HYMN TO SOLITUDE.

O solitude, holy and calm! From tumult and crowds breaking free, I fly, sick and sad, for the balm I find given only by thee.

Too oft from thy peace I depart, Kind guardian, friend of my soul,— And then bring an earth-wounded heart For thee to bind up and make whole.

My spirit, now worn and oppressed, Her wings in thy bosom hath furled, To sink, as a bird in its nest, Away from a cold, faithless world!

Alarmed at the shade and the chill, That o'er me its visions have cast, I here would lie lowly and still, Till sorrow's dark night hours are past.

And then, from the dust may I rise, To mount, as the lark from her sod; And sing, as the morn of my skies Appears in the smile of my God.

O solitude, sacred and sweet; Whilst thus in thy bosom I lie, Earth's baubles are under my feet— My heart and its treasure, on high.