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Deep horror, then, my vitals froze,
Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem; When suddenly a star arose,
It was the Star of Bethlehem !
It was my guide, my light, my all,
It bade my dark forebodings cease ; And through the storm and danger's thrall,
It led me to the port of peace.
Now, safely moored-my perils o'er,
I'll sing, first in night's diadem,
H. K. WHITE.
Be wise to day, 'tis madness to defer ;
YOUNG. THE TWO ANGELS.
Two angels, one of Life and one of Death,
Pass'd o'er the village as the morning broke; The dawn was on their faces, and beneath, The sombre houses, hears'd with plumes of
Their attitude and aspect were the same,
Alike their features and their robes of white, And one was crowned with Amaranths flame, And one with Asphodels, like flakes of light.
I saw them pause on their celestial way,
oppress'd, “ Beat not so loud my heart, lest thou betray
The place where thy beloved are at rest !"
And he who wore the crown of Asphodels,
Descending at my door, began to knock, And my heart sank within me, as in wells,
The waters sink before an earthquake's shock. I recognised the nameless agony,
The terror, and the tremor, and the pain That oft before had thrilled and haunted me, And now returned with threefold strength
The door I opened to my heavenly guest,
Dared neither to lament nor to rejoice.
Then, with a smile that filled the house with
light, “My errand is not death, but life,” he said ; And ere I answered, passing out of sight,
On his celestial embassy he sped.
'Twas at thy door, O friend ! and not at mine,
The angel with the Amaranthine wreath Pausing descended, and with voice divine, Whisper'd a sound that had a sound like
Then fell upon the house a sudden gloom,
A shadow on those features fair and thin,
And softly from that hush'd and darken'd room
Two angels issued, where but one went in!
All is of God! if He but wave his hand,
Lo! He looks back from the departing cloud.
Angels of Life and Death alike are His,
Without his leave they pass no threshold o’er; Who, then, would wish, or dare, believing this, Against His messengers to shut the door ?
H. W. LONGFELLOW.
A CHILD was playing in a garden, a merry little child,
[happy fancies ; Bounding with triumphant health, and full of His kite was floating in the sunshine_but he
tied the string to a twig, And ran among the roses to catch a new-born
His horn-book lay upon a bank, but the
pretty truant hid it, Buried up in gathered grass and moss and
sweet wild thyme; He launched a paper boat upon the fountain,
then wayward turn'd aside To twine some fragrant jessamines about the
dripping marble : [of manhoood, So, in various pastimes, shadowing the schemes That curly-headed boy consumed the golden hours ;
[merry little child, And I blessed his glowing face, envying the As he shouted with the ecstacy of being, clap
ping his hands for joyfulness, For I said, “Surely, Oh life! thy name is
happiness and hope, Thy days are bright, thy flowers are sweet, And pleasure the condition of thy gift.”
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