No More Sea.

Life of our life, and Light of all our seeing,
How shall we rest on any hope but thee?
What time our souls, to thee for refuge fleeing,
Long for the home where there is no more sea?

For still this sea of life, with endless wailing,

Dashes above our heads its blinding spray,
And vanquished hearts, sick with remorse and failing,
Moan like the waves at set of autumn day.

And ever round us swells the insatiate ocean
Of sin and doubt that lures us to our grave;
When its wild billows, with their mad commotion,
Would sweep us down-then only thou canst save.

And deep and dark the fearful gloom unlighted
Of that untried and all-surrounding sea,
On whose bleak shore arriving-lone-benighted,
We fall and lose ourselves at last in thee.

Yea! in thy life our little lives are ended,

Into thy depths our trembling spirits fall;

In thee enfolded, gathered, comprehended,

As holds the sea her waves thou hold'st us all!

Eliza Scudder.

The Eternal Goodness.

Within the maddening maze of things,
And tossed by storm and flood,
To one fixed stake my spirit clings:
I know that God is good.

I long for household voices gone,
For vanished smiles I long;
But God hath led my dear ones on,
And he can do no wrong.

I know not what the future hath

Of marvel or surprise,

Assured alone that life and death
His mercy underlies.

And if my heart and flesh are weak
To bear an untried pain,

The bruised reed he will not break,
But strengthen and sustain.

And so beside the silent sea

I wait the muffled oar;

No harm from him can come to me
On ocean or on shore.

I know not where his islands lift

Their fronded palms in air;

I only know I cannot drift

Beyond his love and care.

John G. Whittier.

Blessed are They that Mourn.

Oh, deem not they are blessed alone
Whose lives a peaceful tenor keep!
The Power who pities man, hath shown
A blessing for the eyes that weep.

The light of smiles shall fill again
The lids that overflow with tears;
And weary hours of woe and pain
Are promises of happier years.

There is a day of sunny rest

For every dark and troubled night: And grief may bide an evening guest, But joy shall come with early light.

And thou who, o'er thy friend's low bier,
Dost shed the bitter drops like rain,
Hope that a brighter, happier sphere
Will give him to thy arms again.

Nor let the good man's trust depart,
Though life its common gifts deny, -
Though with a pierced and bleeding heart,
And spurned of men, he goes to die.

For God hath marked each sorrowing day
And numbered every secret tear,

And heaven's long age of bliss shall pay

For all his children suffer here.

William C. Bryant.

Faith.

I will not think the last farewell we hear,

Is more than brief "good-bye" that a friend saith,
Turning toward home, that to our home lies near;
I will not think so harshly of kind death.

I will not think the last looks of dear eyes,
Fade with the light that fades of our dim air ;
But that the apparent glories of the skies

Weigh down their lids with beams too bright to bear.

Our dead have left us for no dark, strange lands,
Unwelcomed there, and with no friends to meet;
But hands of angels hold the trembling hands,
And hands of angels guide the faltering feet.

I will not think the soul gropes dumb and blind,

A brief space through our world, death-doomed from birth;

I will not think that Love shall ever find

A fairer heaven than he made of earth.

Pakenham Beatty.

66

Good-bye, till morning come again!

The shade of death brings thought of pain,
But could we know how short the night
That falls and hides them from our sight,
Our hearts would sing the glad refrain,
'Good-bye, till morning come again!"

44

From 'The Excursion.”

One adequate support

For the calamities of mortal life
Exists, one only; an assured belief
That the procession of our fate, howe’er
Sad or disturbed, is ordered by a Being
Of infinite benevolence and power,
Whose everlasting purposes embrace
All accidents, converting them to Good.

The darts of anguish fix not where the seat
Of suffering hath been thoroughly fortified
By acquiescence in the Will Supreme
For time and for eternity; by faith,
Faith absolute in God, including hope;
And the defence that lies in boundless love
Of his perfections; with habitual dread
Of aught unworthily conceived, endured
Impatiently, ill done or left undone,
To the dishonor of his holy Name.

M. G. T.

Soul of our souls, and safeguard of the world,
Sustain, thou only canst, the sick of heart!
William Wordsworth.

Venturi Salutamus.

Our beloved have departed,
While we tarry, heavy-hearted,

In the dreary, empty house:

They have ended life's brief story,

They have reached the home of glory,
Over death victorious.

Hush that sobbing, weep more lightly;
On we travel, daily, nightly,

To the rest that they have found.
Are we not upon the river,
Sailing fast, to meet forever

On more holy, happy ground?

On we haste, to home invited,
There with friends to be united

In a surer bond than here;
Meeting soon, and met forever!
Glorious Hope, forsake us never,
For thy glimmering light is dear!

Ah! the way is shining clearer,
As we journey ever nearer

To the everlasting home;

Comrades, who await our landing,

Friends, who round the throne are standing,

We salute you, and we come!

From the German.

(Littell's "Living Age.")

From "My Psalm."

All as God wills, who wisely heeds
To give or to withhold,
And knoweth more of all my needs

Than all my prayers have told!