REST

CHEN the tumult of day is done,
And the winds are at rest,

When the glory is all but gone
In the wonderful west.

Why, heart, is thy trouble so deep?

Why, spirit, thy care?

Full soon thou shalt quieter sleep

Than the quietest there.

JAMES RHOADES.

CXLIV.

A VOICE FROM AFAR.

@EEP not for me;

Be blithe as wont, nor tinge

with gloom

The stream of love that circles home,
Light hearts and free!

Joy in the gifts Heaven's bounty lends;
Nor miss my face, dear friends!

I still am near ;

Watching the smiles I prized on earth,

Your converse mild, your blameless mirth;
Now too I hear

Of whisper'd sounds the tale complete,
Low prayers, and musings sweet.

A sea before

The throne is spread ;-its pure still glass
Pictures all earth-scenes as they pass.
We on its shore,

Share, in the bosom of our rest,

God's knowledge, and are blest.

JOHN HENRY NEWMAN.

M

HE world is great: the birds all fly from me,
The stars are golden fruit upon a tree
All out of reach: my little sister went,
And I am lonely.

The world is great: I tried to mount the hill
Above the pines, where the light lies so still,
But it rose higher little Lisa went,

And I am lonely.

The world is great : the wind comes rushing by, I wonder where it comes from; sea-birds cry And hurt my heart: my little sister went,

And I am lonely.

The world is great: the people laugh and talk, And make loud holiday: how fast they walk! I'm lame, they push me: little Lisa went,

And I am lonely.

GEORGE ELIOT.

The storm should never have swept
Over the place of its rest;
It never had listened and leapt
At the cry of a life opprest.

It had never been shaken and torn
At the sight of a loved one's pain;

It had never stood still, forlorn,

At the thought "Is there meeting again?"

It had stood by itself secure,

Bound round and beneath and above, Fenced from the plaint of the poor,

And free from the fires of love.