Higher than in olden story
Hung around the martyrs hoary;

And God saw and hallowed all.

GOD'S SECRETS.

God wills not that His secrets should be known
Even though generations pass away;
For what in His sight are a thousand years?
The fleeting shadows of a transient day.
How slowly since Creation's earliest time,

How painfully man's knowledge has been gained; Still step by step his feeble feet must climb

Ere Wisdom's mountain peaks shall be attained. Onward, far onward to the frozen North

Shall man e'er urge his weary, baffled quest;

And still the eternal snows their secrets keep-
And bleached on silent shores his bones shall rest.
For ever stands each iron sentinel,

Starvation, cold, to bar th' untrodden way,
To ring 'neath darkened skies the gloomy knell
Of those who grope for Science' ling'ring ray.
Inward, far inward to the earth's warm heart
Doth man stretch down his bold yet feeble hand;
There, fire-born agents bid his steps depart,

And wreck the hopes that centuries had planned. So near earth's fiery belt, 'neath scorching suns, Guarded by savage beasts and wilder men, We mourn e'en now th' untimely death of one, Who crowded much within life's little span !

How from God's creatures made for happiness
Man's torturing hand would wrest His secrets forth.
But life's strange principle his skill defies —

And still unread God's secrets walk the earth.
Unnumbered atoms fill the seeming void

Whose unseen lives but mock our utmost gaze!
Science but shows a limitless beyond

Darkened, unknown, unlighted by its rays.
Above our heads the bright, eternal stars
Through countless centuries before man's eye
Spread out unlearned their mystic hieroglyphs!
There wondering generations gaze and die.
God wills not that His secrets should be known
Even though generations pass away;
Food still remains for the inquiring mind;
There is no limit to its onward way.
Nor time nor earth shall see the human soul
Without its aspirations or unrest, -

Without some unknown goal to tempt its feet,
Some viewless shore t' invite its eager quest.

THE UNKNOWN ARTIST.

["In Lubec the stranger should not omit to obtain a sight of the curiou and well executed carvings in wood, by an unknown artist, which ornament one of the rooms in the house No. 194 in the Schusselbaden Strasse."]

Whose was the cunning hand, the patient toil,

The unerring skill, the Artist's eye,

That wrought these carvings quaint and rich,
In years gone by?

Say! was his early childhood passed where he
Could study leaf and fruit and flower?
The countless branching of each forest tree
Trace hour by hour?

And drank his spirit in from Nature's face

Those lines and curves that she alone can draw? And wrought he springing life and matchless grace From all he saw?

Oh, answer, Time! in whose abyss so deep

The dreams of years have gone to rest On hands that work and eyes that weep Thy seal is prest!

Answer, Eternity! that taketh in

The skill of hands, the love of hearts; Say, still exists whate'er has been, Though it departs !

--

TRAVELLER AND SOJOURNER.

Yes since she died, I feel like one
That sits and watcheth at a way-side Inn;
I see the shadows lengthen on the grass;
I hear the feet of merry children pass;

But life is not to me what it hath been!

I see each day there come and go

Travellers who rest awhile and then depart;
Some in their rags and some in finery;
The fashions of this world are naught to me,

I scarcely seem in it to have a part.

I meet sometimes a friendly eye,

I gaze with friends I love on things beyond: But earth's vain show and pride but pageants seem, And I spectator in a passing dream,

Touched and directed by some unseen wand,

But still where nature points I gaze;

On springing flowers that preach a life to come,
On sunset gates flooded with golden rays,
Where oft the spirit sends its longing gaze
And sees afar its bright, eternal home!

A traveller waiting at a wayside Inn,

I mark the swiftness of Time's busy round,
The busy generations come and gone,
The joy, the woe this earth hath looked upon

A place where lasting peace is never found.

All that abideth through these fleeting years

Are things these outward eyes may not behold! A look, a memory, thoughts and smiles and tears, Moments still cherished through the fleeting years That look from Time's dark stream like sands of gold.

LINES.

Rest for the Weary! when the summer day
With its long, dreamy shadows floats away,
The body's toil doth cease;

So when converge life's sorrows in the tomb
Seeking beatitude through outward gloom,
The spirit shall find peace.

Hope for the Fallen ! though the blasting wind Hath swept the meadow, and no flowers you find, 1. Breathe but a gentle ray,

With kindlier tone or cheering smile but speak, And tears upon the poor defiled one's cheek Shall make their cleansing way!

Peace to the Mourner! visions of delight
Shall gather round him in the darksome night,
Clust'ring beside his bed -

Although the lost one but in dreams appear,
The spirit world shall seem to him more near,
And he be comforted!

Love for the Lonely! finding none on earth,
May her affections cluster round God's hearth,
Clinging to holiness;

Choosing like her of old the better part-
Living in trust and singleness of heart,
Though life be loneliness.