So too may soothing Hope thy leave enjoy

Sweet visions of long sever'd hearts to frame : Though absence may impair, or cares annoy, Some constant mind

may

draw us still the same.

We in dark dreams are tossing to and fro,

Pine with regret, or sicken with despair,
The while she bathes us in her own chaste glow,

And with our memory wings her own fond prayer.

O bliss of child-like innocence, and love

Tried to old age ! creative power to win,
And raise new worlds, where happy fancies rove,

Forgetting quite this grosser world of sin.

Bright are their dreams, because their thoughts are

clear, Their memory cheering : but th’ earth-stained

spright, Whose wakeful musings are of guilt and fear,

Must hover nearer earth, and less in light.

Farewell, for her, th' ideal scenes so fair

Yet not farewell her hope, since Thou hast deign'd,

Creator of all hearts! to own and share

The woe of what Thou mad'st, and we have stain'd.

Thou know'st our bitterness—our joys are thineb

No stranger Thou to all our wanderings wild : Nor could we bear to think, how every line

Of us, thy darken'd likeness and defild,

Stands in full sunshine of thy piercing eye,

But that thou call'st us Brethren : sweet repose Is in that word—the LORD who dwells on high

Knows all, yet loves us better than He knows.

TWENTY-FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER

TRINITY.

The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the way of righteous

Proverbs xvi. 31.

ness.

THE bright hair'd morn is glowing

O'er emerald meadows gay,
With many a clear gem strowing

The early shepherd's way.
Ye gentle elves, by Fancy seen

Stealing away with night
To slumber in your leafy screen,

Tread more than airy light.

And see what joyous greeting

The sun through heaven has shed,
Though fast yon shower be fleeting,

His beams have faster sped.

For lo! above the western haze

High towers the rainbow arch In solid span of purest rays:

How stately is its march !

Pride of the dewy morning!

The swain's experienc'd eye From thee takes timely warning,

Nor trusts the gorgeous sky. For well he knows, such dawnings gay

Bring noons of storm and shower, And travellers linger on the way

Beside the sheltering bower.

Even so, in hope and trembling

Should watchful shepherds view His little lambs assembling,

With glance both kind and true; 'Tis not the eye of keenest blaze,

Nor the quick-swelling breast, That soonest thrills at touch of praise

These do not please him best.

But voices low and gentle,

And timid glances shy,

That seem for aid parental

To sue all wistfully,
Still pressing, longing to be right,

Yet fearing to be wrong-
In these the Pastor dares delight,

A lamb-like, Christ-like throng.

These in Life's distant even

Shall shine serenely bright,
As in th' autumnal heaven

Mild rainbow tints at night,
When the last shower is stealing down,

And ere they sink to rest,
The sun-beams weave a parting crown

For some sweet woodland nest.

The promise of the morrow

Is glorious on that eve,
Dear as the holy sorrow

When good men cease to live.
When brightening ere it die away

Mounts up their altar flame,
Still tending with intenser ray

To Heaven whence first it came.