They that follow, far behind
Coming after us, will find
Surer, easier footing there;
Heart with heart, and hand with hand,
From the dawn to dusk o' day,
Work away!
Scouts upon the mountain's peak-
Ye that see the Promised land,
Hearten us! for ye can speak,
Of the country ye have scanned
Far away!-
Work away!
For the Father's eye is on us,
Never off us, still upon us,
Night and day!
Work and pray!
Pray! and work will be completer ;
Work! and prayer will be the sweeter;
Love! and prayer, and work the fleeter
Will ascend upon their way!
Fear not, lest the busy finger
Weave a net the soul to stay;
Give her wings-she will not linger;
Soaring to the source of day;
Cleaving clouds that still divide us
From the azure depths of rest,
She will come again, beside us
With the sunshine on her breast,
Sit and sing to us, while quickest
On their task the fingers move,
While the outward din wars thickest
Songs that she has learned above.
Live in future as in present;
Work for both while yet the day
Is our own! for Lord and Peasant,
Long and bright as summer's day,
Cometh yet, more sure, more pleasant,
Cometh soon! our holiday;
Work away!
All Things are Changing."
All things are changing! Look on the skies,
Bright with their purple and crimson dyes-
On the ark of light, as he sinks to rest,
'Mid the gorgeous clouds of the blushing west.
Oh! change rules there with imperious sway;
For e'en while we gaze, all fade away.
All things are changing! Look on the flowers,
The radiant children of summer hours,
In matchless splendour they bud and bloom,
And the air is filled with their rich perfume:
Then, to the influence of decay,
They yield their splendour, and die away.
All things are changing! Look on the child,
Like the forest's young fawn, bounding wild,
With his ruddy cheek and eye of mirth,
The fairest and happiest thing on earth:
A few short years, and a furrowed brow
Will mar the beauty that decks him now.
All things are changing! Look on the world,
When Spring's young graces are first unfurled-
When her velvet robe, of emerald hue,
A contrast forms to the sky's deep blue:
'Tis passing fair; but the bright tints fade,
Ere summer deepens the woodland shade.
All things are changing! Look on the friend,
Whose love we once thought could never end-
Ne'er didst thou dream of that altered look,
Of that heart to thee a "sealed book:"
Ah, no! it vowed to be true to thee,
But like all else, it can changeful be.
All things are changing! yet murmur not;
We should grow fond of our earthly lot,
If the ties of earth were never riven,
To fix our thoughts on a home in Heaven.
Bring back my Flowers.
"Bring back my flowers!" sail a rosy child,
As she played on the streamlet's side,
And cast down wreaths of the flowerets wild
On the ever hurrying tide.
But the stream flowed on, and her treasures bore
To the far off sparkling sea,
To return to the place of their birth no more,
Though she cried, come back to me,"
Ye fairest gems of these forest bowers,
Oh, stream! bright stream! bring back my
"Bring back my flowers!" said a noble youth, As he mournfully stood alone,
And sadly thought on the broken truth
Of a heart that was once his own,-
Of a light that shone on his life's young day,
As brilliant as man e'er knew,-
Of a love that his reason had led astray,
And to him was no longer true.
"Return," he cried, "life's brightest hours ;
Oh, stream of Time! bring back my flowers."
Bring back my flowers," a mother sighed,
O'er the grave where her infant slept;
And where in her stubbornness and pride,
She her tearful vigils kept.
"Oh, why does the cruel hand of death
Seek victims so fair as she?
Oh, why are the loved ones of others left,
While mine is thus snatched from me?
Who gave to thee, Death, such cruel powers?
Oh, grave, dark grave! bring back my flowers."
แ "Bring back my flowers!" said a grey-haired man, For the friends of his youth were fled;
And those he had loved and cherished most
Were slumbering with the dead.
But a faith in his God still cheered him on,
Though the present was dark and drear;
For in heaven he knew he should meet again
The friends upon earth so dear.
"Come Death !" he cried," for in Eden's bowers Our God will restore us our long lost flowers."
If thou hast crush'd a Flower.
If thou hast crush'd a flower,
The root may not be blighted;
If thou hast quench'd a lamp,
Once more it may be lighted:
But on thy harp, or on thy lute,
The string which thou hast broken
Shall never in sweet sound again
Give to thy touch a token!
If thou hast loosed a bird,
Whose voice of song could cheer thee, Still, still it may be won
From the skies to warble near thee; But if upon the troubled sea
Thou hast thrown a gem unheeded, Hope not that wind or wave will bring The treasure back when needed.
If thou hast bruised a vine,
The summer's breath is healing, And its clusters yet may glow
Through the leaves their bloom revealing; But if thou hast a cup o'er thrown
With a bright draught fill'd-oh never Shall earth give back that lavish'd wealth To cool thy parch'd lips' fever.
The heart is like that cup,
If thou waste the love it bore thee, And like that jewel gone,
Which the deep will not restore thee;
And like that string of harp or lute,
Whence the sweet sound is scatter'd
Gently, oh gently touch the chords,
So soon for ever shattered!
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