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All in majestic march, and even,
True to their time as stars in heaven,
And this is Faith, and thus she wins
Seal but thine eye to pleasant sins,
Love's glorious world will on thee burst.
PAUSE not to dream of the future before us: Pause not to weep the wild cares that come o'er us: Hark how Creation's deep musical chorus,
Unintermitting goes up into heaven!
"Labor is worship!" the robin is singing:
Speaks to thy soul from out Nature's great heart. From the dark cloud flows the life-giving shower; From the rough sod blows the soft-breathing flower; From the small insect the rich coral bower;
Only man, in the plan, shrinks from his part .
Labor is life ! — 't is the still water faileth;
Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assaileth!
Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon. Labor is glory ! — the flying cloud lightens; Only the waving wing changes and brightens; Idle hearts only the dark future frightens;
Play the sweet keys wouldst thou keep them in tune!
Labor is rest — from the sorrows that greet us,
Rest from world sirens that lure us to ill.
Work with a stout heart and resolute will.
Labor is health, —lo! the husbandman reaping, How through his veins goes the life-current leaping! How his strong arm in its stalwart pride sweeping,
True as a sunbeam, the swift sickle guides. Labor is wealth, — in the sea the pearl groweth, Rich the Queen's robe from the frail cocoon fioweth, From the fine acorn the strong forest bloweth,
Temple, and statue, the marble block hides.
Droop not, though shame, sin, and anguish are round
Bravely fling off the cold chain that hath bound thee; Look to yon blue heaven smiling beyond thee;
Rest not content in thy darkness — a clod. Work — for some good, be it ever so slowly; Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly; Labor — all labor is noble and holy,
Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God.
F. S. Osgood
before thy door is waiting: V_ Rouse thee, slave of earthly, gold. Lo, He comes, thy pomp abating, Hungry, thirsty, homeless, cold; Hungry, by whom saints are fed With the eternal living Bread; Thirsty, from whose pierced side, Healing waters spring and glide; Cold and bare He comes, who never
May put off His robe of light;
Homeless, who must dwell for ever
In the Father's bosom bright.
Think how new-born saints assembling
Daily 'neath the shower of fire,
When thou turned'st thy land to gold, And thy gold to strong salvation, Leaving all, by Christ to hold.
Type of priest, and monarch, casting
And the treasure everlasting
Each his several radiance flinging
Whether great ones much are bringing,
Or their mite the mean and poor.
Bring thine all, thy choicest treasure,
Heap it high, and hide it deep: Thou shalt win o'erflowing measure, Thou shalt climb where skies are steep. For as heaven's true only light Quickens all those forms so bright, So where bounty never faints, There the Lord is with His saints, Mercy's sweet contagion spreading
Far and wide from heart to heart; From His wounds atonement shedding On the blessed widow's part.
AN ardent spirit dwells with Christian love,
THE UNREGARDED TOILS OF THE POOR
ALAS! what secret tears are shed,
He goeth in his daily course,
Made fat with oil and wine, -
That in his bondage pine,—
That delve for him the mine!