with the "Lay of the Brown Rosary!" Even the sad
pieces, such as the "Lost Bower," end generally with a
gleam of light, not from a mere meteor of passion or
sentiment, but from a day-spring of Christian hope.
Perhaps I am too partial, for I know that taste, which in
me is particularly gratified with E. Barrett, will influence
our judgment. Some of Trench's poems, too, I think,
are worth learning; his "Walk in the Churchyard" I
particularly like.

_3d Mo. 25th._ Letter to M.B.

* * * But, oh, I do believe that if people did but
accustom themselves to view small things as parts of
large, moments as parts of life, intellects as parts of men,
lives as parts of eternity, religion would cease to be the
mere adjunct which it now is to many. * * * I am
convinced that till it be made _the one_ object of our
earnest love and endeavors, till we have an _upright_
heart, till the leader of the fir-tree points direct to
heaven, and all lateral shoots not merely refrain from
interfering, but mainly grow in order to support, nourish,
and minister to it, we shall never have that perfect
peace, that rest of spirit, that power to "breathe
freely,"--conscious that we are _as_ if not _all_ that we
ought to be,--which constitute the happiness of a
Christian. But enough of this: don't think I pretend
to any such attainment, though I can sometimes say, "I
follow after."