But all misguided ones.-O! 'twas a deep, "The battle field was as a crimson flood The old man strove to speak-he knelt to pray : 66 Thy Will be done, O God!" they heard him say. But, at the mention of the blessed ark, His thoughts grew troubled and his soul grew dark, For he was old and feeble; and the rod That still he blest because it came from God, Sunk on the patriot's heart, and burst the chain That bound his spirit to this world of pain. Weep! house of Israel, weep! and make thy moan; That wafted sigh was Eli's latest groan. Weep! for thine ancient judge and father, weep! Who rests on earth in death's untroubled sleep. FAITH, HOPE, AND CHARITY. Faith, Hope, and Charity, these three ;-but the greatest of these is Charity.-1 Corinthians xiii. 13. FAIR daughter of the sky! And eldest born of love! Thy dwelling is above! When thou dost walk this earth thy thoughts on high Are evermore intent; And thy bright glance, upsent, Discerneth things unseen by fleshly eye. On viewless pinions borne Thou passest lightly o'er The bleak ungenial shore, The serious calmness of thy brow unworn! Throughout the long drear night Thou watchest for the light, And streaming glory of the coming morn! And thou, sweet sister Grace, With smiling lip, and eye Turn'd conscious to the sky, Which thou dost own thy native dwelling-place! Thy voice makes holy mirth, Sweet songstress of the earth! And beautiful in youth thy ever radiant face! No cloud of earthly woe, How dark soe'er it seem, Hath power to quench the beam Of golden light that in thy breast doth glow; To thee, sweet Hope! 'tis given To glance from earth to heaven ; And firm thy anchor holds, which is not cast below. Last, fairest of the band, Love dwelling in thine eye, Wide-hearted Charity! With active step, soft voice, and open hand; Prompt at the sufferer's moan, Thou pourest blessing on the fainting land! Rich in thy heaven-won store, When Faith and Hope expire, Lost in their gain'd desire; Thou! thou! shalt live in brightness evermore! From the blest Sire above, Thy ready wing shall oft the distant earth explore! To the lone heart of woe, Chill'd by the world's cold air And sickening in despair, Thou, in thy ready zeal of love, shalt go; And pour thy precious balm The throb of woe to calm, And o'er the mourner's path the beam of blessing throw. Thou! thou shalt ne'er decay, When like a fever's dream This dark brief life shall seem, And earth shall pass like fleeting shade away; In bright Eternity Thou! thou! shalt still shine on in pure and perfect day! THE CALLING OF SAMUEL. Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth.-1 Sam. iii. 10. "It was no voice of mine that spake |