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Thou art where friend meets friend, Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest,—
Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend The skies, and swords beat down the princely crest.
Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the northwind's breath, And stars to set,— but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, oh! Death.
EVENING PRA YEA R AT A GIRLS' SCHOOL.
Hush! 'tis a holy hour,— the quiet room
Seems like a temple, while yon soft lamp sheds
A faint and starry radiance, through the gloom And the sweet stillness, down on bright young heads,
With all their clustering locks, untouched by care,
And bowed, as flowers are bowed with night,— in prayer.
Gaze on,— 'tis lovely! — childhood's lip and cheek, Mantling beneath its earnest brow of thought,
Gaze,— yet what seest thou in those fair, and meek, And fragile things, as but for sunshine wrought?
Thou seest what grief must nurture for the sky,
What death must fashion for eternity!
Oh! joyous creatures, that will sink to rest,
Lightly, when those pure orisons are done, As birds with slumber's honey-dew oppressed, 'Midst the dim folded leaves, at set of sun,—
Lift up your hearts! — though yet no
sorrow lies Dark in the summer-heaven of those
Though fresh within your breasts the untroubled springs Of hope make melody where'er ye tread;
And o'er your sleep bright shadows, from the wings Of spirits visiting but youth, be spread;
Yet in those flute-like voices, mingling low,
Is woman's tenderness,— how soon her woe.
Her lot is on you,— silent tears to weep,
And patient smiles to wear through suffering's hour, And sumless riches, from affection's deep,
To pour on broken reeds,—a wasted shower! [clay. And to make idols, and to find them And to bewail that worship,— therefore pray!
Her lot is on you,— to be found untired,
Watching the stars out by the bed of pain,
With a pale cheek, and yet a brow inspired,
And a true heart of hope, though hope be vain. [decay, Meekly to bear with wrong, to cheer And on! to love through all things,— therefore pray!
And take the thought of this calm
vesper time. With its low murmuring sounds
and silvery light, On through the dark days fading from
their prime, As a sweet dew to keep your souls
from blight. Earth will forsake,—oh! happy to
have given The unbroken heart's first fragrance
LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS.
The breaking waves dashed high. On a stern and rock-bound coast,
And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed;
And the heavy night hung dark
The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark
On the wild New England shore.
Not as the conqueror comes,
They, the true-hearted came; Not with the roll of the stirring drums,
And the trumpet that sings of fame;
Not as the flying come,
In silence and in fear; — They shook the depths of the desert gloom
With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Amidst the storm they sang,
And the sounding aisles of the dim
The ocean eagle soared From his nest by the white wave's foam;
And the rocking pines of the forest roared — This was their welcome home!
There were men with hoary hair
Why had they come to wither there,
There was woman's fearless eye,
Lit by her deep love's truth; There was manhood's brow serenely high,
And the fiery heart of youth.
What sought they thus afar?
Bright jewels of the mine? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war ?—
They sought a faith's pure shrine!
Ay, call it holy ground,
They have left unstained what there
CALM ON THE BOSOM OF OUR
Calm on the bosom of our God,
E'en while with us thy footsteps trod,
Dust to its narrow house beneath!
Soul to its place on high! They that have seen thy look in death
No more may fear to die.
When God at first made man, Having a glass of blessing standing by:
Let us (said he) pour on him all we can:
Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie,
Contract into a span.
So strength first made a way; Then beauty flow'd, then wisdom,
honor, pleasure: When almost all was out, God made
Perceiving that alone, of all his treasure, Rest in the bottom lay.
For if I should (said he) Bestow this jewel also on my creature,
He would adore my gifts instead of
And rest in Nature, not the God of
Yet let him keep the rest, But keep them with repining restlessness:
Let him be rich and weary, that at least,
If goodness lead him not, yet wearsness
May toss him to my breast.
[From the Church Porch ] ADVICE ON CHURCH BEHAVIOR.
When once thy foot enters the
church, be bare. God is more there than thou: for thou
Only by his permission. Then beware,
And make thyself all reverence and fear.
Kneeling ne'er spoil'd silk stockings: quit thy state.
All equal are within the church's gate.
Resort to sermons, but to prayers most:
Praying's the end of preaching. O be drest;
Stay not for the other pin: why thou hast lost
A joy for it worth worlds. Thus hell
doth jest Away thy blessings, and extremely
flout thee, Thy clothes being fast, but thy soul
loose about thee.
In time of service seal up both thine eyes,
And send them to thine heart; that spying sin,
They may weep out the stains by
them did rise: Those doors being shut, all by the ear comes in. Who marks in church-time other
symmetry, Makes all their beauty his deformity.
Let vain or busy thoughts have there no part:
Bring not thy plough, thy plots, thy pleasure thither
Christ purged the temple; so must thou thy heart.
All worldly thoughts are but these met together To cozen thee. Look to thy actions well: For churches either are our heaven or hell.
Judge not the preacher; for he is thy judge:
If thou mislike him, thou conceivest him not.
God calleth preaching folly. Do not grudge
To pick out treasures from an earthen pot.
The worst speak something good: if all want sense,
God takes a text and preaches patience.
[From the Church Porch.]
Sum up at night, what thou hast
done by day; And in the morning, what thou hast
Dress and undress thy soul: mark
the decay And growth of it: if with thy watch
Be down, then wind up both, since we shall be
Most surely judged, make thy accounts agree.
In brief, acquit thee bravely; play the
Look not on pleasures as they come, but go.
Defer not the least virtue; life's poor span
Make not an ell, by trifling in thy wo. If thou do ill, the joy fades, not the pains:
If well; the pain doth fade, the joy remains.
Lord, with what care hast thou begirt us round! Parents first season us: then schoolmasters
Deliver us to laws: they send us bound
To rules of reason, holy messengers,
Pulpits and Sundays, sorrow dogging sin,
Afflictions sorted, anguish of all sizes,
Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in,
Bibles laid open, millions of surprises,
Blessings beforehand, ties of gratefulness,
The sound of glory ringing in our ears;
Without, our shame; within, our consciences; Angels and grace, eternal hopes and fears.
Yet all these fences and their whole array
One cunning bosom-sin blows quite away.
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky;
For thou must die.
Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,
And thou must die.
Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses.
A box where sweets compacted lie,
Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Then chiefly lives.
TO PERILLA. m
Ah, my Perilla! dost thou grieve to
Me, day by day, to steal away from thee?
Age calls me hence, and my gray
hairs bid come, And haste away to mine eternal
'Twill not be long, Perilla, after this That I must give thee the supremest kiss.
Dead when I am, first cast in salt, and bring [spring, Part of the cream from that religious With which, Perilla, wash my hands and feet;
That done, then wind me in that very sheet
Which wrapt thy smooth limbs when
thou didst implore The gods' protection, but the night
Follow me weeping to my turf, and there
Let fall a primrose, and with it a tear.
Then lastly, let some weekly strew
Devoted to the memory of me; Then shall my ghost not walk about, but keep
Still in the cool and silent shades of sleep.
Ask me why I send you here
I will whisper to your ears, The sweets of love are mixed with tears.
Ask me why this flower does show So yellow green and sickly too? Ask me why the stalk is weak And bending, yet it doth not break? I will answer, these discover What fainting hopes are in a lover.
Here she lies, a pretty bud,
UPON A CHILD.
Virgins promised when I died,
UPON A MAID.
Here she lies, in beds of spice,
HOW THE HEART'S EASE FIRST
Frolic virgins once these were,
LITANY TO THE HOLY SPIRIT.
In the hour of my distress
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When I lie within my bed,
When the house doth sigh and weep,
When the artless doctor sees
When his potion and his pill,