Puslapio vaizdai
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STANZAS.

E. L. SHORTRIDGE.

WHEN friends who love are forced to sever, Without a hope to soothe their pain—

Since in this world they part for ever, Oh! may their loss be turned to gain!

For God withdraws our earthly treasure, To wean our hearts from things below, And bids us seek for lasting pleasure

Where streams of joy for ever flow.

He points to One who condescended

To be on earth the sinner's friendTo Him who, though to Heaven ascended, Will love his own unto the end.

Then welcome pain, and welcome sadness, If God appoint it to be thus ;

And may we give our hearts with gladness To Him who lived and died for us.

THE CROSS OF CONSTANTINE.

LADY FLORA HASTINGS.

"CONQUER in this!"-Not unto thee alone
The vision spake, imperial Constantine !
Nor presage only of an earthly throne,
Blazed in mid heaven the consecrated sign,
Through the unmeasured tract of coming time
The mystic cross doth with soft lustre glow,
And speaks through every age, in every clime,
To every slave of sin, and child of woe.

"Conquer in this!"-Ay, when the rebel heart
Clings to the idols it was wont to cherish,
And, as it sees those fleeting boons depart,
Grieveth that things so bright were form'd to perish;
Arise, bereaved one! and athwart the gloom,
Read in the brightness of that cheering ray-
Mourn not, O Christian! though so brief their bloom;
Nought that is worth a sigh shall pass away.

"Conquer in this!"-When fairest visions come
To lure thy spirit to a path of flowers,
Binding the exile from a heavenly home,
To dwell a lingerer in unholy bowers;

Strong in His strength who burst the bonds of sin,
Clasp to thy bosom-clasp the holy Cross !
Dost thou not seek a heavenly crown to win?
Hast thou not counted all beside as loss?

"Conquer in this!"-Though powers of earth and hell
Were leagued to bar thee from thy homeward way,
The Cross shall every darkling shade dispel,
Chase every doubt, and re-assure dismay.

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Faint not, O wearied one! faint not for thee
The Lord of righteousness and glory bled,
And his good Spirit's influence, with free

And plenteous unction, is upon thee shed.

Conquer in this!"-When, by thy fever'd bed,

Thou see'st the dark-wing'd angel take his stand,
Who soon shall lay thy body with the dead,
And bear thy spirit to the spirit's land.
Fear not! the Cross sustains thee, and its aid
In that last trial shall thy succour bring;
Go, fearless through the dark, the untried shade,
For sin is vanquished, and death hath no sting.

"Conquer in this!"-Strong in thy Saviour's might, When bursts the morning of a brighter day, Rise, Christian victor, in the glorious fight,

Arise, rejoicing, from thy cell of clay!

The Cross which led thee scatheless thro' the gloom,

Shall in that hour, heav'n's royal banner be;
Thou hast o'ercome the world, the flesh, the tomb;
Triumph in Him who died and rose for thee.

THE WORTH OF HOURS.

R. MONCKTON MILNES, ESQ., M.P.

BELIEVE not that your inner eye
Can ever in just measure try
The worth of hours as they pass by:

For every man's weak self, alas!
Makes him to see them while they pass
As through a dim or tinted glass :

But if in earnest care you would
Mete out to each its part of good,
Trust rather to your after mood.

Those surely are not fairly spent
That leave your spirit bowed and bent

In sad unrest and ill-content:

And more, though free from seeming harm,

You rest from toil of mind or arm,

Or slow retire from Pleasure's charm ;

If then a painful sense comes on,
Of something wholly lost and gone,
Vainly enjoyed, or vainly done,—

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Of something from your being's chain
Broke off, nor to be linked again
By all mere memory can retain,—

Upon your heart this truth may rise,
Nothing that altogether dies,
Suffices man's just destinies :

So should we live, that every hour May die as dies the natural flower,— A self-reviving thing of power;

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That every tnought and every
May hold within itself the seed
Of future good and future meed;

Esteeming sorrow, whose employ
Is to develop, not destroy,
Far better than a barren joy.

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