From the Boston Miscellany for Nov
THE CRY OF THE HUMAN.
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From the Boston Miscellany for Mo-
THE CRY OF THE HUMAN.
BY ELIZABETH 3. BAaRETr.--Engiand
THERE is no Cod the foolish saith
But none, there is ne soErow:D
And Nature oft the cry OF faith
In bitter need will borrow.
Eyes, which the preacher could not school
By wayside graves are raised.
And lips say, "God be pitiful,'
Tha, ne'er said, .God be praised. +"


Be pitiful-


Be piriful, o God!
The tempest shooteth from the steep
The shadow of It's coming:
The beasts and birds anear US creep
As power were in the human
Power! while above, the mountains 'Na"''
We spirits tremble under!
The hills have echoes-out we MAKE
No answer TO the thunder.
Be pitiful-


Be pitiful, Q God.
p.-bsns the war is in the plains;
Earth feels new scythes upon her:
We reap cur brothers for the wains,
And call the harvest honor!
Draw out confronted line to line,
The natures all inherit;
Then kill, curse on, by that same sign,
Clay, clay; and spirit, spirit.


Be pitiful-


Be pitiful, o God.
Perhaps the plague is in the town
And never bell is telling
And corpses, jostIed meath the moon,
Nod to the death carts rolling.
The strong man calIeth for the cup,
The young maid brings i, weeping;
The wife from her sick babe looks up,
And shrieks away its sleeping.


Be pitiful-


Be pi,iful, 0 God.
We treuble by the harmless bed
Of one loved and departed.
Our tears drop on the lips that said
Last night Be stronger-hearted ?"
Clasp, clasp the friendly fingers cIose-
We stand here all as lonely
To see light on dearest brows
Which is the daylight only.


Be Pitifu--


Be pitiful, O God.
The happy children come to US
And look up in our faces;
They ask US, was it thus and thus,
When we were in their places?
We cannot speak: we see anew
The hills we used TO live in
And feel our mothers smile press through
The kisses she is giving.


Be pitifnl-


Be pi,ifu, o God.
Wepray together at the kirk
For mercy, mercy solely
Hands weary with the evil work,
We lift them TO the Hely.
The corpse is calm below our knee,
Its spirit bright before thee:
Between them, worse than either, we
Without the rest or glory;
Be pitiful-


Be pitiful, Q God.
We leave the communing of men,
The murmur of the passions,
And live alone, to live again,
To endless generations.
Are we SO brave the sea and sky
In silence lift their mirrors,
And glassed therein our spirits high
Recoil from thelr own terrors.


Be pitiful-


Be pitiul, 0 God.
We sit on hills our childhood wist,
Woods, hamlets, streams beholding,
The sua strikes through the farthest mist
The ci,y's spires to golden.
The city's golden spire it was
When hope and health were strongest,
And now it is the kirk-yard grass
We look upon the longest.


Be pitiful-


Be pitiful, o God.
But soon all vision waxeth dull:
Men whisper, He is dying !"
We cry no more. Be pitiful"-
We have no strength for crying.
No strength, no need! Oh, eyes of mine,
Look up, and triumph rather.
So, in the depth of Gods divine
The Son adjures the Father,


BE PlTlFUL-


Be PITlFuL, o GoD.