It linked all perplexèd meanings
Into one perfect peace,
And trembled away into silence
As if it were loth to cease.

I have sought, but I seek it vainly,
That one lost chord divine,

Which came from the soul of the Organ,
And entered into mine.

It may be that Death's bright angel
Will speak in that chord again,—

It may be that only in Heaven
I shall hear that grand Amen.

H

TOO LATE.

USH! speak low; tread softly;
Draw the sheet aside;—
Yes, she does look peaceful;
With that smile she died.

Yet stern want and sorrow

Even now you trace
On the wan, worn features

Of the still white face.

Restless, helpless, hopeless,
Was her bitter part ;-
Now-how still the Violets
Lie upon her Heart;

She who toiled and laboured
For her daily bread;
See the velvet hangings
Of this stately bed.

Yes, they did forgive her ;

Brought her home at last ;

Strove to cover over

Their relentless past.

Ah, they would have given.

Wealth, and home, and pride,

To see her just look happy
Once before she died!

They strove hard to please her,
But, when death is near,
All you know is deadened,
Hope, and joy, and fear.

And besides, one sorrow
Deeper still-one pain
Was beyond them: healing
Came to-day-in vain !

If she had but lingered

Just a few hours more ;

Or had this letter reached her Just one day before!

I can almost pity

Even him to-day;

Though he let this anguish.
Eat her heart away.

Yet she never blamed him :—
One day you shall know
How this sorrow happened;
It was long ago.

I have read the letter:

Many a weary year,

For one word she hungered--
There are thousands here.

If she could but hear it,

Could but understand;

See-I put the letter

In her cold white hand.

Even these words, so longed for,

Do not stir her rest;
Well-I should not murmur,

For God judges best.

She needs no more pity,---
But I mourn his fate,
When he hears his letter
Came a day too late.

THE REQUITAL.

OUD roared the Tempest,
Fast fell the sleet;
A little Child Angel

Passed down the street,

With trailing pinions,

And weary feet.

The moon was hidden;
No stars were bright;
So she could not shelter
In heaven that night,
For the Angels' ladders
Are rays of light.

She beat her wings

At each window pane,

And pleaded for shelter,

But all in vain :-
:-

"Listen," they said,

"To the pelting rain!"

She sobbed, as the laughter
And mirth grew higher,
"Give me rest and shelter
Beside your fire,
And I will give you

Your heart's desire."

The dreamer sat watching
His embers gleam,
While his heart was floating

Down hope's bright stream; ... So he wove her wailing Into his dream.

The worker toiled on,

For his time was brief;

The mourner was nursing
Her own pale grief:
They heard not the promise
That brought relief.

But fiercer the Tempest
Rose than before,
When the Angel paused

At a humble door,
And asked for shelter
And help once more.

A weary woman,

Pale, worn, and thin, With the brand upon her

Of want and sin,