He knew 'twas best—my stubborn heart Had need of chastening pain; To bow beneath the rod's keen smart, To learn, by grief, the better part, To feel such loss is gain.

And now no earthly idol smiles, No pleasant passions lure; No fleeting phantom now beguiles My soul from heaven with tempting wiles, My hope is fixed and sure.

She waits for me—the swift year's flight I count like miser's gold; I keep the "watches of the night," I wait until the morning light Its glories snail unfold.



SUNSET.

A burning flood of glory blazing far along the West, And clouds on clouds aglowing towering o'er the mountains' crest Till the shining, burnished columns and the ranks of crimson vie In a living trail of splendour, lighting all the evening sky.

The grand October sunset burns above the mountains' brow, Whose grey old heads shine redly, light-kissed and ruddy now; There the sunshine loves to linger in a parting glow of light, Ere Day his throne resigneth to the dusky reign of Night.

But low and lower sinking, the sun goes down the West And the dazzling beams are fading along the Ocean's breast Till, pale and paler growing, the grandeur dies away, And the wild waves and the breezes seem wailing for the Day!

For the fair Day, that has vanished—the brightness that is fled, And for all the sunny hours that are passed away and dead, The rosy flush of sunrise, the gladsome time of morn, And bird-songs sweet, that far and near told when the Day was born!

The tranquil hush of noontide, the mellow evening hours But ah! the Day's departure left desolate the bowers, And woodland haunts, and flowery dells, and mountain streams and glades Are lonely left in deepening gloom, and mystic twilight shades!

But through the Night's grim darkness the star-lamps bright shall burn, 'Till the lone Earth, cheered and hopeful, shall wait for Day's return, And gaze with wistful longing, till the dawn the far East hills, And the sun in regal beauty smile o'er the grand old hills.

Then life and light and brightness shall be her own again, And in the new-found gladness she'll forget the night of pain Forget the hours of darkness when deep in gloom she lay, And her weeping-time of sadness be "as waters that pass away!"

Thus, this dreary night of sorrow through which we wander here Be only transient darkness the long bright Day is near, Whose light of peace and glory the ransomed spirit fills, As it hails the dawn eternal upon the Heavenly Hills!



"CONSIDER THE LILIES."

Not gold nor diamond flash of dazzling brightness, No costly thing of earth Thou givest for thought; But these sweet simple flowers, beside whose whiteness The great king's glory all would seem as nought.

Thou knewest how soon must fade all earth's poor splendour, Worthless its wealth to Thine all-seeing eye; The short-lived glimmer of its pomp and grandeur Fleeting and transient only born to die.

Thou would'st not point our love to earth's frail treasure, But to these lilies, beautiful and pure; They toil nor spin not, yet their life's full measure Thou metest, and their day is kept secure.

Oh, lilies! well I love your snowy pureness! That once the Master deigned while here to trace, Pledges of His dear love, whose truth and serene Are faintly shadowed in your beauty's grace.

Meek teachers! could I learn that lesson given! If God so clothe the grass with beauty rare, Shall He not guide us on our way to heaven, And guard our pathway till we enter there?

Oh give me, Lord, a soul of lily whiteness, Washed in the blood that Thou hast shed for me, Thy Spirit's light to pierce earth's gloom with brightness And show the way thro' mist and cloud to Thee

Give me a heart whose treasure is in heaven, Not for to-morrow feeling anxious thought; Even as my day, so shall my strength be given, And grace sufficient—can I want for aught?

Oh, give me faith, that on Thy love relying, From doubt's dark thrall I may be ever free; And clothe me, Lord, that in the hour of dying, Thy righteousness, blest robe, may cover me!

Thus may I walk, by Thee, my Guide, befriended, 'Joyous with joy that knows no sad decay; That when earth's sun has set her brief day ended My morn may break and shine to "perfect day'"



SONGS OF THE SEA.

"My soul is full of longing For the secret of the sea, And the heart of the great ocean Sends a restless pulse through me."—LONGFELLOW

In the grey light of the morning, ere the sun has lit the sky When the winds rave loud and wildly, to the angry waters How the mighty, foaming billows thunder forth, in ceaseless roar, Songs majestic, wild with anguish, woeful waitings evermore. In the dawn light, in the gloaming, beating, breaking, o'er and o'er, Telling out the ocean stories, to the wide, encircling shore; And I listen, till the legends of the past, a shadowy host, Seem to gather round, and people storied Antrim's rock-bound coast.

Where the grandeur of the Causeway smiles in scorn at Art's weak hand, Seem the wild waves ever singing of the high schemes Nature plann'd, When she hurled the giant columns, by some mighty earthquake shock, Till they stand, huge pillar-wonders, by the paved, mysterious rock; And the dark caves, weird and frowning, echoing the sea's wild strife, Seem to hold some spell unearthly, of the ocean's secret life.

Where th'Atlantic rolls sublimely, lashing round Port Ballintrae, Language cannot paint the grandeur of the waves, in awful play! Beating, breaking, wildly seething, whilst in restless, fitful roar, Deep to far-off deep is calling, answering round from shore to shore. And the spirit of the ocean seems to fill its heaving breast With ten thousand prison'd longings, wailing out in wild unrest.

Softening down to calmer music, round the White Rocks and the caves, With a tender, nameless pathos, softly sing the curling waves To the battlements and turrets, and the old towers, grim and hoary. Where the stern Macquillan chieftains reigned in once unconquered glory. There Dunluce, in lonely grandeur, frowns in wild, and deathless pride, Sentinel of bygone ages, Time-tried warder by the tide.

Grey Dunluce, in concert blending, winds, and waves, and sounding sea, Seem to sing a dirge of sorrow for the glory fled from thee, Rolling onward to the Skerries, wailing far in requiem moan Till they catch the surf's bold thunder round toe rock at Innishone, Where the foam-girt shore re-echoes with the burthen of the song, And the angry dashing billows wide and far the cry prolong.

When the moonlight, pale and faintly, gleams on Malin Head's blue crest, And its silvery pathway shimmers far across the ocean's breast; When the yeasty breakers glisten softly in the shadowy light, When the rocks seem mystic castles, looming grimly thro' the night; Then the solemn songs of Ocean, fraught with precious, new- found lore Bring for Fancy unknown treasure, priceless gems for Thought's great store!

Grand old Ocean! how my spirit longs to catch thy melody Do thine heart's great pulses quicken with a secret life, oh, Sea? Far adown the blue waves, hidden by the hearings of your breast, Is there soul to tune your singing, to its ceaseless, wild unrest? Oh! thou dread and wondrous ocean, tell these mystic songs to me For their cadence, grand and changeful, haunts my path with mystery.



THE MOONLIGHT.

Silvery moonlight, clear and bright, Shining down on our earth to-night, Soft as the touch of an angels' wing, Tender, beautiful, holy thing!

Seeking the glen where the cool waters flow— Lighting the bank where the violets grow; Gilding the crest of the foamy rill; Falling in silence upon the hill; Piercing the depths of the forest glade, Glancing down thro' the leafy shade, Till the loneliest haunts of the wild wood seem To rejoice in the light of thy radiant beam!

Glistening out on the trackless deep, Where the spirits of ocean their revels keep; Lighting the path over the billows' foam, As the mermaid glides from her gem-built home, And the peri's song o'er the heaving sea Sounds in fitful, plaintive melody!

Pouring down on the mountain pass, Where, tripping light o'er the dewy grass, The fairies join in their wild, weird dance, And the mystic forms thro' the moonbeams glance, While far and wide on the wind is borne Through answering echoes, the elfin horn.

Flooding with glory the prairie's breast, Till, all transformed, in the radiance drest, The shanty, south of the poplar wood, Seems a sylvian lodge in the solitude; And the settler dreams, with a moistened eye, Of the moonlights and loves of the times gone by.

Gleaming fair on the city towers Where the clocks, thro' the night, chime the passing hours, On the city's heart that no longer beats, With the ebb and flow of its noisy streets, And their living pulse-throbs that come and go, To the smile of joy, and the throb of woe!

Smiling down from a cloudless sky, On the village homes, that all peaceful lie; Where simple hearts, in a happier life, Know nought of the city's cares and strife,— The hardy sons of honest toil, Pensioners free of their parent soil!

To hopeful hearts in the morn of youth, The dream-land of Love, and the type of Truth, Where the future shows 'neath its veil of light An Eden of blissful, untold delight

In the stern, hard struggle of manhood's days When tired feet stumble o'er life's rough ways, And in age's twilight of shadowy gloom, A dream of the rest that is yet to come.

Shine on, silvery moonlight, shine! Gladden earth with your beams benign; On restless ocean, on tranquil lake, Through forest alleys, by fern and brake; By quiet village, and crowded town, By mountain, prairie, and breezy down; O'er sights of gladness, o'er scenes of woe, Let the tender light of thy pure beams glow, And the weary and hopeless shall bless your light. And the child of joy have more pure delight.



"GOODNIGHT."

"Until the day break, and the shadows flee away." Cant. 2.17

Goodnight, beloved! see the sun descending, Behind the woodlands of the far, bright West, And in the glory of the daylights ending, The "light at eventide" brings dreams of rest.

Goodnight, beloved! now the grey-eyed gloaming Glides through the valleys with an unheard tread, And haunts the woodlands, where the wild winds moaning Wails o'er the leaves of Autumn, sere and dead.

Goodnight, beloved! see the pale stars peeping Through the blue curtain of the shadowy skies;— The lamps the angels hold, their night-watch keeping, O'er souls who wait their call to Paradise!

Goodnight, beloved! a faint, lingering glory, Of dying daylight glows in parting smile; Its last kiss lighting all the hill-tops hoary, As though the hour with brightness to beguile.

So now, I dream, a tender love-light lingers O'er all the bygone, in a charmed glow,— That hides the marks of Time's relentless fingers And gilds the cherished dreams of long ago.

How fair it shines! but ah! the West grows dimmer, The crimson radiance melts to sober grey, And so earth's dream-light fades in fitful glimmer, Its meteor brightness swiftly dies away.

Goodnight, beloved! for the shadows darken In gloom around me, and I cannot see; Come nearer, nearer still; beloved, hearken; I hear a far-off voice that calls for me.

Goodnight, beloved! a new light is breaking As earth's light fades to brighten nevermore; Goodnight, beloved! till that glad awaking When morning shines upon the other shore.



LOST.

The sunset burns on roof and spire, And streets with busy passers rife; But ah! it lacks the dream-world fire, That once 'twas wont to call to life.

That once it kindled in the days Of woodland haunt and country lane, Before I knew the city's ways, Before I learned that life has pain.

Oh! present, with your armed host Of anxious cares, barbed sharp, and keen Fade! for the light of pleasures lost Shines forth from days that once have been.

A fairer sunset charms the West A mellower radiance fills the air; A scene with old-time beauty drest, Lies stretched before me, smiling fair.

A rustic range-wall, gnarled and old, A wooden bridge that spans a stream; The glory of the sunset's gold. The sweetness of my first love-dream!

Two hearts that meet in passion'd thrill, Whose perfect bliss no words can tell; But once in life that joy we feel, And feeling, prize, alas! too well!

Oh! Time and Doubt! ye fill the heart With sepulchres of Love and Truth; Our hopes lie dead but memory's part Must still be played till life shall cease.

Oh! swift years ever drifting fleet Adown life's current, tempest toss'd, Roll on! till on Time's brink we meet And hail the life where nought is lost!



GOOD WISHES

TO ——— ON HIS MARRIAGE.

My friend, on this your wedding-day, Where Love and Hope unite, To yield with Hymenal ray The bridal morning bright.— When hands are clasped And cups are quaffed, When round go wishes true, This song of mine For Auld Lang Syne I send to her and you. An echo of the bygone times To mingle with your wedding chimes!

"Good luck," on this your wedding morn, "God speed" for years to be; Good wishes, of old friendship born For days ye both shall see. When in your bowers, Bloom promise-flowers, Ah! ne'er may sorrow's gloom Bring shadow there, May sunlight fair Your hearth and home illume! All good, all joy, all blessing true, I wish to your fair bride and you!

May Heaven its choicest riches send To bless your life's long way; May Love its lasting beauty lend That age can't steal away. Oh! may your sky As swift years fly Be cloudless, bright and fair; May joys' own glow Dispel all woe, And chase away grim care! May every good that God can send Be yours through all your life, my friend!



"ONLY FRIENDS."

We said "good-bye" in a quiet lane, the gloaming, years ago; few were our words about "parting pain"— we were "only friends" you know.

Good friends had we been in the dear, dead hours, that still in our hearts would live, At morn we had wandered the wild-wood bowers, We had roamed through the lanes at eve.

We had gathered the sweets of the summer glades, The rose, and the violet blue; We had talked of Love in the twilight shades, And of hearts that were tried and true.

But of our heart's hopes, or our own love-dreams, Ah! never a word said we, For Fate had forbidden our lips such themes, And "friends" we could only be.

And our farewell came, like a boding gloom, That darkened life's morning ray, And joy's glad glow, and Hope's tender bloom Died out of one heart that day.

How we thought in that hour of the bygone days, Of the golden summer prime, Of the mountains wild, and the woodland ways, And the spell of the gloaming time!

And, it may be, the memory of whispered words Came o'er us with subtle power, Awaking, unbidden, our full hearts' chords In the pain of that parting hour.

For our hands were clasped, and our lips once met, The first time, and the last; Ah me! 'twere well could we all forget, Some scenes in our buried past;—

For the blue outline of the mountains high, The lake, and the woodland green, The quiet lane, and the twilight sky, Too oft in my dreams are seen!

And still, tho' the summers are bright and fair, And the summer woods are gay, To me there is something wanting there That has passed from my life away!



ODE TO SUMMER.

Beauteous Queen! with crown of flowers, On your tresses sunny sheen; Welcome! to the "Lone-Land" bowers, To our prairies, wild and green! In your path spring flowers to meet you, Nature's choicest glories greet you, Fair Enchantress! I entreat you, Listen to my lay!

Smiling Summer, down the ages, Still your praises have been sung, And the poets and the sages, Who have spoke with gifted tongue,— In our legends, old and hoary, Thrilling song, and 'trancing story, Live to-day in deathless glory, Thrill our souls anew!

Still their songs our breasts inspire, Still is theirs undying fame; Theirs the untaught poet-fire, That I may not hope to claim;— Louder than the war-host dashing, Brighter than their bright spears clashing, Shine their souls, like lightning flashing Through their thunder-words!

Radiant Queen! Their songs combining Yield to thee their highest praise, Round thy brows of beauty twining, Fadeless garlands of their lays;— Lays whose light our gloom has rifted, And our yearnings heavenward lifted, As we soar with them, the gifted, Far from earth away.

Queen of Beauty! Still we sing thee, Worthy of the poets' song; Willing homage still we bring thee As the ages roll along. Songs of birds, and breath of flowers, Wind-notes, charming woodland bowers, Morn's fresh glories, gloaming hours, Yield their sweets to thee!

Now the prairie-lands are smiling With the wealth thy reign bestows, Brightness golden days beguiling, O'er smooth sands life's river flows. Through the air glad sounds are ringing, Nature summer idylls singing, I, my simple off'ring bringing, Kneel at Summer's feet!



CHANGED.

It seems the same as it used to be, when I watched the sunset glow, In the days of beauty and gladness, the times of long ago; Like a light that is dim and far-off, for dark years, full of pain, Lie, rolled between me and the beautiful past, that never can come again!

Yet Ireland's hills are as verdant now, and the sun, as he sinks to rest, As then pours his parting glory, o'er Slieve Gallion's purple crest, A glory that brightens and lingers, as though it were fain to stay, Till the twilight shadows darken, and daylight dies away.

On Mullaboy the darkness looms weird on the lonely hill, The cattle have ceased their lowing, and the song-birds' notes are still; And here, in the gloom and silence, 'neath the stars and the quiet sky, Old memories throng around me, of days long, long gone by.

Two scenes are ever fairest, and first in this heart of mine, And with clearer light and brighter, 'mong the dimmer phantoms shine, And perfect in light and shadow, in tracing true and grand Are the pictures as memory paints them, with firm and master- hand.

The first is a cloudless moonlight, in calm and silvery sheen, And the range of the Morne Mountains in the dim background is seen; Beneath them the sea is rolling, all fair in the gentle light, And beauty and peace are blending in the hush of the summer night.

I gaze, till again in fancy, I hear the waves' soft roar, As they break in wild sweet music along Rostrevor's shore; And a voice with their song is blending telling the old sweet tale, Of a fond, true love, that through life's long years would never change or fail.

That picture fades before me and the second comes in view— A walk 'neath o'er-arching beeches, with the sunlight glinting through Leaves that rustle and whisper on branches that wave above, A silent, tearful parting, the death of a deathless love!

Dead, and yet unforgotten, worn, but never estranged, The glory and brightness of morning to the darkness of midnight changed! And life is dull and dreary, and joy from earth is fled, For the love that was light and beauty, and joy and peace, is dead.



SABBATH ON THE PRAIRIE.

The year's first, blushing roses, Were decking the prairie's breast; And the summer garb of beauty Made fair the wild North-West. It flashed in the sedgy hollows, And smiled in the woodland dell; It whispered in low, soft zephyrs That breathed o'er the lake and fell. How it glowed in the mystic star-shine Of the clear blue Northern sky; How it crmison'd and flushed in grandeur In the sunset's sweet good-bye! And gaudy birds from the South-land Made brilliant the poplar grove, And plaintiff calls came sounding, From the haunts where the plovers rove.

With dream-notes in the gloaming The wind-lutes swept the boughs,— Sweet songs of the distant stretches, Where the moose and bison browse. And we lay in our camp, and listened, And thought of the wilds untrod; Of the misty, lonely future, And the homes on the stranger sod.

And still o'er the wide, wide ocean, Our eager thoughts would stray, To the homes and scenes, to the loves and hopes Of the youth-time, far away. Then we slept, to dream of the morrow, "'Twill be Sunday at home," we said; "But our church must be the prairie, With the blue sky overhead."

The Sabbath dawned in beauty, With a calm whose breath of peace, Made a solemn grand cathedral Of the wild vast wilderness. The woods were the soft-toned organs, And the winds, thro' their alleys dim, Now raised some high, glad anthem, Now chanted some low, sweet hymn.

We came from our tents together, And stood on the lone hill-side, To join in the songs of Nature, That Sabbath morning-tide. "With one consent let all the earth," Swelled on' the sunny air. And then, how each home-sick, heart went forth In that strange hour of prayer! And the text the preacher gave us Was, "Rejoice in the Lord always," Alike in the summer sunshine, And the gloom of winter days. And the clouds of our gloom were banished Like the mists from the morning air; We had strength for the untried future For God is everywhere.



AT EVENING.

Slowly along the darkening sky The twilight comes with stealthy tread; Far out to west great cloud-ranks lie, By sunset flushed a rosy red. Oh! shadows of the gloaming time, Gather, and loom, and darkly fall, The winding path to Fancy's clime, Lies hidden 'neath your dusky pall.

Pent in the city, now I dream Of country scenes, of lanes and flowers, Of woodland glen, and woodland stream, Pictures of bygone sunset hours! Oh, bygone! mighty claims you own, That summon me to seek your shrine, I hear the call and wait alone, Until the charmed light shall shine.

'Tis breaking! Glistening near and far A radiance floats, of dazzling light Untouched by Time, or Tempest-scar I view my past again to-night! Oh! fair, false hope, your fruit is pain, Oh, Love! when life's spring leaves were green, Sweet, e'en in thought to see again Th' Elysian called "what might have been."

"What might have been," we scan it o'er And charmed we live the dreams in thought, But wake to find that mist-world shore, Like cloudy vapor melt to nought— The brightness fades, the sweet rays die, Deep darkness falls and night is come; A wan new moon looks down the sky, And stars are trembling in the gloom.

Morning, and noon, and evening grey, And mystic twilight, all are flown; And e'en my dreams are pass'd away,— Again I find myself alone! Young love's sweet morn, when hope was nigh. Stern noonday toiling, which is best? Ah! me, they all must fade and die,— 'Tis but the end can give us rest.



IN PEACE.

The name, the age, and a sentence written On a marble cross o'er a grassy mound, Where, calmly beneath sleeps the tired heart smitten, Cruelly pierced by a dastard wound, At peace in the heart of the restless city. She slumbers well in her lowly bed, With never a tear of love or pity By kindly mourner above her shed.

High birth is safely, its rank and splendor, Blazoned lineage, pride and show, Scorn coward justice, who fears to tender, The lash to vice, in this world below, What matter—a thousand such things have happened Man has been false since woman was fair;— But say, must he stand at yon High Tribunal, And what account shall he render there?



TO THE SEA.

'Tis eventide and the sun is dying, Painting the sky in its roseate beam, And out to sea-ward the cloud-ranks lying, Are crimson-bright in his parting beam; In dazzling light o'er the waves extending, In burnished glow on each foamy crest, At the golden portals of sunset ending, Its pathway illumines the ocean's breast. Oh! light of the sunset, soft and tender, Oh! waves that shine in the rosy glow, Oh! mountains, so grand in your hoary splendour, Oh! billowy ocean that heaves below!

Oh! rolling waves, that are ever beating, In wild, sweet music along the shore, Tell me tales ye are still repeating, Sighing and moaning forever more; In seething foam 'mong the grey rocks meeting, Where, rushing, ye break in doleful roar!

Sighing on in your restless roaming Wailing so wildly and ceaselessly; In the morning light, or the shadowy gloaming, Tell me, what are thy songs, oh, sea!

Is thine the wail of a life-long sorrow, The hopeless crying of hope long dead; The dearth of loneness that cannot borrow One beam of light from the brightness fed, To point to the dawn of a fairer morrow Far away in the future spread?

But, heedless, it rolls in its wonderous splendour, Onward, in cadence sublime and vast; Are these ocean-songs, in their mystic grandeur Requiems sung for the vanished past? It is buried and dead, yet still unsmitten, It lives and blooms in one hidden spot, Where in Memory's chamber each scene is written, Graven too deeply for Time to blot!

But see! o'er the waters the light grows dimmer, The white-winged sea-gulls to Westward fly; Pale stars look down in a fitful glimmer As the crimson fades from the opal sky. I soon shall sleep, and perchance in dreaming, I'll live again in the time that's fled, And fancy the rays of its brightness beaming In mellow radiance around my bed And it may be I'll dream not of bliss that's fleeting But of that fair life that is yet to be, Where no cloud can arise to dim our meeting As I stand with him by the Jasper Sea!



NOT LOST.

"Mine," saith the Lord, "these jewels bright and pearless. Mine, in the day when I shall count mine own!" So He has called them, and the hearts left cheerless Sad and bereaved, must mourn the loved ones flown "Mine," saith the Lord, He gave, and He has taken In wisdom infinite He dealt the blow; And round our hearth their places are forsaken But they are gathered to His fold, we know!

Home-gathered early, when the sun so brightly In life's fair morning tinged their curls with gold, And o'er their snowy brows all calm and lightly— The joyous span of earth's brief time had roll'd. Home-gathered early; fair to mortal seeming, The promises that o'er their pathway hung, But ah! we cannot e'en in fondest dreaming Conceive their bliss amid the cherub throng.

Eye hath not seen, nor to man's heart is given, To know what to His loved one He bestows What joys untold the ransomed band in heaven, Through the eternal, blissful ages knows. And the bereavement is no hopeless sorrow, No lasting parting, but an ending pain; We feel that upward, toward the glad to-morrow Are drawn these links of the earth-binding chain.

For well we know that these, our darlings, entered, Into His joy, shall be at last restored So while our hope in perfect faith is centred We wait for resurrection in the Lord.



LOOKING UNTO JESUS.

Worn and wearied on earth's road Oft with stumbling feet I go; Eyes that fain would look to God Dim and weak with sin and woe. But when, all my guilty stains Rise in dread immensity, Then I know my Saviour's pains Took the load of guilt from me. Pardoned, healed, redeemed, restored, Then I look to Christ, my Lord!

When the clouds of sorrow rise, And the light of woe is dim, When the subtle Tempter tries To win back my soul to him. Then I look to One Who said, "All things I have overcome; Onward go, be not afraid I shall guide to yonder Home!" Then what evil can betide While I lean on Christ, my Guide?

Worn with toil of earthly strife— Wearied hands and heart grown faint, Tired of all the ills of life, For the water brooks I pant, Then above the world's wild din, I can hear "Come unto Me; I shall heal these wounds of sin, Give you rest, and make you free!" When my doubting soul is blest When I look to Christ my Rest.

Journeying o'er this path of tears Oft my doubting heart is cold, Far away my Home appears— The gates of pearl—the street of gold. Can I ever enter there? All the way with danger rife,— Then the Master's voice I hear,

"I am the Way, the Truth, the Life! Ah! what doubt can then dismay While I walk with Christ, the Way!

"Looking unto Jesus" still I can bid my doubting cease, Joyful, though beset with ill, Fighting, yet at perfect peace— Sorrowful, yet filled with joy, Tossed, yet feeling all secure; Earth nor Hell cannot annoy While my peace with Him is sure! "Looking unto Jesus," blest! Soul at anchor, heart at rest!



BY THE WAVES.

A merry leap on the sunny air, And a gleam of tresses, golden bright; A 'witching face that is wonderous fair, A creature of beauty and joy and light.

A rocky coast with the waves at play, Wild wandering waves that are mad with glee; "Tell me, what do the wild waves say, Are their words in their music?" she asks of me.

I start and shiver, my heart grows cold, Aye, cold in the flush of the August sun, Whose glory lies on the sea like gold, In farewell radiance, ere day is done.

The eager smile from her lips has died, For the pain on my face was plain to see, And she turns to pace the sand by my side Watching the billows silently.

She does not know—could my darling dream, Of lost, dead love in her golden world, Where the hope-flowers bloom, and the joy-lights gleam 'Neath the rosy light of Love's flag unfurled!

Oh! girlie mine, with the true brown eyes, And the perfect faith in your fair to be, Could I lead you back o'er the bridge of sighs That spans the gulf 'tween the past and me.

I could show you love in its full-tide swell, Its syren beauty its dream-world light; Then, the gathering storm, and the deep-toned knell, As Love lies bleeding in clouds and night!

Would you step aside from the shining coils That circle to-day round your dainty feet, Could I show you the woes without the wiles, In the dregs of that chalice, bitter-sweet?

Ah! no, sweet maid, you must "live and learn," Though experience is bought, it cannot be sold; And the heart joy's thrill, and the heartache's burn, Must needs be felt, they were never told!

So live and smile in your fair to-day And wear the jewel of maiden-faith; May its diadem gleam on your brow for aye, And Truth with your Love walks in step with death.



IN MEMORIAM. A. S.

Oh! land of partings, brief and sad probation— When all is brightest, then farewell must come! And the lone mourner weeps in desolation, Earth's fairest seeping in the silent tomb.

Far from her home, where kindly hands have tendered As graceful tribute, to her well-loved name; Not by chill stranger-feeling coldly rendered, But by the care respect and love can claim.

And still her memory shall be loved and cherished, By all who knew her in her sojourn here; Like some fair flower that in the morning perished In spring's bright hours when skies were blue and clear

Oh' widowed mother-heart! dead e'en to hoping Longing to leave the life whence joy has flown. The eager hands through earth's grim shadows groping! "Darling, come back to me, I am alone!"

Oh! yearning heart-cry, in deep anguish spoken, In sleepless midnights, or in twilight dreams! Oh! aching pain-throb of the spirit broken, Soon shall these clouds be pierced by Mercy's beams.

These deep, dense clouds of anguish and repining— Darkness and gloom that but the present show E'en now, behind them, in the brightness shining. Wait angel-bands that minister to woe.

Soon shall they come, and bring the consolation, When the first burst of agony is o'er, Then when thy soul is calmed by resignation, Point to the meeting on the other shore:—

Where safe at home, in Christ's eternal keeping, Celestial joy her ransomed being fills, She waits, when thou hast left this vale of weeping To greet thee on the Everlasting Hills.



CHRISTMAS.

FIFTY YEARS AGO.

Christmas! why child, can this be Christmas Eve? Ah, me! the years run swiftly on; Threads in the warp of this short life we live. And now my chequered web is well nigh spun.

And Christmas seems not what it used to be,— The good old customs all are changed, I wean; Yet memory of old times is left with me— The days whose brightness these dimm'd eyes have seen.

Come, Elsie, bring your stool beside my chair, Stir up the fire to shine with brighter glow, And while it flickers on your sunny hair, I'll tell a Christmas-tale of long ago—

Full fifty years ago, when I was young, And this grey hair like yours was golden-bright, When mirth and laughter dwelt on brow and tongue, In fleet winged hours, that sped with magic flight.

Sometimes, in waking dreams it all comes back,— Familiar forms move softly through the room, Then leave me, gliding up the moonlight track, Wafting sweet music down the twilight gloom.

And at these times I see the home that stood, In the lone highland valley far away; The snow-crowned hills, the lake, the lonely wood, Through which I wandered many a summer day.

And I was happy in those summers, child!— Life in its morning brightness knows not gloom, The rose-tinged future-mists hide waste and wild As sharp thorns hide beneath the rose's bloom.

And girlhood seemed like some fair sunny day Without a cloud to mar the summer sky. On pleasure's airy pinions borne away Too swiftly far the winged hours sped by.

Then came a glory-crown to gild the years,— I loved; but 'twas no fancy of the hour, No fleeting day-dream fraught with hopes and fears, But Love, that ruled my soul with sovereign power.

A love that strengthened as the days went past,— Dearer and holier far than all beside; An Eden-world of beauty grand and vast, With joys new-born, out spreading far and wide.

Seemed then mine own; and the long years to be, Would fill my life with happiness and light, While this great love would shed its beams on me In glad refulgence making all things bright

For he—the hero of my life's romance, Was dear to me—ah! words can never show That passion'd love, how every tone and glance Tender or cold, brought happiness or woe

But cherished hatred goads to bitter end And, mocking, fain would quench youth's ardent fire We saw a shadow on our life descend— The full charged storm-cloud of long-gathering ire.

My father boasted his high birth and name And owned a pedigree that he could trace, Back to the stern old chiefs, whose hostile fame— He held the pride and honor of our race.

And still when Christmas came he loved to see All the old customs of our sires kept up, Huge yule-logs graced the hearth, and Christmas glee Rang high, 'mid merry song and festal cup.

And on that Christmas day of which I tell The seasons revelry was held the same; The stately hall with guests was furnished well And, 'mong, the rest, was bidden Hector Graem

He drank to me—"his lady fair and bright," As was the custom of the olden time, "Your lady! never, while the sun gives light Shall Graem ever wed with child of mine!"

And pointing to the door with haughty mein My father bade him from his board begone;— And then a curtain fell upon life's scene— Blackness of darkness where Hope's sun had shone

Some family-feud, in days long passed away Between the Graems and the MacDonnell's rose. And still its memory in his bosom lay Though seeming peace was made between the foes

But ah! my child, how can I tell the rest? I lived; but Heaven in mercy spared the blow Of thought and memory then, and weeks that pass'd Were one drear blank—I felt not then my woe.

Child, you have never loved, and cannot know How drear and hopeless youth itself may seem; The long, blank loveless years to wonder through, With nought, save memory of a bygone dream.

But sorrow kills not, we may laugh or weep, Still Time by stealthy gliding steals away; And Winter snows again lay white and deep, And once again they welcomed Christmas day.

I watched them with sad eyes that knew no smile, And a dull mind from which all hope had flown, A listless heart that nothing could beguile Back to the gladness that it once had known.

The dull December twilight grey and cold, Fell weird and grim upon the lonely moor; The wild wind raged o'er wintry waste and old, And in the storm a stranger sought our door.

He asked a shelter from the bitter night My father's brown cheek blanched to hear that tone, He led him forward to the yule-log's light, A lost—a mourned, but now a new-found son!

Oh! sweetest welcomes on the wanderer fell! The last of our long race—returning home; Home to the long-tired hearts that loved him well No more an exile, by strange shores to roam.

"Bid me not rest" he said, "until you know, I have a friend who claims his welcome now, For, but for him, the depth of Alpines snow Had been my grave, and you had lost your son."

"Then wherefore wait?" my mother gently said, "Let him come hither till I bless his name!" And Roderick turned, and forth the stranger led And once again, I looked on Hector Graem.

No welcome-glow lit up the old man's eye, Surprise or anger seemed to hold him dumb, My mother clasped his hand with sob and sigh, But to full hearts the fewest words will come

Then Hector kissed her hand with courtly grace,— Bowed lowly to my father, half in scorn, "Old ills" he said "are hardest to erase From hearts where gratitude was never born"

But as he spoke the glistening tear drops fell From those old eyes, that seldom tear drops know. "You here" he said "love breaks hates baleful spell, And gratitude comes forth to yield her due!"

"Let feuds and errors perish with the Past,— 'Tis thus I lay them in a deep dug-grave'" And, beckoning me beside him, there, at last, His blessing, once refused, he fondly gave!

Ah! life is very fair, and love is sweet! The dark sky cleared, the sun shone out again, Earth seemed a heaven, with perfect bliss replete, And new-born gladness healed the sting of pain

And standing by the window hand in hand, Hearing the storm howl o'er the wastes of snow. We were the happiest of the happy band That merry Christmas fifty years ago!



BEGINNINGS.

At dawn sweet flushes softly creep Along the brightening sky, Pale watchers whom lone vigils keep Perceive the sign, and cry, The night is gone, the bright day comes, And gladsome light the East illumes!

Bright blossoms on the branches burst, Then Autumn fruits grow there; So, dreams that sickly hope had burst Grown real, make life fair. And dreams we prize as holy things That haunt our path on mystic wings.

And so, across life's weary road, Made dark by many a woe, We hear the tender words of God, "Come, follow where I go!" And listening to that gentle voice Is fixed the best and earliest choice.

First, we must pray, and watch, and wait, And bear the daily cross, And, till we reach the Master's gate, Count earthly gain as lost, Then hear, "good servant, nobly done," By patience hath the crown been won.



IN REPLY TO "ALONE."

It is the joyous time of June, And Nature glads the smiling land Arrayed in garments gay and green Bestowed by nature's lavish hand. Oh! soft the lullaby of streams 'Neath shadow of o'er arching trees, When all sweet, summer music seems To float around us on the breeze. It greets us in the greenwood glades— By forest aisles and alleys lone, Where, wandering in the twilight shades The poet calls the hour his own. Perchance he dreams some minstrel hand, Wakes woodland harps to heavenly song, While spirits from the golden land On white wings bear the notes along.

But to thine eyes the world is grim, And life is dark through falling tears; Hath Hope's soft ray grown dull and dim And paled the brightness of your years? I know your woe—for I have knelt Beside the new made, grassy mound— The anguish of bereavement felt And moaned beneath the piercing wound.

Through the soft azur veil of e'en The stars look down with watching eyes, Beacons to life our souls to heaven And tell of love beyond the skies To tell, tho' earth is bright and fair, Still Heaven must be our lasting home; A land untouched by sin and care Where pain and parting never come.

Not far away; scarce out of sight, A shadowy veil, a misty cloud, Is roll'd between us and the light, From mortal eyes the bliss to shroud.

Oh, thou whose poet-mind can feel The magic spell of beauty's powers Let these, His "meaner works" reveal That fairer life that shall be ours. Where we shall find in fadeless bloom The love Time's withering blast had slain, Restored from death and from the tomb To life, immortal life again. And while we weep for earth-joys fled, Or sigh to feel ourselves "alone," While fragrant memories of the dead, Like perfumes round our path are strewn; Let us not think them wholly lost;— These flowers that glad the wondering vision, Slept 'neath the winter storm and frost Then sprung to beauty half Elysian. Fair blossoms deck the orchard bough The promise-fruit of harvest hours; Nought have we but that promise now, Yet faith already shows it ours. Oh! sweet the light around our tombs, Where promise-buds in faith are sown; Faith's eye descerns eternal blooms, In stature of God's fullness blown. Still ours—the true and tender heart,— The form that trod these paths awhile; We said "good-night" content to part Until the morning light shall shine. Oh! blessed hope! Oh! promise sweet The harvest of the Lord is sure; His Hand shall give the guerdon meet To all that to the end endure!