So come from every region, so enter side by side The strong and faint of spirit, the meek and men of pride : Steps of earth's great and mighty between those pillars grey, And prints of little feet mark the dust along the way. And some approach the threshold whose looks are blank with fear, And some whose temples brighten with joy in drawing near, As if they saw dear faces, and caught the gracious eye Of Him, the sinless Teacher, who came for us to die. I mark the joy, the terror; yet these, within my heart Can neither make the dread nor the longing to depart; And in the sunshine, streaming on quiet wood and lea, I stand, and calmly wait till the hinges turn for me. W. C. BRYANT. Remember thou art Mortal. "As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it and it is gone, and the place thereof shall know it no more." WAS not to tell of foes subdued, Or battle spoils to bring, The appointed herald daily stood With solemn shout and trumpet's clang, In royal Philip's ear. And why to ripen into deed Each high and lofty aim, And urge him on to win the meed The meed of deathless fame. This record of the olden days For I have deadlier foes to quell A blade of grass, a simple flower, Cull'd from the dewy lea, These, these shall speak, with touching power, For, if "stars teach as well as shine," Come, then, and ever when I stray Which blossoms but to die!" R. HEY. Can these Dry Bones Live? B EHOLD this ruin! 'Twas a skull, This narrow cell was life's retreat; This space was thought's mysterious seat. Beneath this mouldering canopy Here, in this silent cavern, hung The ready, swift, and tuneful tongue : Say, did these fingers delve the mine? Can nothing now avail to them! And high the palm of triumph raise. Avails it whether bare or shod These feet the path of life had trod ? The Unknown Grabe. "Redeeming the time." W HO sleeps below ?—who sleeps below? Ask of the breezes as they blow, Say, do they heed or hear thy call? A hundred summer suns have showered Their fostering warmth and radiance bright; A hundred winter storms have lowered With piercing floods and hues of night, Since first the remnant of his race |