5. Lily bells! lily belis! down in the meadows, 6. As I see your fair forms 'mid the mosses and brake, My heart wanders back to the past, with its shadows, To Christ, and the wise, loving words that he spake. Consider the lilies "—yes, this was his teaching, "The modest field-lilies that toil not nor spin, Yet even to them is my loving care reaching, My heart takes the feeblest and lowliest in." 7. Lily bells lily bells! waving and swinging, 8. Lily bells lily bells! bending and swaying, Ring out your sweet peals on the still summer air; I would ye might lure all to trusting and praying, And teach them sweet lessons of God's loving care. LXXXI.—A PARABLE. JAMES R. LOWELL. 1. Worn and footsore was the Prophet, 2. "God of all the olden prophets, Wilt thou speak with men no more? 3. "Hear me, guider of my fathers, 4. Bowing then his head, he listened 5. But the tuft of moss before him 6. "God! I thank thee," said the Prophet; "Hard of heart, and blind was I, Looking to the holy mountain For the gift of prophecy. 7. "Still thou speakest with thy children 8. "Had I trusted in my nature, And had faith in lowly things, 9. "But I looked for signs and wonders, 10. "Ere I entered on my journey, 11. "In her hand she held a flower, Like to this as like may be, Which, beside my very threshold, She had plucked and brought to me.” LXXXII.-SOMETHING LEFT UNDONE. H. W. LONGFELLOW. 1. Labor with what zeal we will, Something still remains undone, 2. By the bedside, on the stair, 3. Waits, and will not go away; Each to-day is heavier made; 4. Till at length the burden seems 5. And we stand from day to day, On their shoulders held the sky. LXXXIII.—THE INFINITY OF THE UNIVERSE. · ORMSBY M. MITCHEL. 1. Light traverses space at the rate of twelve million miles a minute, yet the light from the nearest star requires ten years to reach the earth, and Herschel's telescope revealed stars two thousand three hundred times further distant. The great telescope of Lord Ross pursued these creations of God still deeper into space, and having resolved the nebulæ of the Milky Way into stars, discovered other systems of stars-beautiful diamond points, glittering through the black darkness beyond. When he beheld this amazing abyss-when he saw these systems scattered profusely throughout space-when he reflected upon their immense distances, their enormous magnitude, and the countless millions of worlds that belonged to them, it seemed to him as though the wild dream of the German poet was more than realized. 2. God called man in dreams into the vestibule of heaven, saying, "Come up hither, and I will show thee the glory of my house." And to his angels who stood about his throne, he said, "Take him, strip him of his robes of flesh; cleanse his affections; put a new breath into his nostrils; but touch not his human heart-the heart that fears and hopes and trembles." A moment, and it was done, and the man stood ready for his unknown voyage. Under the guidance of a mighty angel, with sound of flying pinions, they sped away from the battlements of heaven. Some time on the mighty angel's wings they fled through Saharas of darkness, wilderness of death. 3. At length, from a distance not counted save in the arithmetic of heaven, light beamed upon them-a sleepy flame as seen through a hazy cloud. They sped on in their terrible speed to meet the light; the light with lesser speed came to meet them. In a moment the blazing of suns around them—a moment the wheeling of planets; then came long eternities of twilight; then again on the right hand and the left appeared other constellations. At last the man sank down, crying, "Angel, I can go no further; let me lie down in the grave and hide myself from the infinitude of the universe, for end there is none." "End is there none?" demanded the angel. And from the glittering stars that shone around, there came a choral shout-" End there is none !" "End there is none?" demanded the angel again ; "and is it this that awes thy soul? I answer, end there is none to the universe of God! Lo, also, there is no beginning!" LXXXIV.-UNDER THE VIOLETS. O. W. HOLMES. Her hands are cold; her face is white; 2. But not beneath a graven stone, To plead for tears with alien eyes; 3. And gray old trees of hugest limb Shall wheel their circling shadows round 4. When o'er their boughs the squirrels run, The acorns and the chestnuts fall, 5. For her the morning choir shall sing 6. When, turning round their dial-track, |