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PEACE.

BY GEORGE HERBERT.

SWEET Peace, where dost thou dwell? I humbly crave,

Let me once know.

I sought thee in a secret cave,

And asked if Peace were there:

A hollow sound did seem to answer, "No!
Go, seek elsewhere."

I did, and going, did a rainbow note,
"Surely," thought I,

"This is the lace of Peace's coat;

I will search out the matter."

But, while I looked, the clouds immediately
Did break and scatter.

Then went I to a garden, and did spy
A gallant flower-

The Crown-Imperial: "Sure," said I,
"Peace at the root must dwell."

But, when I digged, I saw a worm devour
What showed so well.

At length I met a reverend, good old man :
Whom, when for Peace

I did demand, he thus began:

"There was a prince of old

In Salem dwelt, who lived with good increase
Of flock and fold.

"He sweetly lived; yet sweetness did not save

His life from foes:

But, after death, out of his grave

There sprang twelve stalks of wheat,

Which many, wondering at, got some of those,
To plant and set.

"It prospered strangely, and did soon disperse Through all the earth:

For they that taste it do rehearse,

That virtue lies therein,—

A secret virtue, bringing peace and mirth,
By flight from sin.

"Take of this grain, which in my garden grows,

And grows for you :

Make bread of it; and that repose

And peace, which everywhere
With so much earnestness you do pursue,
You'll find, is there."

WE ARE SEVEN.

BY WORDSWORTH.

A SIMPLE child,

That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death?

I met a little cottage girl,

She was eight years old, she said; Her hair was thick, with many a curl, That clustered round her head.

She had a rustic woodland air,
And she was wildly clad;
Her eyes were fair, and very fair;
Her beauty made me glad.

"Sisters and brothers, little maid,

How many may you be?"

"How many? Seven in all," she said,

And wondrous looked at me.

"And where are they? I pray you tell."
She answered, "Seven are we,
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea.

"Two of us in the churchyard lie,
My sister and my brother,
And, in the churchyard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother."

"You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea;

Yet you are seven! I pray you tell,
Sweet maid, how this may be ?"

Then did the little maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we,
Two of us in the churchyard lie,
Beneath the churchyard tree."

"You run about, my little maid,
Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the churchyard laid,
Then you are only five ?"

"Their graves are green, they may be seen,”

The little maid replied;

"Twelve steps or more from mother's door, And they are side by side!

"My stockings there I often knit,

My kerchief there I hem ;
And there upon the ground I sit,
And sing a song to them.

"And often, after sunset, sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.

"The first that died was sister Jane,
In bed she moaning lay ;

Till God released her of her pain,
And then she went away.

"So in the churchyard she was laid,
And when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we played,

My brother John and I.

"And when the ground was white with snow,
And I could run and slide,

My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side."

"How many are you then," said I,
"If they two are in heaven?"
Quick was the little maid's reply-
"O, master, we are seven !"

"But they are dead-these two are dead,
Their spirits are in heaven!"

'T was throwing words away for still
The little maid would have her will

And said, "Nay! we are seven."

THE STREET OF BY-AND-BYE.

BY MRS. ABDY.

Он, shun the spot, my youthful friends, I urge you to be

ware!

Beguiling is the pleasant way, and softly breathes the air; Yet none have ever passed to scenes ennobling, great, and

high,

Who once began to linger in the street of By-and-bye.

How varied are the images arising to my sight,

Of those who wished to shun the wrong, who loved and

prized the right!

Yet from the silken bonds of sloth they vainly strove

to fly,

Which held them gently prisoned in the street of By-andbye.

A youth aspired to climb the height of Learning's lofty hill;

What dimmed his bright intelligence-what quelled his earnest will ?

Why did the object of his quest still mock his wistful eye ?

Too long, alas! he tarried in the street of By-and-bye.

“ My projects thrive," the merchant said; "when doubled is my store,

How freely shall my ready gold be showered among the poor!"

Vast

grew

his wealth, yet strove he not the mourner's tear to dry;

He never journeyed onward from the street of By-andbye!

"Forgive thy erring brother, he has wept and suffered long!"

I said to one, who answered-" He hath done me grievous

wrong;

Yet will I seek my brother, and forgive him ere I die :" Alas! Death shortly found him in the street of By-and

bye!

The wearied worldling muses upon lost and wasted days,
Resolved to turn hereafter from the error of his ways;
To lift his grovelling thoughts from earth, and fix them on

the sky;

Why does he linger fondly in the street of By-and-bye?

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