Love Is Strong As Death.

"I have not sought Thee, I have not found Thee, I have not thirsted for Thee: And now cold billows of death surround me, Buffeting billows of death astound me,-- Wilt Thou look upon, wilt Thou see Thy perishing me?"

"Yea, I have sought thee, yea, I have found thee, Yea, I have thirsted for thee, Yea, long ago with love's bands I bound thee: Now the Everlasting Arms surround thee,-- Through death's darkness I look and see And clasp thee to Me."

BIRCHINGTON CHURCHYARD.

A lowly hill which overlooks a flat, Half sea, half country side; A flat-shored sea of low-voiced creeping tide Over a chalky, weedy mat.

A hill of hillocks, flowery and kept green Round Crosses raised for hope, With many-tinted sunsets where the slope Faces the lingering western sheen.

A lowly hope, a height that is but low, While Time sets solemnly, While the tide rises of Eternity, Silent and neither swift nor slow.

ONE SEA-SIDE GRAVE.

Unmindful of the roses, Unmindful of the thorn, A reaper tired reposes Among his gathered corn: So might I, till the morn!

Cold as the cold Decembers, Past as the days that set, While only one remembers And all the rest forget,-- But one remembers yet.

BROTHER BRUIN.

A dancing Bear grotesque and funny Earned for his master heaps of money, Gruff yet good-natured, fond of honey, And cheerful if the day was sunny. Past hedge and ditch, past pond and wood He tramped, and on some common stood; There, cottage children circling gaily, He in their midmost footed daily. Pandean pipes and drum and muzzle Were quite enough his brain to puzzle: But like a philosophic bear He let alone extraneous care And danced contented anywhere.

Still, year on year, and wear and tear, Age even the gruffest, bluffest bear. A day came when he scarce could prance, And when his master looked askance On dancing Bear who would not dance.

To looks succeeded blows; hard blows Battered his ears and poor old nose. From bluff and gruff he waxed curmudgeon; He danced indeed, but danced in dudgeon, Capered in fury fast and faster. Ah, could he once but hug his master And perish in one joint disaster! But deafness, blindness, weakness growing, Not fury's self could keep him going. One dark day when the snow was snowing His cup was brimmed to overflowing: He tottered, toppled on one side, Growled once, and shook his head, and died. The master kicked and struck in vain, The weary drudge had distanced pain And never now would wince again. The master growled; he might have howled Or coaxed,--that slave's last growl was growled. So gnawed by rancor and chagrin One thing remained: he sold the skin.

What next the man did is not worth Your notice or my setting forth, But hearken what befell at last. His idle working days gone past, And not one friend and not one penny Stored up (if ever he had any Friends; but his coppers had been many), All doors stood shut against him but The workhouse door, which cannot shut. There he droned on,--a grim old sinner, Toothless, and grumbling for his dinner, Unpitied quite, uncared for much (The rate-payers not favoring such), Hungry and gaunt, with time to spare; Perhaps the hungry, gaunt old Bear Danced back, a haunting memory. Indeed, I hope so, for you see If once the hard old heart relented, The hard old man may have repented.