Yes, on the grave's hard pillows rise No cankering cares, no dreams of woe; On earth we close our aching eyes, And heavenward all our visions grow. The airs of Eden round us flow, And in their balm our slumbers steep. God calls His chosen home, and so "He giveth His beloved sleep." Ah! vainly could the human voice, In this dull world of sin and folly, Tell how the sainted dead rejoice In those high realms where joy is holy-- Where no dim shade of melancholy Beclouds the rest which angels keep, Where, peace and bliss united wholly "He giveth His beloved sleep." If on that brow so fair, so young, Affliction trace an early furrow, If Hope's too dear, delusive tongue Has broke its promise of to-morrow, Seek not the world again, to borrow The deathful print its votaries reap. Man gives his loved ones pain and sorrow, God "giveth His beloved sleep." * * * * * LINES WRITTEN ON WITNESSING A CONFIRMATION, IN BERMUDA, IN 1826. Veil'd in robes of snowy whiteness, Filled with love and sacred fear, Forms of beauty, eyes of brightness, At the altar's foot appear. There with hearts oppressed with feeling What their dying Saviour felt; At His throne of mercy kneeling Where their pious parents knelt, Many a youth, and many a maiden Meekly and devoutly bow, And from worldly cares unladen Ratify a Christian's vow. Hark! what voice subdued and holy In that deep and tender tone, Prays upon those suppliants lonely Christ's eternal benison! God! who call'st them to inherit Joys no mortal tongue can speak, Guide them with thy gracious Spirit Through the storms that round them break. When thou seest these children straying From the way thy word imparts, Then, thine anger yet delaying, Renovate their faltering hearts. If provoked by strong temptation From thy paths again they swerve, If in prideful elevation They forget the God they serve, Then by timely, mild correction, Lead them, wheresoe'er they roam, Fan the embers of affection For their Father and their Home. * * * * * MIDNIGHT. Midnight is on the earth: Flowers that in darkness bloom, Their odorous life pour forth Beneath the gloom. O'er palace and o'er stall Her sable curtain spread, Mantles within its pall The living dead! Midnight is on the sea: A soft and still repose Steals o'er the untroubled lea That darkly glows. Hushed in their ocean caves The winds their sleep prolong, Or mourn along the waves In dreamlike song.