Lost the fair tracery of youth, and wore A deeper signet, in my manhood's prime— To lay me down with those who wake no more, It calls me those I loved, their couch be mine: I hear sweet voices from my childhood's home, And from my father's grave-I come, I come! : Blest be the warning sound my mother's eyes Dwell on my memory yet, her parting tears, And from the grave where my young sister lies, Who perished in the glory of her years, I hear a gentle call, "Return, return!" So be it let me greet the village spires Once more. I come 'tis wilding youth may spurn, When far, the burial-places of his sires; But oh, when strength is gone, and hope is past, There turns the wearied man his thoughts at last. So do we change! I hear a warning tone— Yea, I, whose thoughts were all of bypast times, Of ancient glories, and from visions lone, I come to list once more the sabbath chimes Of my own home-to feel the gentle air Steal o'er my brow again-to greet the sun In the old places where he shone so fair, The while each wandering brook in music ran, Answering to Youth's sweet thoughts, but all are fled I come, my home, I come to join thy dead! I heed the warning voice: oh, spurn me not, Mine were high fancies, but a wayward lot Thinking o'er wasted hours, a weary train, Cheered by the moon's soft light, the sun's glad smile, Watching the blue sky o'er my path of pain, Waiting my summons: whose shall be the eye To glance unkindly ?—I have come to die! Sweet words to die! oh pleasant, pleasant sounds, What bright revealings to my heart they bring! What melody, unheard in earth's dull rounds, And floating from the land of glorious Spring— The eternal home! My weary thoughts revive, Fresh flowers my mind puts forth, and buds of love, Gentle and kindly thoughts for all that live, LUCY HOOPER. Abide with Prayer. F what an easy quick access, OF My blessed Lord, art thou! how suddenly May our requests thine ear invade! To show that state dislikes not easiness, If I but lift mine eyes, my suit is made: Thou canst no more not hear, than thou canst die. Of what supreme almighty power Is thy great arm, which spans the east and west, By it do all things live their measur'd hour: Of what unmeasurable love Art thou possess'd, who when thou couldst not die, Wert fain to take our flesh and curse, Since then these three wait on thy throne, Wealth, fame, endowments, virtues, all should go: GEORGE HERBERT. A Pledge for the Pure in Heart. WHERE art thou?-Thou! source and sup port of all That is or seen or felt; thyself unseen, I look abroad among thy works-the sky, Life-giving earth, and ever-moving main, And speaking winds—and ask if these are thee! And next interrogate Futurity, So fondly tenanted with better things Than e'er experience owned—but both are mute : Are deaf and speechless here! Fatigued, I turn And close mine eyes, and bid the thought turn inward From each material thing its anxious guest, He may vouchsafe himself-Spirit to spirit! look on thine and live? Nor human eye may Who would not dare to die? Peace! my proud aim, And hush the wish that knows not what it asks. On Him-the Unrevealed-learn hence, instead, Even to the perfecting thyself—thy kind— By the firm promise of a voice from heaven ELIZA TOWNSEND. Abide with Me. ABIDE with me! Fast falls the eventide; The darkness deepens : Lord, with me abide! Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day! |