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"The fields are fresh, and cool, and green,

Pleasant the shady trees:

But those around my own dear home
Are lovelier far than these.

"I must not loiter on the road,

For I have far to go;

And I should like to reach the door,
Before the sun gets low.

"I must not stay. But will you not,
Oh! will you not come too?

My home is very beautiful,
And there is room for you."

I took her little hand in mine,
Together we went on :

Brighter and brighter o'er our path,
The blessed sunbeams shone.

At length we saw the distant towers;
But ere we reached the path,
The child outstripped my slower feet,
Too overjoyed to wait.

And as she turned her radiant face
Once more to bid me come,
I heard a chorus of glad songs,

A burst of "Welcome home."

A MOTHER'S SORROW AT THE LOSS OF HER LITTLE BOY.

THERE used to be a small foot climbing on our stair;
There used to be a blithe step running here and there;
The memory of a sweet voice lingers on my ear;
It mocks the lonely silence ever reigning here.

We had a little plaything in our garden bowers;
We loved a little white hand plucking garden flowers :
Then tree, and shrub, and blossom, well-known friends
became ;

And welcome were the spring buds coupled with his

name.

I used to feel a soft hand patting on my cheek;

I used to kiss two soft lips; loved to hear them speak : Then merry was the playing on our parlour floor; Now nought is left but silence, silence evermore!

A little figure nightly by our window stood;

He watched the star of evening; told us GOD was good :

A little form knelt nightly praying in our room;
Now comes that hour with silence, agony, and gloom.

We wandered through a glad world happy three sweet years;

For many were our bright hopes; seldom fell our tears:

We never dreamt of parting, till that hour of fear Brought blank and tomb-like silence ever reigning here.

I weary for the bright land-weary all the day;
The sun has gone from this land; can I care to stay?
There meet us with the old love, the old smile of joy;
Yes, meet us in the home land, little angel boy!

THE UNWAKING MULTITUDE.

WATCHMAN, watchman, stand on thy tower;
And now, O watchman, what of the hour?
What of the hour, and what of the night?
Tell it from thy beacon light.

Lift up thy voice, and tell it aloud,

That the trump may waken yon slumbering crowd; Proclaim that the night is far, far spent,

And the sun rides high in the firmament.

Yes, the sun rides high, and it's almost day;
Bid the sleepers arise, arise and pray.

The watchman went up as the word was spoke;
He lifted his voice, but none awoke.

He numbered the hour, and his work was done, For the firmament shone with the morning sun; 'It gilded the watcher with holy light,

But the sleepers slept on to an endless night.

CHRIST'S RETURN.

THE LORD of might, from Sinai's brow,
Gave forth His voice of thunder;
And Israel lay on earth below,
Outstretched in fear and wonder.
Beneath His feet was pitchy night,
And at His left hand and His right,
The rocks were rent asunder.

The LORD of love, on Calvary,
A meek and suffering stranger,
Upraised to heaven His languid eye,
In nature's hour of danger.
For us He bore the weight of woe,
For us He gave His blood to flow,
And met His Father's anger.

The LORD of love, the LORD of might,
The King of things created,

Shall back return to claim His right,
On clouds of glory seated;

BEVAN.

With trumpet sound and angel song,
And Hallelujahs loud and long,

O'er death and hell defeated.

BISHOP HEBER.

THE LAST JUDGMENT.

O BLEST were the words of early creation,

When the word of JEHOVAH came down from above, In the clods of the earth to infuse animation, And wake their cold atoms to life and to love.

And mighty the tones which the firmament rended, When on wheels of the thunder, and wings of the wind,

By lightning, and hail, and thick darkness attended, He uttered on Sinai His laws to mankind.

And sweet was the voice of the First-born of heaven,

Though poor His apparel, though earthly His form, Who said to the mourner, "Thy sins are forgiven"; "Be whole" to the sick, and "Be still" to the storm.

O Judge of the world, when arrayed in Thy glory,

Thy summons again shall be heard from on high; While nature stands trembling and naked before Thee, And waits thy last sentence to live or to die;

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