TOUCH US GENTLY, TIME!

199

"LIKE MOUNTAIN-RANGES OVERPAST.”

E

NOUGH that blessings undeserved

Have marked my erring track ;-
That wheresoe'er my feet have swerved,
His chastening turned me back ;—

That more and more a Providence
Of love is understood,

Making the springs of time and sense
Sweet with eternal good ;-

TOUCH US GENTLY, TIME!

OUCH us gently, Time!

TOUC

Let us glide adown thy stream

Gently,- -as we sometimes glide

Through a quiet dream!

Humble voyagers are We,

Husband, wife, and children three.

Touch us gently, Time!

We've not proud nor soaring wings : Our ambition, our content,

Lies in simple things.
Humble voyagers are We,

O'er Life's dim unsounded sea,
Seeking only some calm clime :—

Touch us gently, gentle Time!

B. W. Procter.

WANDERER'S NIGHT SONG.

U

EBER allen Gipfeln

Ist Ruh,

In allen Wipfeln

Spürest du

Kaum einen Hauch;

Die Vögelein schweigen im Walde:

Warte nur, balde

Ruhest du auch.

TRANSLATION.

Ο

'ER all the hill-tops

Is quiet now,

In all the tree-tops
Hearest thou

Hardly a breath;

The birds are asleep in the trees :

Wait; soon like these

Thou, too, shalt rest.

Goethe.

Longfellow.

Ο

HOPE'S CHILD.

OUTWARD BOUND.

UT upon the unknown deep,

Where the unheard oceans sound,

Where the unseen islands sleep,—
Outward bound.

Following towards the silent west
O'er the horizon's curvèd rim,

On to islands of the blest,-
He with me, and I with him,
Outward bound.

Nothing but a speck we seem

In the waste of waters round,
Floating, floating like a dream,
Outward bound.

But within that tiny speck

Two brave hearts with one accord,

Past all tumult, pain, and wreck,
Look up calm, and praise the Lord,
Outward Bound.

201

Mrs. D. M. Craik.

I

HOPE'S CHILD.

AM not earth-born, though I here delay :

Hope's child, I summon infiniter powers, And laugh to see the mild and sunny day Smile on the shrunk and thin autumnal hours. I laugh; for hope hath happy place for me : If my bark sink, 'tis to another sea!

W. E. Channing.

G

JUBILATE.

RAY distance hid each shining sail,
By ruthless breezes borne from me;
And lessening, fading, faint, and pale,
My ships went forth to sea.

Where misty breakers rose and fell

I stood and sorrowed hopelessly;
For every wave had tales to tell
Of wrecks far out at sea.

To-day a song is on my lips;

Earth seems a paradise to me : For God is good, and, lo, my ships

Are coming home from sea!

George Arnold.

I

THAT CANNOT FADE.

WILL have hopes that cannot fade,
For flowers the valley yields;

I will have quiet thoughts, instead
Of silent, dewy fields;

My Spirit and my God shall be

My seaward Hill, my boundless Sea.
E. B. Browning.

Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, 148, Goethe, Johann Wolfgang, 193,

Browning, Robert, 19, 23, 27, 55, Gray, Barry, 28.

Chadwick, John White, 49, 65, 141, Hemans, Felicia, 97.