226 ONLY A YEAR. Lord of the living and the dead, our Saviour dear! We lay in silence at Thy feet this sad, sad year! MRS. H. B. STOWE. L HOLY SLEEP. ORD, if he sleep he shall do well! How sweet in such a world as this, To lie unconscious of each spell That works our daily weariness. How sweet to shut out time and sense, Earth's glare so withering and intense, In death to leave all death behind, From sickness and from pain to fly ; And in the dreaded grave to find The gate of immortality. 228 HOLY SLEEP. To leave behind the fear, the doubt, The care, the fret, the restlessness We cannot trust these eyes and ears, We cannot trust these ears and eyes; How sweet to shut out earthly lies, These eyes and ears we cannot trust, * * * The tomb is dark; we need no eyes; Farewell our struggles and our tears! HOLY SLEEP. Lord, if he sleep he shall do well! He riseth in Thine image blest. For he who sleeps in Thee sleeps well; They dwell in light who sleep within. BONAR. 229 WEET Saviour! take me by the hand, and lead me through the gloom; Oh, it seems far to the Other Land, and dark in the silent tomb; I thought it was less hard to die, a straighter road to Thee, With at least a twilight in the sky, and one narrow arm of sea. Saviour! what means this breadth of death, this space before me lying, These deeps where life so lingereth, this difficulty of dying? So many turns, abrupt and rude, such ever-shifting grounds, Such a strangely peopled solitude, such strangely silent sounds? |