The Year.

IN childhood, when, with eager eyes, the season-measured year I viewed, all, garbed in fairy guise,

pledged constancy of good.

spring sang of heaven; the summer flowers let me gaze on, and did not fade; even suns o'er autumn's bowers

heard my strong wish, and stayed.

they came and went, the short-lived four;
yet, as their varying dance they wove,
to my young heart each bore
its own sure claim of love.

far different now!-the whirling year
vainly my dizzy eyes pursue,
and its fair tints appear

all blent in one dusk hue.

why dwell on rich autumnal lights, spring-time, or winter's social ring? long days are fireside nights, brown autumn is fresh spring.

then what this world to thee, my heart? its gifts nor feed thee nor can bless : thou hast no owner's part

in all its fleetingness.

the flame, the storm, the quaking ground, earth's joy, earth's terror, nought is thine; thou must but hear the sound

of the still voice divine.

o princely lot!-o blissful art!

e'en while by sense of change opprest,

thus to forecast in heart

heaven's age of fearless rest.

LYRA APOSTOLICA.

In se sua per uestigia uoluitur Annus. ANNVM temporibus dispositum suis dum miror cupido lumine paruulus, sponderi mihi uisa est

mansuri series boni.

uer caeli cecinit gaudia; non Canis
aestatis roseum praeripuit decus:
nec sol ipse rogatas
inuidit foliis moras.

uenerunt Charites quattuor et uice
discessere cita: sed puero breues
saltus inter amoris

pignus quaeque tulit suum.

ut uersa est species! ut rapidum sequor annum uix oculis deficientibus !

pallet, praeterit omnis

subsidens tenebris color.

autumnale iubar quid morer, aut opes
uernas, aut hiemis concilia et choros?
nil Octobribus horis
Maiae, nil breuior dies

longo discrepat. o pars melior mei,
quo te terra beat munere, quo cibo
pascit? num fugitiui

menses te dominam uocant?

tempestas, tonitrus, flamma, tremor soli, terrarum timor et gaudia, nil tuum : obseruanda tibi una est

magni uox tenuis Dei.

o regum mihi sors sorte beatior,

dum motus quatiunt, dumque metus, metu sic motuque uacantem

praesensisse animo polum !

A Hymn for all Nations.

A. D. MDCCCLI.

GLORIOUS God, on Thee we call,
Father, Friend, and Judge of all,
holy Saviour, heavenly King,
homage to thy throne we bring.

in the wonders all around
ever is thy Spirit found,
and of each good thing we see
all the good is born of Thee.

thine the beauteous skill that lurks
everywhere in Nature's works;
thine is Art with all its worth,
thine each masterpiece on earth.

yea, and foremost in the van
springs from Thee the mind of man :
on its light, for this is thine,
shed abroad the love divine.

lo, our God, thy children here
from all realms are gathered near,
wisely gathered, gathering still,

for peace on earth, towards men goodwill.

may we with fraternal mind

bless our brothers of mankind:

may we, through redeeming love,

be the blest of God above.

TUPPER.

In vain do they worship Me.

MEN will write for religion, fight for it, die for it; anything but live for it.

COLTON.

Ἐκ Θεοῦ ἀρχώμεσθα.

Σέ τοι σεβίζομεν λιταῖς,
μέγιστε Θεός, πάντων Πάτερ,
Σῶτέρ τ' "Αναξ τε καὶ Κριτά,
σὰ προσκυνοῦντες ἕδρανα.

πάντων ὅσ ̓ ἔστι θαυμάτων
σὸν Πνεῦμ ̓ ἐπίστροφον πέλει,
πάντων δ ̓ ὅσ ̓ ἔστι φερτάτων
ἐκ Σοῦ πέφυκε τἀγαθόν.

σῆς ἐστι δημιουργίας
ἡ πᾶσα πανταχοῦ φύσις,
καὶ πάνθ ̓ ἃ καλλιστεύεται
δαιδάλματ ̓ ἐντίμου τέχνης.

κἀν τοῖς γε πρῶτον ἐκ Σέθεν
γεγᾶσιν ἀνθρώπων φρένες,
ἃς νῦν θεοσσύτου φάους
ἀκτῖνι θέλξον ἠπίᾳ.

ῥεῖ δεύρο, δεύρ' ἀεί, Θεός,
σὴ γέννα πάμφυλος λεώς,
πνέοντες εἰρήνην χθονί,
πνέοντες εὔνοιαν βροτοῖς.

ἡμεῖς δὲ συγγόνῳ φρενὶ
θνητοὺς δεδεγμένοι κάσεις
δεχοίμεθ ̓ ἄφθιτον βίον
διδόντος ἐν τέλει Θεοῦ.

Imbellis iuuentus.

SCRIBERE, Religio, pro te, pugnare, perire possumus: at tibi qui uiuere possit, ubi est?

Psalm XXIII.

My shepherd is the Lord; no care or craving want I know:

in pastures green He feeds me, where
the soothing waters flow :

He calls my wandering spirit back
from paths of sin and shame,
and leads me in the righteous track,
so holy is his Name.

I fear no evil, though my way
through death's dark valley lie;
thy rod and staff are all my stay;
thy guiding hand is nigh:

thy table for my feast is spread

in sight of all my foes;

thy cheerful oil anoints my head,

my cup of joy o'erflows.

still with thy love and goodness blest,
till life's last days are o'er,
within thy dwelling I shall rest,

o Lord, for evermore.

The Grace of God.

THE misty clouds that fall sometime

and overcast the skies

are like to troubles of our time, which do but dim our eyes.

but as such dews are dried up quite

when Phoebus shews his face,

so are sad fancies put to flight when God doth guide by grace.

GASCOIGNE