66 HE FOR GOD ONLY, SHE FOR GOD IN HIM." 187

"HE FOR GOD ONLY, SHE FOR GOD IN HIM."

MRS. CAROLINE GILMAN.

WHEN Pleasure gilds thy passing hours,
And Hope enwreathes her fairy flowers,
And Love appears with playful hand
To steal from Time his falling sand,
O, then I'll smile with thee.

When nature's beauties bless thy sight,
And yield a thrill of soft delight,
When morning glories greet thy gaze,
Or evening twilight still delays,

Then I'll admire with thee.

When the far-clustering stars unroll
Their bannered lights from pole to pole,
Or when the moon glides queenly by,
Looking in silence on thine eye,

I'll gaze on heaven with thee.

When Music with her unsought lay
Awakes the household holiday,
Or Sabbath notes in concert strong
Lift up the secret wings of song,

I'll sing those strains with thee.

But should Misfortune, hovering nigh,
Wrest from thy aching heart the sigh,
Or, with an aspect chill and drear,
Despondence draw the unbidden tear,
O, then I'll weep with thee.

Should Poverty with withering hand
Wave o'er thy head his care-wrought wand,
And ope within thy soul the void

That haunts a mind with hope destroyed,
I'll share that pang with thee.

When youth and youthful pleasures fly,
And earth is fading on thine eye,
When life has lost its early charm,
And all thy wish is holy calm,

I'll love that calm with thee.

And when unerring death, at last,
Comes rushing on time's fatal blast,
And naught (not e'en my love) can save
Thy form from the encroaching grave,
I'll share that grave with thee.

And when thy spirit soars above,
Wrapt in the foldings of God's love,
Is it too much to ask of Heaven,
That some low seat may there be given,
Where I can bow near thee?

THE YOUNG TEACHERS.

189

THE YOUNG TEACHERS.

J. WEISS.

THE world throws wide its brazen gates;
With thee we enter in ;

O grant us, in our humble sphere,

To free that world from sin!

We have one mind in Christ our Lord
To stand and point above;
To hurl rebuke at social wrong;
But all, O God, in love.

The star is resting in the sky;

To worship Christ we came;

The moments haste; O touch our tongues
With thy celestial flame!

The truest worship is a life;
All dreaming we resign;

We lay our offerings at thy feet,—
Our lives, O Christ, are thine!

LINES WRITTEN ON LEAVING CHARLESTON FOR THE SEASON.

1820.

SAMUEL GILMAN.

FAREWELL, awhile, thou hospitable spot!
Farewell, my own adopted dwelling-place!
Scene of my future consecrated lot,

And destined circuit of my earthly race.

Farewell, ye friends, who hung so long and true, With sleepless care, around my fevered bed, And ye from whom a stranger's title drew Profuse attentions, delicately shed.

Yet why a stranger? since no other home. Remains for me; e'en now, depressed, I fly For the last time through youthful haunts to roam, And snatch the breezes of my native sky.

Yes, dear New England! help me from thy breast To wean these childish yearnings ere we part; Help me these cords to snap, these ties to wrest, So wound, and stamped, and woven in my heart.

A few more bounds along thy rocky shore,

A few more pensive walks among thy streams,

THE WAN REAPERS.

191

A few more greetings from dear friends of yore, A few more dreams, and then

dreams.

Come, sacred, solid duty! at thy call

no more of

My cheerful will submissively shall flow,
So thou, great Source of strength and light to all,
Lead me the awful way my feet must go.

Teach me to bear the Christian herald's part,
To set the slaves of sin and error free,

To guide each doubting, soothe each aching heart,
And draw a listening, willing flock to Thee!

THE WAN REAPERS.

MRS. EMILY C. JUDSON.

I CAME from a land where a beautiful light
Is slow creeping o'er hill-top and vale,
Where broad is the field, and the harvest is white,
But the reapers are haggard and pale.

All wasted and worn with their wearisome toil, Still they pause not, that brave little band, Though soon their low pillows must be the strange soil

Of that distant and grave-dotted strand.