Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1855-06-02
From the Independent, May II.
ST. CATHARINE BORNE BY ANGELS.
By HARRIET BEEcHER STOWE.

= = y According to this legend, Catharine
q noble maiden of Alexandria, distinguished
alike by birth, riches, beauty and rarest gifts of
genius and learning.
In the flower of her life she consecrated herself
to the service Of her R%cdecmcr, and choerCully
suffered for his sake the loss of wealth, friends and
the esteem of thJ world. Punishment, imprison-
ment and torture were in vain tried to shake the
of her faith, ard ut last she was bound
upon the torturing-whcel ior a cruel death. But
the angels descended, 80 says the etory,. rent the
wheel. and bore her away through the air far
over. the sun to Mount Sinai, where her body was
left to reposc, and her soul assembled with them
to heaven.
A picture Of the Dusseldorf school represents St.
borne up in the air by four angels, her
hands folded peacefully over her bosom, and her
eyes closed rs in an ccstatic sleep. The engraving
Of this picture is common in our print-shops.
ST. cATuARGNE BORNE ny ANGELS.
Slow through the solemn mir il silence smiling.
Borne by mysterious angels, strong and fair,
She sleeps Mt last-blcst dreams her eyelids yelling,
Above this weary world of strife and care.
Lo how she passeth-dreany, slow and calm
Scarce wave those broad, white wings, so silyery
bright;
Those cloudy robes, in star-emblazoncd folding,
Sweep mistily athwart the evening light.
Far, far below, the dim, forsakcn earth,
The foes that threaten, or the friends that weep
Past, like a dream, the torture and the pain
For so He givoth his beloved sleep.
The restless bosom Of the surging ocean
Gives back the image as the cloud floats DER,
flushing in CLASSY awe his troubled motion;
For one best moment he complains, no more.
Like the transparent golden floor Of heaven,
His charmed waters lie as in a dream,
And glistning wings, and starry robes unfolding,
And serious angel eyes far downward CLEAN.
Oh restless sea! thou soonest all enchanted
BY that sweet vision Of celestial rest;
Where are the winds and tides thy peace tha
haunted,
So still thou soonest, so glorifed and blest!
All, sea tomorrow, that sweet scene forgotten,
Dark tides and tempests shall thy bosom rear;
And thy complaining waves, with restless motion,
Shall toss their hands in their old wild despair.
So DER our hearts sometimes the sweet, sad story
OF suffering saints, borne h%Umewurd CROWNED
and blest,
Shines down in stiffness with Il tender glory,
And makes Il mirror there Of breathlcss rest.
But not alone in those old Eastern regions
Are Christ's belov'd ones tried by cross all,
chain;
In many Il house are his elect ones hidden,
His martyrs suffering in their patient pain.
The world sees not, as slow. from day to day,
In calm, u~nspoken patience, sadly $ ill,
The loving spirit bleeis itself away.
But there are hours when, from the heavens un
folding,
Come down the angels with the glad release;
And we look upward to behold III glory
Our suffering loved ones borne away to peace.
All, brief the calm the restless wave Of feeling
Rises again when the bright cloud sweeps by,
! And our unrested souls reflect no longer
That tender vision Of the upper sky.
Espoused Lord of the pure saints in glory,
To whom all faithful souls atlianced are,
Breathe down thy peace into our restless spirits,
And make lasting heavenly vision there.
So the bright gates no more on us shall close;
No more the cloud of angels fade away:
And we will walk amid HES weary strife
In the calm light of thine eternal day.
ANDovER, April 20, 1866.