Voices are round me; smiles are near;
    Kind welcomes to be had;
  And yet my spirit is alone,
    Fretful, outworn, and sad.

  A weary actor, I would fain
    Be quit of my long part;
  The burden of unquiet life
    Lies heavy on my heart.

  Sweet thought of God! now do thy work
    As thou hast done before;
  Wake up, and tears will wake with thee,
    And the dull mood be o’er.

  The very thinking of the thought
    Without or praise or prayer,
  Gives light to know, and life to do,
    And marvellous strength to bear.

  Oh, there is music in that thought,
    Unto a heart unstrung,
  Like sweet bells at the evening time,
    Most musically rung.

  ’Tis not his justice or his power,
    Beauty or blest abode,
  But the mere unexpanded thought
    Of the eternal God.

  It is not of his wondrous works,
    Not even that he is;
  Words fail it, but it is a thought
    Which by itself is bliss.

  Sweet thought, lie closer to my heart! 
    That I may feel thee near,
  As one who for his weapon feels
    In some nocturnal fear.

  Mostly in hours of gloom thou com’st,
    When sadness makes us lowly,
  As though thou wert the echo sweet
    Of humble melancholy.

  I bless thee.  Lord, for this kind check
    To spirits over free! 
    More helpless need of thee! 
  And for all things that make me feel

FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER.

* * * * *

I SAW THEE.

    “When thou wast under the fig-tree, I saw thee.”

  I Saw thee when, as twilight fell,
    And evening lit her fairest star,
  Thy footsteps sought yon quiet dell,
    The world’s confusion left afar.

  I saw thee when thou stood’st alone,
    Where drooping branches thick o’erhung,
  Thy still retreat to all unknown,
    Hid in deep shadows darkly flung.

  I saw thee when, as died each sound
    Of bleating flock or woodland bird,
  Kneeling, as if on holy ground,
    Thy voice the listening silence heard.

  I saw thy calm, uplifted eyes,
    And marked the heaving of thy breast,
  When rose to heaven thy heartfelt sighs
    For purer life, for perfect rest.

  I saw the light that o’er thy face
    Stole with a soft, suffusing glow,
  As if, within, celestial grace
    Breathed the same bliss that angels know.

  I saw—­what thou didst not—­above
    Thy lowly head an open heaven;
  And tokens of thy Father’s love
    With smiles to thy rapt spirit given.

  I saw thee from that sacred spot
    With firm and peaceful soul depart;
  I, Jesus, saw thee,—­doubt it not,—­
    And read the secrets of thy heart!

RAY PALMER.