Uh, Lord of life, our hands are full
Of Thy sweet gifts: we judge thy love
To those who love Thee, will be shown
In fairer forms above.
But what the sounds that we may hear,
Or what the sights that there may be,
Thou know'st, O Sovereign of the skies,
And we can wait to see.
And as we wait, oh, teach us still
Thou hast a kingdom even here,
Shine on us with Thy Spirit, Lord,
And make this knowledge clear.
HYMN OF THE MORAVIAN NUNS OF
(AT THE CONSECRATION OF PULASKI'S BANNER.)
WHEN the dying flame of day
Through the chancel shot its ray,
Far the glimmering tapers shed
Faint light on the cowled head;
And the censer burning swung,
Where, before the altar, hung
The blood-red banner, that with prayer
Had been consecrated there.
And the nun's sweet hymn was heard the while,
Sung low in the dim, mysterious aisle.
"Take thy banner! May it wave
Proudly o'er the good and brave :
When the battle's distant wail
Breaks the Sabbath of our vale,
When the clarion's music thrills
To the hearts of these lone hills,
When the spear in conflict shakes,
And the strong lance shivering breaks.
"Take thy banner! and, beneath
The battle-clouds encircling wreath,
Guard it till our homes are free!
Guard it! God will prosper thee !
In the dark and trying hour,
In the breaking forth of power,
In the rush of steeds and men,
His right hand will shield thee then.
"Take thy banner! But when night
Closes round the ghostly fight,
If the vanquished warrior bow,
Spare him!-By our holy vow,
By our prayers and many tears,
By the mercy that endears,
Spare him he our love hath shared!
Spare him as thou would'st be spared!
"Take thy banner !—and if e'er
Thou should'st press the soldier's bier,
And the muffled drums should beat
To the tread of mournful feet,
Then this crimson flag shall be
Martial cloak and shroud for thee."
The warrior took that banner proud,
And it was his martial cloak and shroud.
LONGFELLOW.
THE LAST MAN.
ALL worldly shapes shall melt in gloom,
The sun himself shall die,
Before this mortal shall assume
Its immortality!
I saw a vision in my sleep
That gave my spirit strength to sweep
Adown the gulf of Time !
I saw the last of human mould
That shall creation's death behold,
As Adam saw her prime.
The sun's eye had a sickly glare,
The earth with age was wan,
The skeletons of nations were
Around that lonely man!
Some had expired in fight,—the brands
Still rusted in their bony hands ;
In plague and famine some!
Earth's cities had no sound nor tread;
And ships were drifting with the dead
To shores where all was dumb!
Yet, prophet-like, that lone one stood
With dauntless words and high,
That shook the sere leaves from the wood
As if a storm passed by—
Saying-We are twins in death, proud sun,
Thy face is cold, thy race is run,
'Tis mercy bids thee go;
For thou ten thousand, thousand years
Hast seen the tide of human tears,
That shall no longer flow.
What though beneath thee man put forth His pomp, his pride, his skill;
And arts that made fire, flood, and earth,
The vassals of his will;-
Yet mourn I not thy parted sway,
Thou dim discrownèd king of day:
For all those trophied arts
And triumphs that beneath thee sprang,
Healed not a passion or a pang
Entailed on human hearts.
Go, let oblivion's curtain fall
Upon the stage of men ;
Nor with thy rising beams recall
Life's tragedy again.
Its piteous pageants bring not back,
Nor waken flesh upon the rack
Of pain anew to writhe;
Stretched in diseases shapes abhorred,
Or mown in battle by the sword,
grass beneath the scythe.
Even I am weary in yon skies
To watch thy fading fire;
Test of all sunless agonies,
Behold not me expire.
My lips that speak thy dirge of death-
Their rounded gasp and gurgling breath
To see thou shalt not boast.
The eclipse of nature spreads my pall,— The majesty of darkness shall
Receive my parting ghost!
This spirit shall return to Him
Who gave its heavenly spark;
Yet think not, sun, it shall be dim,
When thou thyself art dark!
No! it shall live again, and shine
In bliss unknown to beams of thine,
By Him recalled to breath,
Who captive led captivity,
Who robbed the grave of victory,—
And took the sting from death!
Go, sun, while mercy holds me up
On nature's awful waste,
To drink this last and bitter cup
Of grief that man shall taste-
Go, tell the night that hides thy face,
Thou saw'st the last of Adam's race,
On earth's sepulchral clod,
The darkening universe defy
To quench his immortality,
Or shake his trust in God.
"THOU shalt remember all the way;"Nay, I would fain forget
The paths in which from day to day
My weary feet were set;
Else how can I attune my lay
To aught but sad regret?
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