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From marriage of the western earth

With nations of the morn!

Then fold the Tent—then on again ;

One spot of ashen black,
The only sign that here has lain

The traveller's, recent track ;
And gladly forward, safe to find

At noon and eve a home,
Till we have left the tent behind

Across the ocean foam.

LORD HOUGHTON.

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HERE is a calm the poor in spirit know,
That softens sorrow, and that sweetens

woe;
There is a peace that dwells within the breast,
When all without is stormy and distrest;
There is a light that gilds the darkest hour,
When dangers thicken, and when tempests lower;
That calm is faith, and hope and love is given ;
That peace remains when all beside is riven,
That light shines down to man direct from heaven.

JAMES EDMESTON.

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the east a lark was springing,
Down the yellow light was singing :

“Oh, that I were wise and strong! I am nothing but a song."

Stood the poet still and listened,

Rapt into the ringing skies ; Dewy dawns of Eden glistened

In a dying maiden's eyes;

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THE SINGER.

109

Still the lark above them winging,
Shed his sorrow in his singing:
"Oh that I were wise and strong!
I am nothing but a song."

Rev. WADE ROBINSON.

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P

RUNE thou thy words, the thoughts

control

That o'er thee swell and throng; They will condense within thy soul,

And change to purpose strong.

But he who lets his feelings run

In soft luxurious flow,
Shrinks when hard service must be done,

And faints at every woe.

Faith's meanest deed more favour bears,

Where hearts and wills are weigh’d, Than brightest transports, choicest prayers,

Which bloom their hour and fade.

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