Something beyond!  Light for our clouded eyes! 
  In this dark dwelling, in its shrouded beams,
Our best waits masked, few pierce the soul’s disguise;
      How sad it seems!

Something beyond!  Ah, if it were not so,
  Darker would be thy face, O brief To-day;
Earthward we ’d bow beneath life’s smiting woe,
      Powerless to pray.

Something beyond!  The immortal morning stands
  Above the night; clear shines her precious brow;
The pendulous star in her transfigured hands
      Brightens the Now.

MARY CLEMMER AMES HUDSON.

DESPONDENCY REBUKED.

Say not, the struggle nought availeth,
  The labor and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,
  And as things have been they remain.

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
  It may be, in you smoke concealed,
Your comrades chase e’en now the fliers,
  And, but for you, possess the field.

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,
  Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back, through creeks and inlets making,
  Comes silent, flooding in, the main.

And not by eastern windows only. 
  When daylight comes, comes in the light;
In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly,
  But westward, look, the land is bright.

ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.

GOD’S SURE HELP IN SORROW.

      Leave all to God,
Forsaken one, and stay thy tears;
  For the Highest knows thy pain,
Sees thy sufferings and thy fears;
  Thou shalt not wait his help in vain;
      Leave all to God!

      Be still and trust! 
For his strokes are strokes of love,
  Thou must for thy profit bear;
He thy filial fear would move,
  Trust thy Father’s loving care,
      Be still and trust!

      Know, God is near! 
Though thou think him far away,
  Though his mercy long have slept,
He will come and not delay,
  When his child enough hath wept,
      For God is near!

      Oh, teach him not
When and how to hear thy prayers;
  Never doth our God forget;
He the cross who longest bears
  Finds his sorrows’ bounds are set;
      Then teach him not!

      If thou love him,
Walking truly in his ways,
  Then no trouble, cross, or death
E’er shall silence faith and praise;
  All things serve thee here beneath,
      If thou love God.

From the German of ANTON ULEICH, DUKE OF BRUNSWICK, 1667. 
Translation of CATHERINE WINKWORTH, 1855.

SONNET.