In childlike trust serenely going To that last trial of thy faith!

O, far away,

Where never shines our Northern star
On that dark waste which Balboa saw
From Darien's mountains stretching far,
So strange, heaven-broad, and lone, that
there,

With forehead to its damp wind bare,
He bent his mailed knee in awe ;
In many an isle whose coral feet
The surges of that ocean beat,
In thy palm shadows, Oahu,
And Honolulu's silver bay,
Amidst Owyhee's hills of blue,

And taro-plains of Tooboonai,
Are gentle hearts, which long shall be
Sad as our own at thought of thee,
Worn sowers of Truth's holy seed,
Whose souls in weariness and need

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And joining with a seraph's tongue
In that new song the elders sung,
Ascribing to its blessed Giver
Thanksgiving, love, and praise forever!
Farewell!

And though the ways of Zion mourn
When her strong ones are called away,
Who like thyself have calmly borne
The heat and burden of the day,
Yet He who slumbereth not nor sleep-
eth

His ancient watch around us keepeth ;
Still, sent from his creating hand,
New witnesses for Truth shall stand,
New instruments to sound abroad
The Gospel of a risen Lord;

To gather to the fold once more
The desolate and gone astray,
The scattered of a cloudy day,

And Zion's broken walls restore ;

thine.

For blessed by our Father's hand

Was thy deep love and tender care, Thy ministry and fervent prayer, Grateful as Eschol's clustered vine To Israel in a weary land!

And they who drew

By thousands round thee, in the hour Of prayerful waiting, hushed and deep,

That He who bade the islands keep Silence before him, might renew

Their strength with his unslumbering power,

They too shall mourn that thou art gone, That nevermore thy aged lip

Shall soothe the weak, the erring warn, Of those who first, rejoicing, heard Through thee the Gospel's glorious word,

Seals of thy true apostleship. And, if the brightest diadem,

Whose gems of glory purely burn Around the ransomed ones in bliss, Be evermore reserved for them

Who here, through toil and sorrow, turn

Of true obedience, minister Beauty for ashes, and the oil

Of joy for mourning, unto her !
So shall her holy bounds increase
With walls of praise and gates of peace :
So shall the Vine, which martyr tears
And blood sustained in other years,

With fresher life be clothed upon;
And to the world in beauty show
Like the rose-plant of Jericho,
And glorious as Lebanon !

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And by the hearth-fire's light; We pause beside her door to hear Once more her sweet "Good-night !"

There seems a shadow on the day,
Her smile no longer cheers;
A dimness on the stars of night,
Like eyes that look through tears.

Alone unto our Father's will

One thought hath reconciled; That He whose love exceedeth ours Hath taken home his child.

Fold her, O Father! in thine arms,
And let her henceforth be
A messenger of love between

Our human hearts and thee.

Still let her mild rebuking stand
Between us and the wrong,
And her dear memory serve to make
Our faith in Goodness strong.

And grant that she who, trembling, here
Distrusted all her powers,

May welcome to her holier home
The well-beloved of ours.

THE LAKE-SIDE.

THE shadows round the inland sea
Are deepening into night;
Slow up the slopes of Ossipee

They chase the lessening light.
Tired of the long day's blinding heat,
I rest my languid eye,

Lake of the Hills! where, cool and sweet,

Thy sunset waters lie!

Along the sky, in wavy lines,

O'er isle and reach and bay, Green-belted with eternal pines, The mountains stretch away. Below, the maple masses sleep

Where shore with water blends, While midway on the tranquil deep The evening light descends.

So seemed it when yon hill's red crown, Of old, the Indian trod,

And, through the sunset air, looked

down

Upon the Smile of God. 47

To him of light and shade the laws
No forest sceptic taught;
Their living and eternal Cause
His truer instinct sought.

He saw these mountains in the light
Which now across them shines;
This lake, in summer sunset bright,
Walled round with sombering pines.
God near him seemed; from earth and
skies

His loving voice he heard,
As, face to face, in Paradise,

Man stood before the Lord.

Thanks, O our Father! that, like him,
Thy tender love I see,

In radiant hill and woodland dim,
And tinted sunset sea.
For not in mockery dost thou fill
Our earth with light and grace;
Thou hid'st no dark and cruel will
Behind thy smiling face!

THE HILL-TOP.

THE burly driver at my side,

We slowly climbed the hill,
Whose summit, in the hot noontide,
Seemed rising, rising still.
At last, our short noon-shadows hid
The top-stone, bare and brown,
From whence, like Gizeh's pyramid,
The rough mass slanted down.

I felt the cool breath of the North;
Between me and the sun,
O'er deep, still lake, and ridgy earth,
I saw the cloud-shades run.
Before me, stretched for glistening miles,
Lay mountain-girdled Squam;
Like green-winged birds, the leafy isles
Upon its bosom swam.

And, glimmering through the sun-haze

warm,

Far as the eye could roam, Dark billows of an earthquake storm Beflecked with clouds like foam, Their vales in misty shadow deep, Their rugged peaks in shine, I saw the mountain ranges sweep The horizon's northern line.

There towered Chocorua's peak; and west,

Moosehillock's woods were seen,

With many a nameless slide-scarred

crest

And pine-dark gorge between. Beyond them, like a sun-rimmed cloud, The great Notch mountains shone, Watched over by the solemn-browed And awful face of stone !

"A good look-off!" the driver spake : "About this time, last year,

I drove a party to the Lake,

And stopped, at evening, here.
"T was duskish down below; but all
These hills stood in the sun,
Till, dipped behind yon purple wall,
He left them, one by one.

"A lady, who, from Thornton hill,
Had held her place outside,
And, as a pleasant woman will,

Had cheered the long, dull ride,
Besought me, with so sweet a smile,
That-though I hate delay
I could not choose but rest awhile,
(These women have such ways!)
"On yonder mossy ledge she sat,
Her sketch upon her knees,
A stray brown lock beneath her hat
Unrolling in the breeze;

Her sweet face, in the sunset light
Upraised and glorified,

I never saw a prettier sight
In all my mountain ride.

"As good as fair; it seemed her joy
To comfort and to give ;
My poor, sick wife, and cripple boy,
Will bless her while they live!"
The tremor in the driver's tone

His manhood did not shame : "I dare say, sir, you may have known-" He named a well-known name.

Then sank the pyramidal mounds,

The blue lake fled away; For mountain-scope a parlor's bounds, A lighted hearth for day! From lonely years and weary miles

The shadows fell apart;

Kind voices cheered, sweet human smiles

Shone warm into my heart.

We journeyed on; but earth and sky
Had power to charm no more;
Still dreamed my inward-turning eye
The dream of memory o'er.

ALL day the darkness and the cold
Upon my heart have lain,
Like shadows on the winter sky,
Like frost upon the pane;

But now my torpid fancy wakes,
And, on thy Eagle's plume,
Rides forth, like Sindbad on his bird,
Or witch upon her broom!

Below me roar the rocking pines,

Before me spreads the lake

Whose long and solemn-sounding waves
Against the sunset break.

I hear the wild Rice-Eater thresh
The grain he has not sown;
I see, with flashing scythe of fire,
The prairie harvest mown!

I hear the far-off voyager's horn;
I see the Yankee's trail,
His foot on every mountain-pass,
On every stream his sail.

By forest, lake, and waterfall,

I see his pedler show;

The mighty mingling with the mean,
The lofty with the low.

He's whittling by St. Mary's Falls,
Upon his loaded wain ;

He's measuring o'er the Pictured Rocks,
With eager eyes of gain.

I hear the mattock in the mine,
The axe-stroke in the dell,
The clamor from the Indian lodge,
The Jesuit chapel bell!

I see the swarthy trappers come
From Mississippi's springs;
And war-chiefs with their painted brows,
And crests of eagle wings.

Behind the scared squaw's birch canoe,
The steamer smokes and raves;
And city lots are staked for sale
Above old Indian graves.

I hear the tread of pioneers

Of nations yet to be;

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The first low wash of waves, where soon Shall roll a human sea.

The rudiments of empire here
Are plastic yet and warm;
The chaos of a mighty world

Is rounding into form!

Each rude and jostling fragment soon

Its fitting place shall find, The raw material of a State,

Its muscle and its mind!

And, westering still, the star which leads
The New World in its train

Has tipped with fire the icy spears
Of many a mountain chain.

The snowy cones of Oregon

Are kindling on its way;
And California's golden sands
Gleam brighter in its ray!

Then blessings on thy eagle quill,
As, wandering far and wide,

I thank thee for this twilight dream
And Fancy's airy ride!

Yet, welcomer than regal plumes,
Which Western trappers find,
Thy free and pleasant thoughts, chance

sown,

Like feathers on the wind.

Thy symbol be the mountain-bird,
Whose glistening quill I hold;
Thy home the ample air of hope,
And memory's sunset gold!

In thee, let joy with duty join,

And strength unite with love,
The eagle's pinions folding round
The warm heart of the dove !

So, when in darkness sleeps the valę
Where still the blind bird clings,
The sunshine of the upper sky
Shall glitter on thy wings!

MEMORIES.

A BEAUTIFUL and happy girl,

With step as light as summer air, Eyes glad with smiles, and brow of pearl, Shadowed by many a careless curl

Of unconfined and flowing hair;