Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney

Alas! they have left me all alone By the receding tide; But oh! the countless multitudes

Hush, hush! my thoughts are resting on a changeless world of bliss; Oh! come not with the voice of mirth to lure them back to this. 'Tis true, we've much of sadness in our weary sojourn here,

Poor throbbing heart! the battle wave of life Beats strong against thee, yet thou strugglest on, Breasting the mighty billows, though no kind, well-known voice,

'Tis not when we look on the dreamless dead, And feel that the spirit forever has fled; 'Tis not when we're called to the voiceless tomb

"The accuser of the brethren!" How fitting is the name! Since the creation of the world

Fare thee well, we've no wish to detain thee, For the loved ones are bidding thee come, And, we know, a bright welcome awaits thee

Turn from the grave, turn from the grave, There's fearful mystery there; Descend not to the shadowy tomb,

Bright summer comes, all bloom and flowers, To garland o'er her faded bowers; There's balm and sunshine on her wing,

In this book I have scribbled some innocent rhymes, In various moods, and at different times; Some grave and some cheerful, some merry, some sad,

Oh, when I found that Death had set His awful stamp on thee, Deserted on Life's stormy shore,

Kindness soothes the bitter anguish, Kindness wipes the falling tear, Kindness cheers us when we languish,

To the heart of trusting childhood life is all a gilded way, Wherein a beam of sunny bliss forever seems to play; It roams about delightedly through pleasure's roseate bower,

My father! Oh! I cannot dwell On hours when we shall meet again; I only feel, I only know

... "They that turn many to righteousness, shall shine as the stars forever and ever." ... They have left their homes and kindred, they are in the strangers' land,

Oh, for a home of rest! Time lags alone so slow, so wearily; Couldst thou but smile on me, I should be blest.

"To-day" Oh! not to-day shall sound Thy mild and gentle voice; Nor yet "to-morrow" will it bid

"Thou great First Cause," Creator, King, and Lord, The worm that breathed at Thy commanding word, And dies whene'er Thou wilt, presumptuous man,

When our bosoms were lightest, And day-dreams were brightest, The gay vision melted away;

And this man was "an infidel!" Ah, no! The tale's incredible it was not so. The untutored savage through the world may plod,

Ye have met, ye have met, disencumbered of pain, Of sorrow, and sickness, and care; And the slave and the prisoner, now freed from their chain,

Fare thee well, fare thee well, for thy journey is o'er, And the place that has known thee, shall know thee no more; The eye that has seen thee, shall seek thee in vain,

Oh! say, shall those ties, now so sacred and dear, That with rainbow hues tint all our wanderings here, Be regarded no more in that heavenly sphere

Thou art come from the spirits' land, thou bird! Thou art come from the spirits' land: Through the dark pine grove let thy voice be heard,

Shepherd of Israel! o'er Thy fold How sweet Thy guardian care, To them invisible indeed,

Oh! the world looks glad, for the spring has smiled, And the birds are come with their "wood-notes wild," And the waters leap with a joyous sound,

When rainbow hues of closing day O'er evening's portals faintly play, The Alpine horn calls far away,

Hail, pensile gem, that thus can softly gild The starry coronal of quiet eve! What frost-work fabrics man shall vainly build

Why should "the little remnant mourn?" Though closed the house of prayer, An aged oak its shelter gave;

The God of glory thundereth! who hath not heard His voice, Bidding the sinner tremble, and the pure in heart rejoice? Yes, yes, the sinner trembleth, for the Judge is on His throne,

The last look is taken, the last word is said Haste away o'er the waves, then, glad tidings to spread; Thy Master has called thee, no longer delay,

So soft Time's plumage in life's budding spring, We rarely note the flutter of his wing. The untutored heart, from pain and sadness free,

When darkness over Egypt reigned, A darkness to be felt, Light sweetly shone round Goshen still,

They have met, they have met! now their pinions unfurl In that city whose pavement is gold, Whose every gate is of one liquid pearl,

Oh! Time, as it fleets, dooms a joy to decay, From the chaplet of hope steals a blossom away, Throws a cloud o'er the lustre of life's fairy scene,

Ah! be not sad, though adverse winds may blow, Thy patience and thy fortitude to prove; Thy Saviour wears no frown upon his brow,

The Lord's portion is his people, Jacob is the lot of his inheritance. He found him in a desert land, and in the waste howling wilderness. He led him about, he instructed him, he kept him as the apple of his eye. As an eagle stirreth up her nest, fluttereth over her young, spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh them, beareth them on her wings, so the Lord alone did lead him, and there was no strange god with him. DEUT. 32: 9-12. T. E.'s Sermon. When the eagle finds her brood is fledged,

Ah! know ye not in Israel A prince is fallen to-day, A just man, from the ills to come,

Oh, the brow that has never been shaded by care The rosewreath of pleasure may smilingly wear, And the heart that is wholly a stranger to gloom,

I thought those youthful hearts were bleak and bare, That not a germ had ever flourished there, Unless perchance the night-shade of despair,

Great and omnipotent that Power must be, That wings the whirlwind and directs the storm, That, by a strong convulsion, severed thee,

Trust not Hope's illusive ray, Trust not Joy's deceitful smiles; Oft they reckless youth betray

Judge we of coming, by the by-past, years, And still can Hope, the siren, soothe our fears? Cheated, deceived, our cherished day-dreams o'er,

Gay visions for thee 'neath hope's pencil have glowed, Peace dwells in thy bosom, a guileless abode; Thou hast seen the bright side of existence alone,