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Great are thy works! Almighty!" And if they So great, how great art Thou who hid'st thyself Behind this gorgeous scene, sustaining all ! Who fillest all, no world nor atom lost!

Need we be lonely, e'en when none are nigh Of friends who love us; e'en in deepest night; Since every star discourseth wisdom, and Expressive silence seems the presence felt Of him who fills, and guards and governs all? Since, too, with him sweet converse we may have, Who chose the night to pray, to agonize, For a condemned world; whose grace hath touched Our hearts, making them taste celestial joys, And hold, by faith, communion with the skies? Nor night nor day is vacant, time nor space; Fulness divine where'er we will we find.

CHELSEA, MASS.

THE LEGEND OF SAINT CECELIA.

BY MRS. M. 0. STEVENS.

"Thou with thy gerland wrought of rose and lilie,
Thee mene I, maid and martir, Seinte Cecilie."
CHAUCER.

'MID the dim mist of centuries long past,
There dwelt in Rome, a maiden beautiful,
Who was Cecelia called, old Chaucer says
Because the word "doth heavenly lily mean."
'Neath Paganism's darkness she grew up
Pure and transparent as a lily fair,

Most fragrant odors breathing all around,

And radiant in her holy innocence.

Full oft she heard the sounding strains pealed forth

In praise of Jupiter, so worshipped there;

But in her heart Cecelia cried, "To thee,
O God, to thee, I dedicate my days."

The melody of that young soul reached heaven,
And God, an angel sent to guard her faith
Amid the threatening perils of her life.

'Tis said 'twas wonderful to hear her sing,
So heavenly was her voice, so sweet her notes.