PASSING THROUGH THE CLOUDS.

OH, why do the dark clouds come, mother,
O'er the heavens so bright and clear?
They cover the face of the beautiful sky
With their shadows dim and drear;
They hide the sweet pale moon, mother,
And dim her radiant light:

Oh, why do the dark clouds come, mother,
O'er the beautiful and bright?

It must be ever thus, my child,

So long as the world shall last,
The bright and beautiful still must be
By sorrow's clouds o'ercast.

But we know the bright sky still is there,
Though our eyes see it not;

So God's love still is over all,

However dark our lot.

Ah! see yon silvery ray, mother!

She beams again at last;

But the cruel clouds come hurrying on,

And now the gleam is past.

D

Oh, mother, it passed so quickly away,

'Twas like a beautiful dream;

And deeper than ever the darkness seems,
After that radiant gleam.

Such is the brief, bright dream of bliss,
That comes 'mid our sorrow's night,
Till we almost believe, for a moment,
That life will be always bright;

But it were not well that it should be so,
And swiftly it passeth away,

Lest we cling too fondly to earthly hopes,
And joys that must soon decay.

See, now she has passed the clouds, mother,
She has reached the free blue sky,
Calmly and brightly she beameth now,
In her spotless purity;

And the little stars seem to welcome her,
As she cometh among them again,
And greet her with glancing looks of love,
As they follow in her train.

Yes, she has passed the clouds, my child,
She has passed them bravely through ;
Thus mayst thou meet the storms of life,
With a spirit brave and true;

Then, with God's light upon thy brow, God's peace within thy breast, Thou'lt pass into the glorious realms

Of everlasting rest.

There angel welcomes shall await

The spirit purified,

And a crown of glory wreathe the brow Of the victor true and tried.

SPRING.

COME, sister, come, let us up and away :
Sweetly and brightly the breezes play;
Spring, bright Spring, is coming again,
Bringing all pleasant thoughts in her train.

Away with sorrow, away with care,
They can have no place on a day so fair;
We'll forget, in our joy and merry glee,
That such things as grief and care can be.

See where the breeze is dancing free,
On the sparkling waves of the sunlit sea;
While all Nature cries, in a joyous strain,
Spring, bright Spring, is coming again.

The hawthorn flower on the spray is seen; And the trees are clad in their robes of green ; And they wave their branches in joyous glee As the breeze strays through them so lovingly.

And it whirls away, in scorn and disdain,
The withered leaves that from winter remain ;
Then away it darts, and the white clouds fly,
As it chases them through the bright blue sky.

Oh, merrily, merrily, fly the hours

'Mid the perfume sweet of the bright Spring flowers, While the sunbeams glance through the leafy shade, And the wild bee hums through the forest glade,

And the birds, as they sit on the blossoming spray,
Pour their sweet songs through the livelong day.
Then away with sorrow, and grief, and pain,
For Spring, bright Spring, is coming again.