SHALL I FEAR, O EARTH, THY BOSOM? 423

Unto Death, to whom monarchs must bow?

Ah no! for his empire is known,

And here there are trophies enow!

Beneath, the cold dead, and around, the dark stone,
Are the signs of a sceptre that none may disown.

The first tabernacle to Hope we will build,

And look for the sleepers around us to rise;

The second to Faith, that insures it fulfilled;

And the third to the Lamb of the great sacrifice,

Who bequeathed us them both when he rose to the skies.

HERBERT KNOWLES.

Shall I Fear, O Earth, thy Bosom?

HALL I fear, O earth, thy bosom?

SHALL

Shrink and faint to lay me there,

Whence the fragrant lovely blossom
Springs to gladden earth and air?

Whence the tree, the brook, the river,
Soft clouds floating in the sky,
All fair things come, whispering ever
Of the love divine on high?

Yea, whence One arose victorious
O'er the darkness of the grave,
His strong arm revealing, glorious
In its might divine to save?

No, fair Earth! a tender mother

Thou hast been, and yet canst be;

And through him, my Lord and Brother,

Sweet shall be my rest in thee!

THOMAS DAVIS.

S

To the Southern Cross.

WEET Empress of the Southern sea,
Hail to thy loveliness once more!

Thou gazest mournfully on me,

As mindful we have met before!

When first I saw the Polar Star

Go down behind the silver sea, And greeted thy mild light from far, I did not know its mystery.

My Polar Star was by my side,

The star of hope was on my brow; I've lost them both beneath the tideThe cross alone is left me now.

Not such as thou, sweet Thing of stars,
Moving in queenly state on high,
But wrought of stern, cold iron bars,
And borne, ah me! so wearily!

Yet something from those soft, warm skies
Seems whispering, "Thou shall yet be blest!"

And gazing in thy tender eyes,

The symbol brightens on my breast.

I read at last the mystery

That slumbers in each starry gem;

The weary pathway to the sky——

The iron cross-the diadem.

EMILY C. JUDSON

PER PACEM AD LUCEM.

425

I

Per Pacem ad Lucem.

DO not ask, O Lord, that life may be
A pleasant road;

I do not ask that thou wouldst take from me

Aught of its load:

I do not ask that flowers should always spring
Beneath my feet;

I know too well the poison and the sting
Of things too sweet.

For one thing only, Lord, dear Lord, I plead,
Lead me aright—

Though strength should falter and though heart should bleed,

Through Peace to Light.

I do not ask, O Lord, that thou shouldst shed
Full radiance here;

Give but a ray of peace that I may tread
Without a fear.

I do not ask my cross to understand,
My way to see;

Better in darkness just to feel thy hand,
And follow thee.

Joy is like restless day; but peace divine
Like quiet night;

Lead me O Lord-till perfect day shall shine-
Through Peace to Light.

ADELAIDE A. PROCTER.

"Follow Thou Me."

WHERE shall we follow thee, Saviour beloved?

To Kedron, where oft thou hast thoughtfully roved? Each rill of enjoyment that winds through our care, Is Kedron, if thou wilt but walk with us there.

O where shall we follow thee, Jesus our friend?
To Bethany, whither thy feet loved to tend?
Our fireside is Bethany, peaceful and blest;
And ne'er will we wander, with thee for a guest.

O where shall we follow thee, Master adored?
To the Beautiful City, that knew not her Lord?
Alas for our streets full of evil and pain!
Toil with us for cities wept over in vain!

O where shall we follow thee, Leader divine?
To Tabor, where thou in white glory didst shine?
Thy face in the sin-sick and weary we see,
When Love is the Tabor we stand on with thee.

O where shall we follow thee, tenderest Guide?
To the sweet mournful garden down Olivet's side?
Ah, here is Gethsemane-here where we mourn:
Here strengthen us, thou who our sorrow hast borne !

O where shall we follow thee, dear Lamb of God?

Up Golgotha's death-steep, for us meekly trod?

The thorns pierce our temples; the cross bears us down; Like thine make our Calvary garland our crown!

O where shall we follow thee, conquering Lord?
To Paradise, unto us outcasts restored?
'Tis Paradise, Lord, in thy presence to be:
And, living or dying, we're ever with thee!

LUCY LARCOM.

ENTICED.

427

W

Enticed.

I.

ITH what clear guile of gracious love enticed, I follow forward, as from room to room, Through doors that open into light from gloom, To find and lose, and find again the Christ!

He stands and knocks, and bids me ope the door;
Without he stands, and asks to enter in :

Why should he seek a shelter sad with sin?

Will he but knock and ask, and nothing more?

He knows what ways I take to shut my heart,
And if he will he can himself undo

My foolish fastenings, or by force break through,
Nor wait till I fulfill my needless part.

But nay, he will not choose to enter so,-
He will not be my guest without consent,
Nor, though I say
"Come in," is he content;
I must arise and ope, or he will go.

He shall not go; I do arise and ope,—

"Come in, dear Lord, come in and sup with me, Oh, blessed guest, and let me sup with thee,”Where is the door? for in this dark I grope,

And cannot find it soon enough; my hand,
Shut hard, holds fast the one sure key I need,
And trembles, shaken with its eager heed;

No other key will answer my demand.

The door between is some command undone ;
Obedience is the key that slides the bar,
And lets him in, who stands so near, so far;
The doors are many, but the key is one.