How sweet, while, waning fast away, The golden dawn above, my soul ! In ever-living love, my soul! The hour, the hour so pure and calm, ANONYMOUS, The Soul's Passing. T is ended! All is over! IT Lo! the weeping mourners come— Lips are pressed to the blessed Lips that evermore are dumb. Take her faded hand in thine Hand that no more answereth kindly; See the eyes that wont to shine, THE SOUL'S PASSING. Runs no more the circling river, Warming, brightening every part; Hope not answer to your praying! Something gentle, something fair, Mother! yes, you scarce would chide her While he proved her how he loved her Earthly father! weep not o'er her! Friend! he was a friend that found her Amid blessings poor and scant, With a wicked world around her, And within a heavenly want; Wings for which the weary pant. 449 Lover! yes, she loved thee dearly! Mourners all! have done with weeping! When he came and found her sleeping; "Wend with me across the river, "It is better, father, mother, Lover, friend, to leave behind; All their blessed loves and other, Come with me, and thou shalt find, Where thy spirit shall inherit Perfect love and perfect mind. "Love that is to mortals given THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL. 451 "See, I bring thee wings to bear thee, To the blessed angel-home; Dear ones dead forever near thee, "O'er the river!" Lo! she faltered, So she passed to Spirit-Land! CHARLES H. HITCHINGS. The Dying Christian to his Soul. Quit, O quit, this mortal frame! Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying-- And let me languish into life! Hark! they whisper: angels say, Sister spirit, come away ! What is this absorbs me quite, Steals my senses, shuts my sight, Drowns my spirit, draws my breath ? The world recedes-it disappears; Lend, lend your wings! I mount, I fly! O Grave! where is thy victory? O Death! where is thy sting? ALEXANDER POPE. Farewell Life, Welcome Life. FAREWELL Life! My senses swim, And the world is growing dim; Colder, colder, colder still, Welcome Life! the spirit strives! I smell the rose above the mould! THOMAS HOOD. Life's "Good-Morning." LIFE! we've been long together, Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear; Perhaps 't will cost a sigh, a tear; Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time; Say not Good-Night, but in some brighter clime Bid me Good-Morning. ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD. |