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 Vol. I.

HE mystery of Loveliness, that lies — -L Like light from some diviner heaven tlian ours — On visible Nature : mountains, streams and flowers; On man's proud front, in depths of woman's eyes. The mystery of Loveliness, that is The Law of Nature's being : mouldins all-^ The measureless Great, the infinitely Small — To its own perfect Beauty. What is this But the translation of God's inmost Thousht ? And that is Love ; Nature the mighty scroll Whereon 'tis writ. Thou readest it, my soul ! Each sacred syllable, yet graspest not, Save in dim gleams, the message written there. Though questioning evermore in voiceless prayer.

II.

Yet, O my soul ! thank God that He hath sent, In loving answer to thy lifelong cry, These shadowings of the holier mystery Behind the veil — for rapturous moments rent As by a still small voice from utmost heaven. If thou with feeble hand and care-clogged brain Through life's grey clouds hast groped — alas ! in vain — To catch their import, thou at least hast striven; And, striving, won the guerdon ne'er denied To those who battle bravely, though they foil. For such one day the Angel, calm and pale. With tender hand will draw the veil aside. And they shall stand within the Holy Place, And read the Secret in the Master's face. Noel Paton.