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March 1, 1862—pg. 2

The Republican.
ORIGINAL POETRY.

The Sleeping.
                    Safe in their alabaster chambers,
                    Untouched by morning,
                       And untouched by noon,
                    Sleep the meek members of the Resurrection,
                       Rafter of satin, and roof of stone.

                    Light laughs the breeze
                    In her castle above them,
                       Babbles the bee in a stolid ear,
                    Pipe the sweet birds in ignorant cadences:
                       Ah! What sagacity perished here!
                    Pelham Hill, June, 1861.

“The Shadow of Thy Wing.”
               Weary of life’s great mart, its dust and din,
               Faint with its toiling, suffering with its sin,
               In childlike faith my heart to Thee I bring,
               For refuge in “the shadow of thy wing.”

               Like a worn bird of passage, left behind
               Wounded, and sinking, by its faithless kind,
               With flight unsteady, seeking needed rest,
               I come for shelter to Thy faithful breast.

               Like a proud ship, dismantled by the gale,
               Her banners lost and rifted every sail,
               In the deep waters to Thy love I cling,
               And hasten to the refuge of Thy wing.

               O Thou, thy people’s comforter alway,
               Their light in darkness, and their guide by day,
               Their anchor ‘mid the storm, their hope in calm,
               Their joy in pain, their fortress in alarm!

               We are all weak, Thy strength we humbly crave;
               We are all lost, and Thou alone canst save;
               A weary world, to Thy dear arm we cling,
               And hope for all a refuge “’neath Thy wing.”

Development.
BY M. MCNARY SPENCER.
               The miner breaks and grinds the stubborn rocks;
               Washes the fragments, sifts the sandy soil;
               Content and happy at his daily toil,
               Finding where others see but granite blocks,
               New revelations wait his hammer’s shocks,
               And from the pools, that geese and ducklings roil,
               Wealth that outweighs the brokers’ shifting stocks,
               Grasps in fit payment, for his patient moil.
               So great thoughts, hidden somewhile, ripening are
               Where men suspect not, and large-hearted [unreadable word]
               Are born, earth blessing; while their authors share
               Blows like the rock, and sifting that exceeds
               The miner’s process.—God teach us to bear,
               Till strength full grown, from patient hope proceeds.
                  Collinsville.