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"CAN FIND OUT GOD?"
If vexing thoughts within me rise,
When sorrowing o'er some stone I bend,
And oh, when I have safely past
SIR ROBERT Grant.
Can find out God?"
CANNOT find thee!
Still on restless pinion My spirit beats the void where thou dost dwell: I wander lost through all thy vast dominion,
And shrink beneath thy Light ineffable.
I cannot find thee! Even when, most adoring,
Yet high above the limits of my seeing,
I cannot lose thee! Still in thee abiding,
WE will not weep: for God is standing by us,
And tears will blind us to the blessed sight: We will not doubt, if darkness still doth try us, Our souls have promise of serenest light.
We will not faint, if heavy burdens bind us,
O not in doubt shall be our journey's ending;
Help us, O Father! when the world is pressing
W. H. HURLBURT.
ROM the eternal shadow rounding
Bid us be of heart and cheer,
Through the silence, down the spaces, falling on the inward
Know we not our dead are looking
All our strife of words rebuking
With their mild and earnest eyes?
Shall we grieve the holy angels, shall we cloud their blessed
Let us draw their mantles o'er us,
Let us do the work before us
Calmly, bravely, while we may,
Ere the long night-silence cometh, and with us it is not day!
JOHN G. WHITTIER.
Dum vivimus, vivamus.”
"LIVE while you live!" the epicure would say,
"And seize the pleasures of the present day!" "Live while you live!" the sacred Preacher cries, "And give to God each moment as it flies !" Lord, in my view let both united be, I live in pleasure while I live to thee.
MARTHA, THY MAIDEN FOOT.
MARTHA, thy maiden foot is still so light
It leaves no legible trace on virgin snows:
In duty's path, from happy morn to night,
For too much haste to show her eager love:
The Chambered Nautilus.
HIS is the ship of pearl which, poets feign,
On the sweet summer wind its purple wings
Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.
THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS.
Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl:
Where its dim-dreaming life was wont to dwell,
Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed.
Year after year beheld the silent toil
He left the past year's dwelling for the new,
Stole with soft step its shining archway through,
Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.
Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee,
Cast from her lap, forlorn!
From thy dead lips a clearer note is born
Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn!
While on mine ear it rings,
Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:
Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,
Leave thy low-vaulted past!
Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
Shut thee from heaven with a doom more vast,
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!
OLIVER W. HOLMES.