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" I came here alone.” “Nay, I stood by your side.” “I will dwell on her lips.” “In her heart I will hide." The Smile wreathed her lips, falling slightly apart, The Sigh sank in sadness down into her heart. This was ages ago; how long I forget; But the Smile and the Sigh strive for mastery yet.
G. T. JOHNSON.
PAINS furnace heat within me quivers,
AIN furnace heat within
God's breath upon the flame doth blow,
And trembles at the fiery glow;
On the hard anvil, minded so
With His great hammer, blow on blow;
The sparks fly off at every blow;
And lets it cool, and makes it glow;
Thus only longer-lived would be ;
When God has done His work in me;
So I say, trusting: As God will!
He kindles for my profit purely
Affliction's glowing, fiery brand,
Inflicted by a master hand ;
AKE the best of yourself. Watch, and plant, and
Cultivate! Cultivate ! Falter not, faint not! Press onward! Persevere ! Perhaps you cannot bear such lordly fruit, nor yet such rare, rich flowers as others; but what of that? Bear the best you can. 'Tis all God asks.
Your flowers may only be the daisies and buttercups of life—the little words and smiles and handshakes and helpful looks; but we love these flowers full well. We may stop to look at a tulip's gorgeous colors, and admire the creamy whiteness of a noble lily; but it is to the little flowers we turn with tenderest thought. We watch for snowdrops with longing eyes, and scent the fragrance of the violet with a keen delight. So let your life grow sweet scented with all pleasant thoughts and gentle words and kindly deeds.
HER LADDIE'S PICTURE.
Good 100D master, turn your face this way;
And let your pallet lie, I pray. Men say
that you are keen and wise, That you can paint the bird that flies, And catch the shadow from the
sun, And paint the day ere it be done. I've heard so much that you could do, O’er many a mile I've come to you, Past mountain ridge and rippling stream I've come, as led by some fair dream, To show you these and beg that you Will paint my grandson ; please, sir, do. Ah, when they told me he was dead I could not rest me in
I made this cap of red and blue,
Master, days have passed, a score,
And since your promise to restore
Almost I see
MARY BEALE BRAINERD.
THE TEAR OF REPENTANCE.
The Peri are mythologically represented as descendants of fallen angels, excluded from Paradise until, through some holy deed, their penance is accomplished. In this instance a Peri is described as having twice appeared at the Gate of Heaven, bearing the first time a drop of blood from the heart of an expiring warrior ; the second time a farewell sigh from the lips of a dying lover. In each case she is refused admission—the
gift not being
angel bids her seek again and this time she bears to Heaven a tear of repentance from the eye
& hardened sinner.