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He shall live, and future ages

Hear his voice sublime, Speaking wisdom unto sages

Through coming time.


He shall live! Our Heavenly Father.

May we so live
That his teachings we shall gather,

Their light receive.


FORESTS that once were so dear to my soul,

Birds I have so much delighted to hear; Thou mighty river, whose hoarse waters roll,

Gleaming forever so dazzlingly clear,

List to the wail of my spirit's despair, O list to the cry of a sorrowing soul!

Ye knew her, ye woodlands, my bright one ye knew,

Mid light and affection a freedom-nursed child, As pure as a rose newly washed by the dew,

Fond as the dove, as the antelope wild;
Her heart, whence all guile and all art were ex-

iled, But warmly toward all, to her love she was true.

O mourn, ye dark hills and ye deep everglades,
Ye trees, mid your wide-spreading branches now

mourn! Lament her, ye grots and ye thick-woven shades!

For she to your haunts shall never return;

Yon blackened heath doth her ashes inurn. Sleep quietly, dust of the loveliest of maids.

DRYDEN PHELPS, was born in Suffield,

Conn., May 15, 1816. He is a direct descendant of William Phelps who came from Tewksbury, England, and was one of the first settlers of Windsor, Conn., where for many years he was a magistrate and very prominent in church and state. The parents of Dr. Phelps possessed strong characters, made sweet by loving sympathies, and were devoted Christians. Their influence left an impression on the life of their son. His preparation for college was in his native town in the Connecticut Literary Institution. Poems and numerous articles of his were published in various periodicals at that time. In 1842, when in college, his first volume, "Eloquence of Nature and Other Poems," appeared. He was graduated from Brown University, Providence, R. I., in 1844. For one year he was engaged in supplying the First Baptist Church of New Haven, Conn., while a theological student in Yale Divinity School, and became its pastor in January, 1846. This relation continued twentyeight years, closing December, 1873. In 1856 he published "Sunlight and Hearthlight; or Fidelity and Other Poems.” In 1859–60 he spent a year in Europe, Egypt and Palestine, and, in 1863, brought out a book of travels, entitled “Holy Land with Glimpses of Europe and Egypt,” which has passed through nine editions. In 1867 a third volume of poems called “The Poet's Song for the Heart and Home," was placed before an appreciative public. It contained many new poems, nearly all of those in the second volume and a few from the first. “Rest Days in Journeys Abroad,” appeared in 1887. It consists of sermons preached during his year of foreign travels, and subsequent tours in Europe, with prefatory notes and a poem appropriate to the subject following each sermon. “Special Sermons,” preached chiefly in the First Baptist Church, New Haven, were collected into a volume the same year. In May, 1874, he became pastor of the Jefferson St. Baptist Church, Providence, R. I., serving two years. · In 1876 he took charge, as publisher and editor, of the “Christian Secretary,” Hartford, Conn., and conducted that paper twelve years. He was married, August 26, 1847, to Miss Sophia Emilia Linsley, a daughter of Rev. James H. Linsley (Yale, 1817) who was a Baptist minister and noted naturalist, residing in Stratford, Conn., near New Haven' Mrs. Phelps has great literary ability, is a constant writer, and her character is of rare loveliness. Their children were a daughter and four sons. The second son died when nearly four years of age.

Each mourns for the lost one, but seraphs rejoice;

Cora has gone to the angelic throng;
Seraphs her name, with the harp and the voice,

Have added, to sweeten their wonderful song.

To that fair choir does my bright one belong, Enjoying for ever the home of her choice.

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All hail! thou beauteous season, hail!

Our human hearts o'erflow,
For well do Spring's glad smiles avail

To banish dreams of woe.
The morning breaks, the forests ring,

The bleating lambs reply;
All hail! thou coy young virgin, Spring,
That bidd'st dark winter fly.


The daughter, Miss Sophia Lyon Phelps, was endowed with musical, intellectual and personal attractions. She died in 1871, in her twenty-third year. A memorial pamphlet, by her parents, includes a touching poem from her father's pen. Three sons, Rev. Dryden W. Phelps, Rev. Arthur S. Phelps and Mr. William L. Phelps are living. Each inherits literary talents.

The residence of Dr. Phelps is in New Haven, Conn. His poetry is characterized by deep poetic conception and religious feeling. Among a number of this author's widely known hymns “Something for Thee" has been most used in collections, in this and in foreign countries. Dr. Phelps' latest publication, “Songs for all Seasons," was issued in 1891.

J. M. R.

In love my soul would bow,
My heart fulfill its vow,
Some offering bring Thee now,

Something for Thee.
O'er the blest mercy-seat

Pleading for me,
Upward in faith I look,

Jesus, to Thee.
Help me thy cross to bear,
Thy wondrous love declare,
Some song to raise, or prayer,

Something for thee.
Give me a faithful heart-

Likeness to Thee, That each departing day

Henceforth may see Some work of love begun, Some deed of kindness done, Some wanderer sought and won,

Something for thee. All that I am and have,

Thy gifts so free,
Ever, in joy or grief,

My Lord, for Thee;
And when thy face I see,
My ransomed soul shall be,
Through all eternity,

Something for Thee.


While I stand on one of her seven hills,

Gray old Rome is under my eye, And a glorious scene my spirit thrills,

As I gaze on the western sky.

There are gorgeous clouds of vermillion hue,

And splendors untold beside,
That rise and spread on the arching blue,

O'er the whole horizon wide.

'Tis the setting sun in his brilliant dyes,

And what matchless tints are given! They seem like the light of celestial skies

O'er the jasper walls of heaven.


How softly on groves of cypress and pine,

Domes, turrets and temples old,
The blending glories linger and shine,

And bathe St. Peter's in gold.

Upon Alban slope and Sabine crown

The purpling sunbeams play, And they drop on the winding Tiber down

Like glimmerings of upper day.

Fear not, Abraham, saith the Lord,
I'm thy shield and great reward;
I will bless thee now and ever,
Naught from thee my love shall sever.
Promises that I have made,
All the words my mouth hath said,
I'll fulfill them to the letter,
Than thy fears thy God is better.
I from Ur, with guiding hand,
Brought thee to this chosen land;
I have seen thy faith's true merit,
Thou this country shall inherit.

Beyond this brief and enchanting sight,

I look toward the sky divine, O City of Light, in a splendor more bright,

For ever thy glories shine.

Would'st thou have a certain sign That the blessing shall be thine ? Canst thou count the stars of heaven? So shall seed to thee be given.


SAVIOR, thy dying love,

Thou gavest me, Nor should I aught withhold,

Dear Lord, from Thee.

From a land of trials sore,
After bondage years are o'er,
They shall here repeat the story
Of their triumph and my glory.


Abraham then his Lord believed,
And the great reward received.
So may all the souls that love him
By the

faith unwavering prove him.



No song was ever heard,

No gladsome voice or word, Since broke o'er earth the blest primeval morn,

Like the celestial sound

That swept the air around O'er Bethlehem the night that Christ was born.

Half-dreaming by the rocks,

The shepherds watched their flocks, But woke, in wonder rapt, the song to hear,

As through the sky-roof riven,

The angel flashed from heaven, A messenger of mingled awe and fear.

ISS PENNELL is a native of Brunswick, Me.,

a town in which, until recently, she has passed all her life amid home and social surroundings the most endearing and cultivated. Her education was acquired in the district schools of Brunswick, and, as a supplement to this course of training, through private teachers. Miss Pennell's tastes from early childhood were in the direction of literary accomplishment, a field of labor in which she has met with pleasant success. Her childhood's home was close by the shore of Casco Bay, with its lovely islands and fascinating scenery, and this vision of her earliest years, with the influence it wrought upon her mind and aftections, had very much to do in shaping her future career. Her real ambition was to be a writer of verse, or rather, a singer, not only of the beautiful in nature, but of that which had to do with the heart of humanity. She has been a contributor for years to the press of the land, and her poems appearing in various papers and magazines have been widely read, and have brought her words of high praise, not only from admiring friends, but admiring strangers. She prefers a quiet life, free from the bustle of large cities, where she can be apart with nature and enjoy its beneficial and uplifting influences. At present Miss Pennell is a sojourner in Portland, Me.

G. N. L.

Fear not, the angel said,

But joyful be instead;
Tidings of gladness and delight I bring.

And not alone for you

This revelation new, O'er the whole earth the rapturous joy shall ring.

This night in swathing folds

The humble manger holds
The Lord, Messiah, Savior, born for you,

As thither ye repair

To David's city fair, That wondrous sign shall meet your eager view.


Then round the angel bright

A host in heavenly light Confirmed the truth in notes of highest praise;

Glory to God! they sang,

Peace and good will they rang,
In chorus grander than all earth-born lays.

The Lord had come to men;

The Lord will come again;
Is coming now in blest salvation's car.

Dark lands, the joy receive,

Sad souls, your burdens leave, Transfigured by the glorious Bethlehem Star.

UNDER the trees in the apple orchard

The perfumed blossoms are drifting down, And Nature is weaving with joy and beauty

Her sweetest gifts for the Maytime crown. The perfumed blossoms are drifting down;

The grass is growing and summer near; And Majorie dreams of her handsome lover

Ah, well she knows he will soon be here! The grass is growing and summer near;

There's a delicate charm in air and sky; Comes a tinkling sound in the brooklet's calling,

Like elfin music gliding by.
There's a delicate charm in air and sky;

The mocking-birds try full many a song,
That wings o'er the hills in a merrying measure,

A tumult of rapture sweet and strong. The mocking-birds try full many a song,

And Marjorie wonders if wishes are heard. Why flushes her cheek in the happy dreaming ?

And why is her soul so swiftly stirred ?


O beauteous land! grown strong and great,

What varied wealth thy stores display,
From rocky shore to Golden Gate,
From icy lake to sunny bay.

- Centennial Hymn.

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