All, with one varying voice, call to him, Come and subdue ;

Still for their Conqueror call, and, but for the joy of being conquered (Rapture they will not forego), dare to resist and rebel;

Still, when resisting and raging, in soft undervoice say unto him,

Fear not, retire not, O man; hope evermore and believe.

Go from the east to the west, as the sun and the stars direct thee,

Go with the girdle of man, go and encompass the earth.

Not for the gain of the gold; for the getting, the hoarding, the having, But for the joy of the deed; but for the Duty to do.

Go with the spiritual life, the higher volition and action,

With the great girdle of God, go and encompass the earth.

Go; say not in thy heart, And what then were it accomplished,

Were the wild impulse allayed, what were the use or the good!

Go, when the instinct is stilled, and when the deed is accomplished, What thou hast done and shalt do, shall be declared to thee then.

Go with the sun and the stars, and yet evermore in thy spirit

Say to thyself: It is good : yet is there better than it.

This that I see is not all, and this that I do is but little;

Nevertheless it is good, though there is better than it.

QUI LABORAT, ORAT

1862.

O ONLY Source of all our light and life. Whom as our truth, our strength, we see and feel,

But whom the hours of mortal moral strife

Alone aright reveal!

Mine inmost soul, before Thee inly brought,

Thy presence owns ineffable, divine; Chastised each rebel self-encentered thought,

My will adoreth Thine.

With eye down-dropped, if then this earthly mind

Speechless remain, or speechless e'en depart;

Nor seek to see- -for what of earthly kind

Can see Thee as Thou art?

If well-assured 'tis but profanely bold In thought's abstractest forms to seem to see,

It dare not dare the dread communion hold

In ways unworthy Thee,

O not unowned, thou shalt unnamed forgive,

In worldly walks the prayerless heart prepare;

And if in work its life it seem to live,
Shalt make that work be prayer.

Nor times shall lack, when while the work it plies,

Unsummoned powers the blinding film shall part,

And scarce by happy tears made dim, the eyes

In recognition start.

O THOU whose image in the shrine
Of human spirits dwells divine;
Which from that precinct once con-
veyed,

To be to outer day displayed,
Doth vanish, part, and leave behind
Mere blank and void of empty mind,
Which wilful fancy seeks in vain
With casual shapes to fill again!

O Thou that in our bosom's shrine
Dost dwell, unknown because divine!
I thought to speak, I thought to say,
"The light is here," " behold the way."
"The voice was thus," and

thus the

word,"
And" thus I saw," and "that I heard."-
But from the lips that half essayed
The imperfect utterance fell unmade.

O Thou, in that mysterious shrine
Enthroned, as I must say, divine!
I will not frame one thought of what
Thou mayest either be or not.

I will not prate of "thus" and "so,"
And be profane with "yes" and "no,"
Enough that in our soul and heart
Thou, whatsoe'er Thou may'st be, art.

Unseen, secure in that high shrine
Acknowledged present and divine,
I will not ask some upper air,
Some future day to place Thee there;
Nor say, nor yet deny, such men
And women saw Thee thus and then :
Thy name was such, and there or here
To him or her Thou didst appear.

Do only Thou in that dim shrine,
Unknown or known, remain, divine;
There, or if not, at least in eyes
That scan the fact that round them lies,
The hand to sway, the judgment guide,
In sight and sense Thyself divide:
Be Thou but there,-in soul and heart,
I will not ask to feel Thou art. 1862.

"THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY"
WHAT we, when face to face we see
The Father of our souls, shall be,
John tells us, doth not yet appear;
Ah! did he tell what we are here!

A mind for thoughts to pass into,
A heart for loves to travel through,
Five senses to detect things near,
Is this the whole that we are here?

Rules baffle instincts-instincts rules,
Wise men are bad-and good are fools,
Facts evil-wishes vain appear,
We cannot go, why are we here?

O may we for assurance' sake,
Some arbitrary judgment take,
And wilfully pronounce it clear,
For this or that 'tis we are here?

Or is it right, and will it do,
To pace the sad confusion through,
And say:-It doth not yet appear,
What we shall be, what we are here?

Ah yet, when all is thought and said,
The heart still overrules the head;
Still what we hope we must believe,
And what is given us receive;

Must still believe, for still we hope
That in a world of larger scope,
What here is faithfully begun
Will be completed, not undone.

AH! YET CONSIDER IT AGAIN!

"OLD things need not be therefore true,"
O brother men, nor yet the new ;
Ah! still awhile the old thought retain,
And yet consider it again!

The souls of now two thousand years
Have laid up here their toils and fears,
And all the earnings of their pain,-
Ah, yet consider it again!

We! what do we see? each a space
Of some few yards before his face;
Does that the whole wide plan explain?
Ah, yet consider it again!

Alas! the great world goes its way,
And takes its truth from each new day;
They do not quit, nor can retain,
Far less consider it again.

1851. 1862.

A voice he dares to listen to, say, Come To thy true home.

Come home, come home! and where a home hath he

[sea? Whose ship is driving o'er the driving Through clouds that mutter, and o'er waves that roar, [shore Say, shall we find, or shall we not, a That is, as is not ship or ocean foam, Indeed our home? 1852. 1862.

GREEN fields of England! wheresoe'er Across this watery waste we fare, Your image at our hearts we bear, Green fields of England, everywhere.

Sweet eyes in England, I must flee Past where the waves' last confines be, Ere your loved smile I cease to see, Sweet eyes in England, dear to me.

Dear home in England, safe and fast
If but in thee my lot lie cast,
The past shall seem a nothing past
To thee, dear home, if won at last;
Dear home in England, won at last.
1852. 1862.

COME back, come back! behold with straining mast

And swelling sail, behold her steaming fast;

With one new sun to see her voyage o'er. With morning light to touch her native shore.

Come back! come back.

Come back, come back! while westward laboring by,

With sailless yards, a bare black hulk we fly.

See how the gale we fight with sweeps her back,

To our lost home, on our forsaken track. Come back, come back.

Come back, come back! across the fly ing foam,

We hear faint far-off voices call us home:

Come back, ye seem to say; ye seek in vain;

We went, we sought, and homeward turned again.

Come back, come back.

Come back, come back; and whither back or why?

To fan quenched hopes, forsaken schemes to try;

Walk the old fields; pace the familiar

street;

Dream with the idlers, with the bards compete.

Come back, come back.

Come back, come back; and whither and for what?

To finger idly some old Gordian knot, Unskilled to sunder, and too weak to cleave,

And with much toil attain to halfbelieve.

Come back, come back.

Come back, come back; yea back, indeed, do go

Sighs panting thick, and tears that want to flow;

Fond fluttering hopes upraise their useless wings,

And wishes idly struggle in the strings; Come back, come back.

Come back, come back, more eager than

O STREAM descending to the sea,
Thy mossy banks between,
The flow'rets blow, the grasses grow,
The leafy trees are green.

In garden plots the children play,
The fields the laborers till,
And houses stand on either hand,
And thou descendest still.

O life descending into death,
Our waking eyes behold,
Parent and friend thy lapse attend,
Companions young and old.

Strong purposes our mind possess,
Our hearts affections fill,

We toil and earn, we seek and learn,
And thou descendest still.

The lightning zigzags shoot across the sky

(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie),

And through the vale the rains go sweeping by ;

Ah me, and when in shelter shall we be? Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.

Cold, dreary cold, the stormy winds feel they

O'er foreign lands and foreign seas that stray

(Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie).