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The Year.
In childhood, when, with eager eyes,
The season-measured year I viewed,
All, garbed in fairy guise,

Pledged constancy of good.
Spring sang of heaven; the summer flowers
Let me gaze on, and did not fade ;
Even suns o'er autumn's bowers

Heard my strong wish, and stayed.
They came and went, the short-lived four;
Yet, as their varying dance they wove,
To my young heart each bore

Its own sure claim of love.
Far different now!-the whirling year
Vainly my dizzy eyes pursue,
And its fair tints appear

All blent in one dusk hue.
Why dwell on rich autumnal lights,
Spring-time, or winter's social ring?
Long days are fireside nights,

Brown autumn is fresh spring. Then what this world to thee, my heart? Its gifts nor feed thee nor can bless ; Thou hast no owner's part

In all its fleetingness.
The flame, the storm, the quaking ground,
Earth's joy, earth's terror, nought is thine;
Thou must but hear the sound

Of the still voice divine.
O princely lot! O blissful art!
È'en while by sense of change opprest,
Thus to forecast in heart

Heaven's age of fearless rest.

LYRA APOSTOLICA.

In se sua per Vestigia volvitur Annus.

Annum temporibus dispositum suis
Dum miror cupido lumine parvulus,
Sponderi mihi visa est

Mansuri series boni,
Ver caeli cecinit gaudia; non Canis
Aestatis roseum praeripuit decus;
Nec sol ipse rogatas

Invidit foliis moras.
Venerunt Charites qvattuor et vice
Discessere cita : sed puero breves
Saltus inter amoris

Pignus qvaeqve tulit suum.
Ut versa est species! Ut rapidum seqvor
Annum vix oculis deficientibus !
Pallet, praeterit omnis

Subsidens tenebris color.
Autumnale iubar qvid morer, aut opes
Vernas, aut hiemis concilia et choros ?
Nil Octobribus horis

Maiae, nil brevior dies
Longo discrepat. O pars melior mei,
Qvo te terra beat munere, qvo cibo
Pascit? Num fugitivi

Menses te dominam vocant?
Tempestas, tonitru, flamma, tremor soli,
Terrarum timor et gaudia, nil tuum :
Observanda tibi una est

Magni vox tenuis Dei. O regum mihi sors sorte beatior, Dum motus qvatiunt, dumqve metus, metu Sic motuqve vacantem

Praesensisse animo polum !

K.

The Wonders of the Deep. They that go down to the sea in ships, And do business in great waters; These men see the works of the Lord, And his wonders in the deep. For at his word the stormy wind ariseth, Which lifteth up the waves thereof. They are carried up to the heaven, and down again to the

deep: Their soul melteth away because of their trouble. They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, And are at their wit's end. So when they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, He delivereth them out of their distress. For he maketh the storm to cease, So that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they are at rest: And so he bringeth them to the haven where they would be.

PSALM CVII.

Means of Grace.
Lord, I have faşted,' I have prayed,

And sackcloth has my girdle been,
To purge my soul I have essayed

With hunger blank and vigil keen.
O God of mercy! why am I
Still haunted by the self I fly?
Sackcloth is a girdle good,

O bind it round thee still ;
Fasting, it is angels' food,

And Jesus loved the night-air chill;
Yet think not prayer and fast were given
To make one step 'twixt earth and heaven.

LYRA APOSTOLICA.

Miracula Ponti.

Όσοι βεβωτες πόντιοι νεών έπι εν εύρυνώτα χρήματα σπεύδουσ' αλί, τούτοις πάρεστιν εισoράν τον Κύριον οποία θαύματ' έν βυθούς εργάζεται. κείνου γαρ εντέλλοντος ευθύς όρνυται τυφως αείρων οίδμ' άλος μετάρσιον. οι δ' ουν ες αιθέρ, άλλοτ' ες πόντου βάθη χωρούσάνω τε και κάτω φορούμενοι και πας τις ένδον τήκεται λύπης ύπο. βία γαρ άλλοτ' άλλοσ', ως οίνωμένοι, σκιρτώσιν ειλίσσουσι παράφορον πόδα, ήδη παραλλάσσοντες έξεδροι φρενών. όταν δ' αμηχανoύντες εύχωνται θεώ, έκρύεται σφάς του ταλαιπώρου πάθους. κοιμα γαρ ούν άελλαν, ώστ' ακύμονα θάλασσαν εύδειν' οι δ' ορώντες ευδίαν χαίρουσ' ο δ' όρμον όν ποθούσιν εισάγει.

T. S. E.

Ardua prima Via est. Dixi saepe preces, egi ieiunia, vinxi

Mollia saetoso tegmine membra, Deus : Utqve animum turpi purgarem adspergine, saepe

Est temptata mihi nox vigil, aegra fames. Dic, Pater, humanos semper miserate labores,

Cur me sic fugiens sic tamen ipse seqvor ? Corpora saetosum confirmat fortia tegmen,

Hoc igitur circa pectus, ut ante, liga: Saepe fuere cibo superis ieiunia turbis;

Christo in deliciis frigora noctis erant. Sed ne crede preces, ne tu ieiunia crede,

Ilicet ad superos qvae ferat, esse viam.

Κ.

The Better Land.

I hear thee speak of the better land,
Thou callest its children a happy band :
Mother, oh where is that radiant shore;
Shall we not seek it, and weep no more?
Is it where the flower of the orange blows,
And the fire-flies dance through the myrtle-boughs ?--

Not there, not there, my child.

Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise,
And the date grows ripe under sunny skies ;
Or midst the green islands of glittering seas,
Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze,
And strange bright birds on their starry wings
Bear the rich hues of all glorious things ?—

Not there, not there, my child.

Is it far away in some region old,
Where the river wanders o'er sands of gold,
Where the burning rays of the ruby shine,
And the diamond lights up the secret mine,
And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand;
Is it there, sweet mother, that better land ?-

Not there, not there, my child.

Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy ;
Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy;
Dreams cannot picture a world so fair,
Sorrow and death may not enter there ;
Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom ;
For beyond the clouds and beyond the tomb,

It is there, it is there, my child.

MRS HEMANS.

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