BEY

A Little While.

EYOND the smiling and the weeping
I shall be soon;

Beyond the waking and the sleeping,

Beyond the sowing and the reaping,
I shall be soon.

Love, rest, and home!

Sweet hope!

Lord, tarry not, but come.

Beyond the blooming and the fading
I shall be soon;

Beyond the shining and the shading,
Beyond the hoping and the dreading,

I shall be soon.

Love, rest, and home!

Sweet hope!

Lord, tarry not, but come.

Beyond the rising and the setting
I shall be soon;

Beyond the calming and the fretting,
Beyond remembering and forgetting,
I shall be soon.

Love, rest, and home!

Sweet hope!

Lord, tarry not, but come.

Beyond the gathering and the strowing
I shall be soon;

Beyond the ebbing and the flowing,

Beyond the coming and the going,

I shall be soon.

Love, rest, and home!

Sweet hope!

Lord, tarry not, but come.

RESTLESSNESS.

Beyond the parting and the meeting
I shall be soon;

Beyond the farewell and the greeting,
Beyond this pulse's fever beating,
I shall be soon.

Love, rest, and home!

Sweet hope!

Lord, tarry not, but come.

Beyond the frost-chain and the fever
I shall be soon;

Beyond the rock-waste and the river,
Beyond the ever and the never,

I shall be soon.

Love, rest, and home!

Sweet hope!

Lord, tarry not, but come.

333

HORATIUS BONAR.

D

Restlessness.

OWN in the harbor the ships lie moored,

Weary sea-birds with folded wing,

Anchors sunken and sails secured: ;
Yet on the water they rock and swing,

Rock and swing,

As though each keel were a living thing.

Silence sleeps on the earth and air,

-

Never a breath does the sea-breeze blow,

Yet like living pendulums there,

Down in the harbor, to and fro,

To and fro,

Backward and forward the vessels go.

As a child on its mother's breast,
Cradled in happy slumber, lies,

Yet, half-conscious of joy and rest,

Varies its breathing, and moves and sighs,
Moves and sighs,

Yet neither wakes nor opens its eyes.

Or it may be, the vessels long

For almost human they seem to me

For the leaping waves, and the storm-wind strong,
And the fetterless freedom out at sea,

Out at sea,

And feel their rest a captivity.

So as a soul from a higher sphere,
Fettered down to this earthly clay,
Strives at the chains that bind it here,
Tossing and struggling, day by day,
Day by day,

Longing to break them and flee away,

Strive the ships in their restlessness,
Whether the tide be high or low;
And why these tear-drops, I cannot guess,
As down in the harbor, to and fro,
To and fro,

Backward and forward the vessels go.

ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN.

Here's to them that are gane.

HERE

ERE 's to them, to them that are gane;
Here's to them, to them that are gane;

Here's to them that were here, the faithful and dear,

That will never be here again— no, never.
But where are they now that are gane?
Oh, where are the faithful and true?

They're gane to the light that fears not the night,
An' their day of rejoicing shall end — no, never.

ST. AGNES.

Here's to them, to them that were here;

Here's to them, to them that were here;
Here's a tear and a sigh to the bliss that 's gane by,
But 't was ne'er like what 's coming, to last forever.
Oh, bright was their morning sun!

Oh, bright was their morning sun!

Yet, lang ere the gloaming, in clouds it gaed down;
But the storm and the cloud are now past - forever.

Fareweel, fareweel! parting silence is sad;
Oh, how sad the last parting tear!

335

But that silence shall break, where no tear on the cheek
Can bedim the bright vision again no never.
Then speed to the wings of old Time,

That waft us where pilgrims would be;

To the regions of rest, to the shores of the blest,
Where the full tide of glory shall flow — forever.

LADY NAIRNE.

D

St. Agnes.

EEP on the convent-roof the snows
Are sparkling to the moon :

My breath to heaven like vapor goes:
May my soul follow soon!

The shadows of the convent-towers
Slant down the snowy sward,

Still creeping with the creeping hours
That lead me to my Lord:

Make Thou my spirit pure and clear

As are the frosty skies,

Or this first snowdrop of the year

That in my bosom lies.

As these white robes are soiled and dark,
To yonder shining ground;

As this pale taper's earthly spark,

To yonder argent round;

So shows my soul before the Lamb,
My spirit before Thee;

So in mine earthly house I am,

To that I hope to be.

Break up the heavens, O Lord! and far,
Through all yon starlight keen,
Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star,
In raiment white and clean.

He lifts me to the golden doors;
The flashes come and go;
All heaven bursts her starry floors,
And strows her lights below,
And deepens on and up! the gates

Roll back, and far within

For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits,

To make me pure of sin.

The sabbaths of Eternity,

One sabbath deep and wide

A light upon the shining sea —

The Bridegroom with his bride!

ALFRED TENNYSON.

The Pauper's Death-bed.

READ softly! bow the head –

In reverent silence bow!

No passing-bell doth toll;

Yet an immortal soul

In passing now.