Thou for thy worshippers hast sanctified
All place, all time! The silence of the hills
Breathes veneration :-founts and choral rills
Of thee are murmuring: to its inmost glade
The living forest with thy whisper thrills,
And there is holiness on every shade.
Yet must the thoughtful soul of man invest
With dearer consecration those pure fanes,
Which, sever'd from all sound of earth's unrest,
Hear naught but suppliant or adoring strains
Rise heavenward.-Ne'er may rock or cave possess
Their claim on human hearts to solemn tender-

ness.

XIV.

OLD CHURCH IN AN ENGLISH PARK.

Crowning a flowery slope, it stood alone
In gracious sanctity. A bright rill wound,
Caressingly, about the holy ground;
And warbled, with a never-dying tone,
Amidst the tombs. A hue of ages gone
Seem'd, from that ivied porch, that solemn gleam
Of tower and cross, pale quivering on the stream,
O'er all th' ancestral woodlands to be thrown,
And something yet more deep. The air was
fraught

With noble memories, whispering many a thought
Of England's fathers; loftily serene,

They that had toil'd, watch'd, struggled to secure, Within such fabrics, worship free and pure, Reign'd there, the o'ershadowing spirits of the

scene.

XV.

A CHURCH IN NORTH WALES.

Blessings be round it still! that gleaming fane,
Low in its mountain glen! old mossy trees
Mellow the sunshine through the untinted pane,
And oft, borne in upon some fitful breeze,
The deep sound of the ever-pealing seas,
Filling the hollows with its anthem-tone,
There meets the voice of psalms!—yet not alone.
For memories lulling to the heart as these,
I bless thee, 'midst thy rocks, gray house of
prayer!

But for their sakes who unto thee repair
From the hill-cabins and the ocean-shore.
Oh! may the fisher and the mountaineer,
Words to sustain earth's toiling children bear,
Within thy lowly walls for evermore!

XVI.

LOUISE SCHEPLER.

Louise Schepler was the faithful servant and friend of the pastor Oberlin. The last letter addressed by him to his children for their perusal after his decease, affectingly commemorates her unwearied zeal in visiting and instructing the children of the mountain hamlets, through all seasons, and in all circumstances of difficulty and danger.

A fearless journeyer o'er the mountain snow
Wert thou, Louise! the sun's decaying light,
Oft, with its latest melancholy glow,
Redden'd thy steep wild way: the starry night
Oft met thee, crossing some lone eagle's height,

Piercing some dark ravine: and many a dell
Knew, through its ancient rock-recesses, well,
Thy gentle presence, which hath made them
bright

Oft in mid-storms; oh! not with beauty's eye,
Nor the proud glance of genius keenly burning
No! pilgrim of unwearying charity!
Thy spell was love-the mountain deserts turning
To blessed realms, where stream and rock rejoice,
When the glad human soul lifts a thanksgiving
voice!

XVII.

TO THE SAME.

For thou, a holy shepherdess and kind,
Through the pine forests by the upland rills,
Didst roam to seek the children of the hills,
A wild neglected flock! to seek, and find,
And meekly win! there feeding each young mind
With balms of heavenly eloquence: not thine,
Daughter of Christ! but his, whose love divine,
A burning light! Oh! beautiful, in truth,
Its own clear spirit in thy breast had shrined,
Upon the mountains are the feet of those
For this were all thy journeyings, and the close
Who bear his tidings! From thy morn of youth,
Of that long path, Heaven's own bright sabbath-
rest,

Must wait thee, wanderer! on thy Saviour's

breast.

"I look on the leaves of the deathless tree-
These records of my track;
And better than youth in its flush of glee,
Are the memories they give me back!

"They speak of toil, and of high emprise,
As in words of solemn cheer,
They speak of lonely victories

O'er pain, and doubt, and fear.·

"They speak of scenes which have now become Bright pictures in my breast; Where my spirit finds a glorious home,

And the love of my heart can rest.

"The colours pass not from these away,
Like tints of shower or sun;
Oh! beyond all treasures that know decay,
Is the wealth my soul hath won!

"A rich light thence o'er my life's decline,
An inborn light is cast;

For the sake of the palm from the holy shrine, I bewail not my bright days past!"

The thoughts, once chamber'd there, Have gather'd up their treasures, and are gone ;Will the dust tell thee where

That which hath burst the prison-house is flown?
Rise, nursling of the day!

If thou wouldst trace its way-
Earth has no voice to make the secret known.

Who seeks the vanish'd bird,
Near the deserted nest and broken shell?
Far thence, by us unheard,

He sings, rejoicing in the woods to dwell;

Thou of the sunshine born,

Take the bright wings of morn!

And Faith-O, is not faith Like thee too, Lily, springing into light, Still buoyantly, above the billows' might, Through the storm's breath?

Yes, link'd with such high thought, Flower, let thine image in my bosom lie! Till something there of its own purity And peace is wrought:

Something yet more divine Than the clear, pearly, virgin lustre shed Forth from thy breast upon the river's bed, As from a shrine.

THOUGHT FROM AN ITALIAN POET.

WHERE shall I find, in all this fleeting earth,

This world of changes and farewells, a friend That will not fail me in his love and worth,

Tender, and firm, and faithful to the end?

Far hath my spirit sought a place of rest-
Long on vain idols its devotion shed;

Some have forsaken whom I loved the best,
And some deceived, and some are with the
dead.

cell.

Faithful art thou when friends and joys depart, Teach me to lift these yearnings from the dust, And fix on thee, th' Unchanging One, my heart

THE WATER-LILY.

CHRIST WALKING ON THE WATER

FEAR was within the tossing bark,
When stormy winds grew loud,
And waves came rolling high and dak
And the all mast was bow'd

And men stood breathless in their dread,

And baffled in their skill

But One was there, who rose, and said

To the wild sea-be still!

And the wind ceased-it ceased!-that word
Pass'd through the gloomy sky;

The troubled billows knew their Lord,
And fell beneath His eye.

And slumber settled on the deep,

And silence on the blast;

They sank, as flowers that fold to sleep
When sultry day is past.

Oh! thou, that in its wildest hour

Didst rule the tempest's mood,
Send thy meek spirit forth in power
Soft on our souls to brood.

Thou that didst bow the billow's pride
Thy mandate to fulfil,
Oh! speak to passion's raging tide,
Speak, and say, "Peace, be still!”

A FATHER READING THE BIBLE.

'Twas early day, and sunlight stream'd
Soft through a quiet room,
That hush'd, but not forsaken, secm'd,
Still, but with naught of gloom.
For there, serene in happy age,
Whose hope is from above,

A Father communed with the page
Of Heaven's recorded love.

Pure fell the beam, and meekly bright,
On his gray holy hair,

And touch'd the page with tenderest light,
As if its shrine were there!

But oh! that patriarch's aspect shone
With something lovelier far,
A radiance all the spirit's own,
Caught not from sun or star.

Some word of life e'en then had met
His calm, benignant eye,

Some ancient promise, breathing yet
Of Immortality:

Some Martyr's prayer, wherein the glow
Of quenchless faith survives:
For every feature said-" I know

That my Redeemer lives!"

And silent stood his children by,
Hushing their very breath,
Before the solemn sanctity

Of thoughts o'ersweeping death. Silent-yet did not each young breast With love and reverence melt?

Oh! blest be those fair girls, and blest Th home where God is fel'

INTRODUCTORY STANZAS.

THE THEMES OF SONG.

Of truth, of grandeur, beauty, love, and hope, And melancholy fear subdued by faith.

Wordsworth.

WHERE shall the minstrel find a theme?

-Where'er for freedom shed,

Brave blood hath dyed some ancient stream Amidst the mountains, red.

Where'er a rock, a fount, a grove,
Bears record to the faith
Of love, deep, holy, fervent love,
Victor o'er fear and death.

Where'er a chieftain's crested brow Too soon hath been struck down, Or a bright virgin head laid low,

Wearing its youth's first crown.

Where'er a spire points up to heaven, Through storm and summer air, Telling, that all around have striven,

Man's heart, and hope, and prayer.

Where'er a blessed Home hath been,
That now is Home no more:
A place of ivy, darkly green,
Where laughter's light is o'er.

Where'er by some forsaken grave,
Some nameless greensward heap,
A bird may sing, a wild-flower wave,
A star its vigil keep.

Or where a yearning heart of old,
A dream of shepherd men,

With forms of more than earthly mould
Hath peopled grot or glen.

There may the bard's high themes be found-
-We die, we pass away:

But faith, love, pity-these are bound
To earth without decay.

The heart that burns, the cheek that glows,
The tear from hidden springs,

The thorn and glory of the rose-
These are undying things.

Wave after wave of mighty stream
To the deep sea hath gone:

Yet not the less, like youth's bright dream,
The exhaustless flood rolls on.

RHINE SONG

OF THE GERMAN SOLDIERS AFTER VICTORY.

"I wish you could have heard Sir Walter Scott describe■ glorious sight, which had been witnessed by a friend of his'the crossing of the Rhine, at Ehrenbreitstein, by the Germaв army of Liberators on their victorious return from France. At the first gleam of the river,' he said, 'they all burst forth into the national chant, Am Rhein! Am Rhein !" Ther