A PSALM OF LIFE. 109 Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating. Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, Trust no future, howe'er pleasant! Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time Footprints, that perhaps another, 110. FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS. A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Let us then, be up and doing, Footsteps of Angels. BY H. LONGFELLOW. WHEN the hours of day are numbered, Ere the evening lamps are lighted, Dance upon the parlour wall; FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS. 111 Then the forms of the departed Enter at the open door; The beloved, the true-hearted, Come to visit me once more. He, the young and strong, who cherished They, the holy ones and weakly, And with them the being beauteous, With a slow and noiseless footstep, And she sits and gazes at me, With those deep and tender eyes, 112 FOREST HYMN. Like the stars, so still and saint-like, Uttered not, yet comprehended, O, though oft depressed and lonely, If I but remember only Such as these have lived and died! Forest Bymn. BY W. C. BRYANT. THE groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, And spread the roof above,―ere he framed FOREST HYMN. 113 The sound of anthems; in the darkling wood, Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect Only among the crowd, and under roofs That our frail hands have raised? Let me, at least, Here, in the shadow of this aged wood, Offer one hymn-thrice happy, if it find Father, thy hand Hath reared these venerable columns. Thou Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun, |