Soft whispering "It is I: be not afraid."

And sometimes, mingling strangely joy with dread,
It thrills the spirit's caverned sepulchre

Deep as that voice which on the awe-struck ear
Of him, the three-days buried, murmuring, said
"Come forth " and he arose. Oh! Christians, hail

As brethren all on whom our glorious Sun,
No matter how, or when, or where, hath shone
With vital warmth; and neither mourn nor rail
Because one light, itself unchanging, showers
A thousand colors on a thousand flowers.

DE VERE

THE STARS.

"The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament sheweth his handy work." - Psalm xix. 1.

No cloud obscures the summer sky,
The moon in brightness walks on high,
And, set in azure, every star

Shines, like a gem of heaven, afar!

Child of the earth! oh! lift thy glance
To yon bright firmament's expanse ;
The glories of its realm explore,
And gaze, and wonder, and adore!

Doth it not speak to every sense
The marvels of Omnipotence?

Seest thou not there the Almighty name, Inscribed in characters of flame?

Count o'er those lamps of quenchless light,
That sparkle through the shades of night!
can a mortal boast
To number that celestial host?

Behold them!

Mark well each little star, whose rays
In distant splendor meet thy gaze;
Each is a world by Him sustained,
Who from eternity hath reigned.

Each, shining not for earth alone,
Hath suns and planets of its own,
And beings, whose existence springs
From Him the all-powerful King of kings.

Haply, those glorious beings know
Nor stain of guilt, nor tear of wo!
But raising still the adoring voice,
For ever in their God rejoice.

What then art thou, oh! child of clay!
Amid creation's grandeur, say ?

E'en as an insect on the breeze, E'en as a dew-drop, lost in seas!

Yet fear thou not! the sovereign hand,

Which spread the ocean and the land,

And hung the rolling spheres in air,
Hath, e'en for thee, a Father's care!

Be thou at peace! - the all-seeing eye,
Pervading earth, and air, and sky,

The searching glance which none may flee,
Is still, in mercy, turned on thee.

ANGELIC MINISTRY.

AND is there care in Heaven? And is there love

In heavenly spirits to these creatures base,

That may compassion of their evils move?

There is: - else much more wretched were the case
Of men than beasts: but O! the exceeding grace

Of highest God, that loves His creatures so,
And all His works with mercy doth embrace,
That blesséd Angels He sends to and fro,

To serve to wicked man, to serve His wicked foe!

How oft do they their silver bowers leave,
To come to succor us that succor want!
How oft do they with golden pinions cleave
The flitting skies, like flying pursuivant,
Against foul fiends to aid us militant!
They for us fight, they watch and duly ward,
And their bright squadrons round about us plant;
And all for love and nothing for reward;

O, why should heavenly God to men have such regard?
EDMUND SPENSER.-1553-1598-9.

GOD'S LOVE UNCHANGEABLE.

EVERY human tie may perish;

Friend to friend unfaithful prove; Mothers cease their own to cherish, Heaven and earth at last remove; But no changes

Can avert the Father's love.

In the furnace God may prove thee,

Thence to bring thee forth more bright;

But can never cease to love thee;

Thou art precious in his sight:

God is with thee,

God, thine everlasting light.

KELLEY.

JUDGE GENTLY.

OH, there has many a tear been shed,
And many a heart been broken,
For want of a gentle hand stretched forth,
Or a word in kindness spoken.

Then oh, with brotherly regard
Greet every son of sorrow,

So from each tone of love his heart

New hope, new strength, shall borrow.

Nor turn, with cold and scornful eye,
From him who hath offended,
But let the harshness of reproof
With kindest tones be blended.

The seeds of good are every where;
And, in the guiltiest bosom,
Would, by the quickening rays of love,
Put forth their tender blossom;

While many a tempted soul hath been
To deeds of evil hardened,
Who felt that bitterness of grief,
The first offence unpardoned.

THOU ART NOT LOST.

THOU art not lost. - Thy spirit giveth
Immortal peace, and high it liveth!

I see thee yet, my griefs beguiling!

Soft, o'er my slumbers art thou beaming,
The sunny spirit of my dreaming!

Thine eyelids seem not yet concealing
In death their orbs of matchless feeling;