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While His tired disciples
Rested at His feet,

And the proud Corn rustled,
Bidding them to eat,
"Children," said the Teacher,

"The life is more than meat.

"Consider the Lilies,

How beautiful they grow!
Never king had such glory,
Yet no toil they know."
O, happy were the Lilies
That He loved them so!

L

CLEANSING FIRES.

ET thy gold be cast into the furnace,

Thy red gold, precious and bright; Do not fear for the hungry fire, With its caverns of burning light. And thy gold shall return more precious, Free from every spot and stain;

For gold must be tried by fire,

As a heart must be tried by pain!

In the cruel fire of sorrow

Cast thy heart, do not faint or wail;
Let thy hand be firm and steady,
Do not let thy spirit quail.
But wait till the trial is over,

And take thy heart again;

For, as gold is tried by fire,

So a heart must be tried by pain!

I shall know by the gleam and the glitter
Of the golden chain you wear,

By your heart's calm strength in loving,
Of the fire you have had to bear.
Beat on, true heart, forever;

Shine bright, strong, golden chain;
And bless the cleansing fire,

And the furnace of living pain!

I

ADELAIDE PROCTOR

WHAT I LIVE FOR.

LIVE for those who love me,

For those I know are true;
For the heaven that smiles above me,
And awaits my spirit too;

For all human ties that bind me,
For the task my God assigned me,
For the bright hopes left behind me,
And the good that I can do..
I live to learn their story,
Who suffered for my sake;

To emulate their glory

And follow in their wake; Bards, martyrs, patriots, sages, The nobles of all ages,

Whose deeds crown history's pages,

And Time's great volume make.

I live to hail the season;

By gifted minds foretold;

When men shall live by reason,
And not alone for gold.

When man to man united,

And every wrong thing righted,
The whole world shall be lighted
As Eden was of old.

I live to hold communion
With all that is divine,
To feel that there is union

"Twixt Nature's heart and mine;
To profit by affliction,

Reap truth from fields of fiction,
Grow wiser from conviction,
Fulfilling God's design.

I live for those that love me,
For those that know me true,
For the heaven that smiles above me
And awaits my spirit, too;

For the wrongs that need resistance,
For the cause that needs assistance,
For the future in the distance,

And the good that I can do.

THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS.

HERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death,

THER

And, with his sickle keen,

He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,

And the flowers that grow between.

Shall I have nought that is fair?" saith he;

"Have nought but the bearded grain?

Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again."

He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes,
He kissed their drooping leaves;

It was for the Lord of Paradise

He bound them in his sheaves.

"My Lord has need of these flowerets gay,"
The Reaper said, and smiled;
"Dear tokens of the earth are they,
Where He was once a child.

"They shall all bloom in fields of light,
Transplanted by my care,

And saints, upon their garments white,
These sacred blossoms wear.'

And the mother gave, in tears and pain,
The flowers she most did love;

She knew she should find them all again
In the fields of light above.

O, not in cruelty, not in wrath,
The Reaper came that day;

'Twas an angel visited the green earth,

And took the flowers away.

LONGFELLOW.

THE USES OF LIFE.

HOUGH we climb fame's proudest height,

THOU

Though we sit on hills afar,

Where the thrones of triumph are;

Though all deepest mysteries be open to our sight, If we win not by that power

For the world another dower

If this great Humanity share not in our gain,
We have lived our life in vain.

Though we revel in sweet dreams;

Though with poet's eye we look

Full on Nature's open book,

And our spirits wander, singing with the birds and the

streams;

If we let no music in

To the world of grief and sin-
If we draw no spirit heavenward by the strain,
We have lived our life in vain.

Though our lot be calm and bright;

Though upon our brows we wear

Youth, and grace, and beauty rare,

And the hours go swiftly, singing in their flight;
If we let no glory down

Any darkened life to crown—

If our grace and joyance have no ministry for pain,
We have lived our life in vain.

Though for weary years we toil;

Though we gather all the gold

From the mines of wealth untold,

Though from farthest shores of ocean we have brought the spoil;

What at the last is won

If we hear not God's "Well done"?

If the world's want and sorrow be not lessened by our gain,

We have lived our life in vain.

Though we be, in heart and hand,

Mighty with all foes to cope,

Rich in courage and in hope,

Fitted as strong laborers in the world to stand

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