ursting bloom, [1]
The hoary head with joy to crown;
In short, the right to work and pray,
"To point to heaven and lead the way."

The Mother's Evening Prayer

O gentle presence, peace and joy and power;
O Life divine, that owns each waiting hour,
Thou Love that guards the nestling's faltering flight!
Keep Thou my child on upward wing to-night.

Love is our refuge; only with mine eye [10]
Can I behold the snare, the pit, the fall:
His habitation high is here, and nigh,
His arm encircles me, and mine, and all.

O make me glad for every scalding tear,
For hope deferred, ingratitude, disdain! [15]
Wait, and love more for every hate, and fear
No ill,--since God is good, and loss is gain.

Beneath the shadow of His mighty wing;
In that sweet secret of the narrow way,
Seeking and finding, with the angels sing: [20]
"Lo, I am with you alway,"--watch and pray.

No snare, no fowler, pestilence or pain;
No night drops down upon the troubled breast,
When heaven's aftersmile earth's tear-drops gain,
And mother finds her home and heavenly rest. [25]

[Page 390.]

June

Whence are thy wooings, gentle June?
Thou hast a Naiad's charm;
Thy breezes scent the rose's breath;
Old Time gives thee her palm. [5]
The lark's shrill song doth wake the dawn;
The eve-bird's forest flute
Gives back some maiden melody,
Too pure for aught so mute.

The fairy-peopled world of flowers, [10]
Enraptured by thy spell,
Looks love unto the laughing hours,
Through woodland, grove, and dell;
And soft thy footstep falls upon
The verdant grass it weaves; [15]
To melting murmurs ye have stirred
The timid, trembling leaves.

When sunshine beautifies the shower,
As smiles through teardrops seen,
Ask of its June, the long-hushed heart, [20]
What hath the record been?
And thou wilt find that harmonies,
In which the Soul hath part,
Ne'er perish young, like things of earth,
In records of the heart. [25]

[Page 391.]

Wish And Item

Written to the Editor of the _Item_, Lynn, Mass.

I hope the heart that's hungry
For things above the floor,
Will find within its portals [5]
An item rich in store;

That melancholy mortals
Will count their mercies o'