The robin whistles clear and shrill;
Sad is the cricket's song;
The wind, wild rushing o'er the hill,
Bears the dead leaf along.

I love this sober, solemn time,
This twilight of the year;
To me, sweet Spring, in all her prime,
Was never half so dear.

While death has set his changing seal
On all that meets the eye,
'Tis rapture, then, within to feel
The soul that cannot die;--

To look far, far beyond this sky,
To Him who changes never.
This earth, these heavens, shall change and die;
God is the same for ever.


THE LORD'S DAY.

This is the day when Jesus woke
From the deep slumbers of the tomb;
This is the day the Saviour broke
The bonds of fear and hopeless gloom.

This is indeed a holy day;