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HERE are the swallows fled ?

Frozen and dead,
Perchance, upon some bleak and frozen shore.

O doubting heart!
Far over purple seas,
They wait in sunny ease

The balmy southern breeze
To bring them to their northern home once more,

Why must the flowers die ?

Prisoned they lie
In the cold tomb, heedless of tears or rain.

O doubting heart !
They only sleep below
The soft white ermine snow,

While winter winds shall blow,
To breathe and smile upon you soon again.

The sun has hid his

These many days:
Will dreary hours never leave the earth ?

O doubting heart !
The stormy clouds on high
Veil the same sunny sky

That soon (for Spring is nigh)
Shall wake the Summer into golden mirth.

Fair hope is dead, and light

Is quenched in night.
What sound can break the silence of despair?

O doubting heart!
Thy sky is overcast;
Yet stars shall rise at last,

Brighter for darkness past,
And angels' silver voices stir the air.

Adelaide A. Procter.



THANK thee, O my God! who made

The earth so bright,
So full of splendor and of joy,

Beauty and light;
So many glorious things are here,

Noble and right!

I thank thee, too, that thou hast made

Joy to abound;
So many gentle thoughts and deeds

Circling us round,
That, in the darkest spot on earth,

Some love is found.

I thank thee more that all our joy

Is touched with pain;

That shadows fall on brightest hours;

That thorns remain ;
So that earth’s bliss may be our guide,

And not our chain.

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For thou who knowest, Lord, how soon

Our weak heart clings,
Hast given us joys tender and true,

Yet all with wings;
So that we see gleaming on high

Diviner things.

I thank thee, Lord, that thou hast kept

The best in store :
We have enough, yet not too much

To long for more,
A yearning for a deeper peace

Not known before.

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I thank thee, Lord, that here our souls,

Though amply blest,
Can never find, although they seek,

A perfect rest;
Nor ever shall, until they lean.
On Jesus' breast.

Adelaide A. Procter.



NE by one the sands are flowing,

One by one the moments fall : Some are coming, some are going ;

Do not strive to grasp them all.

One by one thy duties wait thee;

Let thy whole strength go to each: Let no future dreams elate thee ;

Learn thou first what these can teach.

One by one, bright gifts from heaven,

Joys are lent thee here below: Take them readily when given;

Ready, too, to let them go.

One by one thy griefs shall meet thee:

Do not fear an armèd band;
One will fade as others greet thee,

Shadows passing through the land.

Do not look at life's long sorrow;

See how small each moment's pain : God will help thee for to-morrow;

To each day begin again.

Every hour that fleets so slowly

Has its task to do or bear: Luminous the crown, and holy,

If thou set each gem with care.

Do not linger with regretting,.

Or for passing hours despond; Nor, the daily toil forgetting,

Look too eagerly beyond.

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Hours are golden links, God's token,

Reaching heaven; but one by one Take them, lest the chain be broken Ere the pilgrimage be done.

Adelaide A. Procter.

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