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So I'm watching aye an' singing o' my hame as I wait,
But lying darkly between,
Winding down through the night,
That leads at last to the light.
Closer and closer my steps
Come to the dread abysm;
Closer Death to my lips
Presses the awful chrism.
Father, perfect my trust!
Strengthen my feeble faith!
Let me feel as I would, when I stand
THE GENIUS OF DEATH.
Feel as I would, when my feet
The Genius of Death.
HAT is Death? 't is to be free!
No more to love or hope or fear
To join the great equality:
All alike are humbled here!
The mighty grave
Wraps lord and slave :
Nor pride nor poverty dares come
Spirit with the drooping wing,
And the ever-weeping eye,
Thou of all earth's kings art King!
Beneath thee strewed
Sink like waves upon the shore :
Storms shall never rouse them more !
What's the grandeur of the earth
To the grandeur round thy throne?
Riches, glory, beauty, birth,
To thy kingdom all have gone.
Before thee stand
The wondrous band,
Bards, heroes, sages, side by side,
Who darkened nations when they died!
Earth hath hosts; but thou canst show
No step has come;
There fixed, till the last thunder's sound
ARTH to earth, and dust to dust!"
Here the youthful and the old,
Here the sword and scepetr rust
"Earth to earth, and dust to dust!"
Age on age shall roll along
O'er this pale and mighty throng;
Song of peace, or battle's roar
Ne'er shall break their slumbers more;
But a day is coming fast
Earth, thy mightiest and thy last!
It shall come in fear and wonder,
Then shall come the judgment sign;
Heaven shall open on thy sight,
Then thy mount, Jerusalem,
To the Southern Cross.
WEET Empress of the Southern sea,
Thou gazest mournfully on me,
As mindful we have met before!
When first I saw the Polar Star
Go down behind the silver sea, And greeted thy mild light from far, I did not know its mystery.
My Polar Star was by my side,
The star of hope was on my brow; I've lost them both beneath the tideThe cross alone is left me now.
Not such as thou, sweet Thing of stars,
Yet something from those soft, warm skies
And gazing in thy tender eyes,
The symbol brightens on my breast.
I read at last the mystery
That slumbers in each starry gem;
The weary pathway to the sky—
The iron cross-the diadem.
EMILY C. JUDSON.