A halo of deep interest !— As the commemoration Of good Victoria's reign !--Wherein the British nation Won empire, wealth and fame.— Thus when confederation, The British race shall bind, These islands and their colonies!— And history in chronicles, Most truthfully shall say— There never was a monarch, That reigned like her before; Though we have been a nation, A thousand years and more!— Then on, O Queen, rejoicing Thy noble-hearted husband, Albert the Wise, the Good!- Who know not what should be ; For all that thou hast been; Those sixty years unto us, Through many a varied scene!— 'God bless good Queen Victoria Composed at Brawby during the latter part of June, 1897. CRADLE SONG. PEACE, Baby, peace! Hush thee, my dear!- Mother is near !- Rest, Baby, rest!— Sleeping-time's come!— No one shall hurt thee, Rest, pretty one! Sleep, Baby, sleep!— Sweet be thy dreams!— Fairy-like scenes !— Robes of the eve! Gems from the night !— All things most lovely, Beauteous and bright!— Angels to guard thee, My little one, sleep!- THE ALMIGHTY. My God, I love Thee! 'Tis because No other friend is like Thee! Nor can with Thee compare ; Thou art its source and fulness, Its glory and its goal!— All wisdom and all beauty, All strength in Thee are found, Mid earth, and air, and ocean, And in the heavens round! All merciful, all loving, Forgiving every day, Delighting in repentance Of those who err and stray !Therefore, with faith instinctive, I come as one who knows Thou art a joy in sadness!- A balm for earthly woes !A God that's true and tender When trials sore are rife !In dangers a Defender ; And sweeter far than life! In Thee as God the Father, And on for evermore. Composed at Babbacombe, August 23-24, 1897. BYLAND ABBEY. IN the lovely vale of Mowbray, Amid romantic scenes, Made by the hills of Hambleton, And woods and moorland streams; There standeth Byland Abbey, In pleasant Bella-land A ruin now that's noble, And once superb and grand.— The north and west fronts standing Still speak of what has been ; Also a spacious chancel, And a transept ivy green ;— The windows, too, and arches, Triforia, and the aisles,— The doorways three, and pavement,-The grass-grown débris piles,— With length and breadth of structure, Which mark the sacred fane,— Each telleth forth most truly The glory of its reign A kindly reign that lasted For nigh four hundred years!— Till came the Dissolution,— When, robb'd by King and Peers, |