Sow truth, if thou the true wouldst reap: Who sows the false shall reap the vain; Erect and sound thy conscience keep;

From hollow words and deeds refrain.

Sow love, and taste its fruitage pure;
Sow peace, and reap its harvest bright;
Sow sunbeams on the rock and moor,
And find a harvest-home of light.

THE NEW SONG.

Beyond the hills where suns go down,
And brightly beckon as they go,

I see the land of far renown,

The land which I so soon shall know.

Above the dissonance of time,

And discord of its angry words, I hear the everlasting chime,

The music of unjarring chords..

I bid it welcome; and my haste
To join it cannot brook delay,
O song of morning, come at last,
And ye who sing it, come away.

O song of light, and dawn, and bliss,
Sound over earth, and fill these skies!
Nor ever, ever, ever cease

Thy soul-entrancing melodies!

8

Glad song of this disburdened earth,
Which holy voices then shall sing;
Praise for creation's second birth,
And glory to creation's King!

BE TRUE.

Thou must be true thyself,

If thou the truth wouldst teach;
Thy soul must overflow, if thou
Another's soul wouldst reach :
It needs the overflow of heart
To give the lips full speech.

Think truly, and thy thoughts
Shall the world's famine feed;
Speak truly, and each word of thine
Shall be a fruitful seed;
Live truly, and thy life shall be
A great and noble creed.

Julia Pardoe.

1808-1862.

THE BEACON-LIGHT

Darkness was deepening o'er the seas,—

And still the hulk drove on ; No sail to answer to the breeze,

Her masts and cordage gone :

Gloomy and drear her course of fear,—
Each looked but for a grave,—
When, full in sight, the beacon-light
Came streaming o'er the wave.

And gayly of the tale they told,
When they were safe on shore ;

How hearts had sunk, and hopes grown cold,
Amid the billows' roar ;

When not a star had shone from far,

By its pale beam to save,

Then, full in sight, the beacon-light
Came streaming o'er the wave.

Then wildly rose the gladdening shout
Of all that hardy crew;

Boldly they put the helm about,

And through the surf they flew.
Storm was forgot, toil heeded not,
And loud the cheer they gave,
As, full in sight, the beacon-light
Came streaming o'er the wave.

Thus, in the night of Nature's gloom,
When sorrow bows the heart,
When cheering hopes no more illume,
And comforts all depart;

Then from afar shines Bethlehem's star,
With cheering light to save;

And, full in sight, its beacon-light

Comes streaming o'er the grave.

Alfred Tennyson.

1809.

FROM "IN MEMORIAM."

Our little systems have their day;
They have their day and cease to be:
They are but broken lights of Thee,
And Thou, O Lord, art more than they.
* * * * * * *
Forgive my grief for one removed,
Thy creature, whom I found so fair.
I trust he lives in Thee, and there
I find him worthier to be loved,

I sometimes hold it half a sin

To put in words the grief I feel; For words, like Nature, half reveal And half conceal the soul within.

* * * *

*

*

*

The path by which we twain did go, Which led by tracts that pleased us well, Thro' four sweet years arose and fell, From flower to flower, from snow to snow :

And we with singing cheer'd the way, And, crown'd with all the season lent, From April on to April went,

And glad at heart from May to May.

*

* * *

*

*

*

When each by turns was guide to each,
And Fancy light from Fancy caught,
And Thought leapt out to wed with
Thought,

Ere Thought could wed itself with Speech. * * *

*

*

*

*

I hold it true, whate'er befall;

I feel it, when I sorrow most: 'T is better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.

* * * * * ** The time draws near the birth of Christ: The moon is hid; the night is still; The Christmas bells from hill to hill Answer each other in the mist.

Four voices of four hamlets round,

From far and near, on mead and moor,
Swell out and fail, as if a door

Were shut between me and the sound:

Each voice four changes on the wind,
That now dilate, and now decrease,
Peace and good-will, good-will and peace,
Peace and good-will to all mankind.

* * * * * * *

Thrice blest whose lives are faithful prayers,
Whose loves in higher love endure;
What souls possess themselves so pure,
Or is there blessedness like theirs?