to attend them if they go in or out.

They have music for the hearing, and pictures for the eye,

And exquisite and costly things each sense to gratify.

No wonder they are beautiful! and if they chance to die,

Among dead lords and ladies, in the chancel vault they lie.

With marble tablets on the wall inscribed, that all may know,

The children of the rich man are mouldering below.

The children of the poor man, around the humblo doors

They throng of city alleys and solitary moors.

In hot and noisy factories they turn the ceaseless wheel,

And eat with feeble appetite their coarse and joyless meal.

They rise up in the morning, ne'er dreaming of delight;

And weary, spent, and heart-sore, they go to bed at night.

They have no brave apparel, with golden clasp and gem;

So their clothes keep out the weather they're good enough for them.

Their hands are broad and horny; they hunger, and are cold;

They learn what toil and sorrow mean ere they are five years old.

-The poor man's child must step aside if the rich man's child go by;

And scarcely aught may minister to his little vanity.

array

And well may they be beautiful; in raiment of the best,

away.

The finely spun, the many-hued, the new, are not for him,

head,

ments soiled and dim.

And well may they be beautiful; they toil not, neither spin,

Nor dig, nor delve, nor do they aught their daily bread to win.

Then straightway to his work he goeth, for feeble though he be,

His daily toil must still be done to help the family.

Thus live the poor man's children; and if they chance to die,

In plain, uncostly coffins, 'mong common graves they lie;

Nor monument nor head-stone their humble names declare: :

But thou, O God, wilt not forget the poor man's children there!

LIFE'S MATINS.

AT that sweet hour of even,

When nightingales awake, Low-bending o'er her first-born son, An anxious mother spake. "Thou child of prayer and blessing, Would that my soul could know, What the unending future holds For thee of joy or woe.

"Thy life, will it be gladness,

A sunny path of flowers;

Or strift, with sorrow dark as death,
Through weary, wintry hours?

"Oh child of love and blessing,
Young blossom of life's tree-
My spirit trembles but to think

What time may make of thee!

"Yet of the unveiled future

Would knowledge might be given!" Then voices of the unseen ones

Made answer back from heaven.

FIRST VOICE.

"Tears he must shed unnumbered;
And he must strive with care,
As strives in war the armèd man:
And human woe must bear.

"Must learn that joy is mockery;

That man doth mask his heart; Must prove the trusted faithless; And see the loved depart!

"Must feel himself alone, alone;

Must weep when none can see; Then lock his grief, like treasure up, For lack of sympathy.

"Must prove all human knowledge
A burden, a deceit;
And many a flattering friendship find
A dark and hollow cheat.

"Well may'st thou weep, fond mother;-
For what can life bequeath,
But tears and sighs unnumbered,
But watching, change, and death"

"Oh fond and anxious mother,

Look up with joyful eyes,

For a boundless wealth of love and power In that young spirit lies!

"Love to enfold all natures

In one benign embrace;
Power to diffuse a blessing wide
O'er all the human race!

"Bless God both night and morning;
Be thine a joyful heart;

For the child of mortal parents hath
With the Eternal part!

"The stars shall dim their brightness;
And as a parched scroll

The earth shall fade, but ne'er shall fade The undying human soul!

"Oh then rejoice fond mother, That thou hast given birth To this immortal being,

To this fair child of earth!"

THIS WORLD AND THE NEXT.

How goodly is the earth!

Look round about and see The green and fertile field; The mighty branched tree; The little flowers out-spread

In such variety!
Behold the lovely things
That dance on airy wings;
The birds whose summer pleasure

Is not of stinted measure;
The grassy vales, the hills;
The flower-embordered rills;
The clouds that lie at rest
Upon the noonday's breast;
Behold all these and know,
How goodly is the earth!
How goodly is the earth!

Its mountain-tops behold;
Its rivers broad and strong;
Its solemn forests old;

Its wealth of flocks and herds;
Its precious stones and gold;