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Banish, then, mourner, the tears that are trickling Over the cheeks that should rosily bloom; Why should a man, like a girl or a sickling,

Suffer his lamp to be quench'd in the tomb? Still may we battle for goodness and beauty; Still hath philanthropy much to essay : Glory rewards the fulfilment of duty;

Rest will pavilion the end of our way.

What though corroding and multiplied sorrows,
Legion-like, darken this planet of ours,
Hope is a balsam the wounded heart borrows,
Ever when anguish hath palsied its powers;
Wherefore, though fate play the part of a traitor,
Soar o'er the stars on the pinions of hope,
Fearlessly certain that sooner or later

Over the stars thy desire shall have scope.

Look round about on the face of creation!

Still is God's earth undistorted and bright; Comfort the captives to long tribulation,

Thus shalt thou reap the more perfect delight. Love!--but if love be a hallow'd emotion,

Purity only its rapture should share ; Love, then, with willing and deathless emotion, All that is just, and exalted, and fair.

Act!-for in action are wisdom and glory,

Fame, immortality-these are its crown: Wouldst thou illumine the tablets of story,

Build on achievements thy dome of renown.

Honour and feeling were given thee to cherish;
Cherish them, then, though all else should decay:
Landmarks be these that are never to perish,
Stars that will shine on thy duskiest day.

Courage-disaster and peril once over,

Freshen the spirit, as showers the grove: O'er the dim graves that the cypresses cover, Soon the "forget-me-not" rises in love.

Courage, then, friends! though the universe crumble, Innocence, dreadless of danger beneath, Patient and trustful, and joyous and humble, Smiles through the ruin on darkness and death. -German of Seewis.


LABOUR is rest-from the sorrows that greet us;
Rest from all petty vexations that meet us;
Rest from sin-promptings that ever entreat us ;
Rest from world-syrens that lure us to ill.
Work-and pure slumbers shall wait on thy pillow;
Work-thou shalt ride over Care's coming billow;
Lie not down wearied 'neath Woe's weeping willow:
Work with a stout heart and resolute will!

Labour is health! Lo the husbandman reaping,
How through his veins goes the life-current leaping;
How his strong arm, in its stalwart pride sweeping,
Free as a sunbeam the swift sickle guides!
Labour is wealth-in the sea the pearl groweth,
Rich the queen's robe from the frail cocoon floweth,
From the fine acorn the stirring forest bloweth,
Temple and statue the marble block hides.

Droop not, though shame, sin, and anguish are round thee;

Bravely fling off the cold chain that hath bound thee; Look on yon pure heaven smiling beyond thee;

Rest not content in thy darkness—a clod! Work for some good-be it ever so slowly; Cherish some flower-be it ever so lowly; Labour !—all labour is noble and holy :

Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God.

Pause not to dream of the future before us;
Pause not to weep the wild cares that come o'er us;
Hark how Creation's deep musical chorus,

Unintermitting, goes up into Heaven!
Never the ocean wave falters in flowing;
Never the little seed stops in its growing;
More and more richly the rose-heart keeps glowing,
Till from its nourishing stem it is riven.

"Labour is worship!"-the robin is singing;
"Labour is worship!"-the wild bee is ringing;
Listen that eloquent whisper, upspringing,

Speaks to thy soul from out nature's heart.

From the dark cloud flows the life-giving shower; From the rough sod comes the soft-breathing flower; From the small insect the rich coral bower;

Only man, in the plan, ever shrinks from his part.

Labour is life! 'Tis the still water faileth;
Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth :

Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assaileth;
Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon.
Labour is glory!--the flying cloud lightens ;
Only the waving wing changes and brightens ;
Idle hearts only the dark future frightens :

Play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in tune.

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LIKE as the damask rose you see,
Or like the blossom on the tree,
Or like the dainty flower of May,
Or like the morning to the day,
Or like the sun, or like the shade,
Or like the gourd which Jonas had,
E'en such is man ;—whose thread is spun,
Drawn out, and cut, and so is done.

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