And beautiful with all the soul's expansion

Shall we behold her face.

And though at times impetuous with emotion
And anguish long suppressed,

The swelling heart heaves, moaning like the ocean,
That cannot be at rest,-

We will be patient, and assuage the feeling

We may not wholly stay;

By silence sanctifying, not concealing,

The grief that must have way.

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

Light

HE night has a thousand eyes,

THE

And the day but one;

Yet the light of the bright world dies
With the dying sun.

The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one;

Yet the light of a whole life dies

When love is done.

FRANCIS W. BOURDILLON.

Not Changed but Glorified

NOT

T changed but glorified! Oh, beauteous language

For those who weep,

Mourning the loss of some dear face departed,
Fallen asleep.

Hushed into silence, never more to comfort
The hearts of men.

Gone, like the sunshine of another country,
Beyond our ken.

Oh, dearest dead, we saw thy white soul shining
Behind the face,

Bright with the beauty and celestial glory
Of an immortal grace.

What wonder that we stumble, faint and weeping,
And sick with fears,

Since thou hast left us all alone with sorrow,

And blind with tears?

Can it be possible no words shall welcome
Our coming feet?

How will it look, that face that we have cherished,
When next we meet?

Will it be changed, so glorified and saintly,

That we shall know it not?

Will there be nothing that will say, "I love thee, And I have not forgot"?

Oh, faithless heart, the same loved face transfigured Shall meet thee there,

Less sad, less wistful, in immortal beauty

Divinely fair.

The mortal veil, washed pure with many weepings,
Is rent away,

And the great soul that sat within its prison
Hath found the day.

In the clear morning of that other country,
In Paradise,

With the same face that we have loved and cherished
She shall arise!

Let us be patient, we who mourn, with weeping,
Some vanished face,

The Lord has taken, but to add more beauty
And a diviner grace.

And we shall find once more, beyond earth's

sorrows,

Beyond these skies,

In the fair city of the "sure foundations,"

Those heavenly eyes,

With the same welcome shining through their

sweetness,

That met us here;

Eyes, from whose beauty God has banished weeping, And wiped away the tear.

Think of

us, dearest one, while o'er life's waters We seek the land,

Missing thy voice, thy touch, and the true helping Of thy pure hand.

Till, through the storm and tempest, safely anchored Just on the other side,

We find thy dear face looking through death's shadows,

I

Not changed, but glorified.

Away

CANNOT say, and I will not say

That he is dead he is just away.

With a cheery smile and a wave of the hand,
As he wandered into an unknown land,

And left us dreaming how very fair

It needs must be, since he lingers there.

And you,

-O you, who the wildest yearn For the old-time step and the glad return,

Think of him faring on, as dear

In the love of There as the love of Here:

And loyal still, as he gave the blows

Of his warrior-strength to his country's foes,

Mild and gentle, as he was brave ·

When the sweetest love of his life he gave

To simple things: - where the violets grew
Pure as the eyes they were likened to.

The touches of his hands have strayed

As reverently as his lips have prayed:

---

When the little brown thrush that harshly chirred Was dear to him as the mocking-bird.

And he pitied as much as a man in pain,
A writhing honey-bee wet with rain.

Think of him still as the same, I say,

He is not dead - he is just away!