PEACE, sacred Peace, here is thy dwelling-place;
Here dost thou move, with noiseless, angel step,
Through the dim, shadowy aisle. The restless world,
With all its tempests wild of hopes and fears,
And joys and sorrows, lieth dark without;
Here do I feel thy power. I seem to hear
A gentle rustle as of angel wings,
Filling the air with breath of heavenly balm,
Wafting God's peace around. A Presence, great,
Glorious, and awful, yet that seems to breathe
Of mercy infinite, and endless love,
Pervades this holy sanctuary of God.
And in that Presence each wild heart is stilled,
Each rebel will is bowed; and, from above,
God's own sweet sunlight, streaming softly in,
Sheddeth its chastened light on forms that kneel,
With humble, trusting faith, and hearts at peace,
Before His mercy-seat; while murmuring tones
Of earnest, heartful prayer, upward ascend
Toward the throne of God; led by his voice,
The voice of one, ambassador of Christ
To us His earthly flock; who, in our name,
Lays all our sins and sorrows at His feet
Who seeth all our weakness, knows our wants,
And looketh down with pitying eyes of love
On us, His children, giving peace, and strength,
And pardon, to each lowly, trusting heart
That bends before Him. Now at length we rise,
Filled with peace, love, and joy unspeakable;
Then thrills the silent air with notes of praise
And glad thanksgiving; then the vaulted roof
Echoes with sweetest tones of harmony,
As from glad hearts bursts the full tide of song,
Swelling upon the ear, until it seems
That angels echo back the joyful sound,
And bear it with them on their heavenward flight
Toward the eternal throne. Then all is still,-
Again with bended head, and folded hands,
We reverent kneel, and then once more he speaks-
He, Christ's true faithful messenger; in tones
Solemn and earnest, thrilling every heart,
Invokes his Master's blessing on our heads.
He ceases,—in low, murmured, heartfelt tones
We breathe our soft " Amen ;" and lo, methinks
Sweet angel voices seem to echo round,
In whispers soft and low, "Amen, amen."
Awhile we silent kneel; then all is o'er,
And reverently we pass out, one by one,
Out of that atmosphere of heavenly peace,
To struggle, on the battle-field of life,
With all the world's temptations, fears, and griefs;
Yet fearing nothing, since we know that He,
The Lord of angels, leads us in the strife.
Filled with His peace, and strengthened with His might,
Calmly we brave each danger as it comes,
Ready to take our cross, and follow on
Wherever He may lead. We ask not where,
Nor why He leads us by this thorny path;
We only know, however rough it be,
It leads straight onward to His endless rest,
It leads us to Himself,-we ask no more.
And still, where'er I go, the memory dear
Of that still chapel, and the peaceful hours
That I have spent within its sacred walls,
Dwells in my heart, bringing back holy thoughts,
Filling my soul with tender memories,
Deepening my faith, strengthening each high resolve
Formed 'mid its holy influences. It seems
A hallowed spot amid earth's desert waste;
And as I stand upon its threshold, lo!
Methinks I hear a voice beside me cry,
'Oh, mortal! put thy shoes from off thy feet,
The place whereon thou stand'st is holy ground."
I SAT alone, beside a little stream
That rippled downward through a forest glen
Toward the distant ocean, murmuring low
And softly, as it rippled on its way;
While sunny flowers, bright children of the spring,
Bent o'er its gleaming tide, and seemed to smile,
As, 'neath the silvery waves, their own bright hues
They saw reflected; while the stream flowed on,
'Twixt grassy banks, 'neath overhanging boughs,
Between whose arches green the sunlight glanced,
Making the tiny wavelets flash and gleam
With fitful, quivering brightness. All was still;
No sound was heard in that deep solitude;
None save the gentle murmur of the stream,
The whispering of the breeze, or, now and then,
The low sweet woodnote wild of some lone bird
Fell echoing through the stillness.—Long I sat,
And as I gazed upon that hurrying stream,
I thought of the swift-flowing stream of Time;
How it had borne away my cherished ones,
The bright and beautiful of bygone years,
Upon its cold, cold wave, and left me here
Lonely and desolate; yet still flowed on,
Its waves as bright and gladsome to the world
As though no lone hearts stood upon its shores,
Yearning for those who could not come again,
Whom it had borne upon its rushing tide
To the great ocean of Eternity.
Now, as I musing sat, my spirit, soothed
By the soft murmurings of Nature's voice,
Wandered away into the shadowy realms
Of sleep, and as I slept I dreamt. Methought
That still I sat upon that streamlet's bank,
And still I mourned for those, the loved and lost;
But while I mused and grieved methought I felt
No form I saw,
An angel presence near.
But a voice, sweet beyond all earthly tones,
Fell on my wondering ear. "Mortal," it said,
"Wherefore this grief? Wherefore these bitter tears?" Wherefore this grief!" I cried. "How can I cease
To mourn my hapless fate? Of all the flowers
That deck this favoured spot, fairest and best
Was one sweet bunch of blossoms that I bore
Upon my bosom, one which I had borne
For many a year, through many a changing scene
Of joy and sorrow, and had hoped to bear
Still for long years to come; but, one by one,
E'en while I gazed upon their loveliness,
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