Clara—­Pray for the infant’s soul:  With its spirit crown unsoiled, He hath won, without war, a realm; Gained all, nor toiled.

Festus—­Pray for the struggling soul:  The mists of the straits of death Clear off; in some bright star-isle It anchoreth.

     Pray for the soul assured: 
     Though it wrought in a gloomy mine,
     Yet the gems it earned were its own,
     That soul’s divine.

Clara—­Pray for the simple soul:  For it loved, and therein was wise; Though itself knew not, but with heaven Confused the skies.

Festus—­Pray for the sage’s soul:  ’Neath his welkin wide of mind Lay the central thought of God, Thought undefined.

     Pray for the souls of all
     To our God, that all may be
     With forgiveness crowned, and joy
     Eternally.

Clara—­Hush! for the bell hath ceased; And the spirit’s fate is sealed; To the angels known; to man Best unrevealed.

     THOUGHTS

     FESTUS—­Well, farewell, Mr. Student.  May you never
     Regret those hours which make the mind, if they
     Unmake the body; for the sooner we
     Are fit to be all mind, the better.  Blessed
     Is he whose heart is the home of the great dead,
     And their great thoughts.  Who can mistake great thoughts
     They seize upon the mind; arrest and search,
     And shake it; bow the tall soul as by wind;
     Rush over it like a river over reeds,
     Which quaver in the current; turn us cold,
     And pale, and voiceless; leaving in the brain
     A rocking and a ringing; glorious,
     But momentary, madness might it last,
     And close the soul with heaven as with a seal! 
     In lieu of all these things whose loss thou mournest,
     If earnestly or not I know not, use
     The great and good and true which ever live;
     And are all common to pure eyes and true. 
     Upon the summit of each mountain-thought
     Worship thou God, with heaven-uplifted head
     And arms horizon-stretched; for deity is seen
     From every elevation of the soul. 
     Study the light; attempt the high; seek out
     The soul’s bright path; and since the soul is fire,
     Of heat intelligential, turn it aye
     To the all-Fatherly source of light and life;
     Piety purifies the soul to see
     Visions, perpetually, of grace and power,
     Which, to their sight who in ignorant sin abide,
     Are now as e’er incognizable.  Obey
     Thy genius, for a minister it is
     Unto the throne of Fate.  Draw towards thy soul,
     And centralize, the rays which are around
     Of the divinity.  Keep thy spirit pure
     From worldly taint, by the repellent strength
     Of virtue.  Think on noble thoughts and deeds,