92

DAY-SPRING.

'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 lighting on the flower,
Unfolding every gentle bud
To the gladness of the hour.

'Tis gilding the old ruin's moss,
"T is 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.

DAY-SPRING.

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!

93

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.

96

DUST TO DUST.

Turf of the shaded church-yard,

Warder of the clay,

Watch the toil-worn sleeper,
Till the awaking day.

Watch the well-loved sleeper,
Guard that placid form;
Fold around it gently;

Shield it froin alarm.

Clasp it kindly, fondly,
To cherish, not destroy;

Clasp it as the mother

Clasps her nestling joy.

Guard the precious treasure,

Ever faithful tomb;

Keep it all unrifled

Till the Master come.