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Warm with a rapture not its own,

The heart of woman feels ! As she who by Samaria's wall

The Saviour's errand soughtAs those who with the fervent Paul

And meek Aquila wrought :

Or those meek ones whose martyrdom

Rome's gathered grandeur saw: Or those who in their Alpine home

Braved the Crusader's war,
When the green Vaudois, trembling, heard.

Through all its vales of death,
The martyr's song of triumph poured

From woman's failing breath.
And gently, by a thousand things

Which o'er our spirits pass,
Like breezes o'er the harp's fine strings,

Or vapors o'er a glass,
Leaving their token strange and new

Of music or of shade,
The summons to the right and true

And merciful is made.

Oh, then, if gleams of truth and light

Flash o'er thy waiting mind, Unfolding to thy mental sight

The wants of human kind;
If brooding over human grief,

The earnest wish is known
To soothe and gladden with relief

An anguish not thine own;
Though heralded with nought of fear,

Or outward sign or show :
Though only to the inward ear
It whispers soft and low;

Though dropping, as the manna fell,

Unseen, yet from above,
Noiseless as dew-fall, heed it well-

Thy Father's call of love !


Stand still, my soul, the silent dark

I would question thee,
Alone in the shadow drear and stark

With God and me!

What, my soul, was thy errand here?

Was it mirth or ease,
Or heaping up dust from year to year?

“Nay, none of these ?”

Speak, soul, aright in his holy sight

Whose eye looks still
And steadily on thee through the night:

6. To do his will !”

What hast thou done, oh soul of mine,

That thou tremblest so ? Hast thou wrought his task, and kept the line

He bade thee go ?

What, silent all !-art sad of cheer ?

Art fearful now ? When God seemed far and meu were near

How brave wert thou ?

Aha! tlou tremblest !well I see

Thou’rt craven grown.
Is it so hard with God and me

To stand alone ?

Summon thy sunshine bravery back

Oh, wretched sprite!
Let me hear thy voice through this deep and black

Abysmal night.
What hast thou wrought for Right and Truth,

For God and Man,
From the golden hours of bright-eyed youth
To life's mid



Ah, soul of mine, thy tones I hear,

But weak and low,
Like far sad murmurs on my ear

They come and go.

“ I have wrestled stoutly with the Wrong,

And borne the Right
From beneath the footfall of the throng

To life and light.

“ Wherever Freedom shivered a chain,

God speed, quoth I;
To Error amidst her shouting train


gave the lie.”

Ah, soul of mine! ah, soul of mine!

Thy deeds are well : Were they wrought for Truth's sake or for thine ? My soul, pray

Of all the work my hand hath wrought

Beneath the sky,
Save a place in kindly human thought,

No gain have I.”

Go to, go to !—for thy very self

Thy deeds were done:
Thou for fame, the miser for pelf,

Your end is one!



And where art thou going, soul of mine ?

Canst see the end ?
And whither this troubled life of thine

Evermore doth tend ?

What daunts thee now ?-what shakes thee 30 ?

My sad soul say. " I see a cloud like a curtain low

Hang o'er my way.
“Whither I go I cannot tell:

That cloud hangs black,
High as the heaven and deep as hell,

Across my track.

“I see its shadow coldly enwrap

The souls before.
Sadly they enter it, step by step,

To return no more.

They shrink, they shudder, dear God! they kneel,

To thee in prayer.

They shut their eyes on the cloud, but feel

That it still is there.

“ In vain they turn from the dread Before

To the Known and Gone;
For while gazing behind them evermore

Their feet glide on.

“Yet, at times, I see upon sweet pale faces

Á light begin
To tremble, as if from holy places

And shrines within.

" And at times methinks their cold lips move

With hymn and prayer,
As if somewhat of awe. but more of love

And hope were there.

“ I call on the souls who have left the light

To reveal their lot;
I bend mine ear to that wall of night,

And they answer not.
" But I hear around me sighs of pain

And the cry of fear,
And a sound like the slow sad dropping of rain,

Each drop a tear!
Ah, the cloud is dark, and day by day,

I am moving thither:
I must pass beneath it on my way—

God pity me !WHITHER ?"
Ah, soul of mine! so brave and wise

In the life-storm loud,
Fronting so calmly all human eyes

In the sunlit crowd !

Now standing apart with God and

Thou art weakness all,
Gazing vainly after the things to be

Through Death's dread wall.

But never for this, never for this

Was thy being lent;
For the craven's fear is but selfishness,

Like his merriment.

Folly and Fear are sisters twain :

One closing her eyes,
The other peopling the dark inane

With spectral lies.
Know well, my soul, God's hand controls.

Whate'er thou fearest;
Round Him in calmest music rolls

Whate'er thou hearest.

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