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"Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee."

"Rock of Ages, cleft for me"—

'Twas a woman sang them now, Rose the song as storm-tossed bird Beats with weary wing the air, Every note with sorrow stirred— Every syllable a prayer— "Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee."

"Rock of Ages, cleft for me"

Lips grown aged sung the hymn Trustingly and tenderly

Voice grown weak and eyes grown dim.

"Let me hide myself in Thee."

Trembling though the voice and low, Ran the sweet strain peacefully,

Like a river in its flow,

Sung as only they can sing

Who life's thorny paths have pressed;

Sung as only they can sing

Who behold the promised rest

"Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in Thee."

"Rock of Ages, cleft for me."

Sang above a coffin lid; Underneath, all restfully,

All life's joys and sorrows hid.

H

Nevermore, O storm-tossed soul!

Nevermore from wind or tide,
Nevermore from billows' roll,
Wilt thou need to hide.
Could the sightless, sunken eyes,
Closed beneath the soft gray hair,
Could the mute and stiffened lips
Move again in pleading prayer.
Still, aye, still the words would be
"Let me hide myself in Thee."

"Waiting for Mother."

HE old man sits in his easy chair Slumbering the moments away, Dreaming a dream that is all his own On this gladsome, peaceful day.

His children have gathered from far and near, His children's children beside

And merry voices are echoing through

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But far away in the years long flown,

Grandfather lives again;

And his heart forgets that it ever knew

A shadow of grief and pain;

For he sees his wife as he saw her then

A matron comely and fair,

With her children gathered around his board

And never a vacant chair.

Oh! happy this dream of the "Auld Lang Syne,"
Of the years long slipped away!

And the old man's lips have gathered a smile
And his heart grows young and gay.
But a kiss falls gently upon his brow,
From his daughter's lips so true;
"Dinner is ready; and, father, dear,
We are only waiting for you!"

The old man wakes at his daughter's call,
And he looks at the table near-

"There's one of us missing, my child," he says, "We will wait till mother is here."

There are tears in the eyes of his children, then,
As they gaze on an empty chair;

For many a lonely year has passed
Since "mother" sat with them there.

But the old man pleads still wistfully;
"We must wait for mother, you know!"
And they let him rest in his old arm-chair
Till the sun at last sinks low.

Then, leaving a smile for the children here,
He turns from the earth away,

And has gone to "mother," beyond the skies,
With the close of the quiet day.

7

Thought.

HOUGHT is deeper than all speech,
Feeling deeper than all thought;

Souls to souls can never teach

What unto themselves was taught.

We are spirits clad in veils;

Man by man was never seen;
All our deep communing fails
To remove the shadowy screen.

Heart to heart was never known;
Mind with mind did never meet;
We are columns left alone

Of a temple once complete.

Like the stars that gem the sky,

Far apart, though seeming near,

In our light we scattered lie;

All is thus but starlight here.

What is social company

But a babbling Summer stream?

What our wise philosophy

But the glancing of a dream?

Only when the sun of love

Melts the scattered stars of thought,—

Only when we live above

What the dim-eyed world has taught,

Only when our souls are fed

By the fount which gave them birth, And by inspiration led

Which they never drew from earth,—

We, like parted drops of rain,

Swelling till they meet and run, Shall be all absorbed again,

Melting, flowing into one.

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