When in the dead of night I lie
  And gaze upon the trackless sky,
  The star-bespangled heavenly scroll,
  The boundless waters as they roll,—­
  I feel thy wondrous power to save
  From perils of the stormy wave: 
  Rocked in the cradle of the deep,
  I calmly rest and soundly sleep.

  And such the trust that still were mine,
  Though stormy winds swept o’er the brine,
  Or though the tempest’s fiery breath
  Roused me from sleep to wreck and death. 
  In ocean cave, still safe with Thee
  The germ of immortality! 
  And calm and peaceful shall I sleep,
  Rocked in the cradle of the deep.

EMMA HART WILLARD.

* * * * *

GOOD-BYE.

  Good-bye, proud world, I’m going home: 
  Thou art not my friend, and I’m not thine. 
  Long through thy weary crowds I roam;
  A river-ark on the ocean brine,
  Long I’ve been tossed like the driven foam,
  But now, proud world, I’m going home.

  Good-bye to Flattery’s fawning face;
  To Grandeur with his wise grimace;
  To upstart Wealth’s averted eye;
  To supple Office, low and high;
  To crowded halls, to court and street;
  To frozen hearts and hasting feet;
  To those who go, and those who come;
  Good-bye, proud world!  I’m going home.

  I’m going to my own hearth-stone,
  Bosomed in yon green hills alone,—­
  A secret nook in a pleasant land,
  Whose groves the frolic fairies planned;
  Where arches green, the livelong day,
  Echo the blackbird’s roundelay,
  And vulgar feet have never trod
  A spot that is sacred to thought and God.

  O, when I am safe in my sylvan home,
  I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome;
  And when I am stretched beneath the pines,
  Where the evening star so holy shines,
  I laugh at the lore and the pride of man,
  At the sophist schools, and the learned clan;
  For what are they all in their high conceit,
  When man in the bush with God may meet?

RALPH WALDO EMERSON.

* * * * *

OUR GOD, OUR HELP IN AGES PAST.

  Our God, our help in ages past,
    Our hope for years to come,
  Our shelter from the stormy blast,
    And our eternal home,—­

  Under the shadow of thy throne
    Thy saints have dwelt secure;
  Sufficient is thine arm alone,
    And our defence is sure.

  Before the hills in order stood,
    Or earth received her frame,
  From everlasting thou art God,
    To endless years the same.

  A thousand ages in thy sight
    Are like an evening gone;
  Short as the watch that ends the night
    Before the rising sun.

  Time like an ever-rolling stream
    Bears all its sons away;
  They fly, forgotten, as a dream
    Dies at the opening day.