"'Tis dark, 't is cold, and hung with gloom.

I care not now within to stay;

For thee and me is scarcely room,
I will hence away."

“Not so, not so, thou youthful guest,
Thy foot shall issue forth no more;
Behold the chamber of thy rest,
And the closing door!"

"O, have I 'scaped the whistling ball,
And striven on smoky fields of fight,
And scaled the 'leaguered city's wall
In the dangerous night;

"And borne my life unharmèd still
Through foaming gulfs of yeasty spray,
To yield it on a grassy hill

At the noon of day?"

"Peace! Say thy prayers, and go to sleep, Till some time, One my seal shall break, And deep shall answer unto deep,

When He crieth, 'Awake!'"

LOOK UP.

LAMB of God, I love my child so much!

He stole away to Thee while we two slept, But give him back, for Thou hast many such; And as for me I have but one. O deign, Dear Pity of God, to give him me again.”

MORE LIFE.

Lo! her little child was gone indeed !

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The sleep that knows no waking he had slept,
Folded to heaven's own heart; in rainbow brede
Clothed and made glad, while they two mourned and
wept,

But in the drinking of their bitter cup

The sweet voice spoke once more, and sighed, “Look up!"

They heard, and straightway answered, "Even so;
For what abides that we should look on here?
The heavens are better than this earth below,
They are of more account and far more dear.
We will look up, for all most sweet and fair,
Most pure, most excellent, is garnered There."

MORE LIFE.

WHEN I reflect how little I have done,

And add to that how little I have seen,

Then furthermore how little I have won
Of joy, or good, how little known, or been:
I long for other life more full, more keen,
And yearn to change with such as well have run,
Yet reason mocks me nay, the soul, I ween,
Granted her choice would dare to change with none.

ADELAIDE A. PROCTER.

Listen, and I will tell thee

The song Creation sings,

From the humming of bees in the heather, To the flutter of angels' wings.

No creature of God's too lowly
To murmur peace and praise.

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