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day that was born with seas and suns at 

 its cradle is followed to its grave by the 

 long procession of the stars. And now 

 that it has gone, with its numberless activi- 

 ties, and the heat and stress of their con- 

 tentions, how gently and irresistibly Nature 

 summons her children back to herself, and 

 touches the brow, hot with the fever of 

 work, with the hand of peace ! An infinite 

 silence broods over the fields and upon the 

 restless bosom of the sea. Insensibly there 

 steals into thought, spent and weary with 

 many problems, a deep and sweet repose ; 

 the soul does not sleep; it returns to the 

 ancient mother, and at her breast feels the 

 old hopes revived, the old aspirations quick- 

 ened, the old faiths relight their dying fires. 

 The fever of agonising struggle yields to the 

 calm of infinite trust ; the clouds fall apart 

 and reveal the vision, that seemed lost, 

 inviolate forever ; the brief, fierce, fruitless 

 strife for self is succeeded by an unques- 

 tioning trust in that universal good, above 

 and beyond all thought, for which the uni- 

 verse stands. Who shall despair while the 

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