Take of this grain, which in my garden grows,

And grows for you:

Make bread of it; and that repose

And peace,

which every where

With so much earnestness you do pursue,

You'll find, is there."

George Herbert.

The Cross in the Wilderness.

SILENT and mournful sat an Indian chief,
In the red sunset, by a grassy tomb;

His eyes, that might not weep, were dark with grief,
And his arms folded in majestic gloom,
And his bow lay unstrung beneath the mound,
Which sanctified the gorgeous waste around.

For a pale Cross above its greensward rose,
Telling the cedars and the pines, that there
Man's heart and hope had struggled with his woes,
And lifted from the dust a voice of prayer.
Now all was hush'd; and eve's last splendour shone,
With a rich sadness, on the attesting stone.

There came a lonely traveller o'er the wild,

And he, too, paused in reverence by that grave,
Asking the tale of its memorial, piled

Between the forest and the lake's bright wave;
Till, as a wind might stir a wither'd oak,
On the deep dream of age, his accents broke:

And the grey chieftain, slowly rising, said

I listen'd for the words, which years ago Pass'd o'er these waters: though the voice is fled, Which made them as a singing fountain's flow, Yet, when I sit in their long-faded track,

Sometimes the forest's murmur gives them back.

'Ask'st thou of him, whose house is lone beneath?
I was an eagle in my youthful pride,
When o'er the seas he came with summer's breath,
To dwell amidst us on the lake's green side.
Many the times of flowers have been since then;-
Many, but bringing nought like him again.

"Not with the hunter's bow and spear he came, O'er the blue hills to chase the flying roe; Not the dark glory of the woods to tame,

Laying their cedars, like the corn-stalks, low; But to spread tidings of all holy things, Gladdening our souls as with the morning's wings.

"Doth not yon cypress whisper how we met,

I and my brethren that from earth are gone, Under its boughs to hear his voice, which yet Seems through their gloom to send a silvery tone? He told of One, the grave's dark bands who broke, And our hearts burn'd within us as he spoke!

"He told of far and sunny lands, which lie

Beyond the dust wherein our fathers dwell: Bright must they be! for there are none that die, And none that weep, and none that say ' Farewell!' He came to guide us thither;-but away The happy call'd him, and he might not stay.

"We saw him slowly fade-athirst, perchance, For the fresh waters of that lovely clime; Yet was there still a sunbeam in his glance,

And on his gleaming hair no touch of time: Therefore we hoped-but now the lake looks dim, For the green summer comes, and finds not him.

We gather'd round him in the dewy hour

Of one still morn, beneath his chosen tree:
From his clear voice at first the words of power
Came low, like moanings of a distant sea;
But swell'd, and shook the wilderness ere long,
As if the spirit of the breeze grew strong.

"And then once more they trembled on his tongue,
And his white eyelids flutter'd, and his head
Fell back, and mists upon his forehead hung-
Know'st thou not how we pass to join the dead?
It is enough! he sank upon my breast,-
Our friend that loved us, he was gone to rest!

"We buried him where he was wont to pray,

By the calm lake, e'en here, at eventide;
We rear'd this Cross in token where he lay,
For on the Cross, he said, his Lord had died!

Now hath he surely reach'd, o'er mount and wave, That flowery land whose green turf hides no grave! "But I am sad-I mourn the clear light taken

Back from my people, o'er whose place it shone, The pathway to the better shore forsaken,

And the true words forgotten, save by one, Who hears them faintly sounding from the past, Mingled with death-songs in each fitful blast."

Then spoke the wanderer forth, with kindling eye:
Son of the wilderness! despair thou not,
Though the bright hour may seem to thee gone by,
And the cloud settled o'er thy nation's lot:
Heaven darkly works,-yet where the seed hath been,
There shall the fruitage, glowing, yet be seen.

Hope on, hope ever!-by the sudden springing
Of green leaves, which the winter hid so long;
And by the bursts of free, triumphant singing,
After cold, silent months, the woods among;
And by the rending of the frozen chains,
Which bound the glorious rivers on their plains.

"Deem not the words of light, that here were spoken, But as a lively song, to leave no trace!

Yet shall the gloom, which wraps thy hills, be broken,
And the full day-spring rise upon thy race!
And fading mists the better paths disclose,
And the wide desert blossom as the rose."

Mrs. Hemans.

David and Goliath.

WHEN Israel's host in Elah's valley lay,

O'erwhelm'd with shame, and trembling with dismay,
They saw how fierce Goliath proudly trod

Before their ranks, and braved the living God.

On Israel's ranks he cast a withering look,

And Elah's valley trembled as he spoke.

"Ye slaves of Saul, why thus in proud parade Of martial threatening, stand your ranks arrayed? Though high your vaunts, and unsubdued your pride, A single arm the contest may decide.

Send forth the best and bravest of your hosts,
Το prove in me what might Philistia boasts;
And if your champion fall beneath my hand,
Let Israel own Philistia's high command:
But if his better arm the triumph gain,
Her yielding sons shall wear the victor's chain.
You, and your god who rules the cloudy sky,
Armies of Israel, I this day defy!"

Through Israel's curdling veins cold horror ran,
And each sunk warrior felt no longer man:
One heart alone its wonted fire retains,
One heart alone the giant's threats disdains:
David, the last of Jesse's numerous race,
Deep in his bosom feels the dire disgrace,
That e'er a godless Philistine, so proud,
His single prowess thus should vaunt aloud.

Before his prince, magnanimous he stands,
And lifts the imploring eye and suppliant hands,
With modest grace, to let him prove the fight,
And die or conquer in his country's right.

The king and nobles with attention hung To hear the aspirings of a mind so young, But deem his darings, in the unequal strife, Were but a fond and useless waste of life.

Then David thus: "As erst my flocks I kept,
Pale shone the moon-beam, and the hamlet slept;
In that still hour, a shaggy bear I spied

Snuff the night-gale, and range the valley-side;
He seized a lamb,—and by this hand he died.
And when a lion, made by hunger bold,

From Jordan's swelling streams, o'erleap'd the fold;
The brindled savage in my hands I tore,

Caught by the beard, and crush'd him in his gore.
The God that saved me from the infuriate bear
And famish'd lion, still has power to spare;
And something whispers, if the strife I meet,
Soon shall the boaster fall beneath my feet."

Moved by his words, the king and chieftains yield; His spirit laud, and arm him for the field:

In royal mail his youthful limbs they dress'd,

The greaves, the corslet, shield, and threatening crest.

But ill those youthful limbs with arms accord,
And ill that hand can wield the imperial sword;
Whence wisdom cautions-these to lay aside,
And choose the arms whose power he oft had tried.
Straight in his hand the well-proved sling he took,
And in his scrip five pebbles from the brook;
These all his earthly arms;-but o'er his head,
Had Faith divine her sheltering ægis spread.
His bosom beats with generous ardour high,
And new-born glories kindle in his eye;
Swift o'er the field he bounds with vigour light,
Marks the gigantic foe, and claims the fight.

Now, men of Israel, pour your ardent prayer:
"God of our fathers, to thy sovereign care
We trust our champion; for to thee belong
Strength for the weak, and weakness for the strong:
Arm him with might to vindicate thy name,
To smite the proud, and blot out Israel's shame;
Let angels round him spread the guardian shield,
And oh restore in triumph from the field!"

Philistia's chief now mark'd, with high disdain,
The light-arm'd stripling rushing to the plain;
Saw, with a scornful smile, his airy tread,
And downy cheek suffused with rosy red;
His pliant limbs not cased in shining mail,
No shield to ward, no sabre to assail;

But clad like shepherd-swain,-when swains advance
To hand the fair, and frolic in the dance.

Fierce from his breast the growling thunder broke, And Elah's valley trembled as he spoke.

"O powerful Dagon! wherefore was I born?
Am I a dog?—the theme of children's scorn?
Cursed be thy God! cursed thou, presumptuous boy!
But come-draw nigh-and glut my furious joy.
Thy feeble body, crush'd beneath my power,
The birds shall mangle, and the dogs devour."

Then Jesse's son:-" Accoutred for the field,
Proudly thou marchest with thy spear and shield:
But I, unarm'd, yet, reckless of thy boasts,
Approach, protected by the God of Hosts;
That righteous power, whom thy infuriate pride,
With tongue blaspheming, has this day defied.

N