SARAH J. HOWE. Sarah J. Howe, wife of Hammond Howe, for many years a resident of Newport, Kentucky, was a frequent contributor to the newspapers and magazines of Cincinnati, between 1839 and 1849. In 1847 Robinson & Jones, Cincinnati, published a dra- matic poem from her pen entitled "Boleslas II., or the Siege of Kiow." It was founded on incidents in the history of Poland. At that time a volume of poems by Mrs. Howe was advertised, but never published. Her best poems were contributed to the Ladies' Repository. "LET US GO UP."* " Let us go up." There's many a field, Broad, bright, and lovely, lies untill'd. And many a gushing fount, from which Our empty pitchers may be filled ! There, in that fair and glorious land. O'er which the saints in heaven have trod. With gentle wave, the crystal stream Flows from the "City of our God!" "Let us go up." The Lord will be Our rock, our fortress, and our shield ! Though many foes should hedge our way. The Lord's right arm shall make them yield ! There shines the sun with chastened beam — No envious cloud obscures his light — And in that pure and perfect day. We shall forget that e'er 'twas night ! "Let us go up." Invincible Are those who in Jehovah trust. Our arms must conquer — faith and prayer — They who resist us are but dust ! There God will wipe away our tears, And life shall own no sorrowing stain — In Jesus we shall all be one — United — an unbroken chain !
- '■ Let us go up at once and possess it ; for we are well
able to overcome it." Numbers siii. 30. BEND SOFTLY DOWN. Bend softly down, ye gentle skies, Bend softly down to me ; That 1 may see those spirit-eyes, If spirit-eyes they be?— Bend gently down, for I have dreamed That thei'e were forms above In every pearly star that beamed. Made up of light and love. Bend softly down, ye gentle stars, And lift the azure vail. That I may see your pearly brows That ne'er with sorrow pale. There must be hearts in that blue realm That throb with fearful bliss. They cannot be so dull and cold, So pulseless as in this. Oh ! I have set my weary heart On love this earth hath not. And mine through life must ever be A sad and lonely lot. Bend softly down, ye gentle skies, Bend softly down to me ; That I way see those spirit-eyes, If spirit-eyes they be ! ( 335 )
