But the hearth shall kindle clearer, THE RIVER PATH. No bird-song floated down the hill, No rustle from the birchen stem, The dusk of twilight round us grew, For from us, ere the day was done, But on the river's farther side A tender glow, exceeding fair, With us the damp, the chill, the gloom : While dark, through willowy vistas seen, From out the darkness where we trod, Whose light seemed not of moon or sun. We paused, as if from that bright shore Beckoned our dear ones gone before; And stilled our beating hearts to hear Sudden our pathway turned from night; Through their green gates the sunshine showed, Down glade and glen and bank it rolled; And, borne on piers of mist, allied "So," prayed we, "when our feet draw near "And the night cometh chill with dew, "So let the hills of doubt divide, "So let the eyes that fail on earth "And in thy beckoning angels know FORGIVENESS. My heart was heavy, for its trust had been Abused, its kindness answered with foul wrong. So, turning gloomily from my fellow-men, One summer Sabbath-day I strolled among The green mounds of the village burial-place; Where, pondering how all human love and hate Find one sad level; and how, soon or late, Wronged and wrongdoer, each with meekened face, Our common sorrow, like a mighty wave, GONE. ANOTHER hand is beckoning us, And glows once more with angel-steps Our young and gentle friend, whose smile Amid the frosts of autumn time No paling of the cheek of bloom No shadow from the Silent Land The light of her young life went down, The glory of a setting star, Clear, suddenly, and still. As pure and sweet, her fair brow seemed And like the brook's low song, her voice, A sound which could not die. And half we deemed she needed not The changing of her sphere, The blessing of her quiet life Fell on us like the dew; And good thoughts, where her footsteps pressed, Like fairy blossoms grew. Sweet promptings unto kindest deeds Were in her very look ; We read her face, as one who reads The measure of a blessed hymn To which our hearts could move; We miss her in the place of prayer, There seems a shadow on the day Alone unto our Father's will One thought hath reconciled; Fold her, O Father! in thine arms, Our human hearts and thee. Still let her mild rebuking stand And grant that she who, trembling, here May welcome to her holier home AUTUMN THOUGHTS. GONE hath the Spring, with all its flowers, And gone the Summer's pomp and show, Is waiting for the Winter's snow. I said to Earth, so cold and grey, "An emblem of myself thou art." "For Spring shall warm my frozen heart. "But thou, from whom the Spring hath gone, Who standest blighted and forlorn, Like Autumn waiting for the snow: "No hope is thine of sunnier hours, QUESTIONS Of life. "And the angel that was sent unto me, whose name was Uriel, gave me an answer, and said, "Thy heart hath gone too far in this world, and thinkest thou to comprehend the way of the Most High ?' "Then said I, 'Yea, my Lord.' "Then said he unto me, 'Go thy way, weigh me the weight of the fire, or measure me the blast of the wind, or call me again the day that is past.'"-2 ESDRAS iv. A BENDING Staff I would not break, The error which some truth may stay, |