THE CONSOLATION.

So falls the stroke of sorrow, and so springs

Strange joy and comfort from the very grief,
Even to the weariest sufferer; so brings
Each heavy burden still its own relief.

One cross the less remains for me to bear;
Already borne is that of yesterday;
That of to-day shall no to-morrow share;
To-morrow's, with itself, shall pass away.

That which is added to the troubled past

Is taken from the future, whose sad store Grows less and less each day, till soon the last

Dull wave of woe shall break upon our shore.

The storm that yesterday ploughed up the sea
Is buried now beneath its level blue;
One storm the fewer now remains for me,
Ere sky and earth are made for ever new.
7*

77

THE REAL.

THERE are no dreams beyond the tomb!
The night of dreams is o'er;
'Tis only here they go and come,
On this dull, shadowy shore.

When we arise from off this restless couch

Of weariness and pain,

When death awakes us with his stony touch Never to sleep again;

Then shadows vanish; the invisible

Rises before our view;

On every

side comes up

the real,

The certain, and the true.

And when the morn of morns shall come,

The resurrection-day,

Then yet more real shall all become,

And shadows pass away.

THE REAL.

How true and great that world must be,

How false, how little this!

Man sees not what he seems to see,

He seems not what he is.

Here is the hollow and untrue;
This is the night of dreams;
Thickly o'erspread with mist and dew,
Earth is not what it seems.

Each morn is coming with its light,
To chase each shade and ill,

Then time's vain beauty shall take flight,
Like rainbow from the hill.

And truth returneth from on high;

Gone is the night of dreams,

Gone is the shadow and the lie,

Earth shall be what it seems.

79

NOT HERE.

SOFTLY the winds were fanning this fresh cheek,

When heedless boyhood loved to dream and stray, I loved earth's skies, nor deemed them sad or bleak; Its fields seemed still to breathe of joyous May. I said, what better home shall this heart seek? Here let me dwell for aye.

Cold winter smote, frosts nipped, sore tempests broke, And the dark cloud shut out the beauteous day; The fair flower perished, and the blast's rude shock Struck the strong pine, and swept its pride away; My fond dream passed, I said, as I awoke,

"I would not live alway.”

Yet would I not turn back, nor faint, nor sigh,
Nor shun the war, nor murmur at the doom;
I see the beacon-light of yonder sky

Beyond the earth and sea-beyond the tomb!
And then I say, "O Saviour, ever nigh,

Light me through this cold gloom."

NOT NOW.

DAYS come and go,

In joy or woe;

Days go and come,

In endless sum.

Only the eternal day

Shall come but never go,

Only the eternal tide

Shall never ebb but flow.

O long eternity,

My soul goes forth to thee!

Suns set and rise

In these dull skies,

Suns rise and set,

Till men forget,

The day is at the door,

When they shall rise no more.
O everlasting Sun,

Whose race is never run,
Be thou my endless light,
Then shall I fear no night!