And when thy soul, from trammels free, Is soaring to the spirit's home, Think of me, - pray for me,- for me! ANONYMOUS. THE RISING EAGLE. My bird, the struggle's over! Thy wings at length unfurled, Will bear thee, noble rover! Through yon blue airy world. Thy fearless breast has shaken Up, up! the faster leaving A fresher strength receiving, The lighter shalt thou go. The clouds that now hang o'er thee Thou soon shalt over-sweep, Where all is bright before thee, To swim the upper deep. Through seas of ether sailing, The breath of morn inhaling, Thy course is to the sun! The strife was all in lifting Thy breast from earth, at first,— The poising, and the shifting, To balance, was the worst. And so with us; -'tis spreading That keeps us low, and dreading 'Tis rousing up, and getting Our balance, that we shun: With thousand ties besetting, We shrink from breaking one. But when we've fairly started, And cleared from all below, How free and buoyant-hearted, On eagle-wings we go! And as our bosoms kindle With pure and holy love, How all below will dwindle, And all grow bright above! The world that we are leaving While, clouds and shadows cleaving, Rise, timid soul, and casting Aside thy doubt and fear, Mount up, where all is lasting; Then, as an eagle training A Hand, that's all-sustaining, Will lift thee to the sky. While higher, higher soaring, Thou'lt feel thy cares are drowned, Where Heaven's bright SUN is pouring A flood of glory round! H. F. GOULD. THE SLEEPING CHILD. A BROOK went dancing on its way, From bank to valley leaping; And by its sunny margin lay A lovely infant sleeping. The murmur of the purling stream Broke not the spell that bound him, Like music breathing in his dream A lullaby around him. It is a lovely sight, to view, Within this world of sorrow, One spot which still retains the hue That earth from Heaven may borrow! Arrayed in summer brightness, And one pure being resting there, One soul of radiant whiteness! |