So when our worldly all is reft, We still have one true anchor left- He to our prayers will lend an ear, He turns to smiles each trembling tear, Then turn to Him 'mid sorrows wild, THE MOSS ROSE. THE angel of the flowers one day THERE IS A TONGUE IN EVERY LEAF. Awaking from his light repose, Still fairest found where all are fair, The spirit paused in silent thought: -Anonymous. THERE is a tongue in every leaf, A voice in every rill, A voice that speaketh everywhere, 183 'Tis the Great Spirit wide diffused I see Him in the blazing sun, I feel Him in the silent dews, I feel Him in the gentle showers, The soft south wind, the breath of flowers, I see Him, hear Him everywhere, -Anonymous. A WALK IN A CHURCHYARD. WE walked within the churchyard bounds, My little boy and I, He laughing, running happy rounds, I pacing mournfully. "Nay, child, it is not well," I said, A moment to my side he clung, A moment stilled his joyous tongue, And white clouds o'er that spot would pass The sunshine on no other grass A richer hue might wear. And formed from out that very mould, In which the dead did lie, The rook was wheeling overhead, The small bird did its glad notes shed, "And God," I said, "would never give Nor bid in childhood's heart to live "If our one wisdom were to mourn 66 Oh, no! the glory earth puts on, “A triumph won o'er Sin and Death; And, like a happy infant, Faith -R. C. Trench. PEACE. My soul, there is a country |