And what a hope is that! I look above,
Where the same orb is floating still on air,
Bathed in pure light: how eloquent of love!
Fresh-breathed from God-how innocently fair!
To musing fancy's eye she seems to bear
Mercy's own impress, which that Holy Dove,
Once visible to man, hath printed there;
So softly, brightly, beautifully glow
The rays her mirror multiplies below.

Again I gaze upon the boundless deep:

In tranquil majesty it meets my view,
Stirless, unmoved, its waters lull'd to sleep,

While peace lies pillow'd on its heavenly blue-
And tells it not of love and mercy too?

Then, Nature's Lord! though Nature well might weep
That all thy words of threaten'd wrath are true,
In thoughts of rapture turns my soul to Thee-
And oh what love-what mercy faith can see!

EVENING PRAYER AT A GIRLS' SCHOOL.

66

FELICIA HEMANS.

Now in thy youth, beseech of Him

Who giveth, upbraiding not,

That His light in thy heart become not dim,
And His love be unforgot;

And thy God, in the darkest of days, will be
Greenness, and beauty, and strength to thee."

BERNARD BARTON.

HUSH! 'tis a holy hour! The quiet room
Seems like a temple; while yon soft lamp sheds
A faint and starry radiance, through the gloom,

And the sweet stillness, down on fair young heads, With all their clust'ring locks, untouch'd by care, And bow'd, as flowers are bow'd with night, in prayer.

Gaze on 'tis lovely! Childhood's lip and cheek Mantling beneath its earnest brow of thought. Gaze!—yet what see'st thou in those fair, and meek, And fragile things, as but for sunshine wrought? Thou see'st what grief must nurture for the sky, What death must fashion for eternity!

O joyous creatures! that will sink to rest,
Lightly when those pure orisons are done,

As birds with slumber's honey-dew opprest,
'Midst the dim folded leaves at set of sun-
Lift up your hearts! though yet no sorrow lies
Dark in the summer-heaven of those clear eyes.

Though fresh within your breasts th' untroubled springs
Of hope make melody where'er ye tread,

And o'er your sleep, bright shadows from the wings
Of spirits visiting but youth, be spread;
Yet in those flute-like voices mingling low,
Is woman's tenderness-how soon her wo!

Her lot is on you-silent tears to weep,

And patient smiles to wear through suffering's hour, And sumless riches from affection's deep,

To pour on broken reeds—a wasted shower!
And to make idols, and to find them clay,
And to bewail that worship-therefore, pray!

Her lot is on you to be found untired,

Watching the stars out by the bed of pain, With a pale cheek, and yet a brow inspired, And a true heart of hope, though hope be vain; Meekly to bear with wrong, to cheer decay, And oh! to love through all things-therefore, pray!

And take the thought of this calm vesper time,
With its low murmuring sounds and silvery light,
On through the dark days fading from their prime,
As a sweet dew to keep your souls from blight!
Earth will forsake-Oh! happy to have given
The unbroken heart's first fragrance unto Heaven!

TO A WATERFOWL.

W. C. BRYANT.

WHITHER, midst falling dew,

While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way?

Vainly the fowler's eye

Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong,
As, darkly painted on the crimson sky,
Thy figure floats along.

Seek'st thou the plashy brink

Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide ?
Or where the rocking billows rise and sink
On the chafed ocean-side?

There is a Power whose care

Teaches thy way along that pathless coast-
The desert and illimitable air-

Lone wandering, but not lost.

All day thy wings have fann'd

At that far height the cold thin atmosphere,
Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land,
Though the dark night is near.

And soon that toil shall end

Soon shalt thou find a summer-home, and rest, And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend Soon o'er thy shelter'd nest.

Thou'rt gone!—the abyss of heaven Hath swallow'd up thy form; yet on my heart Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, And shall not soon depart.

He who from zone to zone

Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone,

Will lead my steps aright.