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“IN ALL LABOR THERE IS PROFIT."
Unintermitting goes up into heaven!
Till from its nourishing stem it is riven.
Speaks to thy soul from out Nature's great heart;
Only man, in the plan, shrinks from his part.
Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon.
Play the sweet keys wouldst thou keep them in tune.
Rest from world-sirens that lure us to ill;
Work with a stout heart, and resolute will.
True as a sunbeam, the swift sickle guides.
Labor is wealth.” In the sea the pearl groweth; Rich the queen's robe from the frail cocoon floweth; From the small acorn, the strong forest bloweth;
Temple and statue the marble block hides.
Rest not content in thy darkness—a clod;
JOY COMETH WITH THE MORNING.
BRIGHTER scenes will come to-morrow,
Mourner, lift thy thoughts on high,
To the realms beyond the sky !
Light and shade are blended here ;
Joy and gladness shall appear.
Treasured deep within thy breast
Ever pointing to thy rest.
Rock the surface of the deep,
In their caves unruffled sleep.
’Neath the griefs that press thee now,
Vex no more thy weary brow.
Storms that rock the earth and ocean,
Then no more thy sleep shall breakThan the Zephyr's softest motion
That may scarce a dewdrop shake. When life's transitory story
As a dream hath passed away, Wilt thou in the realms of glory
Heed the sadness of a day?
Here thy spirit finds repose,
C. B. C.
GERMS OF GOOD.
A TRAVELLER through a dusty road
Strewed acorns on the lea,
into a tree.
To breathe its early vows,
To bask beneath its boughs :
The birds sweet music bore,
A blessing evermore!
Amid the grass and fern,
Where weary men might turn;
A ladle at the brink
But judg'd that toil might drink.
He passed again—and lo! the well,
By summers never dried,
And saved a life beside!
A dreamer dropp'd a random thought;
'Twas old, and yet was newA simple fancy of the brain,
But strong in being true; It shone upon a genial mind,
And lo! its light became
A monitory flame.
A watch-fire on the hill,
And cheers the valley still !
A nameless man, amid a crowd
That throng'd the daily mart,
Unstudied, from the heart;
A transitory breath-
It saved a soul from death.
O thought at random cast !
EPITAPH ON A CHILD. No bitter tears for thee be shed,
Blossom of being! seen and gone. With flowers above we strew thy bed,
O, blest departed one! Whose all of life, a rosy ray,
Blushed into dawn and pass'd away.