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THE SISTER OF CHARITY.
But though first love's impassioned blindness
Has passed away in colder night,
And shall do till our last good-night.
Will bring a time we shall not know,
Will be a hundred years ago.
THE SISTER OF CHARITY.-GERALD GRIFFIN.
CHE once was a lady of honor and wealth;
She felt, in her spirit, the summons of grace,
THE SISTER OF CHARITY.
Those feet, that to music could gracefully move,
Her down-bed-a pallet; her trinkets-a bead;
Yet not to the service of heart and of mind
Unshrinking where pestilence scatters his breath,
Behold her, ye worldly! behold her, ye vain !
Ye lazy philosophers-self-seeking men,--
RICHTER'S DREAM. TNTO the great vestibule of heaven, God called up a man from 1. dreams, saying, “ Come thou hither, and see the glory of my house.” And, to the servants that stood around His throne, He said, “ Take him, and undress him from his robes of flesh: cleanse his vision, and put a new breath into his nostrils; only touch not with any change his human heart-the heart that weeps and trembles.”
It was done; and, with a mighty angel for his guide, the man stood ready for his infinite voyage; and from the terraces of heaven, without sound or farewell, at once they wheeled away into endless space. Sometimes, with solemn flight of angel-wings, they fled through Saharas of darkness-through wildernesses of death, that divided the world of life: sometimes they swept over frontiers that were quickening under the prophetic motions from God.
Then, from a distance that is counted only in heaven, light dawned for a time through a sleepy film; by unutterable pace the light swept to them; they by unutterable pace to the light. In a moment, the rushing of planets was upon them : in a moment, the blazing of suns was around them.
Then came cternities of twilight, that revealed, but were not revealed. On the right hand and on the left towered mighty constellations, that by self-repetition and answers from afar, that by counter-positions, built up triumphal gates, whose architraveswhose archways—horizontal, upright—rested, rose—at attitudes by spans—that seemed ghostly from infinitude. Without measure were the architraves, past number were the archways, beyond memory the gates.
Within were stairs that scaled the eternities below: above was below-below was above, to the man stripped of gravitating body: depth was swallowed up in height insurmountable: height was swallowed up in depth unfathomable. Suddenly, as thus they
OVER THE RIVER.
Cothen the man sighed
itself in tears; and
with this infinity
rode from infinite to infinite: suddenly, as thus they tilted over abysmal worlds, a mighty cry arose, that systems more mysterious, that worlds more billowy, other heights and other depths, were coming—were nearing—were at hand.
Then the man sighed, and stopped, and shuddered, and wept. His overladen heart uttered itself in tears; and he said, “ Angel, I will go no farther; for the spirit of man acheth with this infinity. Insufferable is the glory of God. Let me lie down in the grave, and hide me from the persecutions of the Infinite; for end, I see, there is none."
And from all the listening stars that shone around issued a choral cry, “ The man speaks truly: end there is none that ever yet we heard of.” “End! is there none ?” the angel .solemnly demanded : “Is there indeed no end ! and is this the sorrow that kills you ?” But no voice answered that he might answer himself. Then the angel threw up his glorious hands toward the heaven of heavens, saying, “ End is there none to the universe of God? Lo! also, there is no beginning."
OVER THE RIVER.--NANCY A. W. PRIEST.
O VER the river they beckon to me
Loved ones who've crossed to the further side:
But their voices are drowned in the rushing tide.
And eyes, the reflection of heaven's own blue :
And the pale mist hid him from mortal view.
The gates of the city we could not see;
My brother stands waiting to welcome me !
Over the river the boatman pale
Carried another—the household pet:
Darling Minnie! I see her yet!
OVER THE RIVER.
She crossed on her bosom her dimpled hands,
And fearlessly entered the phantom bark: We watched it glide from the silver sands,
And all our sunshine grew strangely dark. We know she is safe on the further side,
Where all the ransomed and angels be;Over the river, the mystic river,
My childhood's idol is waiting for me!
For none return from those quiet shores,
Who cross with the boatman cold and pale:
And catch a gleam of the snowy sail,
They cross the stream, and are gone for aye:
That hides from our vision the gates of day:
May sail with us o'er life's stormy sea :
They watch and beckon and wait for me!
And I sit and think, when the sunset's gold
Is flushing river and hill and shore,
And list for the sound of the boatman's oar:
I shall hear the boat as it gains the strand :
To the better shore of the spirit land:
And joyfully sweet shall the meeting be,
The angel of death shall carry me!