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416  MARY L. SEWARD.

Ah! earnestly I've mark'd thee day by day,
And ever day by day with saddening thought;
I've seen thy purest feelings thrown away,
And mourn'd the inward woe such waste hath wrought.

Life's favour'd child, for ever round thee spring
Immortal flowers of love and beauty rare;
And still the incense they around thee fling
Charms not thy senses from their spell of care,—

Lures not thy spirit from its wayward dreams,
Beguiles thee not the livelong, dreary day,
Awakes thee not to bless the sunny beams
That fain would light thee on thy weary way!

Thou sighest still for something not thine own,
Some precious thing that ever mocks thy sigh,
Some phantom form of love, that long hath flown
Above, beyond, thy watchful, eager eye.

Oh! sigh no more, and bid thy dreams begone!
Let waking visions all thy pain beguile:
Nay, turn not thy reproachful gaze on one
Whose all of life is centred in thy smile.

If holiest love dwelt not within my soul,
Dost think that I could read thy soul aright?
Dost think that I would thus fling off control,
And all my inner self reveal to sight?

I've not a selfish thought, when thou art near;
My loving heart, with all the might it hath,
Forgetting self, but longs, with trembling fear,
To be the guardian angel of thy path.

From all that grieves thee now thyself to win,
And make a paradise on earth for thee,
Where, though the serpent Care may enter in,
He'll linger not, for Love will bid him flee.

MARY L. SEWARD.  417

JESUS' NIGHT OF PRAYER.

"And it came to pass in those days that He went out into a mountain to pray, and continued all night in prayer to GOD."—Luke vi.12.

'T IS night! and weary eyes in slumber closing,
Woo the soft presence of ethereal dreams:
'T is night! from restless thought and toil reposing,
The land in silence lies, till morning beams.

Far up the mountain's rugged steep ascending,
One only watcher sleepeth not for care;
Yet angels from their starry thrones are bending,
With pausing harps; for lo! HE kneels in prayer.

The night-dews coldly on His form are falling,
Rudely the winds those sacred temples smite:
But still lone echo hears Him sadly calling
With voice importunate to GOD all night.

What mighty theme his secret thought engaging,
Detains the "Man of sorrows" humbly there?
What fearful woe, His anxious soul presaging,
Would he avert with breath of pleading prayer?

Ah! for His Church, the Sinless One beseecheth;
His Church, that trembling 'mid her hopes and fears,
He sees, with prescient gaze that onward reacheth
Through the long vista of time-shadow'd years.

Amid the wilderness, he marks her failing,
Her steps by fierce temptation led aside;
Her robes of light, her glorious garments trailing
O'er paths unmeet for the Eternal Bride.

And He would shield her in her trial hour,
Would keep her drooping children from despair;
Would give her strength to guard her priceless dower
Of faith and love–her martyr's crown to wear.

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---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 21:05:00 ---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 21:15:50 ---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 19:43:10