Was that fold for the lambkin soft virtue's repose, Where the weary and earth-stricken lay down their woes,-- When the fountain and leaflet are frozen and sere, And the mountains more friendless,--their home is not here? When the herd had forsaken, and left them to stray From the green sunny slopes of the woodland away; Where the music of waters had fled to the sea, And this life but one given to suffer and be? Was it then thou didst call them to banish all pain, And the harpstring, just breaking, reecho again To a strain of enchantment that flowed as the wave, Where they waited to welcome the murmur it gave? Oh, there's never a shadow where sunshine is not, And never the sunshine without a dark spot; Yet there's one will be victor, for glory and fame, Without heart to define them, were only a name! Lynn, Mass., _February 19, 1868_. _TO THE SUNDAY SCHOOL CHILDREN_ _Who sent me the picture depictive of Isaiah xi._ Jesus loves you! so does mother: Glad thy Eastertide: Loving God and one another, You in Him abide. Ours through Him who gave you to us,-- Gentle as the dove, Fondling e'en the lion furious, Leading kine with love. Father, in Thy great heart hold them Ever thus as Thine! Shield and guide and guard them; and, when At some siren shrine They would lay their pure hearts' off'ring, Light with wisdom's ray-- Beacon beams--athwart the weakly, Rough or treacherous way. Temper every trembling footfall, Till they gain at last-- Safe in Science, bright with glory-- Just the way Thou hast: Then, O tender Love and wisdom, Crown the lives thus blest With the guerdon of Thy bosom, Whereon they may rest! Pleasant View, Concord, N. H., _April 3, 1899_. _HOPE_ Tis borne on the zephyr at eventide's hour; It falls on the heart like the dew on the flower,-- An infinite essence from tropic to pole, The promise, the home, and the heaven of Soul. Hope happifies life, at the altar or bower, And loosens the fetters of pride and of power; It comes through our tears, as the soft summer rain, To beautify, bless, and make joyful again. The harp of the minstrel, the treasure of time; A rainbow of rapture, o'erarching, divine; The God-given mandate that speaks from above,-- No place for earth's idols, but hope thou, and love. _TO ETTA_ Fair girl, thy rosebud heart rests warm Within life's summer bowers! Nor blasts of winter's angry storm, Nor April's changeful showers, Its leaves have shed or bowed the stem; But gracefully it stands-- A gem in beauty's diadem, Unplucked by ruthless hands. Thus may it ripen into bloom, Fresh as the fragrant sod, And yield its beauty and perfume An offering pure to God.