Six vases of crystal then he took,

And set them along the edge of the brook.

"As into these vessels the water I pour,

There shall one hold less, another more,
And the water unchanged, in every case,
Shall put on the figure of the vase ;

O thou, who wouldst unity make through strife,
Canst thou fit this sign to the Water of Life ?"

When Ambrose looked up, he stood alone,

The youth and the stream and the vases were gone;
But he knew, by a sense of humbled grace,

He had talked with an angel, face to face,
And felt his heart change inwardly,

As he fell on his knees beneath the tree.

ABOVE AND BELOW.

O DWELLERS in the valley-land,
Who in deep twilight grope and cower,

Till the slow mountain's dial-hand

Shortens to noon's triumphal hour,

While ye sit idle, do ye think

The Lord's great work sits idle too? That light dare not o'erleap the brink Of morn, because 't is dark with you?

Though yet your valleys skulk in night, In God's ripe fields the day is cried,

And reapers, with their sickles bright,
Troop, singing, down the mountain-side :
Come up, and feel what health there is
In the frank Dawn's delighted eyes,
As, bending with a pitying kiss,

The night-shed tears of Earth she dries!

The Lord wants reapers: O, mount up,

Before night comes and says,

Stay not for taking scrip or cup,

"Too late!"

The Master hungers while ye wait: "T is from these heights alone your eyes

The advancing spears of day can see, Which o'er the eastern hill-tops rise,

To break your long captivity.

II.

Lone watcher on the mountain-height!
It is right precious to behold

The first long surf of climbing light

Flood all the thirsty east with gold;

But we, who in the shadow sit,
Know also when the day is nigh,
Seeing thy shining forehead lit

With his inspiring prophecy.

Thou hast thine office; we have ours; God lacks not early service here,

But what are thine eleventh hours

He counts with us for morning cheer;

Our day, for Him, is long enough,

And when He giveth work to do,

The bruised reed is amply tough

To pierce the shield of error through.

But not the less do thou aspire

Light's earlier messages to preach;

Keep back no syllable of fire,

Plunge deep the rowels of thy speech. Yet God deems not thine aëried sight

More worthy than our twilight dim, For meek Obedience, too, is Light,

And following that is finding Him.

THE CAPTIVE.

It was past the hour of trysting,
But she lingered for him still;

Like a child, the eager streamlet

Leaped and laughed adown the hill,

Happy to be free at twilight

From its toiling at the mill.

Then the great moon on a sudden,
Ominous, and red as blood,

Startling as a new creation,

O'er the eastern hill-top stood,