SONGS IN BEREAVEMENT.

H

'E who died at Azan sends

This to comfort all his friends.
Faithful friends! It lies, I know,
Pale and white and cold as snow;
And ye say, "Abdallah's dead!"
Weeping at the feet and head,
I can see your falling tears,

I can hear your sighs and prayers;
Yet I smile and whisper this—
"I am not the thing you kiss ;
Cease your tears and let it lie;
It was mine, it is not 'I.'"

Sweet friends! what the women lave
For its last bed, called the grave,

Is a hut which I am quitting,
Is a garment no more fitting,

Is a cage from which at last
Like a bird, my soul has passed;

Love the inmate, not the room;

The wearer, not the garb; the plume

Of the falcon, not the bars

Which kept him from those splendid stars!

Loving friends! be wise and dry
Straightway every weeping eye:
What ye lift upon the bier
Is not worth a wistful tear.
'Tis an empty sea-shell—one
Out of which the pearl has gone :
The shell is broken-it lies there;
The pearl, the all, the soul is here.
'Tis an earthen jar whose lid
Allah sealed, the while it hid
That treasure of its treasury,
A mind that loved him; let it lie!
Let the shard be earth's once more,
Since the gold shines in his store!

Allah glorious! Allah good!
Now thy world is understood;
Now the long, long wonder ends!
Yet ye weep, my erring friends,
While the man whom ye call dead,
In unspoken bliss, instead,
Lives and loves you; lost, 'tis true,
By such light as shines for you;

But in light ye cannot see ́Of unfilled felicity

In enlarging Paradise—

Lives a life that never dies.

Farewell, friends! Yet not farewell;
Where I am, ye too shall dwell.
I am gone before your face

A moment's time, a little space ;
When ye come where I have stepped,
Ye will wonder why ye wept ;
Ye will know by wise love taught,
That here is all, and there is naught.
Weep awhile, if ye are fain—
Sunshine still must follow rain-

Only not at death; for death

Now we know, is that first breath

Which our souls draw when we enter

Life, which is of life the centre.

Be ye certain all seems love
Viewed from Allah's throne above;
Be ye stout of heart and come
Bravely onward to your home!
La-il Allah! Allah-la!

O Love divine! O Love alway!

He who died at Azan gave
This to those who made his grave.

EDWIN ARNOLD.

-KNOW that his dear children cannot die,

But gently lapsing to an ampler life

Through the brief sleep we misname death, awake In His most glorious likeness.

HOULD bereavement's heavy shadow

SHOULD

Pall-like clothe thy stricken heart,

And the very stars above thee

Cease their lessons to impart,

Think the dear ones, whose departure
Round thy soul such darkness cast,
Somewhere find the heavenly morning
That may rise on thee at last.

OUR

UR prince has gone to his inheritance !
Think it not strange. What if, with slight
half smile,

Some crowned king to leave his throne should

chance,

And try the rough ways of the world awhile?

Ere he had wearied of its storm and stress,
Would he not hasten to his own again?
Why should he bear its labor and duress,

And all the untold burden of its pain?

Or what if from the golden palace gate

The king's fair son on some bright morn should

stray?

Would he not send his lords of high estate

To lead him back ere fell the close of day?

JULIA C. R. Dorr.

-WHEN you see a soul set free

From this poor seed of its mortality,

And know you saw not that which is to be,
Watch you about the tomb

For its immortal bloom?

Search for your flowers in the celestial grove :
Look for your precious stream of human love
In the unfathomable sea above:

Follow your missing bird

Where songs are always heard!

PHOEBE CARY.

IF

F for a time some loved one goes away,
And leaves us our appointed work to do,
Can we to him or to ourselves be true
In mourning his departure day by day
And so our work delay ?