In thine unwonted search, the better way?
And better love thy feet its pleasant round?
Or hast thou wearied 'mid the scenes of life,
Striving to grasp the bubble's changeful form; And in thy wisdom given o'er the strife,
And sought a shelter from the rising storm?
O, why wast thou thus early doomed to die,
Far from thy native home, and "give no sign;"
But all alone, unseen by mortal eye,
Breathe out thy life to Him who called it "mine!"
"Death loves a shining mark," and oft he aims
His poisoned arrow at some envied prize;
And we dispute not, question not his claims;
Thy better home, sweet bird, was in the skies!
I ASKED the man of hoary hairs,
Who seemed of life aweary,
Whose steps were taking hold on death,
Whose path was lone and dreary—
"When is the time to die?"
"Not yet, my child," he said, and sighed;
But while he spake, a voice replied-
"Behold, thine hour is nigh!"
I asked the man of strength mature,
His bark o'er ocean gliding;
With crowded sail, and glittering prow,
The silver waves dividing-
"When is the time to die?"
I saw the lightning rend his sail;
I heard the low and dying wail
Extinguished in a sigh!
I asked the youth, whose kindling glance
Bespoke his bold desiring;
Who sought the bubble fame amidst
The battle's groans and firing-
"When is the time to die?"
He said, "Behold, my rising sun!
My glorious day is scarce begun-"
Death finished his reply!
I asked the child of rosy face,
With ringlets wildly straying;
And happiness o'er lip and eye,
Like dancing sunbeams playing-
"When is the time to die?"
His shout was ringing loud and shrill;
His tongue grew mute, his heart stood still,
And closed his laughing eye!
I asked the infant, on whose brow
The dew of life was gleaming;
Around whose path the rosy hues
Of morning light were streaming
"When is the time to die?"
It closed its little eyes and smiled;
An angel whispered to the child,
And lured it to the sky.
The yellow leaf, the fragile flower,
On every wind that flutter,
Are preaching to us every hour,
And this the text they utter-
"Now is the time to die!"'
Since woman first in Eden fell,
Each breeze has borne a fun'ral knell,
Has heard a mourner's sigh.
THE rain-drop was laughing on flow'ret and blade,
And breezes were playing through valley and glade;
The sunshine was kissing the spray of the shower,
The humming-bird sipping the sweets of the flower.
I saw a bright circle celestial unfold,
Of azure and emerald, purple and gold;
It looked like the track of an angel of light,
Or the pathway of saints in their heavenward flight.
Like the wings of a seraph descending to earth,
Its pinions pavilioned the south and the north;
Like a banner unfurled to the blast or the breeze,
It shed its effulgence o'er landscape and seas.
What a lesson of love did that object afford,
Of faith in the mercy and might of the Lord;
Who could paint in a moment the hues of the flower,
On the silvery drops of the fast falling shower!
While I looked on that arch from the cloud stooping down,
And adorning the earth like a beautiful crown,
It faded, and faded, and vanished from view,
And left me enraptured and sorrowful too.
Thus hopes of ambition are doomed to decay,
And riches and honors are passing away,
And idols long cherished take wings and depart,
And leave the lone worshiper broken of heart.
When the last storm of life shall descend on my soul,
And clouds of dire portent around me shall roll,
May the bow of salvation my spirit illume,
And lead me to regions unshadowed with gloom!
THE beautiful-the beautiful
spans creation round;
And nature's proudest monuments
Are all with beauty crowned.
'Twas in the burst of primal dawn,
When from the rayless night,
Jehovah spake, and o'er th' abyss,
Sprang forth the winged light.
Up rose the sun, and gaily sent
His countless beams to earth;
The beautiful-the beautiful-
Was christened at his birth.
Pale was the moon's reflected ray,
Which scarce illumined the night;
But beauty set its signet there,
On Luna's brow of light.
'Twas beautiful-'twas beautiful-
When from the Maker's hand,
Ten thousand worlds to being burst,
And rolled at his command.
The beautiful-the beautiful—
It masks the smile of love;
And with affection's softest tone,
Is closely interwove.
There's beauty in the Christian's faith,
That looks beyond the sky,
And sees the things invisible,
With clear, unclouded eye.
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