Is it the kiss of Peace and Righteousness,

That softly thrills the husht, grim silence through, Or Battle's bugle-cry that makes us press

All sail-send up our brave old bit of blue?

We know not. But, if foot to foot we stand,
On slippery boarding-plank, or ruddied sward,
'T will be the sturdier stroke for this dear Land
That holds another noble grave to guard.

And all is well that makes a People one,

Even though the meeting-place be Albert's tomb: We gather grapes of joy up in the sun,

But God's best wine must ripen in the gloom.

Many true hearts have moulder'd down to enrich
The roots of England's greatness underground;
Until, below, as wide and strong they stretch,
As overhead the branches reach around.

And so our England's glory ever grows,
And so her stature rises ever higher,
Until the faces of her farthest foes

Darken with envy, overshadow'd by her.

So climb the heavens, Old Tree, until the gold
Stars glisten as thy fruitage-heave thy breast
Yet broader, till the fiercest storms shall fold

Their wings within thy shelter and find rest.

Resignation.

9

H. Wadsworth Longfellow.

RESIGNATION.

THERE is no flock, however watch'd and tended,

But one dead lamb is there!

There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended,

But has one vacant chair!

The air is full of farewells to the dying,
And mournings for the dead;

The heart of Rachel, for her children crying,

Will not be comforted!

Let us be patient! These severe afflictions

Not from the ground arise,

But oftentimes celestial benedictions

Assume this dark disguise.

We see but dimly through the mists and vapours;

Amid these earthly damps,

What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers,

May be heaven's distant lamps.

There is no Death!

What seems so is transition;

This life of mortal breath

Is but a suburb of the life Elysian,

Whose portal we call Death.

She is not dead,—the child of our affection,
But gone unto that school

Where she no longer needs our poor protection,
And Christ himself doth rule.

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;

A Psalm of Life.

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 suppress'd,

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.

II

A PSALM OF LIFE.

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
"Life is but an empty dream!"
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal;
"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, act in the living Present!
Heart within and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time ;-

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.