SHALL I FEAR, O EARTH, THY BOSOM? 387

Unto Death, to whom monarchs must bow? Ah no! for his empire is known,

And here there are trophies enow!

Beneath, the cold dead, and around, the dark stone,
Are the signs of a scepter that none may disown.

The first tabernacle to Hope we will build, And look for the sleepers around us to rise.

The second to Faith, that insures it fulfilled; And the third to the Lamb of the great sacrifice, Who bequeathed us them both when he rose to the skies. HERBERT KNOWLES.

Shall I Fear, O Earth, thy Bosom?

S

HALL I fear, O earth, thy bosom?
Shrink and faint to lay me there,
Whence the fragrant lovely blossom
Springs to gladden earth and air?

Whence the tree, the brook, the river,
Soft clouds floating in the sky,
All fair things come, whispering ever
Of the love divine on high?

Yea, whence One arose victorious
O'er the darkness of the grave,
His strong arm revealing, glorious
In its might divine to save?

No, fair Earth! a tender mother
Thou hast been, and yet canst be ;
And through him, my Lord and Brother,
Sweet shall be my rest in thee!

THOMAS DAVIS.

"My Times are in Thy Hand."

Psalm xxxi. 15.

FATHER, I know that all my life

Is portioned out for me:

And the changes that are sure to come

I do not fear to see;

But I ask thee for a present mind
Intent on pleasing thee.

I ask thee for a thankful love,
Through constant watching wise,
To greet the glad with joyful smiles,
And to wipe the weeping eyes;
And a heart at leisure from itself,
To soothe and sympathize.

I would not have the restless will
That hurries to and fro,
Seeking for some great thing to do,
Or secret thing to know;

I would be treated as a child,
And guided where I go.

Wherever in the world I am,
In whatsoe'er estate,

I have a fellowship with hearts,
To keep and cultivate;
And a lowly work of love to do,
For the Lord on whom I wait.

So I ask thee for the daily strength,
To none that ask denied ;

And a mind to blend with outward things

While keeping at thy side;

Content to fill a little space,

If thou be glorified.

A STRIP OF BLUE.

And if some things I do not ask,
In my cup of blessing be,

I would have my spirit filled the more
With grateful love to thee—

More careful than to serve thee much
To please thee perfectly.

There are briers besetting every path,
That call for patient care;
There is a crook in every lot,

And an earnest need for prayer;
But a lowly heart that leans on thee,
Is happy everywhere.

In a service that thy love appoints
There are no bonds for me,

For my secret heart has learned the truth
That makes thy children free;
And a life of self-renouncing love

Is a life of liberty.

I

ANONYMOUS.

A Strip of Blue.

Do not own an inch of land,
But all I see is mine-

The orchard and the mowing-fields,
The lawns and gardens fine.
The winds my tax-collectors are,

They bring me tithes divine-
Wild scents and subtle essences,
A tribute rare and free:
And more magnificent than all,
My window keeps for me
A glimpse of blue immensity-
A little strip of sea.

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Richer am I than he who owns
Great fleets and argosies;
I have a share in every ship
Won by the inland breeze
To loiter on yon airy road
Above the apple-trees.

I freight them with my untold dreams,
Each bears my own picked crew;

And nobler cargoes wait for them

Than ever India knew--

My ships that sail into the East
Across that outlet blue.

Sometimes they seem like living shapesThe people of the sky

Guests in white raiment coming down
From Heaven, which is close by:

I call them by familiar names,
As one by one draws nigh,
So white, so light, so spirit-like,

From violet mists they bloom!
The aching wastes of the unknown
Are half reclaimed from gloom,
Since on life's hospitable sea

All souls find sailing room.

The ocean grows a weariness

With nothing else in sight;
Its east and west, its north and south,
Spread out from morn to night:
We miss the warm, caressing shore,
Its brooding shade and light.
A part is greater than the whole;
By hints are mysteries told;
The fringes of eternity-

God's sweeping garment-fold,
In that bright shred of glimmering sea,
I reach out for, and hold.

THE CLOSING SCENE.

The sails, like flakes of roseate pearl,
Float in upon the mist;

The waves are broken precious stones—
Sapphire and amethyst

Washed from celestial basement walls
By suns unsetting kissed.

Out through the utmost gates of space,
Past where the gay stars drift,
To the widening Infinite, my soul
Glides on a vessel swift;

Yet loses not her anchorage
In yonder azure rift.

Here sit I, as a little child:

The threshold of God's door

Is that clear band of chrysoprase ;
Now the vast temple floor,
The blinding glory of the dome
I bow my head before:
The universe, O God, is home,
In height or depth to me;
Yet here upon thy footstool green
Content am I to be;

Glad when is opened to my need
Some sea-like glimpse of thee.

LUCY LARCOM.

The Closing Scene.

ITHIN the sober realms of leafless trees The russet year inhaled the dreamy air; Like some tanned reaper in his hours of ease,

W

When all the fields are lying brown and bare.

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