but with the most admiring thoughts of Love Divine, how near I once was to eternal ruin! I once was poor, and.blind, and naked; cast out unto the loathing of my person, and lay polluted in my filth and blood; but oh! the abundant grace that found me in that wretched, sad condition, and yet to me made it a time of love, 'washed me from my filthiness, and purged me from my sin!' I once was nothing else but darkness; but, oh, miraculous and happy change! I now am full of light, and love, and joy: I once was poor and miserable, but now I am enriched with all that heaven can give or I receive: I once was naked and exposed to shame, but now I am adorned with robes of light and glory: I once was under sentence of eternal separation from the Divine Presence, but now I am possessed of God, my only life and joy, and supreme good. Oh, how transporting is the comparison of these so wide and contrary extremes! And oh, how pleasant is the bright day of eternity, after a night so dark and so tempestuous! How does a vivid sense of those past evils produce a far more lively feeling and fruition. of my happiness! This makes the everlasting hallelujahs, that I sing to my victorious Deliverer, more ravishing and more harmonious." Bunyan's "World to Come." An Artist's Farewell to Time. "It is a hard, hard struggle to think of resigning my beloved Art, when I have only just begun to see its beauties. But not my will, but thine, be done, O Lord! I humbly say." 66 Hamilton, the Young Artist." AREWELL, oh things of Time! I know a fairer clime, Where garlands wither not, nor tempests lower; Where springs are ever pure, Where joys for aye endure, And where the spectre Death hath no more power. My life ebbs out apace, But Thy sustaining grace, Buoys me above the languor of decay;— Serene I bide the hour, When by Thy mighty power, I'll soar into the realms of endless day. I poise my pinions for the sounding flight :— Haste to dissolve, ye bands; That bind me in the shades of nether night. In hoarse harmonious dirge, Life's solemn waters surge Upon the beach of Time with warning swell: Ye murmur through my sleep, And o'er my waking moments wield your spell! The preludes of the skies, In wondrous melodies, Float oft upon the air when shut the flowers; Comes mingling the sweet sound Earth lures but to betray, I thrust its toys away, Lo, waiting Thy glad coming, Son of God! When will the summons come That frees my soul exultant from this clod? Oh, hour of blest release! Oh, hour of perfect peace! When this heart shall cease to throb-these eyes to weep; When grief and pain are o'er, When anguish wounds no more, Nor the spirit needs these weary vigils keep. Aweary is this life; I, fevered in its strife, Do thirst to drink of founts that gush immortal; With songs of fervid love, I'd plume my course to seek the golden portal. My worshipped Art, in thee I sought felicity! And courted glory as the meed of toil; 1 reached to carve my name High on the shaft of Fame, Nor deemed stern Time my honors could despoil. Fancy's deluded child, Oft, oft in dreamings wild, I've dipped my pencil in each rainbow hue; The loveliest colors fade, By proudest genius laid, As fades the landscape 'neath the deepening blue. Ah, futile, vain endeavor! This heavenly essence never Can rest content with less than food eternal; Pictures and scenes divine, Through my rapt visions shine, And gleams of Art supreme-of skill supernal. In manhood's flush, I die, While summer flowerets lie Clustered around my falt'ring step and slow; Be shed above the bier Of one who then shall bliss celestial know. O God, my succor, stay! Not mine be done. These fluttering pulses calm: Ah, gently bow Thine ear, An earnest suppliant hear, And o'er a bruisèd heart pour out Thy balm. Soul, to thy rest return! The Resurrection morn Dawns o'er the grave, and radiates its gloom; O Flesh, in hope rejoice! Until th'archangel's voice Awake the slumbering dead, and burst the tomb! AUGUSTA BROWNE GARRETT. |