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"But Nature's face is changed to me,

In funeral trappings clad;

The more all other hearts are gay,
The more my heart is sad.

Earth, in her winter-dress of gloom,

Is welcome to my eye;

But spare me all her pomp and glare
Of vernal pageantry."

"Oh, say not so, thou pilgrim pale,

But muse and pray

awhile;

And so shall Nature's darkened face

Resume its morning smile.

"Look on her with the eye of faith,
And so thy heart shall burn
Of her mysterious loveliness
The meaning to discern.

"We may not turn in gloom away, For One her ground has trod And left a glory round her path,—

Our Master and our God.

"And since that hour, this wondrous world

Is but the outer shell

Which wraps a world more wondrous still,

Wherein His chosen dwell.

"And He who framed that inner world With His creative breath,

Has rent in twain the barrier stern
That parteth life from death.

"Alike on either side the tomb
That unseen realm is spread;
It knows no severing line between
The living and the dead.

"The saints we see not gathered there

Blend with the saints we see:

One hidden life pervading all

In mystic unity.

"And in the fulness of the time,

This outer world of sin

Shall burst and shrivel and disclose
The glorious world within.

"Then shall the sons of God no more Seem like to sons of clay;

Their hidden sacramental life
Made manifest that day.

"And all the beauty that we see Clothing this outer earth,

Is but the type, perchance the germ, Of her immortal birth.

"Then shrink not from the gorgeous spring,

For all the flowers are born

Blest harbingers to herald forth

The resurrection morn.

"And dream of dreariness no more,

But rouse thee, toil and

pray;

So thou in thine own lot may'st stand
Safe in that awful day."

H

Providence.

E sendeth sun, He sendeth shower;
Alike they're needful for the flower:
And joys and tears alike are sent

To give the soul fit nourishment.
As comes to me or cloud or sun,

Father, Thy will, not mine, be done!

Can loving children e'er reprove

With murmurs whom they trust and love?
Creator, I would ever be

A trusting, loving child to Thee!
As comes to me or cloud or sun,

Father, Thy will, not mine, be done!

Oh, ne'er will I at life repine!

Enough that Thou hast made it mine:
When falls the shadow cold of death,
I yet will sing, with parting breath.
As comes to me or shade or sun,

Father, Thy will, not mine, be done!

SARAH F. ADAMS.

Here and There.

"Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him."

"Was kein Ange hat geschen."

THAT no human eye hath seen,

W

What no mortal ear hath heard,
What on thought hath never been

In its noblest flights conferred,—
This hath God prepared in store
For His people evermore.

When the shaded pilgrim land
Fades before my closing eye,
Then reveal'd on either hand
Heaven's own scenery shall lie ;
Then the veil of flesh shall fall,
Now concealing, darkening all.

Heavenly landscapes calmly bright,
Life's pure river murmuring low,
Forms of loveliness and light

Lost to earth long time ago;

Yes, mine own, lamented long,
Shine amid the angel throng.

Many a joyful sight was given,
Many a lovely vision here,
Hill and vale, and starry even,

Friendship's smile, affection's tear;

These were shadows, sent in love,
Of realities above.

When upon my wearied ear
Earth's last echoes faintly die,
Then shall angel-harps draw near,
All the chorus of the sky;
Long-hush'd voices blend again,
Sweetly in that welcome strain.

Here were sweet and varied tones, Bird and breeze and fountain's fall,

Yet creation's travail groans,

Ever sadly sigh'd through all;

There no discord jars the air,

Harmony is perfect there.

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