But the great Master said, "I see
No best in kind, but in degree;
I gave a various gift to each,

To charm, to strengthen, and to teach.

These are the three great chords of might,

And he whose ear is tuned aright
Will hear no discord in the three,
But the most perfect harmony."

SUSPIRIA.

TAKE them, O Death! and bear away Whatever thou canst call thine own! Thine image, stamped upon this clay,

Doth give thee that, but that alone!

Take them, O Grave! and let them lie
Folded upon thy narrow shelves,
As garments by the soul laid by,
And precious only to ourselves!

Take them, O great Eternity!

Our little life is but a gust That bends the branches of thy tree, And trails its blossoms in the dust!

HYMN

FOR MY BROTHER'S ORDINATION.

CHRIST to the young man said: "Yet one thing more ;

If thou wouldst perfect be,

Sell all thou hast and give it to the poor,
And come and follow me!"

Within this temple Christ again, unseen,
Those sacred words hath said,
And his invisible hands to-day have been
Laid on a young man's head.

And evermore beside him on his way
The unseen Christ shall move,
That he may lean upon his arm and say,
"Dost thou, dear Lord, approve ?"

Beside him at the marriage feast shall be,
To make the scene more fair ;
Beside him in the dark Gethsemane
Of pain and midnight prayer.

O holy trust! O endless sense of rest!
Like the beloved John

To lay his head upon the Saviour's breast, And thus to journey on!

It is, that, half-way up the hill,
In yon cottage, by whose walls
Stand the cart-house and the stalls,
Dwelleth the blind orphan still,
Daughter of a veteran old;
And you must know, one year ago,
That Margaret, the young and ten-
der,

Was the village pride and splendor,
And Baptiste her lover bold.

Love, the deceiver, them ensnared ;
For them the altar was prepared ;
But alas! the summer's blight,
The dread disease that none can stay,
The pestilence that walks by night,
Took the young bride's sight away.

All at the father's stern command was changed;

Their peace was gone, but not their love estranged.

Wearied at home, erelong the lover fled;
Returned but three short days ago,
The golden chain they round him
throw,

He is enticed, and onward led
To marry Angela, and yet
Is thinking ever of Margaret.

Another a happy wedding-day,

Arrived! yet keeps aloof so far!

star!

Knows that long months I wait alone, benighted,

And count the moments since he went away!

Come! keep the promise of that happier day,

That I

may keep the faith to thee I plighted!

What joy have I without thee? what delight?

Grief wastes my life, and makes it misery;

Day for the others ever, but for me Forever night! forever night! When he is gone 't is dark! my soul is sad!

I suffer! O my God! come, make me glad.

When he is near, no thoughts of day in trude;

Day has blue heavens, but Baptiste has blue eyes!

Within them shines for me a heaven of love,

What are two drops of turbid rain? Saddened a moment, the bridal train Resumed the dance and song again; The bridegroom only was pale with fear;

And down green alleys
Of verdurous valleys,

With merry sallies,

They sang the refrain :

tude!

Earth I forget, — and heaven, and all distresses,

When seated by my side my hand he

presses;

But when alone, remember all! Where is Baptiste? he hears not when I call!

A branch of ivy, dying on the ground,
I need some bough to twine around!

should bloom,

True love, they say, in grief doth more

abound!

What then when one is blind?

"Who knows? perhaps I am for

saken !

Ah! woe is me! then bear me to my grave!

O God! what thoughts within me

waken ! Away! he will return! I do but rave! He will return! I need not fear! He swore it by our Saviour dear; He could not come at his own will; Is weary, or perhaps is ill! Perhaps his heart, in this disguise, Prepares for me some sweet surprise!

"Nothing! I heard them singing home the bride;

And, as I listened to the song,
I thought my turn would come
erelong,

Thou knowest it is at Whitsuntide.
Thy cards forsooth can never lie,
To me such joy they prophesy,
Thy skill shall be vaunted far and
wide

When they behold him at my
side.

And poor Baptiste, what sayest thou ?

It must seem long to him ;- - methinks I see him now!"

Jane, shuddering, her hand doth press:

"Thy love I cannot all approve; We must not trust too much to happi