Till the day dawn,

And the Day-star arise,—
Spirit of gentle love,

Thou tempest-calming dove,
Come, and within me dwell,
Come, and all gloom dispel.
Most blessed Comforter,
My weary footsteps cheer.
O light and lamp divine,
Upon my midnight shine,
Better than star or moon,

Brighter than day's bright noon,

O let thy joyous ray

Turn all my night to day.

When thou art absent, even my joy is sad, When thou art with me, even my grief is glad ; Let not thy silence now sorrow to sorrow add.

Till the day dawn,

And the Day-star arise,-
Church of the living God,
Pursue thy upward road;
Look not behind nor stray
From the well-trodden way.
Be not ashamed to bear

Thy cross on earth, nor fear

Reproach and poverty,

For him who died for thee.

With girded loins press on,
Till the reward is won.
Think of thy absent Lord,

Hold fast thy plighted word.

Doff not thy weeds of widowhood, nor fear
To let the world, thro' which thou passest, hear
The widow's cry, and see the widow's faithful tear.

DAY-SPRING.

THE loving morn is springing
From night's unloving gloom;

And earth seems now arising
In beauty from the tomb.

See daylight far above us,
Tinging each cloudy wreath,

Ere it showers itself in splendour
Upon the plain beneath.

F

'Tis sparkling on the mountain-peak,
"Tis hurrying down the vale,
'Tis bursting thro' the forest-boughs,
"Tis freshening in the gale.

"Tis mingling with the river's smile,
'Tis glistening in the dew,
'Tis flinging far its silver net,
O'er ocean's braided blue.

'Tis blushing o'er the meadow's gold, 'Tis alighting on the flower, Unfolding every gentle bud

To the gladness of the hour.

'Tis gilding the old ruin's moss, 'Tis gleaming from the spire;

And thro' the crumbling window-shafts

It shoots its living fire.

'Tis quivering in the village-smoke,

That curls the low roof o'er ;

It beats against the castle gate,

And at the cottage door.

O'er the church-yard it is resting,—

On stone, and grass, and mould ; Giving voice to each grey tombstone, As to Memnon's harp of old.

O the gay burst of beauty
That is flushing over earth,
And calling forth its millions
To holy morning mirth!

Yet look we for a sunrise
More beautiful than this;
And watch we for a dawning
Of purer light and bliss.

When a far fairer morning
O'er greener hills shall rise,

And a far fresher sunlight

Look down from bluer skies.

Is not creation weary?

Has sin not reigned too long? Hear, Lord, thy Church's pleading, Come, end her day of wrong!

DUST TO DUST.

DUST receive thy kindred!

Earth take now thine own!

To thee this trust is rendered;
In thee this seed is sown.

Guard the precious treasure,

Ever-faithful tomb!

Keep it all unrifled,

Till the Master come.

Time's tide of change and uproar

Breaks above thy head;

Feet of restless millions

O'er thy chambers tread.

Earthquakes, whirlwinds, tempests Tear the quivering ground;

Voices, trumpets, thunders

Fill the air around.