Dawn is fair, because the mists fade slowly Into day, which floods the world with light; Twilight's mystery is so sweet and holy Just because it ends in starry Night. Childhood's smiles unconscious graces borrow From Strife, that in a far-off future lies; And angel glances (veiled now by Life's sorrow) Draw our hearts to some belovèd eyes. Life is only bright when it proceedeth Towards a truer, deeper Life above; Human Love is sweetest when it leadeth To a more divine and perfect Love. Learn the mystery of Progression duly: Do not call each glorious change, Decay; But know we only hold our treasures truly, When it seems as if they passed away. Nor dare to blame God's gifts for incompleteness; In that want their beauty lies: they roll Towards some infinite depth of love and sweetness, Bearing onward man's reluctant soul. --_Adelaide Procter._ NOTHING TO DO. "Nothing to do" in this world of ours, Where weeds spring up with the fairest flowers, Where smiles have only a fitful play, Where hearts are breaking every day? "Nothing to do?" thou Christian soul, Wrapping thee round in thy selfish stole, Off with the garments of sloth and sin; Christ thy Lord hath a kingdom to win. "Nothing to do?" there are prayers to lay On the altar of incense day by day; There are foes to meet within and without; There is error to conquer, strong and stout. "Nothing to do?" there are minds to teach The simplest forms of Christian speech; There are hearts to lure with loving wile From the grimmest haunts of sin's defile. "Nothing to do?" there are lambs to feed, The precious hope of the Church's need; Strength to be borne to the weak and faint, Vigils to keep with the doubting saint. "Nothing to do?" there are heights to attain, Where Christ is transfigured yet again, Where earth will fade in the vision sweet, And the soul press on with wingèd feet. "Nothing to do?" and thy Saviour said, "Follow thou me in the path I tread." Lord, lend thy help the journey through, Lest, faint, we cry, "So much to do!" --_Unidentified._ When death is drawing near, And thy heart shrinks in fear, And thy limbs fail, Then raise thy hands and pray To Him who smooths the way Through the dark vale. Seest thou the eastern dawn? Hear'st thou, in the red morn, The angels' song? Oh! lift thy drooping head Thou, who in gloom and dread Hast lain so long. Death comes to set thee free, Oh! meet him cheerily, As thy true friend; And all thy fears shall cease, And in eternal peace, Thy penance end. --_From_ "_Sintram._" IT IS NOT DEATH TO DIE. It is not death to die-- To leave this weary road, And, 'mid the brotherhood on high, To be at home with God. It is not death to close The eye long dimmed by tears, And wake, in glorious repose To spend eternal years.