The Day of Re-appearing. GIVE WORDS, kind words, to those who err; Though in temptation's wiles they fall, Give words that heal, and words that teach. GIVE THOUGHT, give energy, to themes 47 THE DAY OF RE-APPEARING. HE star is not extinguished, when it sets The river is not lost, when o'er the rock The bright sun dies not, when the shadowing orb It still is shining on; and soon to us The lily dies not, when both flower and leaf Fade, and are strewed upon the chill sad ground : Gone down for shelter to its mother-earth, "Twill rise, re-bloom, and shed its fragrance round. The dewdrop dies not, when it leaves the flower, To its loved flower at twilight to return. The fine gold has not perished, when the flame Thus nothing dies, or only dies to live : Star, stream, sun, flower, the dewdrop, and the gold; Each goodly thing, instinct with buoyant hope, So in the quiet joy of kindly trust, We bid each parting saint a brief farewell; Weeping, yet smiling, we commit their dust To the safe keeping of the silent cell. Softly within that peaceful resting-place We place their wearied limbs; and bid the clay Press lightly on them, till the night be past, And the far east give note of coming day. Thy Neighbour. The day of re-appearing! how it speeds! He who is true and faithful speaks the word; Then shall we ever be with those we love Then shall we be for ever with the Lord. 49 The shout is heard; the archangel's voice goes forth; The trumpet sounds; the dead awake and sing; The living put on glory; one glad band, They hasten up to meet their coming King. Short death and darkness! Endless life and light! Short dimming-endless shining, in yon sphere, Where all is incorruptible and pure— The joy without the pain, the smile without the tear. T THY NEIGHBOUR. HY neighbour? it is he whom thou Hast power to aid and bless, Whose aching heart or burning brow Thy neighbour? 'tis the fainting poor, Whom hunger sends from door to door- E Thy neighbour? 'tis that weary man, Thy neighbour? 'tis the heart bereft Thy neighbour? yonder toiling slave, Whene'er thou meet'st a human form Oh, pass not, pass not heedlessly, A Spring Concert. 51 A SPRING CONCERT. HERE is a concert in the trees, And music in the murmuring rill. In frolic flight from wing to wing, His airy web from bough to bough. The meanest being e'er should feel And wretched mourners in decay. When banners wave and streamers play, The lonely mother mourns her son, Left lifeless on the bloody clay, And the poor widow, all undone, Sees the wild revel with dismay. |