GLORY to God, in full anthems of joy,
The being he gave us, death cannot destroy!
Sad were the life we must part with to-morrow,
If tears were our birthright, and death were our
end;

But Jesus hath cheered the dark valley of sorrow,
And bade us, immortal, to Heaven ascend.
Lift, then, your voices in triumph on high,
For Jesus hath risen, and man shall not die.

LVI.

BLEST are the departed,

Who in the Lord are sleeping,

From henceforth, for evermore.

They rest from their labours,

And their works do follow them.

LVII.

WE think and feel; but will the dead

Awake to thought again?

A voice of comfort answers us,

That God doth nought in vain.

He wastes nor flower, nor bud, nor leaf,
Nor wind, nor cloud, nor wave;

Nor will he waste the hope which grief
Hath planted in the grave.

BEHOLD the western evening light-
It melts in deeper gloom;

So calm the righteous sink away,
Descending to the tomb.

The winds breathe low,-the yellow leaf
Scarce whispers from the tree;

So gently flows the parting breath
When good men cease to be.

How beautiful, on all the hills,
The crimson light is shed!
'Tis like the peace the dying gives
To mourners round his bed.
How mildly on the wandering cloud
The sunset beam is cast!

So sweet the memory left behind,

When loved ones breathe their last.

And lo! above the dews of night
The vesper-star appears!

So faith lights up the mourner's heart,
Whose eyes are dim with tears.
Night falls, but soon the morning light
Its glories shall restore;

And thus the eyes that sleep in death
Shall wake to close no more.

.

BENEATH this starry arch
Nought resteth or is still;
But all things hold their march,
As if by one great will:
Moves one, move all :

Hark to the footfall!
On, on, for ever!

Yon sheaves were once but seed:
Will ripens into deed.

As cave-drops swell the streams,
Day-thoughts feed nightly dreams;
And sorrow tracketh wrong,
As echo follows song,
On, on, for ever!

By night, like stars on high,
The hours reveal their train;
They whisper, and go by;
I never watch in vain:
Moves one, move all :

Hark to the footfall!

On, on, for ever!

They pass the cradle-head,
And there a promise shed;
They pass the moist new grave,
And bid rank verdure wave;
They bear through every clime
The harvests of all time,

On, on, for ever!

TELL me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream!

For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal; "Dust thou art, to dust returnest," Was not spoken of the soul.

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime;
And, departing, leave behind us
Footsteps on the sands of time;

Footsteps that, perhaps, another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labour and to wait.

A LITTLE child, in bulrush ark,

Came floating on the Nile's broad water; That child made Egypt's glory dark,

And freed his tribe from bonds and slaughter.

A little child for knowledge sought,
In Israel's temple, of its sages;

That child the world's religion brought,
And crushed the temples of past ages.

Mid worst oppressions, if remain

Young hearts to freedom still aspiring;
If, nursed in superstition's chain,
The human mind be still inquiring,—

Then, let not priest or tyrant dote

On dreams of long the world commanding;

The ark of Moses is afloat,

And Christ is in the Temple standing.

LXII.

THE sage his cup of hemlock quaffed,
And calmly drained the fatal draught:
Such pledge did Grecian justice give
To one who taught them how to live.