THE HOLINESS OF GRIEF. BY A JEWESS. OH hush! be still! bring not the sound Of sorrow lingering near! Tread lightly! 'tis a holy shrine, Where grief in death hath birth, Stamp'd with a dignity divine, Oh! seek not, bring not worldly dreams Unto the haunts of wo; The light that o'er them softly gleams Hath not its source below! Affliction is a sacred thing, A messenger of love, Soft whisperings on its wings to bring Of lovelier homes above. Seek not to shun its mission high Why should we long to cast aside No! let it do its work, and lead Yes! 'tis His voice that sounds, when wo His voice that murmurs soft and low, Then, oh! how may light tones of earth Be still! bring not the mourner mirth Peace! peace! 'tis holy! Let the dead Nor fear the tears a brief while shed Tread lightly! Oh, profane them not, Those hours of grief and prayer! Speak low; be earth awhile forgotOur Father dwelleth there! (Original.) "I AM THE ROSE OF SHARON AND THE LILY OF THE VALLEYS." A. R. C. ON Sharon's wild the glowing rose In deep Judean vales;— Meet emblems of that Loving One, The "altogether fair," Who stoop'd to earth's low dwellings down, Yes! those sweet blossoms image well, To hearts His grace that prove, The meekness of Immanuel, The sweetness of His love. Can there be eyes so dark and dim— Oft may His saints inquire Who see no comeliness in Him, No beauty to desire? Thou "fairer than the sons of men!" I'll know that hidden glory then Within let thy sweet graces shine, Proof that I hold a guest Divine, Thy presence makes the lowliest place Then dwell within my soul, and trace Oh! when Thou gladd'st earth's sinful child With mercies ne'er to fail, Thou'rt like the rose of Sharon's wild, The lily of the vale! THE LABOURER'S NOON-DAY HYMN. WORDSWORTH. UP to the throne of God is borne Nor will he turn his ear aside What though our burden be not light, Blest are the moments, doubly blest, |