GLORY to God, in full anthems of joy, But Jesus hath cheered the dark valley of sorrow, LVI. BLEST are the departed, Who in the Lord are sleeping, From henceforth, for evermore. They rest from their labours, And their works do follow them. LVII. WE think and feel; but will the dead Awake to thought again? A voice of comfort answers us, That God doth nought in vain. He wastes nor flower, nor bud, nor leaf, Nor will he waste the hope which grief BEHOLD the western evening light- So calm the righteous sink away, The winds breathe low,-the yellow leaf So gently flows the parting breath How beautiful, on all the hills, So sweet the memory left behind, When loved ones breathe their last. And lo! above the dews of night So faith lights up the mourner's heart, And thus the eyes that sleep in death . BENEATH this starry arch Hark to the footfall! Yon sheaves were once but seed: As cave-drops swell the streams, By night, like stars on high, Hark to the footfall! On, on, for ever! They pass the cradle-head, On, on, for ever! TELL me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; "Dust thou art, to dust returnest," Was not spoken of the soul. Lives of great men all remind us Footsteps that, perhaps, another, Let us, then, be up and doing, A LITTLE child, in bulrush ark, Came floating on the Nile's broad water; That child made Egypt's glory dark, And freed his tribe from bonds and slaughter. A little child for knowledge sought, That child the world's religion brought, Mid worst oppressions, if remain Young hearts to freedom still aspiring; Then, let not priest or tyrant dote On dreams of long the world commanding; The ark of Moses is afloat, And Christ is in the Temple standing. LXII. THE sage his cup of hemlock quaffed, |