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QYOLUNTARIES ON THE LAKE OF Gomo.
BY REV. PAXTON HOOD.
I—THE LITTLE MounTAIN CHURCH.
THERE’s a little white church, but my foot cannot find it,
It stands on a crag with a tall mount behind it;
And far, far beneath it the sweet chafing waters—
The lake cool and clear.
Oh, thou dear little church on the far-away mountain !
As fresh to my heart as the fall of the fountain ;
And far, far beneath it the sweet chafing waters—
The lake cool and cl
And how did the hands of the Builder come near thee ?
Oh, thou tall beetling crag! what a terror to rear thee
Vout. I. No. 21.
Oh, thou little white church! tho’ my foot cannot find
thee,
Ishall think of thee long, when I’ve left thee behind me;
| And far, far away from the sweet chafing waters—
The lake cool and clear,—
I shall say, little church, on the far-away mountain,
Thou art fresh to my heart as the of a fountain ;
| So far, far above o’er the sweet chafing waters,
Or the wild chafing
The lake cool and clear.
aters—
JI—THE VESPER BELL.
No matter how the eve comes round,
ver Bell is sure to sound ,
With dewy hues of fading light,
JuLy 5, 1882.
Copyright 1882 by Our Continent Publishing Co., Philadelphia,
Tren Cents a Copy.
Four Dotiars a Year.
No matter how the eve comes round,
The hours
re by one circle bound;
y, give grief, give what th
e but twelve hours in the day
Be they with gloom or gladness crown'd,
The Vesper Bell is sure to sound !
sper Bell,
8 passing knell?
it be like that sweet sound,
ost and praise when eve comes round,
For r
I—TuHeE LicuHTs «
Sit here, dea
And stir ’mid
THE LAKE,
and watch while the night-breezes wake,
st the myrtles and vines on the lake;
So far, far above o’er the sweet chafing waters—
The lake cool and clear !
Oh, whisper and say how the worshipers find thee !
Oh, church on the crag! with the tall mount behind thee,
So far, far above o'er the sweet chafing waters—
The lake cool and clear.
Is the way thro’ the sweet meadow, there, just below it?
Is the way o’er yon narrow ledge—foot cannot know it?
So dread and so dark o’er the sweet chafing waters—
The lake cool and clear?
What hand wakes the sound from the belfry up yonder?
What matins | what vespers! I wonder, I ponder,
As I rock far beneath on the sweet chafing waters-
The lake cool and clear.
Or blackest clouds of threat’ning night,
Not loud, but clear, you hear it sound
For rest and prayer, as eve comes round.
The heat and glare of day are gone,
The work is done, or should be done :
Peace to the stall of man or beast.
Peace to the babe’s or birdling’s nest ;
And, therefore, as the eve comes round,
The Vesper Bell is sure to sound.
A marriage peal awoke the dawn,
A funeral knell the later morn ;
This afternoon I heard the toll—
A passing bell for passing soul ; .
And now you hear the Vesper sound
For rest and prayer, as eve comes round,
| How the stillness comes down o’er the smooth glass-like
breast,
Where the waves look like passions sunk softly to rest.
Day closes, night kindles—all nature is still,
Save yonder, where ghosts seem to talk on the hill :
Let us sit here and watch what new forms they may take,
Like the kingdoms of Fairy—the Lights on the Lake !
Ah! the heart hath its waters, and do you not know
The reflections so bright on its wavelets below ?
What tremulous lustres, like the lights on yon stream,
How they glow, how they glance like the lights in a dream
They are gone! They have vanished! , Night bears them
a VS
We awake to the glare and the heat of the day.
But reflection shall often in memory awake,
The hours we sat watching the Lights on the Lake.
