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THE soul is better than its frame,
The spirit than its temple. What's the brow,
Or colour, but the beautiful links that chain
Touches it cunningly. It sleeps beneath
Is an invisible and hidden thing
But when the lip is faded, and the cheek
Is robbed of its rich bloom; and when the form
Delights the eye no more, and human love
Stealing anew the affections.
RELIANCE ON GOD'S PROMISES.
"As thy day, so shall thy strength be."
WHEN adverse winds and waves arise,
When with sad footsteps memory roves
One trial more must yet be passed,
One pang-the keenest and the last;
L. H. SIGOURNEY.
HYMN TO THE STARS.
Ay, there ye shine, and there have shone,
Each rolling burningly, alone,
Through boundless space and countless time. Ay, there ye shine! the golden dews
That pave the realms by seraphs trod, There, through yon echoing vault diffuse' The song of choral worlds to God.
Ye visible spirits! bright as erst
Yet sparkling from the hand Divine;
The music of a sphere so fair,
Gold frets to dust-yet there ye are ;
Could man but see what ye have seen,
From all that is, to what has been,
The glance how rich! the range how vast!
The birth of time, the rise, the fall
Of empires, myriads, ages flown; Thrones, cities, tongues, arts, worships-all The things whose echoes are not gone.
Ye saw rapt Zoroaster send
His soul into your mystic reign; Ye saw the adoring Sabian bend
The living hills his mighty fane! Beneath his blue and beaming sky,
He worshipped at your lofty shrine, And deemed he saw, with gifted eye, The Godhead in his works divine.
And there ye shine, as if to mock
The children of a mortal sire. The storm, the bolt, the earthquake's shock,
The red volcano's cataract fire,
Drought, famine, plague, and blood, and flame,
Ay, there ye roll-emblems sublime
Of Him whose spirit o'er us moves, Beyond the clouds of grief and crime, Still shining on the world he loves: Nor is one view to mortals given
That more divides the soul and sod, Than yon proud heraldry of heavenYon burning blazonry of God!