The winds breathe low; the withering leaf Scarce whispers from the tree; So gently flows the parting breath, How beautiful on all the hills 'Tis like the peace the Christian gives How mildly on the wandering cloud The sunset beam is cast! 'Tis like the memory left behind When loved ones breathe their last. And now, above the dews of night, But soon the morning's happier light And eyelids that are sealed in death Shall wake to close no more. SABBATH EVENING TWILIGHT. BY W. CUTTER. DELIGHTFUL hour of sweet repose, Of hallowed thoughts, of love, of prayer! I love thy deep and tranquil close, For all the sabbath-day is there. Each pure desire, each high request That burned before the temple shrineThe hopes, the fears, that moved the breastAll live again in light like thine. I love thee for the fervid glow Thou shed'st around the closing day— Those golden fires, those wreaths of snow, And track the course where spirits fly, I love thee for the unbroken calm, That slumbers on this fading scene, And throws its kind and soothing charm It trances every roving thought, Yet sets the soaring fancy freeShuts from the soul the present out, That all is musing memory. I love those joyous memories, That o'er the spell-bound spirit roll. Yet holier is thy peaceful close, For vows love left recorded there ;- Wrapped every vision hope had given. When these deep purpling shades came down, In softened teints, upon the hills, We swore, that, whether fate should crown Our future course with joys or ills SABBATH EVENING TWILIGHT. Whether safe moored in love's retreat, Or severed wide by mount and seaThis hour, in spirit, we would meet, And urge to Heaven our mutual plea. O, tell me if this hallowed hour Still finds thee constant at our shrine, Still witnesses thy fervent prayer Ascending warm and true with mine! Faithful through every change of wo, My heart still flies to meet thee there : 'Twould sooth this very heart to know That thine responded every prayer. 65 SUNRISE ON THE HILLS. BY H. W. LONGFELLOW. I STOOD Upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch And woods were brightened, and soft gales The clouds were far beneath me:-bathed in light Like hosts in battle overthrown, As many a pinnacle with shifting glance, The dark pine blasted, bare, and cleft. Where upward in the mellow blush of day |