TO E ——.

Much have we to support us in our strife With things which else would crush us, nor alone Secret refreshings of the inward life, But many a flower of sweetest scent is strown Upon our outward and our open way; None sweeter than are at some seasons known To them who dwell for many a prosperous day Under one roof, and have, as they would hope, One purpose for their lives, one aim, one scope— To labour upward on the path to heaven. Full of refreshment these occasions are, Like seasonable resting-places given To pilgrim feet; for tho’, alas! too rare, Yet the sweet memories they supply, will give The food on which affection’s heart may live In after times; since it were sad indeed If all more intimate knowledge did not breed More trust in one another and more love, More faith that each is seeking to attain With humble earnest effort, not in vain, The happy rest of God. And so they part On their divided ways with cheerful heart, Knowing that in all places they will call On the same God and Father over all; And part not wholly, since they meet whose prayer Meets at the throne of grace; one life divine Through all the branches of the mystical vine Flows ever, even as the same breath of air Lifts every leaflet of a mighty grove. And from our meeting we shall reap a share Of a yet higher good, if we have won Hereby the strengthening of one weak desire, The fanning of one faint spark to a fire, The stirring of one prayer, that we may prove Stedfast and faithful till our work be done, Until the course appointed us be run. We know not whither our frail barks are borne, To quiet haven, or on stormy shore; Nor need we seek to know it, while above The tempest and the waters’ angriest roar Are heard the voices of Almighty love— So we shall find none dreary nor forlorn. Whither we go we know not, but we know That if we keep our faces surely set Towàrd new Zion, we shall reach at last, When every danger, every woe is past, The city where the sealèd tribes are met, Whither the nations of the savèd flow, The city with its heav’n-descended halls, The city builded round with diamond walls. Then how should we feel sorrow or dim fear At any parting now, if there to meet; How should our hearts with sadder pulses beat, When thou art going where kind hearts will greet And welcome thy return, and there as here Thou still wilt find thine own appointed sphere, To fill the measure up of gentle deeds, Even as we have learnèd that in these, That in the holy Christian charities, And the suppliance of the lowliest needs Of the most lowly, our true greatness is. Therefore we will not seek to win thy stay, Nor ask but this—that thou shouldst bear away Kind memories of us, and only claim What of thyself thou wilt be prompt to give, That in thy heart’s affections he may live, To whom thou bearest that most holy name Of spiritual mother. O beloved friend, It is a cheering thought, if I should be Where I can no more watch for him nor tend His infant years—there where I cannot see What good, what evil wait upon his way, That yet thy love thy counsel and thy cares He will not lack, a child of faithful prayers.