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Heaven opened itself, as of old before Stephen
they saw there Radiant in glory the Father, and on his right hand
the Redeemer. Under them hear they the clang of harpstrings,
and angels from gold clouds Beckon to them like brothers, and fan with their
pinions of purple.
Closed was the Teacher's task, and with heaven
in their hearts and their faces, Up rose the children all, and each bowed him,
weeping full sorely, Downward to kiss that reverend hand, but all of
them pressed he Moved to his bosom, and laid, with a prayer, his
hands full of blessings, Now on the holy breast, and now on the innocent
THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH.
UNDER a spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.
His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
He earns whate'er he can,
For he owes not any man.
Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
With measured beat and slow,
When the evening sun is low.
And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
And hear the bellows roar,
Like chaff from a threshing floor.
He goes on Sunday to the church,