And ocean, in his numbers deep and strong, While the bright shore beneath thy ken he laves, Will sing to thee an everlasting song Of freedom, with his never-conquered waves. Rise then, and stand unshaken, till the skies Above thee are about to pass away; But, when the dead around thee are to rise, Melt in the burning splendors of the day! For then will He, "whose right it is to reign," Who hath on earth a kingdom pure to save, Come with his angels, calling up the slain To freedom, and annihilate the grave. A NAME IN THE SAND. Alone I walked the ocean strand; A pearly shell was in my hand: I stooped, and wrote upon the sand My name--the year--the day. As onward from the spot I passed, One lingering look behind I cast: A wave came rolling high and fast, And washed my lines away. And so, methought, 't will shortly be With every mark on earth from me; A wave of dark oblivion's sea Will sweep across the place, Where I have trod the sandy shore Of time, and been to be no more, Of me--my day--the name I bore, To leave nor track, nor trace. And yet, with Him, who counts the sands, And holds the waters in his hands, I know a lasting record stands, Inscribed against my name, Of all, this mortal part has wrought; Of all, this thinking soul has thought; And from these fleeting moments caught For glory, or for shame. THE CHILD OF A YEAR AND A DAY. To grief the night-hours keeping, A mournful mother lay Upon her pillow, weeping-- Her babe had passed away. When she had clasped her treasure A year and yet a day, Of time 't was all its measure-- 'T was gone, like morning's ray! The jewel, Heaven had shown her, Of worth surpassing gold, Was lent her, by its Owner-- 'T was never earth's to hold. Then, fondly hovering o'er her, A bright young angel hung; And warm the love it bore her, And sweet the song it sung: "O mother, why this weeping? Let all thy sorrow cease: My infant form is sleeping, Where nought can break its peace. "And he, who once was blessing Such little children here, My spirit now possessing, Will hold me ever dear. "I never knew the dreading Of death's all-conquering blow; My mortal raiment shedding, I rose above the foe. "Where sickness cannot pain me-- Where comes nor grief nor night-- Where sin shall never stain me, I dwell, a child of light. "While many a pilgrim hoary Treads long earth's weary way, I have eternal glory For one short year and day." Yet that sweet angel singing Its mother could not hear, For grief her heart was wringing-- She 'd but a mortal ear.