- Peasant, prince, each rank and station, – Haste, and join this pilgrimage. East and west, and south and north, Send your saintliest spirits forth. Mothers, ere the curtain closes Round your children's sleep to-night, Waiting for to-morrow's light; Matron grave and blooming maiden, Hoary sage and beardless boy, Hearts with grief and care o'erladen, Hearts brimful of hope and joy, Come, and greet in death's dark hall, Him who felt with, felt for all. Men of God, devoutly toiling In the hearts of human kind; Ye who roam our seas and mountains, Men of labor, men of lore, Give your toils and studies o'er. Dwellers in the woods and valleys, Ye of meek and lowly breast; Ye who, pent in crowded alleys, Labor early, late take rest; Leave the plough, and leave the loom ; From your halls of stately beauty, Lo, His grave! the grey rock closes And the morn with floods of splendor Speak of life and gladness there; Ne'er was living thing, I wot, Which our Lord regarded not. Bird, and beast, and insect rover, Heavenly thought to Him could yield. All that is, to Him did prove, Food for wisdom, food for love. But the hearts that bowed before Him Most of all to Him were dear; Let such hearts to-night watch o'er Him Then a brighter sun shall rise Than e'er kindled up the skies. All night long, with plaintive voicing, From to-morrow's harps shall flow. "Death and hell at length are slain, Christ hath triumphed, Christ doth reign." XLVIII 7. Moultrie THE RESURRECTION GOT me flowers to strew Thy way; I for me flowers to streny Ty w But Thou wast up by break of day And brought'st Thy sweets along with Thee. The sun arising in the East, Though he give light, and the East perfume; If they should offer to contest With Thy arising, they presume. Can there be any day but this, George Herbert XLIX THE ASCENSION E is gone beyond the skies, HE is gone beyond im from our eyes; Gone beyond the highest height All the toil, the sorrow done, And our hearts within us burn; Olivet no more shall greet, With welcome shout, His coming feet; Never shall we thank Him more On Gennesareth's glist'ning shore, He is gone, and we remain He is gone, but we once more In the Heaven of Heavens the same He is gone, but not in vain; Thitherward let us ascend. A. P. Stanley L G CHRIST'S ASCENSION OD is ascended up on high, With merry noise of trumpet-sound, And princely seated in the sky, Rules over all the world around. Sing praises then, sing praises loud To Him all laud and praises sing. In human flesh and shape He went, |