Then let our faith be deep,
As climb we steep by steep

To holiness:

And when, Father divine,
We seek thy love benign,
And would be wholly thine,
Hear us, and bless.

H.

Nature's Beatitude.

SUNNED in the radiance of high good,
All nature owns a bounteous God;
Man and the worm that thrids the sod
Are one in life's beatitude.

What mind can compass his intents,
Or phrase a fitting prayer for aught?
Such revelry of grateful thought
Doth wilder all our meekened sense.

And can we, going to our task,

When in life's thick our senses swim, Brush off, like dawn-dew, thoughts of him Who grants us what we dare not ask?

W.

Nature's Worship.

THE Ocean looketh up to heaven
As 'twere a living thing;
The homage of its waves is given
In ceaseless worshipping.

They kneel upon the sloping sand
As bends the human knee
A beautiful and tireless band,
The priesthood of the sea.

The mists are lifted from the rills,
Like the white wing of prayer;
They kneel above the ancient hills,
As doing homage there.

The forest tops are lowly cast
O'er breezy hill and glen,
As if a prayerful spirit passed
On nature as on men.

The sky is as a temple's arch;
The blue and wavy air.

Is glorious with the spirit march

Of messengers at prayer.

WHITTIER.

LIFE, DEATH, AND FUTURITY.

The Angel's Call.

COME to the land of peace!
Come where the tempest has no longer sway,

The shadow passes from the soul away,

The sounds of weeping cease.

Fear hath no dwelling there;

Come to the mingling of repose and love,
Breathed by the silent spirit of the dove
Through the celestial air.

Come to the bright, and blest,

And crowned forever; 'midst that shining band, Gathered to heaven's own wreath from every land, The spirit shall find rest.

MRS. HEMANS.

Cleabing to Earth.

EARTH'S children cleave to earth; her frail,
Decaying children dread decay;

Yon wreath of mist that leaves the vale,
And lessens in the morning ray,-

Look, how by mountain rivulet
It lingers as it upward creeps,

And clings to fern and copsewood set
Along the green and dewy steeps.

From hold to hold; it cannot stay; And in the very beams that fill

The world with glory, wastes away,

Till, parting from the mountain's brow,
It vanishes from human eye,
And that which sprung of earth is now
A portion of the glorious sky.

BRYANT.

The Conflux of two Eternities.

ANOTHER life the life of day o'erwhelms ;
The past from present consciousness takes hue,
And we remember vast and cloudy realms
Our feet have wandered through.

So oft some moonlight of the mind makes dumb
The stir of outer thought; wide open seems
The gate where thro' strange sympathies have come,
The secret of our dreams;

The source of fine impressions, shooting deep
Below the failing plummet of the sense;
Which strike beyond all time, and backward sweep
Through all intelligence.

We touch the lower life of beast and clod,
And the long process of the ages see
From blind old chaos, ere the breath of God
Moved it to harmony.

All outward wisdom yields to that within,
Whereof nor creed nor canon holds the key;
We only feel that we have ever been,

And evermore shall be.

BAYARD TAYLOR.