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A LITTLE MAID'S "AMEN."
RUSTLE of robes as the anthem
Soared gently away on the air— The Sabbath morn's service was over, And briskly I stepped down the stairs; When close, in a half-lighted corner, Where the tall pulpit stairway came down, Asleep crouched a tender, wee maiden, With hair like a shadowy crown.
Quite puzzled was I by the vision,
"I tum, tos I've dot a sick mamma,
And want 'oo to please pray her well."
"Who told you?" began I; she stopped me; "Don't nobody told me at all, And papa can't see, tos he's cryin'
And 'sides, sir, I isn't so small;
I's been here before with my mamma,
We tummed when you ringed the big bell;
And ev'ry time I's heard you prayin'
Together we knelt on the stairway,
As humbly I asked the Great Power
To give back her health to the mother
And paused for a moment—and then,
Lisped softly, a gentle "Amen!”
Hand in hand, we turned our steps homeward,
They listened, amazed at my story,
And wept o'er their darling's strange quest
GRANDMAMMA sits in her quaint arm-chair;
Never was lady more sweet and fair; gray locks ripple like silver shells, And her brow its own calm story tells
Of a gentle life and a peaceful even,
Little girl Mary sits rocking away
In her own low seat, like some winsome fay;
And another one lies by the side of her chair;
Cheeks of roses and ribbons of blue.
"Say, grandmamma," says the pretty elf,
"Tell me a story about yourself.
When you were little, what did you play?
แ Did you have a mamma to hug and kiss?
Did you have a pussy like my little Kate?
Grandmamma smiled at the little maid,
Then grandmamma opened the box, and lo!
Lips just tinted like pink shells rare,
Hands all dimpled, and teeth like pearls,
"Oh! who is it?" cried winsome May,
Say, dear grandmamma, who can she be?"
May looked long at the dimpled grace,
So May climbed on the silken knee,
"But the best thing you did," said May, "don't you
Was to grow to a beautiful grandma for me." .
TO THE DEPARTED.
KNOW thou hast gone to the place of thy rest,
I know thou hast gone where the weary are blest,
Where Love casts aside, in the land of its birth,
And Hope, the sweet singer that gladdened the earth,
I know thou hast gone where thy forehead is starred With the beauty that dwelt in thy soul;
Where the light of thy loveliness cannot be marred Nor thy heart be flung back from its goal.
I know thou hast drunk of the Lethe that flows
In thy far-away dwelling, wherever it be,
In the hush of the night, on the waste of the sea,
I have ever a presence which whispers of thee,
This eye must be dark which so long has been dim, Ere again it can gaze upon thine;
But my heart has revealings of thee and thy home, In many a token and sign.
I never look up with a vow to the sky,