Over the threshold of his pleasant… Set in green clearings passed the… In simple trust, misdoubting not t… ‘Dear heart of mine!’ he said, ‘th… To trust the Lord for shelter.’ O…

God’s love and peace be with thee,… Soe’er this soft autumnal air Lifts the dark tresses of thy hair… Whether through city casements com… Its kiss to thee, in crowded rooms…

A PIOUS magistrate! sound his p… The wondering churches. Who shall… That the long-wished millennium dr… Sin in high places has become devo… Tithes mint, goes painful-faced, a…

Of A Virginia Slave Mother To H… Gone, gone, - sold and gone To the rice-swamp dank and lone. Where the slave-whip ceaseless swi… Where the noisome insect stings

After the Danish of Christian Wi… Where, over heathen doom-rings and… In its little Christian city stan… In merry mood King Volmer sat, fo… As idle as the Goose of Gold that…

O painter of the fruits and flower… We own wise design, Where these human hands of ours May share work of Thine! Apart from Thee we plant in vain

FOR DOROTHEA L. DIX. Stranger and traveller, Drink freely and bestow A kindly thought on her Who bade this fountain flow,

The clouds, which rise with thunde… Our thirsty souls with rain; The blow most dreaded falls to bre… From off our limbs a chain; And wrongs of man to man but make

Amidst these glorious works of Th… The solemn minarets of the pine, And awful Shasta’s icy shrine,— Where swell Thy hymns from wave a… And organ-thunders never fail,

Take our hands, James Russell Lo… Our hearts are all thy own; To-day we bid thee welcome Not for ourselves alone. In the long years of thy absence

I would not sin, in this half-play… Too light perhaps for serious year… Of the enforced leisure of slow pa… Against the pure ideal which has d… My feet to follow its far-shining…

O Mother Earth! upon thy lap Thy weary ones receiving, And o’er them, silent as a dream, Thy grassy mantle weaving, Fold softly in thy long embrace

Long since, a dream of heaven I h… And still the vision haunts me oft… I see the saints in white robes cl… The martyrs with their palms aloft… But hearing still, in middle song,

My thoughts are all in yonder town… Where, wept by many tears, To-day my mother’s friend lays dow… The burden of her years. True as in life, no poor disguise

FAR from his close and noisome ce… By grassy lane and sunny stream, Blown clover field and strawberry… And green and meadow freshness, fe… The footsteps of his dream.