se faithful heart hath known
And loved the name of Savior, Mother, Wife.

Thus o'er the Sea of Life my way I take,
Not waveless have its waters been to me,
For I have known, in many a fearful hour,
The weight and fury of the tempest's power;
But mercy e'er the sable clouds doth break
And set the prisoned light of heaven free.

And oft, O sea, thy troubled waters cease,
Save when they smile to hear the breeze at prayer;
Thy calm so deep that he who glideth by
May wonder which is sea and which is sky;
So full thou art of stars, so sweet thy peace,
We seem in heaven while on thy bosom fair.

IV.--AGE.

My boat is old, for I have journeyed far,
But still the Headland seems a weary way;
My boatmen, too, are old, and oft an oar
Slips from a feeble hand, but yet the shore
Upon whose forehead beams the evening star,
Is nearer still and nearer every day.

What matters that my boatmen now are old,
Why should I grieve that with a feeble hand
I hold the swaying helm? The waves no more
Rise o'er the prow to keep me from the shore,
The silken sail at last the breezes hold,
The tide of Love sets toward the Heavenly Land.

O flowing tide that in our autumn time
Ebbs from the world, and bears us on thy breast,
I would to every human soul 'twere given
To drift upon thy silver sheen to heaven;
To fall asleep, and dream, and wake--SUBLIME,
Within the crystal harbor of The Blest.

Dear are thy urging waters, starry tide,
Forever gently flowing heavenward;
Thine every dimple is a token sweet
That rested there some beauteous angel's feet,
Thy sheen, a radiant carpet for the Bride,
Laid to the wedding Temple of her Lord.

Soon o'er the wave my boat no more will ride,
The music of the dipping oar will cease,
And through the glimmering golden mist will fall,
From the calm Headland's height, a loving call,
_Come hither, child, forevermore abide_
_Within thy Father's House--at Home--in Peace._

L'ENVOY.

Hark! there is music on the lovelit sea.
Music, sweet music falls upon mine ear,
Soft as the sigh of June, when die the hours
Crimsoned with sunset and the blush of flowers.
Dost thou not hear it? O it seems to me
No mother's cradle-song was e'er so dear.

The music ceases. From the eastern sky,
Lo! the umbrageous clouds, whose gloomy frown
Shadowed my youth, drift westward, dark no more,
They float illumined o'er the heavenly shore.
Behold, they part! and thro' their portals high
The gleams of endless gl