Though on its slope men sow and reap.

More softly than the dew is shed,
Or cloud is floated overhead,
"He giveth His beloved sleep."

Ay, men may wonder while they scan
A living, thinking, feeling man
Confirmed in such a rest to keep;
But angels say,-and through the word
I think their happy smile is heard,—
"He giveth His beloved sleep."

For me, my heart, that erst did go
Most like a tired child at a show,

That sees through tears the mummers leap,

Would now its wearied vision close,

Would childlike on His love repose

Who "giveth His beloved sleep."

And, friends, dear friends, when it shall be
That this low breath is gone from me,
And round my bier ye come to weep,
Let One, most loving of you all,
Say, "Not a tear must o'er her fall:
'He giveth His beloved sleep.'"

MRS. BROWNING.

THE SOUL-DIRGE.

109

THE SOUL-DIRGE.

THE organ played sweet music
Whileas, on Easter-day,
All heartless from the altar

The heedless went away;
And, down the broad aisle crowding,
They seemed a funeral train,

That were burying their spirits
To the music of that strain.

As I listened to the organ,

And saw them crowd along,

I thought I heard two voices.

Speaking strangely, but not strong:

And one, it whispered sadly,

Will ye also go away?

But the other spoke exulting,

Ha! the soul-dirge,-hear it play!

Hear the soul-dirge! hear the soul-dirge!

And see the feast divine!

Ha! the jewels of salvation,

And the trampling feet of swine!

Hear the soul-dirge! hear the soul-dirge!
Little think they, as they go,

What priceless pearls they tread on,
Who spurn their Saviour so!

Hear the soul-dirge! hear the soul-dirge!
It was dread to hear it play,
While the Famishing went crowding

From the Bread of Life away :
They were bidden, they were bidden
To their Father's festal board;
But they all, with gleeful faces,
Turned their back upon the Lord.

You had thought the church a prison,
Had you seen how they did pour
With giddy, giddy faces,

From the consecrated door.
There was angels' food all ready,

But the bidden-where were they? O'er the highways and the hedges, Ere the soul-dirge ceased to play!

Oh, the soul-dirge, how it echoed
The emptied aisles along,
As the open street grew crowded
With the full outpouring throng!
And then-again the voices;

Ha! the soul-dirge! hear it play!
And the pensive, pensive whisper,
Will ye also go away?

THE SOUL-DIRGE.

Few, few were they that lingered
Το sup with Jesus there;

And yet, for all that spurned Him
There was plenty, and to spare!
And now, the food of angels
Uncovered to my sight,
All-glorious was the altar,

And the chalice glittered bright.

Then came the hymn Trisagion,
And rapt me up on high,
With angels and archangels
To laud and magnify.

I seemed to feast in Heaven;

And downward wafted then, With angels chaunting round me, Good will and peace to men.

I may not tell the rapture
Of a banquet so divine;

Ho! every one that thirsteth,

Let him taste the bread and wine!

Hear the Bride and Spirit saying,

Will ye also go away? Or-go, poor soul, forever!

Oh, the soul-dirge-hear it play!

A. CLEVELAND COXE.

111