Then let us, baring our hearts and kneeling, Sing, while we wait this Angel's sword,"Blessed is he that cometh In the name of the Lord!" DREAM-LIFE. ISTEN, friend, and I will tell you Soon become so grave and sad. Half my life I live a beggar, With my courtiers round Half my my throne. life is full of sorrow, Half of joy, still fresh and new; One of these lives is a fancy, But the other one is true. While I live and feast on gladness, While I live a wretched beggar, One bright hope my lot can cheer; Soon, soon, thou shalt have thy kingdom, Brighter hours are drawing near. So you see my life is twofold, Which, you ask me, is the real life, Which the Dream-the joy, or woe? Hush, friend! it is little matter, And, indeed-I never know. REST. PREAD, spread thy silver wings, oh And seek for rest by land and sea, And bring the tidings back to me Look how my Dove soars far away; Is rest where cloudlets slowly creep, Ah no! that southern vapour white The battle-field lies still and cold, While stars that watch in silent light Nay, though they dream of no alarm, Pause where the Pilgrims' day is done, Ah no! that worn and weary band Then find a soul who meets at last Ah no! for Time can rob her yet, |