But the hour is accomplished!
My children, we sever
But be ye not troubled,
I am with you for ever!

HYMN IV.

THE ELEVEN.

THE Lord is ascending!
Rich welcomes to give him:
See, angels descending!-
The heavens receive him!

See, angels, archangels,
Bend down to adore!
The Lord hath ascended,

We see him no more!

The Master is taken;
The friend hath departed;
Yet we are not forsaken,
Nor desolate-hearted!

The Master is taken;
The holy, the kind;

But the joy of his presence

Remaineth behind!

Our hearts burned within us

To hear but the word

Which he spake, ere our spirits

Acknowledged the Lord!

The Lord hath ascended!

Our hope is secure,

We trusted not lightly,
The promise is sure;

The Lord hath ascended;
And we his true-hearted,
Go forth with rejoicing,
Though he hath departed!

THE POOR CHILD'S HYMN

We are poor and lowly born;
With the poor we bide;

Labor is our heritage,

Care and want beside.

What of this? our blessed Lord

Was of lowly birth,

And poor, toiling fishermen

Were his friends on earth!

We are ignorant and young;

Simple children all;

Gifted with but humble powers,

And of learning small.

What of this? our blessed Lord

Loved such as we;

How he blessed the little ones

Sitting on his knee!

THE OLD FRIEND AND THE NEW

My old friend, he was a good old friend,
And I thought, like a fool, his face to mend;
I got another; but ah! to my cost

I found him unlike the one I had lost!

I and my friend, we were bred together:
He had a smile like the summer weather;
A kind warm heart; and a hand as free:
My friend, he was all the world to me!

I could sit with him and crack many a joke,
And talk of old times and the village folk;
He had been with us at the Christmas time;
He knew every tree we used to climb;
And where we played; and what befell,
My dear old friend remembered well.
It did me good but to see his face;
And I've put another friend in his place!
I wonder how such a thing could be,

For my old friend would not have slighted me!

Oh my fine new friend, he is smooth and bland, With a jeweled ring or two on his hand;

He visits my lord and my lady fair;

He hums the last new opera air.

He takes not the children on his knee;

My faithful hound reproacheth me,

For he snarls when my new friend draweth near, But my good old friend to the brute was dear!]

I wonder how I such a thing could do,

As change the old friend for the new!

My rare old friend, he read the plays,
That were written in Master Shakspeare's days;
He found in them wit and mo al good:

My new friend thinks them coarse and rude

And many a pleasant song he sung,

Because they were made when we were young;
He was not too grand, not he, to know

The merry old songs made long ago.
He writ his name on the window-pane;

It was cracked by my new friend's riding-cane!

My good old friend, "he tirled at the pin,"
He opened the door and entered in ;
We were all glad to see his face,

As he took at the fire his 'customed place,
And the little children, loud in glee,
They welcomed him as they welcomed me
He knew our griefs, our joys he shared;
There cannot be friend with him compared,
We had tried him long, had found him true!
Why changed I the old friend for the new?

My new friend cometh in lordly state;
He peals a startling ring at the gate;
There's hurry and pomp, there's pride and din,
And my new friend bravely entereth in.
I bring out the noblest wines for cheer,

I make him a feast that costeth dear

But he knows not what in my heart lies deep;
He may laugh with me, but never shall weep,
For there is no bond between us twain;
And I sigh for my dear old friend again;
And thus, too late, I bitterly rue

That I changed the old friend for the new!