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NLY a word for the Master,
Yet the Master heard,
And some fainting hearts were fed.
Only a look of remonstrance,
Yet the strong man shook,
Only some act of devotion,
"Surely 'twas naught!"
So the proud world thought,
But yet souls for Christ were won.
Only an hour with the children,
Yet seed was sown
In that hour alone
Which would bring forth fruit for heaven!
"Only "--but Jesus is looking,
Constantly, tenderly down
To earth, and sees
Those who strive to please;
And their love He loves to crown.
THE ANGEL OF PATIENCE.
DE the toilsome way,
Lonely and dark, by fruits and
Which my worn feet tread sadly, day by day
An angel softly walks,
With pale, sweet face, and eyes cast meekly down, The while from withered leaves and flowerless stalks She weaves my fitting crown.
A sweet and patient grace,
A look of firm endurance, true and tried,
And when my fainting heart
Desponds and murmurs at its adverse fate,
"Patience!" she sweetly saith
Thy father's mercies never come too late,
Gird thee with patience, strength, and trusting faith And firm endurance-wait!"
Angel! behold, I wait,
Wearing the thorny crown through all life's hours,— Wait till thy hand shall ope the eternal gate,
And change the thorns to flowers!
ROWN to man's stature! O my little child! My bird that sought the skies so long ago! My fair, sweet blossom, pure and undefiled, How have the years flown since we laid thee low!
What have they been to thee? If thou were here
I should look up into thy face and say,
Wavering, perhaps, between a tear and smile, "O my sweet son, thou art a man to-day;"
And thou would stoop to kiss my lips the while.
But-up in Heaven-how is it with thee, dear?
Art thou a man-to man's full stature grown? Dost thou count time as we do, year by year
And what of all earth's changes hast thou known?
Thou hast not learned to love me. Didst thou take Any small germ of love to Heaven with thee That thou hast watched and nurtured for my sake, Waiting till I its perfect flower may see?
What is it to have lived in Heaven always?
Ne'er to have known in all the calm, bright days,
Thy brothers-they are mortal-they must tread Ofttimes in rough, hard ways, with bleeding feet; Must fight with dragons, must bewail their dead, And fierce Apollyon face to face must meet.
I, who would give my very life for theirs,
I cannot save them from earth's pain or loss; I cannot shield them from its griefs or cares; Each human heart must bear alone its cross!
Was God, then, kinder unto thee than them,
No star shines brighter than the kingly man.
Who nobly earns whatever crown he wears,
Who grandly conquers or as grandly dies
What lofty peans shall the victor greet!
Hast thou not something missed in missing it?
DEATH AND LIFE.
HE brown leaves rustle under our tread;
The Aster of latest bloom lies dead;
While the Golden-rod, with feathery spray,
That winter sits throned in royal mien,
One by one to the grave are borne-
Day by day the grain and the leaves
Silent and cold sink the shadows gray,
The rivers shall break their icy chain,
And the waxing year in its course will bring,
While the wood robin's song through the leafy maze,
He, at whose bidding the seasons bloom,
The winter of death will give place to life's spring, When the ransomed ones enter the courts of their king,
And walk by the river, that flows where the light is dimmed by no winter; where death cannot blight.