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TO AN EARLY FRIEND.
I CANNOT think that thou shouldst pass away,
A piece of nature that can have no flaw,
The debt of Love I will more fully pay,
Not downcast with the thought of thee so high,
And more divine in my humanity,
As knowing that the waiting eyes which scan
My life, are lighted by a purer being,
And ask meek, calm-browed deeds, with it agreeing.
WHERE is the true man's fatherland?
Is it alone where freedom is,
Where God is God, and man is man?
As the blue heaven, wide and free!
Where'er a human heart doth wear
Joy's myrtle-wreath, or sorrow's gyves,
After a life more true and fair,
There is the true man's birth-place grand,
Where'er a single slave doth pine,
Where'er one man may help another-
SLOWLY and softly let the music go,
As ye wind upwards to the gray church-tower;
Look forth: 'tis said the world is growing old
And streaks of orient light in Time's horizon play.
Rise, said the Master, come unto the feast:-
For such a bidding to put on her best,
She is gone from us for a few short hours
For the unfolding of the palace gate
That gives her entrance to the blissful bowers.
We have not seen her yet; though we have been
Full often to her chamber door, and oft
Have listened underneath the postern green,
And laid fresh flowers, and whispered short and soft: But she hath made no answer, and the day
From the clear west is fading fast away.
HYMN FOR ALL SAINTS' DAY.
STAND up before your God,
You army bold and bright,
Saints, martyrs, and confessors,
In your robes of white;
The church below doth challenge you
To an act of praise,
Ready with mirth in all the earth
Stand up before your God,
In beautiful array,
Make ready all your instruments
The while we mourn and pray,
For we must stay to mourn and pray;
Some prelude to our song,
For the fear of death has clogged our breath, And our foes are swift and strong.
But ye before your God
Are hushed from all alarm,
Out through the grave and gate of death
Stand up before your God,
Although we cannot hear
The new song he hath taught you
With our fleshly ear;
Yet still we burn that hymn to learn,
And from the church below.
Even while we sing, on heavenward wing,
Some happy souls shall go.
Ye are before your God,
But we press onward still,
The soldiers of his army,
The servants of his will;
For ages long we've been,
But our dearest theme, and our fondest dream,
Is the home we have never seen
We soon shall see our God,
The hour is waxing on,
The dayspring from on high has risen,
And it shall have its doom;
The church on earth are few in birth,
BEAUTY IN DEATH.
STILL as a moonlight ruin is thy form,
Or meekness of carved marble, that hath prayed
As some fair vessel that hath braved the storm
YES, we shall meet again, my cherished friend;
Not in the beautiful autumnal bowers,