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NON SINE DOLORE.

Back from the fruit; a sense of shining ones
Engirdling round, until his vision shuns

The awful splendor of that radiant whorl.

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And then a voice: These things wouldst thou explore?
Who drinks the pearl of life compounded so
Of love, and joy, and hope, and peace, and pain, –
All sweetest, saddest things that mortals know, -
Drinks to his own salvation; he shall gain

Life beyond life, and Death shall be no more.

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JOHN WHITE CHADWICK.

THE

WHEN HALF-GODS GO.

"HE gods man makes he breaks; proclaims them each

Immortal, and himself outlives them all:

But whom he set not up he cannot reach

To shake His cloud-dark, sun-bright pedestal.

WILLIAM Watson.

NON SINE DOLORE.

A SELECTION.

No passing burden is our earthly sorrow,

That shall depart in some mysterious morrow.

'Tis his one universe where'er we are,

One changeless law from sun to viewless star.

Were sorrow evil here, evil it were forever,

Beyond the scope and help of our most keen endeavor.

God doth not dote,

His everlasting purpose shall not fail.

Here where our ears are weary with the wail

And weeping of the sufferers; there where the Pleiads

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Here, there, forever, pain most dread and dire

Doth bring the intensest bliss, the dearest and most

sure.

'T is not from Life aside; it doth endure

Deep in the secret heart of all existence;
It is the inward fire,

The heavenly urge and the divine insistence.
Uplift thine eyes, O Questioner, from the sod!
It were no longer Life,

If ended were the strife;

Man were not man, God were not truly God.

RICHARD WATSON GILDER.

As

EASTER HYMN.

S, when the snow still on the bough is clinging,
And winter will not yet let go her hold,

Sudden we hear a bird returning singing,

And spring is come to chase away the cold;

As, when the clouds beneath the sun disparting –

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The million voices of the sod arise,

Into love's semblance and life's stature starting,

And lift their anthems to the bending skies, –

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THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY

ASTOR, LENOX TILDEN FOUNDATIONS

THE NEW SINAI.

So may we, Father, through this time of waiting,
Our spirits for thy coming have prepared,

That every aim unto our life relating

Shall find fruition in thy will declared.

Lift us and light us on our way, that, casting
Each burden, doubt, and fear before thy feet,
We may go on in progress everlasting

Into communion perfect and complete.

And then, what though the winter's pall be o'er us,
What though the icy touch of death be near,

The gate of life lies open there before us,
And thou, O God, in all thy love art here.

ΙΟΙ

MERLE ST. CROIX WRIGHT.

THE NEW SINAI.

S there no prophet-soul the while

Is

To dare, sublimely meek,

Within the shroud of blackest cloud

The Deity to seek?

'Midst atheistic systems dark,

And darker hearts' despair,

That soul has heard perchance His word,

And on the dusky air

His skirts, as passed He by, to see

Hath strained on their behalf,

Who on the plain, with dance amain,
Adore the Golden Calf.

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