Since by His mighty will of love He came
To link again upon the Cross the chain

Which should so closely evermore have bound them,
Which, save for Him, had utterly been sever'd,
He hath said, for every age to hear,

Within is the Kingdom of God; blest truth,
Within; and yet we look afar and gaze
Around in search of somewhat we call heaven,
And oft perchance thinking 'tis found, rejoice,
But soon in sadness is the quest renewed.
For that we seek a kingdom of our own,
No hope than this more utterly forlorn,
We have no kingdom and we cannot reign,
In serving only can we find our life

And perfect freedom, the true life of kings.

But whom to serve we may, nay needs must, choose; And if the happy choice be made, then ours

Is the glorious privilege to know

That earth and heaven (howe'er Rebellion,
With his sceptre point in triumph, saying

Behold me, by earth's homage, king confessed),

One kingdom are, rul'd ever by one King.

Who through His love will teach this more and more

Until our hearts, living His life of love,

Shall know and feel His presence all their heaven.

EVENING.

I.

Ye sounds of day, why all so still,

And hushed as if in sleep?

Is there some power whose sovereign will

Bids you such silence keep?

I ask❜d, no voice replied, it seemed

The while as tho' all nature sweetly dreamed,
But soon that spirit of the shade

The breeze, in softest whispers, answer made.

2.

Hast thou seen the sun, with fainting beams
In parting, kiss the hills and streams,
Didst mark the blush of that farewell glow
And how he linger'd loth to go?

For soon to the queen of the glowing west,
He knew he must yield and sink to rest.

3.

He had caught the sound of her step from far,
Had heard her greet her own bright star,
And triumphing tell how the god of day
Would yield his kingdom to her sway,
And how she comes to reign alone,
For he is gone, that glorious one.

4.

O'er sounds she holds entire sway,
When she wills silence all obey,
Soon as her coming draweth near,
Many are hush'd, that she may hear
Those only which she makes her own,
Whose music breathes a lulling tone.

5.

The streams that flow in melody,
The soothing insect-hum,

The green leaves whispering softly
While I, on light wings come,

And with low murmurs lull the groves,

These all make music which she loves;

All these, when the stirring day doth end,
To give her sweet welcome their voices blend.

6.

Then ceas'd the voice, but all around
Floated a gentle murmuring sound;

Р

While fragrant breath of greeting rose
From flowers sinking to repose,

To welcome evening's peaceful reign,
The while responding to the strain,
Their willing tribute of thanks and praise
My heart and voice at once did raise :

7.

Oh evening, I will sing to thee,
Thou silent mother of thought;
My heart shall breathe the melody,
With glowing rapture fraught;
Yes, I will sing to thee, and tell
How I love thy solemn hour,
How in thy stillness lies a spell
Of soothing holy power.

8.

Thou comest in calm majesty
To thy bowers in the west;

And weary nature blesseth thee,
For she knows thou bringest rest,
She waits thy coming anxiously,

And all the lovely flowers

Droop their leaves in thanks to thee,
For life-renewing showers.

9.

Well may they bless thee, for I trow
When the joyous morn doth wake,

And with its beams their slumbers break,

All fresh and bright their leaves shall glow; And to the deep feeling heart,

That which can love thee best,

How beautiful thou art!

Cradle of peace and rest.

IO.

It loves thy presence, and to thee
By chains of deepest thought is bound.
Such thought as sets the spirit free
Hallowing all around.

II.

Then wakes in man his nature high,
He feels his immortality;

And in the peace at evening given

Bethinks him he is heir of heaven.

CHAPTER XVI

THE FIRST LOSS

"The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction."-WORDSWORTH.

IN August 1861 Bessie was removed to Bognor for the benefit of sea air, and began to show signs of complete recovery. Some of the sisters were her constant companions and devoted nurses; she received visits from her parents, and loving letters from many friends.

She returned to Chichester in the late autumn, restored to her usual average of health; and in December the Bishop wrote to her, the eldest daughter at home, as he had done in the old days when she was a girl, to prepare for the return of the family from Brighton.

Christmas was spent as usual at the palace, and with the new year Bessie began gradually to resume her work for the Institution.

Her first frame letter was written in March 1862 to her father, and has been preserved:

PALACE, CHICHESTER, 1st March 1862.

MY DEAREST PAPA-I had long ago settled that my first letter with the frame should be to you, and most