Spontaneous worship hallows deep The Sabbath of the woods; Devout, of earth and skies; And low, like prayer from fields of balm, Yet, spotless dove, religion lends A charm, harmoniously that blends Oh marvellous was the sign of love Bird of the consecrated plume, I hail thee, Mercy's herald then, J. F. SMITH, 1845. T ALONE. I AM alone-within the world alone Shut out from Heaven and Hope my star of life, I darkling stem Time's whirling tides alone, Alone within our being's troubled strife— ALONE! the surges of a shoreless main Give back the sound to dreary life again. ALONE! SO Soon the smiling Heaven obscured, What boding echoes lurk within thy tone! Is man alone? oh, dull and thankless thought! Still flings the sunbeam its unchanging gold, Doth not God speak in thee? Yes, when the night With GOD and LOVE-oh, words of hopeful cheer! They hover round, unnumber'd spirits blest, No sullen shadow lingers o'er our rest, O God and Love! O Thou Love's source and stay O Lamp of Love! within my being shine, ANONYMOUS. THE OAK. WHAT gnarl'd stretch, what depth of shade, is his! There needs no crown to mark the forest's king; How in his leaves outshines full summer's bliss! Sun, storm, rain, dew, to him their tribute bring, Which he with such benignant royalty Accepts, as overpayeth what is lent; All nature seems his vassal proud to be, And cunning only for his ornament. How towers he, too, amid the billow'd snows, Jewell'd with sleet, like some cathedral front Where clinging snow-flakes with quaint heart repair The dents and furrows of time's envious brunt. How doth his patient strength the rude March wind To swell his revenues with proud increase! So, from oft converse with life's wintry gales, The leaf-creating sap that sunward shoots? Should fill old scars up on the stormward side, So, from the pinch'd soil of a churlish fate, True hearts compel the sap of sturdier growth, So between earth and heaven stand simply great, That these shall seem but their attendants both; For nature's forces with obedient zeal Wait on the rooted faith and oaken will; As quickly the pretender's cheat they feel, And turn mad Pucks to flout and mock him still. Lord! all Thy works are lessons,—each contains Some emblem of man's all containing soul; Shall he make fruitless all Thy glorious pains, Delving within Thy grace an eyeless mole? Make me the least of Thy Dodona-grove, Cause me some message of Thy truth to bring, Speak but a word through me, nor let Thy love Among my boughs disdain to perch and sing, -American. J. RUSSELL LOWELL, 1819— GRATITUDE AND LOVE TO GOD. ALL are indebted much to Thee, From many a deadly snare set free, What bonds of gratitude I feel |