Stand beside the sobbing river,
Sobbing, throbbing, in its falling,
To the sandy lonesome shore;
I shall never hear her calling,
"Leave your meadow-grasses mellow,
Mellow, mellow;

Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow;

Come uppe, Whitefoot; come uppe, Lightfoot;
Quit your pipes of parsley hollow,
Hollow, hollow;

Come uppe, Lightfoot, rise and follow;
Lightfoot, Whitefoot,

From your clovers lift the head;

Come uppe, Jetty; follow, follow,

Jetty, to the milking-shed."

THE EVERLASTING MEMORIAL.
[From "Hymns of Hope and Faith."]

HORATIUS BONAR.

Up and away, like the dew of the morning,
Soaring from earth to its home in the sun;
So let me steal away, gently and lovingly,

Only remembered by what I have done.

My name, and my place, and my tomb all forgotten,
The brief race of time well and patiently run,
So let me pass away, peacefully, silently,
Only remembered by what I have done.

Gladly away from this toil would I hasten,

Up to the crown that for me has been won; Unthought of by man in rewards or in praises, Only remembered by what I have done.

Up and away, like the odors of sunset,

That sweeten the twilight as darkness comes on;

So be my life-a thing felt but not noticed,
And I but remembered by what I have done.
Yes, like the fragrance that wanders in freshness,
When the flowers that it came from are closed
So would I be to this world's weary dwellers,
Only remembered by what I have done.

up
and gone,

Needs there the praise of the love-written record,
The name and the epitaph graved on the stone?
The things we have lived for-let them be our story,
We ourselves but remembered by what we have done.

I need not be missed if my life has been bearing

(As its summer and autumn moved silently on) The bloom, and the fruit, and the seed of its season; I shall still be remembered by what I have done.

I need not be missed if another succeed me

To reap down those fields which in spring I have sown; He who plowed and who sowed is not missed by the reaper, He is only remembered by what he has done.

Not myself, but the truth that in life I have spoken-
Not myself, but the seed that in life I have sown,
Shall pass on to ages-all about me forgotten,

Save the truth I have spoken, the things I have done.

So let my living be, so be my dying;

So let my name lie, unblazoned, unknown;

Unpraised and unmissed, I shall still be remembered:
Yes-but remembered by what I have done.

THE WORLD WOULD BE THE BETTER FOR IT.

If men cared less for wealth and fame,
And less for battle-fields and glory;

If, writ in human hearts, a name

Seemed better than in song and story;

If men, instead of nursing pride,
Would learn to hate it and abhor it:

If more relied on love to guide,

The world would be the better for it.

If men dealt less in stocks and lands,
And more in bonds and deeds fraternal,
If Love's work had more willing hands
To link this world to the supernal;

If men stored up Love's oil and wine,

And on bruised human hearts would pour it;
If" yours" and "mine" would once combine,
The world would be the better for it.

If more would act the play of life,
And fewer spoil it in rehearsal;
If Bigotry would sheathe its knife

Till good becomes more universal;
If custom, gray with ages grown,

Had fewer blind men to adore it;
If talents shone in Truth alone,

The world would be the better for it.

If men were wise in little things

Affecting less in all their dealings-
If hearts had fewer rusted strings

To isolate their kindly feelings;

If men, when Wrong beats down the Right,
Would strike together and restore it;
If Right made Might in every fight,

The world would be the better for it.

THANK GOD, THERE'S STILL A VANGUARD.

MRS. H. E. G. AREY.

Thank God, there's still a vanguard

Fighting for the Right;

Though the throng flock to rearward,

Lifting (ashen-white)

Flags of truce to Sin and Error,
Clasping hands mute with terror,
Thank God, there's still a vanguard
Fighting for the Right.

Through the wilderness advancing,

Hewers of the way;

Forward far their spears are glancing,

Flashing back the day.

"Back!" the leaders cry who fear them;
"Back!" from all the army near them;
They, their steady tramp advancing,
Cleave their certain way.

Slay them from each drop that falleth
Springs a hero armed;

Where the martyr's fire appalleth,

Lo! they pass unharmed;

Crushed beneath thy wheel, Oppression,
How their spirits hold possession--
How their dross-purged voice outcalleth,
By the death-throes warmed!

Thank God, there's still a vanguard

Fighting for the right;

Error's legions know their standard

Floating in the light.

When the league of Sin rejoices,

Quick outring the rallying voices,

Thank God, there's still a vanguard

Fighting for the Right.

CREEDS OF THE BELLS.

G.W. BUNGAY.

How sweet the chime of the Sabbath bells!

Each one its creed in music tells,
In tones that float upon the air,
As soft as song, and pure as prayer;
And I will put in simple rhyme
The language of the golden chime.
My happy heart with rapture swells
Responsive to the bells-sweet bells.

(high.) "In deeds of love excel-excel,"

Chimed out from ivied towers a bell;
(pure.) "This is the church not built on sanda,
Emblem of one not built with hands;
Its forms and sacred rites revere,
Come worship here-come worship here;
In rituals and faith excel,'

Pealed out the good old Dutch Church bell

(pure.) "Oh swell, ye purifying waters, swell," In mellow tones rang out a bell;

(p.)

66 'Though faith alone in Christ can save;
Man must be plunged beneath the wave,
To show the world unfaltering faith
In what the sacred Scripture saith.
Oh swell, ye rising waters, swell,"
Pealed out the clear-toned Baptist bell.

"Not faith alone, but works as well,
Must test the soul," said a soft bell;
"Come here, and cast aside your load,
And work your way along the road,
With faith in God, and faith in man,
And hope in Christ, where hope began:

(echo.) Do well-do well-do well-do well,"
Pealed forth the Unitarian bell.

(oro.)

(p.)

"Farewell! farewell! base world, farewell,"
In touching tones exclaimed a bell;
"Life is a boon to mortals given,
To fit the soul for bliss in heaven.
Do not invoke the avenging rod;
Come here, and learn the way to God.
Say to the world farewell! farewell!"
Pealed out the Presbyterian bell.

"In after life there is no hell,"
In rapture rang a cheerful bell;
"Look up to Heaven this holy day,
Where angels wait to lead the way.
There are no fires, no fiends to blight
The future life: be just and right.
No hell-no hell-no hell-no hell,"
Rang out the Universalist bell.

(pure.) "To all the truth we tell-we tell,"
Shouted, in ecstasies, a bell;

66 Come, all ye weary wanderers, see!
Our Lord has made salvation free.

(fast.) Repent! believe! have faith! and then

Be saved, and praise the Lord.
Salvation's free we tell-we tell,"
Shouted the Methodistic bell.

Amen.

THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP.

All is finished; and at length

Has come the bridal day

Of beauty and of strength.

LONGFELLOW.

To-day the vessel shall be launched!

With fleecy clouds the sky is blanched,
And o'er the bay,

Slowly, in all his splendors dight,

The great sun rises to behold the sight.

The ocean old-centuries old-
Strong as youth, and as uncontrolled,
Paces restless to and fro,

Up and down the sands of gold;
His beating heart is not at rest;

And far and wide,

With ceaseless flow,

His beard of snow

Heaves with the heaving of his breast.