If thou canst get but thither,
There grows the flower of peace—
The rose that cannot wither—
Thy fortress, and thy ease.
Leave, then, thy foolish ranges;
For none can thee secure,
But one who never changes—
Thy God, thy life, thy cure.
HENRY VAUGHAN.
* * * * *
STAR-MIST.
FROM "STARS."
More and more stars! behold yon hazy arch
Spanning the vault on high,
By planets traversed in majestic march,
Seeming to earth's dull eye
A breath of gleaming air: but take thou wing
Of Faith and upward spring:—
Into a thousand stars the misty light
Will part; each star a world with its own day and night.
Not otherwise of yonder Saintly host
Upon the glorious shore
Deem thou. He marks them all, not one is lost;
By name He counts them o'er.
Full many a soul, to man's dim praise unknown,
May on its glory throne
As brightly shine, and prove as strong in prayer
As theirs, whose separate beams shoot keenest thro' this air.
JOHN KEBLE.
* * * * *