In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion,
By guardian angels led,

Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution,
She lives, whom we call dead.

Day after day we think what she is doing
In those bright realms of air;

Year after year, her tender steps pursuing,
Behold her grown more fair.

Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken
The bond which Nature gives,

Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken,
May reach her where she lives.

Not as a child shall we again behold her;
For when with raptures wild

In our embraces we again enfold her,
She will not be a child;

But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion,
Clothed with celestial grace;

And beautiful with all the soul's expansion
Shall we behold her face.

And though at times impetuous with emotion
And anguish long suppressed,

The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean,
That cannot be at rest,—

We will be patient, and assuage the feeling

We may not wholly stay;

By silence sanctifying, not concealing,

The grief that must have way.

HYMN FOR MY BROTHER'S ORDINATION

'HRIST to the young man said: 'Yet one thing

CH

more:

If thou wouldst perfect be,

Sell all thou hast and give it to the poor,

And come and follow Me!'

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

35

35

ithin this temple Christ again, unseen,
Those sacred words hath said,

d His invisible hands to-day have been
Laid on a young man's head.

d evermore beside him on his way
The unseen Christ shall move,

at he may lean upon His arm and say,
'Dost Thou, dear Lord, approve ? '
:side him at the marriage-feast shall be,
To make the scene more fair;
eside him in the dark Gethsemane
Of pain and midnight prayer.

holy trust! O endless sense of rest!
Like the beloved John

o lay his head upon the Saviour's breast,
And thus to journey on!

NATURE

S a fond mother, when the day is o'er,

As

Leads by the hand her little child to bed,

Half willing, half reluctant to be led,

And leave his broken playthings on the floor,

Still gazing at them through the open door,
Nor wholly reassured and comforted

By promises of others in their stead,

Which, though more splendid, may not please him more;

So Nature deals with us, and takes away

Our playthings one by one, and by the hand

Leads us to rest so gently, that we go

Scarce knowing if we wished to go or stay,

Being too full of sleep to understand

How far the unknown transcends the what we know.

THE CHAMBER OVER THE GATE

IS it so far from thee

Thou canst no longer see,

In the Chamber over the Gate,
That old man desolate,

Weeping and wailing sore
For his son, who is no more?
O Absalom, my son!

Is it so long ago

That cry of human woe
From the walled city came,
Calling on his dear name,
That it has died away
In the distance of to-day?
O Absalom, my son!

There is no far nor near,

There is neither there nor here,
There is neither soon nor late,
In that Chamber over the Gate,
Nor any long ago

To that cry of human woe,
O Absalom, my son!

From the ages that are past
The voice sounds like a blast,

Over seas that wreck and drown,
Over tumult of traffic and town;
And from ages yet to be
Come the echoes back to me,
O Absalom, my son!

Somewhere at every hour
The watchman on the tower
Looks forth, and sees the fleet
Approach of the hurrying feet
Of messengers, that bear
The tidings of despair.

O Absalom, my son!

He goes forth from the door,
Who shall return no more.
With him our joy departs;

The light goes out in our hearts;
In the Chamber over the Gate
We sit disconsolate.

O Absalom, my son!

That 'tis a common grief
Bringeth but slight relief;
Ours is the bitterest loss,
Ours is the heaviest cross;
And for ever the cry will be,
'Would God I had died for thee,
O Absalom, my son!'

THO

Sarah Elizabeth Miles

LOOKING UNTO JESUS

HOU who didst stoop below
To drain the cup of woe,

Wearing the form of frail mortality;

Thy blessed labors done,

Thy crown of victory won,

Hast passed from earth, passed to Thy home on high.

Our eyes behold Thee not,
Yet hast Thou not forgot

Those who have placed their hope, their trust in Thee; Before Thy Father's face

Thou hast prepared a place,

That where Thou art, there they may also be.

It was no path of flowers,
Which, through this world of ours,
Beloved of the Father, Thou didst tread;
And shall we in dismay

Shrink from the narrow way,

When clouds and darkness are around it spread?

O Thou, who art our life,

Be with us through the strife ;

Thy holy head by earth's fierce storms was bowed: Raise Thou our eyes above,

To see a Father's love

Beam, like the bow of promise, thro' the cloud.

And O, if thoughts of gloom
Should hover o'er the tomb,

That light of love our guiding star shall be:
Our spirits shall not dread

The shadowy path to tread,

Friend, Guardian, Saviour, which doth lead to Thee.

Nathaniel Parker Willis

DEDICATION HYMN

Tap first temple-built by God;
HE perfect world by Adam trod

His fiat laid the corner-stone,
And heaved its pillars one by one.

He hung its starry roof on high-
The broad illimitable sky;

He spread its pavement green and bright,
And curtain'd it with morning light.

The mountains in their places stood-
The sea-the sky-and all was good';
And when its first pure praises rang,
The 'morning stars together sang.'

Lord! 'tis not ours to make the sea
And earth and sky a house for Thee;
But in Thy sight our offering stands-
A humbler temple, 'made with hands.'

Ray Palmer

FAITH

'Behold the Lamb of God.'-John i. 29.

MYThou Lamb of Calvary

Y faith looks up to Thee,

Saviour divine :