66

'TIS IMMORTALITY DECIPHERS

MAN"

THE witnesses are heard: the cause is o'er.
Let conscience file the sentence in her court,
Dearer than deeds that half a realm convey.
Thus sealed by truth, the authentic record runs:
"Know, all know, infidels! (unapt to know!)
'Tis immortality your nature solves;
'Tis immortality deciphers man,

And opens all the mysteries of his make.
Without it, half his instincts are a riddle;
Without it, all his virtues are a dream.
His very crimes attest his dignity;

His sateless thirst of pleasure, gold, and fame,
Declares him born for blessings infinite.
What less than infinite makes unabsurd
Passions, which all on earth but more inflames?
Fierce passions, so mismeasured to this scene,
Stretched out, like eagles' wings, beyond our nest,
Far beyond the worth of all below,

For earth too large, presage a nobler flight,
And evidence our title to the skies."

Edward Young.

RELEASED

A LITTLE low-ceiled room.

Four walls Whose blank shuts out all else of life, And crowded close within their bound A world of pain, and toil, and strife.

Her world. Scarce furthermore she knew Of God's great globe that wondrously Outrolls a glory of green earth,

And frames it with the restless sea.

Four closer walls of common pine,
And therein lieth, cold and still,
The weary flesh that long hath borne
Its patient mystery of ill.

Regardless now of work to do,

No queen more careless in her state; Hands crossed in their unbroken calm; For other hands the work must wait.

RELEASED

Put by her implements of toil,
Put by each coarse, intrusive sign;
She made a Sabbath when she died

And round her breathes a Rest Divine.

Put by at last beneath the lid

The exempted hands, the tranquil face; Uplift her in her dreamless sleep,

And bear her gently from the place.

Oft she hath gazed with wistful eyes

Out from that threshold from the night;

The narrow bourne she crosseth now,
She standeth in the Eternal Light.

Oft she has pressed with aching feet
Those broken steps that reach the door;
Henceforth with angels she shall tread
Heaven's golden stair for evermore.

Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney.

I GO TO LIFE

I Go to life and not to death;

I

From darkness to life's native sky;

go

from sickness and from pain To health and immortality.

Let our farewell then be tearless,
Since I bid farewell to tears;
Write this day of my departure
Festive in your coming years.

I go from poverty to wealth,
From rags to raiment angel-fair,
From the pale leanness of this flesh
To beauty such as saints shall wear.

I go from chains to liberty,

These fetters will be broken soon; Forth over Eden's fragrant fields I walk beneath a glorious noon.

I GO TO THEE

From toil there comes the crowned rest;
Instead of burdens, eagles' wings;

And I, even I, this life-long thirst
Shall quench at everlasting springs.

God lives! Who says that I must die?
I cannot, while Jehovah liveth!
Christ lives! I cannot die but live;
He life to me forever giveth.

Horatius Bonar.