BOW, ANGELS, FROM YOUR GLORIOUS STATE.

B

OW, angels, from your glorious state,
If e'er on earth you trod,

And lead me through the golden gate
Of prayer, unto my God.

I long to gather from the Word
The meaning full and clear,
To build unto my gracious Lord
A tabernacle here.

Against my heart the tempests beat,

The snows are falling chill,
When shall I hear the voice so sweet,
Commanding, Peace, be still!

The angels said, God giveth you
His love-what more is ours?
Even as the cisterns of the dew

O'erflow upon the flowers,

His grace descends; and, as of old,
He walks with men apart,
Keeping the promise, as foretold,
With all the pure in heart.

ALICE CARY.

THE PURER PATH.

O bird-song floated down the hill,
The tangled bank below was still;

No rustle from the birchen stem,
No ripple from the water's hem.

The dusk of twilight round us grew,
We felt the falling of the dew;

Far from us, ere the day was done,
The wooded hills shut out the sun.

But on the river's farther side
We saw the hill-tops glorified,-

A tender glow, exceeding fair,
A dream of day without its glare.

With us the damp, the chill, the gloom: With them the sunset's rosy bloom;

While dark, through willowy vistas seen,
The river rolled in shade between.

From out the darkness where we trod
We gazed upon the hills of God,

Whose light seemed not of moon or sun.
We spake not, but our thought was one.

We paused as if from that bright shore
Beckoned our dear ones gone before;

And stilled our beating hearts to hear
The voices lost to mortal ear!

Sudden our pathway turned from night;
The hills swung open to the light;

Through their green gates the sunshine showed, A long, slant splendour downward flowed.

Down glade and glen and bank it rolled;
It bridged the shaded stream with gold;

And, borne on piers of mist, allied
The shadowy with the sunlit side!

"So," prayed we, "when our feet draw near The river, dark with mortal fear,

"And the night cometh chill with dew, O Father!-let Thy light break through!

"So let the hills of doubt divide,
So bridge with faith the sunless tide!

"So let the eyes that fail on earth On Thy eternal hills look forth;

"And in Thy beckoning angels know The dear ones whom we loved below!" JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.