He knew that the days of his life were told, And his breast grew faint within; The blood through his bosom crept slowly and cold, And his lamp of life could barely hold The flame that was flickering. Yet he went to his task with a cheerful zeal, He spoke not, he moved not, but only to kneel 'Tis best thy will be done!" He gazed on his loved one, who cherished him well,' "This music will chime with my funeral knell, The cold moon waned: on that cheerless day, "I will be glad in the Lord." Psalm civ. 34.ANONYMOUS. WHEN morning's first and hallowed ray To chase the pearly dews away, Bright tear-drops of the night, My heart, O Lord, forgets to rove, On wings of everlasting love, And finds its home in THEE. When evening's silent shades descend, And nature sinks to rest, Still to my Father and my Friend My wishes are addressed. Though tears may dim my hours of joy, And e'en when midnight's solemn gloom, I dream of that fair land, O Lord, To the Memory of a Brother.-ANONYMOUS. BEHOLD the glorious morn! and where art thou, And stand, with the spring flowers about thee waking, Were these to thee a weariness-the birds, A mother's love, whose holy influence fell, "Young brother!" had the sound no joy for thee, That in the dust this hour thy form should be, And mute thy blessed voice? O, there be yearnings for thee, gentlest one, Gone with thy grace and thy sweet laughter's tone. Meet were thy footsteps for the world of flowers, Of the crowned summer's reign; And there are dancing o'er the joyous earth The clasping of thy gentle hand, thou child, But I will speak of thee at eventide, When, in their watchfulness, the pure stars glide And when, alas! shall come the morning's gleam I will remember, and the dream shall be And I will deem thou'rt standing even now, A Home everywhere.-S. GRAHAM. HEAVE, mighty ocean, heave, And blow, thou boisterous wind; Away, away we steer, Upon the ocean's breast; And dim the distant heights appear, There is a loneliness Upon the mighty deep; And hurried thoughts upon us press, Our home-0, heavens-that word! We are e'en as a lonely bird, 1 My wife and little one Are with me as I go; And they are all, beneath the sun, I have of weal or wo. With them, upon the sea Or land, where'er I roam, Heave, mighty ocean, heave, And blow, thou boisterous wind: Then come, my lovely bride, Since we have nought on earth beside, We heed not earthly powers, We heed not wind nor weather; For, come what will, this joy is ours- And if the storms are wild, And we perish in the sea, We'll clasp each other and our child: And neither shall remain To meet, and bear alone, The cares, the injuries, the pain, And there's a sweeter joy, Danger nor death can e'er destroy Then wherefore should we grieve? Or what have we to fear? Though home, and friends, and life, we leave, If He who made all things, Then come, my gentle bride, Sweep, mighty ocean, sweep; The Time to weep.-ANONYMOUS. THERE is a time to laugh, When Joy may raise his billows like the deep, And twine with wreaths of flowers the cup we quaff;But, O, when is the season not to weep? Is it when vernal suns Unfold the silken flower and satin leaf? Or when the hoar frost nips the fading ones, That frailer beings may refrain from grief? Is it when health and bloom Are painted on the smiling cheek of youth? Look not upon the brow, That shows no furrow from the plough of years; The prattling child at play May charm itself, and dry its tears awhile; |