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And as in waves of beauty the swift years come and go,
Upon celestial currents our deeper life shall flow,

Hearing, from that sweet country where blighting never

came,

Love chime the hours immortal, in earth and heaven the

same.

LUCY LARCOM.

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FOR the peace which floweth as a river,

Making life's desert places bloom and smile!
O for the faith to grasp heaven's bright "forever,"
Amid the shadows of earth's "little while!"

A little while for patient vigil-keeping,

To face the stern, to battle with the strong;
A little while to sow the seed with weeping,
Then bind the sheaves and sing the harvest-song.

A little while to wear the weeds of sadness,

To pace with weary steps through noisy ways;
Then to pour forth the fragrant oil of gladness,
And clasp the girdle round the robe of praise.

A little while midst shadow and illusion

To strive by faith love's mysteries to spell:
Then read each dark enigma's bright solution, —
Then hail sight's verdict, "He doth all things well."

A little while the earthen pitcher taking

To wayside brooks from far-off fountains fed;
Then the cool lip its thirst forever slaking

Beside the fullness of the fountain-head.

A little while to keep the oil from failing,

A little while faith's flickering lamp to trim,
And then, the Bridegroom's coming footsteps hailing,
To haste to meet him with the bridal-hymn.

WHAT THEN?

And he who is himself the Gift and Giver-
The future glory and the present smile,
With the bright promise of the glad forever
Will light the shadows of the "little while."

JANE CREWDSON.

431

What Then?

HAT then? Why, then another pilgrim song;

WHAT

And then a hush of rest, divinely granted;

And then a thirsty stage (ah me, so long!)

And then a brook, just where it most is wanted.

What then? The pitching of the evening tent;

And then, perchance, a pillow rough and thorny; And then some sweet and tender message, sent

To cheer the faint one for to-morrow's journey.

What then? The wailing of the midnight wind,
A feverish sleep, a heart oppressed and aching;
And then a little water-cruse to find

Close by my pillow, ready for my waking.

What then? I am not careful to inquire;

I know there will be tears, and fears, and sorrow;
And then, a loving Saviour drawing nigher,
And saying "I will answer for the morrow."

What then? For all my sins, his pardoning grace;
For all my wants and woes, his loving-kindness;
For darkest shades, the shining of God's face,

And Christ's own hand to lead me in my blindness.

What then? A shadowy valley, lone and dim;
And then, a deep and darkly rolling river;
And then a flood of light, a seraph's hymn,
And God's own smile forever and forever!

JANE CREWDSON.

THE

The Lord will come.

'HE Lord will come! the earth shall quake, The hills their fixed seat forsake; And, withering from the vault of night, The stars withdraw their feeble light.

The Lord will come! but not the same
As once in lowly form he came,

A silent lamb to slaughter led,

The bruised, the suffering, and the dead.

The Lord will come! a dreadful form,
With wreath of flame and robe of storm,
On cherub wings, and wings of wind,
Anointed Judge of human kind!

Can this be he who wont to stray,
A pilgrim on the world's highway;
By power oppressed, and mocked by pride?
O God! is this the Crucified?

Go, tyrants! to the rocks complain !
Go, seek the mountain's cleft in vain!
But Faith, victorious o'er the tomb,
Shall sing for joy-the Lord is come!

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Qui Mariam absolvisti,

Et latronem exaudisti,

Mihi quoque spem dedisti.

Preces meæ non sunt dignæ;
Sed Tu bonus fac benigne
Ne perenni cremer igne!

Inter oves locum præsta,
Et ab hædis me sequestra,
Statuens in parte dextra.

Confutatis maledictis,
Flammis acribus addictis,
Voca me cum benedictis !

Oro supplex et acclinis,
Cor contritum quasi cinis,
Gere curam mei finis!

Lacrymosa dies illa!
Qua resurget ex favilla
Judicandus homo reus;

Huic ergo parce, Deus!

THOMAS DE CELANO.

Dies Iræ.

DAY of wrath! That day of mourning

Sees our earth to ashes turning ;

Such the seer's and sibyl's warning.

Ah! the dread each bosom rending,
When the Judge in flame descending,
Shall his glance through all be sending!

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