I'm sitting alone where the shadows fall

      In somber groups at the vesper-call,

      Where tear-dews of night seek the loving rose,

      Her bosom to fill with mortal woes.

      I'm waiting alone for the bridal hour

      Of nymph and naiad from woodland bower;

      Till vestal pearls that on leaflets lay,

      Ravished with beauty the eye of day.

      I'm watching alone o'er the starlit glow,

      O'er the silv'ry moon and ocean flow;

      And sketching in light the heaven of my youth —

      Its starry hopes and its waves of truth.

      I'm dreaming alone of its changeful sky —

      What rainbows of rapture floated by!

      Of a mother's love, that no words could speak

      When parting the ringlets to kiss my cheek.

      I'm thinking alone of a fair young bride,

      The light of a home of love and pride;

      How the glance of her husband's watchful eye

      Turned to his star of idolatry.

      I'm picturing alone a glad young face,

      Upturned to his mother's in playful grace;

      And the unsealed fountains of grief and joy

      That gushed at the birth of that beautiful boy.

      I'm weeping alone that the vision is fled,

      The leaves all faded, the fruitage shed,

      And wishing this earth more gifts from above,

      Our reason made right and hearts all love.

      Hail, brother! fling thy banner

      To the billows and the breeze;

      We proffer thee warm welcome

      With our hand, though not our knees.

      Lord of the main and manor!

      Thy palm, in ancient day,

      Didst rock the country's cradle

      That wakes thy laureate's lay.

      The hoar fight is forgotten;

      Our eagle, like the dove,

      Returns to bless a bridal

      Betokened from above.

      List, brother! angels whisper

      To Judah's sceptered race, —

      "Thou of the self-same spirit,

      Allied by nations' grace,

      "Wouldst cheer the hosts of heaven;

      For Anglo-Israel, lo!

      Is marching under orders;

      His hand averts the blow."

      Brave Britain, blest America!

      Unite your battle-plan;

      Victorious, all who live it, —

      The love for God and man.

      O'er waiting harpstrings of the mind

      There sweeps a strain,

      Low, sad, and sweet, whose measures bind

      The power of pain,

      And wake a white-winged angel throng

      Of thoughts, illumed

      By faith, and breathed in raptured song,

      With love perfumed.

      Then His unveiled, sweet mercies show

      Life's burdens light.

      I kiss the cross, and wake to know

      A world more bright.

      And o'er earth's troubled, angry sea

      I see Christ walk,

      And come to me, and tenderly,

      Divinely talk.

      Thus Truth engrounds me on the rock,

      Upon Life's shore,

      'Gainst which the winds and waves can shock,

      Oh, nevermore!

      From tired joy and grief afar,

      And nearer Thee, —

      Father, where Thine own children are,

      I love to be.

      My prayer, some daily good to do

      To Thine, for Thee;

      An offering pure of Love, whereto

      God leadeth me.

      Shepherd, show me how to go

      O'er the hillside steep,

      How to gather, how to sow, —

      How to feed Thy sheep;

      I will listen for Thy voice,

      Lest my footsteps stray;

      I will follow and rejoice

      All the rugged way.

      Thou wilt bind the stubborn will,

      Wound the callous breast,

      Make self-righteousness be still,

      Break earth's stupid rest.

      Strangers on a barren shore,

      Lab'ring long and lone,

      We would enter by the door,

      And Thou know'st Thine own;

      So, when day grows dark and cold,

      Tear or triumph harms,

      Lead Thy