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Ye tiny elves that guiltless sport,
Ye little know the ills ye court,
The fears all, the tears all,
Of dim-declining age!
GOD IS LOVE.
Oh! child of grief, why weepest thou? ·
What deep sad sorrow lingers there?
Thou mournest perhaps for some one gone,
Yet mourn not, for thou hast above
Was it remorse that laid thee low?
Surely thou bearest a heavy grief,
There's One on high can pardon give
Has cold unkindness wounded thee?
In all the varying scenes of woe,
Still lift thy tearful eye above,
And hope in God, for God is love.'
Sweet is the thought-time flies apace,-
To all who love his name and word.
Then, weeping pilgrim, dry thy tears;
How calm is the stillness of night,-
Let me wander then on by the beach, heart to emotion is given,
There are thoughts which ye cannot reach,
-Passing shadows 'twixt me and heaven ;There are feelings none else can know,
That trouble my secret breast,
As the waters at midnight flow,
And know not a moment's rest.
"So meteor fires deceiving glance,
By the forest-girt mountains afar,
Smiling down from its throne serene ;
By the beauty which breathes around me,
power that I cannot quell,
With a syren charm hath bound me,
On this rocky and wave-beaten coast,
Then away let me turn in despair,
My bosom to darkness laid bare,
As stillness steals over the ocean,
As the winds from their savage commotion
As the calmness that hallows this night
Set thy soul from its troubles free!'
THE VOICE OF MIDNIGHT.
When night sits on the earth, and tower and town
That poureth from the moon who gazeth down,
When e'en the night wind and the restless sea