HYMN OF TRUST.

LOVE Divine, that stooped to share
Our sharpest pang, our bitterest tear,
On Thee we cast each earth-born care,
We smile at pain while Thou art near!

Though long the weary way we tread,
And sorrow crown each lingering year,
No path we shun, no darkness dread,
Our hearts still whispering, Thou art near!

When drooping pleasure turns to grief,
And trembling faith is changed to fear,
The murmuring wind, the quivering leaf,
Shall softly tell us, Thou art near!

On Thee we fling our burdening woe,
O Love Divine, forever dear,
Content to suffer while we know,
Living and dying, Thou art near!

A SUN-DAY HYMN.

JORD of all being! throned afar,
Thy glory flames from sun and star;
Centre and soul of every sphere,

Yet to each loving heart how near!

Sun of our life, thy quickening ray
Sheds on our path the glow of day;
Star of our hope, thy softened light
Cheers the long watches of the night.

Our midnight is thy smile withdrawn ;
Our noontide is thy gracious dawn;
Our rainbow arch thy mercy's sign;
All, save the clouds of sin, are thine!

Lord of all life, below, above,

Whose light is truth, whose warmth is love, Before thy ever-blazing throne

We ask no lustre of our own.

Grant us thy truth to make us free,
And kindling hearts that burn for thee,
Till all thy living altars claim

One holy light, one heavenly flame!

A VOICE OF THE LOYAL NORTH.

NATIONAL FAST, JANUARY 4, 1861.

E sing

"Our Country's" song to-night
With saddened voice and eye;
Her banner droops in clouded light
Beneath the wintry sky.

We'll pledge her once in golden wine
Before her stars have set :

Though dim one reddening orb may shine,
We have a Country yet.

"T were vain to sigh o'er errors past,
The fault of sires or sons;

Our soldier heard the threatening blast,
And spiked his useless guns;
He saw the star-wreathed ensign fall,
By mad invaders torn ;

But saw it from the bastioned wall
That laughed their rage to scorn!

What though their angry cry is flung
Across the howling wave,

They smite the air with idle tongue
The gathering storm who brave;
Enough of speech! the trumpet rings;
Be silent, patient, calm, —

God help them if the tempest swings
The pine against the palm !

Our toilsome years have made us tame;
Our strength has slept unfelt;
The furnace-fire is slow to flame
That bids our ploughshares melt;
"T is hard to lose the bread they win
In spite of Nature's frowns, —
To drop the iron threads we spin
That weave our web of towns,

To see the rusting turbines stand
Before the emptied flumes,

To fold the arms that flood the land
With rivers from their looms, -
But harder still for those who learn
The truth forgot so long;

When once their slumbering passions burn,
The peaceful are the strong!

The Lord have mercy on the weak,
And calm their frenzied ire,

And save our brothers ere they shriek,
We played with Northern fire!"
The eagle hold his mountain height, -
The tiger pace his den!

Give all their country, each his right!
God keep us all! Amen!

BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT FOR

SISTER CAROLINE.

HE has gone,

and pride,

she has left us in passion

Our stormy-browed sister, so long at our

side!

She has torn her own star from our firmament's

glow,

And turned on her brother the face of a foe!

O Caroline, Caroline, child of the sun,
We can never forget that our hearts have been one, -
Our foreheads both sprinkled in Liberty's name,
From the fountain of blood with the finger of flame!

You were always too ready to fire at a touch; But we said, "She is hasty, she does not mean much."

We have scowled, when you uttered some turbulent threat;

But Friendship still whispered, "Forgive and forget!"

Has our love all died out? Have its altars grown cold? Has the curse come at last which the fathers foretold? Then Nature must teach us the strength of the chain That her petulant children would sever in vain.

They may fight till the buzzards are gorged with their spoil,

Till the harvest grows black as it rots in the soil, Till the wolves and the catamounts troop from their caves,

And the shark tracks the pirate, the lord of the waves:

In vain is the strife! When its fury is past,
Their fortunes must flow in one channel at last,
As the torrents that rush from the mountains of snow
Roll mingled in peace through the valleys below.

Our Union is river, lake, ocean, and sky:

Man breaks not the medal, when God cuts the die! Though darkened with sulphur, though cloven with steel,

The blue arch will brighten, the waters will heal!

O Caroline, Caroline, child of the sun,

There are battles with Fate that can never be won! The star-flowering banner must never be furled, For its blossoms of light are the hope of the world!

Go, then, our rash sister! afar and aloof,
Run wild in the sunshine away from our roof;
But when your heart aches and your feet have grown

sore,

Remember the pathway that leads to our door!

March 25, 1861.