he sad, unwelcome hearing
May wring the spirit with a quivering pain;
Our hearts are half of earth, and the careering
Of highest thoughts in its divinest daring,
Is but a momentary, blissful sharing,
That flutters back again.

It may be ours to tread the vale of sorrow,
Or wander withering in the maze of doubt,
Anticipating scarce a joy to-morrow,
Save what from the pale lamp of Song we borrow--
That will not all go out.

Yes! there are bosom-chords--thanks to the Giver!
The sad, low whisperings of which can never
Be all subdued, though they may shake and shiver
With death and coldness, if we brave the river
With wise and strong endeavor.

O Song! O fount of sweetest nectar welling!
Of thy refreshings let my sad heart drink;
'Tis past!--too late--too late, vain trump, your swelling;
My spirit ear hath heard a surer knelling--
'Tis passing sweet, what these mule wires are telling--
O what a joy to think!

MY COTTAGE HOME.

A VESPER HYMN.

Awake, my harp! a song for thee,
While the mellow tinge of sunset lingers;
'Tis an eve of June! and the sweets are free--
Wilt thou trill to the touch of outwearied fingers?
For the day's well spent,
And I'm content,
Tho' weary and worn, and worn and weary;
'Tis a heaven below,
The joys to know--
The joys of a Cottage Home so cheery.

The world's all beauteous now and bright,
And calm as a cradled infant sleeping,
And the chords of love are attuned aright,
Far joyous thoughts in the heart are leaping
As free and sweet
As a brother's greet
In a foreign land all strange and dreary;
And halls more bright
Have less delight,
I ween, than my Cottage Home so cheery.

My Cottage Home! My Cottage Home!
With its trellised vines around the casement clinging,
And the happy strain of that sweet refrain,
The gentle tones of loved ones ringing,
When the day's well spent,
And all content.
What though the o'er-labored limbs are weary?
Our hearts are free
And merry, and we
Rejoice in a Cottage Home so cheery.

With wants so few, while hearts so true,
With a fond concern, are beating near us;
We'll cheerfully toil while we meet the smile.
The approving smile of Him to cheer us,
Who makes us to know
The poor and the low.
Tho' weary and worn, and worn and weary,
At last will rest
With the truly blest--
O! this makes a Cottage H