When every branch has its own favorite bird, songs of summer from each thicket heard; Where the owl flitteth, And Where the roe sitteth, And holiness Seems sleeping there: Goes up to heaven Till all is glory And joy to me! High thoughts! They are my own When I am resting on a mountain's bosom, And see below me strown The huts and homes where humble virtues blossom. When I can trace each streamlet through the meadow; When I can follow every fitful shadow; When I can catch the winds among the corn, And see the waves along the forest borne ; Are blooming together, And far doth come The sabbath-bell High thoughts! They visit us In moments when the soul is dim and darkened; They come to bless After the vanities to which we hearkened. When weariness hath come upon the spirit, Those hours of darkness which we all inherit, Bursts there not through a glint of warm sunshine, A winged thought, which bids us not repine? In joy and sadness, In mirth and gladness, Come signs and tokens: Those bright communings The soul doth keep, Those thoughts of heaven Robert Nicoll. 23. A SUPPLICATION. ILT Thou not visit me? WIL The plant beside me feels Thy gentle dew; Each blade of grass I see, From Thy deep earth its quickening moisture drew. Wilt Thou not visit me? Thy morning calls on me with cheering tone; Lend but one voice,— the voice of Thee alone. Come; for I need Thy love More than the flower the dew, or grass the rain: Come, like Thy Holy Dove, And let me in Thy sight rejoice to live again. Yes, Thou wilt visit me : Nor plant nor tree Thine eyes delight so well, Our spirits come with Thine in peace to dwell. Jones Very. W 24. THE SOUL'S CALM. HEN winds are raging o'er the upper ocean, roar, 'Tis said, far down beneath the wild commotion, That peaceful stillness reigneth evermore. Far, far beneath, the noise of tempests dieth, So to the heart that knows Thy love, O Purest ! And all the Babel of life's angry voices Far, far away, the roar of passion dieth. And loving thoughts rise calm and peacefully; And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er it flieth, Disturbs the soul that dwells, O Lord! in thee. Mrs. H. B. Stowe. 25. THE HEART'S PRAYER S down in the sunless retreats of the ocean see; So deep in my soul the still prayer of devotion, Unheard by the world, rises silent to thee, My God! silent to thee; Pure, warm, silent to thee. As still to the star of its worship, though clouded, The needle points faithfully o'er the dim sea; So dark when I roam, in this wintry world shrouded, The hope of my spirit turns trembling to thee, Thomas Moore. 26. THE HYMN OF NATURE THE heavenly spheres to thee, O God! Attune their evening hymn: All-wise, All-holy, thou art praised Unnumbered systems, suns, and worlds, While thy majestic greatness fills Space, time, eternity. Nature, a temple worthy thee, Beams with thy light and love, That rise along the shore; Of storm and ocean roar. Her song of gratitude is sung Bowring. |