M. S.

LIKE morning, or the early buds in spring,

Or voice of children laughing in dark streets, Or that quick leap with which the spirit greets The old revisited mountains-some such thing She seemed in her bright home. Joy and Delight And full-eyed Innocence with folded wing Sat in her face; and from her happy smiling Clear air she shook, like star-lit summer night. What needed pain to purge a spirit so pure? Like fire it came,--what less than fire can be The cleansing Spirit of God? Oh, happy she, Able with holy patience to endure !

Her joy made peace, and those bright ores of nature Subdued to purest gold of piety.

WILLIAM CALDWELL ROSCOE.

THE GUARDIAN ANGEL.

A PICTURE AT FANO.

DEAR and great Angel, wouldst thou only leave

That child, when thou hast done with him, for me!

Let me sit all the day here, that when eve
Shall find performed thy special ministry.
And time come for departure, thou, suspending
Thy flight, mayst see another child for tending,
Another still, to quiet and retrieve.

Then I shall feel thee step one step, no more,
From where thou standest now, to where I gaze,
-And suddenly my head is covered o'er

With those wings, white above the child who prays Now on that tomb-and I shall feel thee guarding Me, out of all the world; for me discarding

Yon Heaven, thy home, that waits and opes its door! I would not look up thither past thy head

Because the door opes, like that child, I know, For I should have thy gracious face instead,

Thou bird of God! And wilt thou bend me low Like him, and lay, like his, my hands together, And lift them up to pray, and gently tether

Me as thy lamb there, with thy garment's spread?

If this was ever granted, I would rest

My head beneath thine, while thy healing hands Close-covered both my eyes beside thy breast, Pressing the brain, which too much thought expands,

Back to its proper size again, and smoothing
Distortion down till every nerve had soothing,
And all lay quiet, happy and supprest.

How soon all worldly wrong would be repaired!
I think how I should view the earth and skies
And sea, when once again my brow was bared
After thy healing, with such different eyes.
O world, as God has made it! all is beauty:
And knowing this is love, and love is duty.

What further may be sought for, or declared?

Guercino drew this angel I saw teach

(Alfred, dear friend!) — that little child to pray, Holding the little hands up, each to each

Pressed gently, with his own head turned away
Over the earth where so much lay before him
Of work to do, though Heaven was opening o'er him,
And he was left at Fano by the beach.

We were at Fano, and three times we went
To sit and see him in his chapel there,
And drink his beauty to our soul's content,

-My angel with me too; and since I care
For dear Guercino's fame (to which in power
And glory comes this picture for a dower,
Fraught with a pathos so magnificent,)

And since he did not work thus earnestly

At all times, and has else endured some wrongI took one thought his picture struck from me, And spread it out, translating it to song. My love is here. Where are you, dear old friend? How rolls the Wairoa at your world's far end? This is Ancona, yonder is the sea.

ROBERT BROWNING,

COMFORT.

PEAK low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet

SPEA

From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low, Lest I should fear and fall, and miss Thee so

Who art not missed by any that entreat.

Speak to me as to Mary at thy feet!
And if no precious gums my hands bestow,
Let my tears drop like amber while I go
In reach of thy divinest voice complete
In humanest affection-thus, in sooth,
To lose the sense of losing.
As a child,
Whose song-bird seeks the wood for evermore,
Is sung to in its stead by mother's mouth
Till, sinking on her breast, love-reconciled,
He sleeps the faster that he wept before.

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

I

PER PACEM AD LUCEM.

DO not ask, O Lord, that life may be
A pleasant road;

I do not ask that Thou wouldst take from me
Aught of its load.

I do not ask that flowers should always spring
Beneath my feet :

I know too well the poison and the sting
Of things too sweet.

For one thing only, Lord, dear Lord, I plead :
Lead me aright,

Though strength should falter and though heart should bleed,

Through Peace to Light.

I do not ask, O Lord, that Thou shouldst shed
Full radiance here;

Give but a ray of peace, that I may tread
Without a fear.

I do not ask my cross to understand,
My way to see;

Better in darkness just to feel thy hand
And follow Thee.

Joy is like restless day; but peace divine
Like quiet night.

Lead me, O Lord, till perfect day shall shine,
Through Peace to Light.

ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER.