To the marriage, Death doth call, The brilliant lamps are lighted; The virgins come, invited, And oil is with them all. Space now to space is telling How forth thy train hath gone, The voice of stars is swelling With human tongue and tone! To thee, Maria, hallowed, A thousand hearts are sent; In this dark life and shadowed, On thee their thoughts are bent: The soul’s releasement seeing They, longing, seek its rest; By thee pressed, holy being, Upon thy faithful breast. How many who, once glowing, Earth’s bitterness have learned, Their souls with grief o’erflowing, To thee have sadly turned; Thou pitying hast appearéd, In many an hour of pain; We come to thee now, wearied, There ever to remain. By no cold grave now weepeth A faithful love, forlorn; Each still love’s sweet rights keepeth, From none will they be torn. To soften his sad longing Her fires doth Night impart; From heaven cherubs thronging, Hold watch upon his heart. Content, our life advancing To a life that shall abide, Each flame its worth enhancing, The soul is glorified. The starry host shall sink then To bright and living wine, The golden draught we drink then, And stars ourselves shall shine. Love released, lives woundless, No separation more; While life swells free and boundless As a sea without a shore. One night of glad elation, One joy that cannot die, And the sun of all creation Is the face of the Most High.” VI. LONGING FOR DEATH. BELOW, within the earth’s dark breast, From realms of light departing, There sorrow’s pang and sigh oppressed Is signal of our starting. In narrow boat we ferry o’er Speedily to heaven’s shore. To us be hallowed endless Night, Hallowed eternal slumber! The day hath withered us with light, And troubles beyond number. No more ’mong strangers would we roam; We seek our Father, and our home. Upon this world, what do we here, As faithful, fond, and true men? The Old but meets with scorn and sneer:— What care we for the New, then? Oh, lone is he, and sadly pines, Who loves with zeal the olden times! Those old times when the spirits light To heaven as flame ascended; The Father’s hand and features bright When men yet comprehended; When many a mortal, lofty-souled, Yet bore the mark of heavenly mould. Those olden times when budded still The stems of ancient story, And children, to do Heaven’s will, In pain and death sought glory; Those times when life and pleasure spoke, Yet many a heart with fond love broke.