CLEANSING FIRES.
LET thy gold be cast in the furnace,

Thy red gold, precious and bright;
Do not fear 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 glitter

Of the golden chain you wear, By your heart's calm strength in loving,

Of the fire they 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!

THE STORM.
The tempest rages wild and high,
The waves lift up their voice and cry
Fierce answers to the angry sky,

Miserere Domine.

Through the black night and driving rain
A ship is struggling, all in vain,
To live upon the stormy main;-

Miserere Domino.

The thunders roar, the lightnings glare,
Vain is it now to strive or dare;
A cry goes up of great despair, -

Miserere Domino.

The stormy voices of the main,
The moaning winds and pelting rain
Beat on the nursery window-pane: -

Miserere Domine.

Warm curtained was the little bed, Soft pillowed was the little head; “ The storm will wake the child," they said :

Miserere Domine.

Cowering among his pillows white
He prays, his blue eyes dim with fright,
“ Father, save those at sea to-night!” –

Miserere Domine.

The morning shone all clear and gay
On a ship at anchor in the bay,
And on a little child at play, -

Gloria tibi Domine.

A LOST CHORD. SEATED one day at the Organ,

I was weary and ill at ease, And my fingers wandered idly

Over the noisy keys.

I do not know what I was playing,

Or what I was dreaming then; But I struck one chord of music,

Like the sound of a great Amen.

It flooded the crimson twilight,

Like the close of an Angel's Psalm, And it lay on my fevered spirit

With a touch of infinite calm.

It quieted pain and sorrow,

Like love overcoming strife; It seemed the harmonious echo

From our discordant life.

It linked all perplexed meanings

Into one perfect peace,
And trembled away into silence

As if it were loath to cease.

I have sought, but I seek it vainly,

That one lost chord divine,
Which came from the soul of the Organ,

And entered into mine.
It may be that Death's bright angel

Will speak in that chord again,
It may be that only in Heaven

I shall hear that grand Amen.

EVENING HYMN.
The shadows of the evening hours

Fall from the darkening sky;
Upon the fragrance of the flowers

The dews of evening lie;
Before thy throne, O Lord of heaven,

We kneel at close of day;
Look on thy children from on high,

And hear us while we pray.
The sorrows of thy servants, Lord,

O do not thou despise;
But let the incense of our prayers

Before thy mercy rise ;
The brightness of the coming night

Upon the darkness rolls :
With hopes of future glory chase

The shadows on our souds.
Slowly the rays of daylight fade;

So fade within our heart
The hopes in earthly love and joy,

That one by one depart:
Slowly the bright stars, one by one,

Within the heavens shine ;-
Give us, O Lord, fresh hopes in Heaven,

And trust in things divine.
Let peace, O Lord, thy peace, O God,

Upon our souls descend;
From midnight fears and perils, thou

Our trembling hearts defend;
Give us a respite from our toil,

Calm and subdue our woes; Through the long day we suffer, Lord,

O give us now repose !

THE REQUITAL. Loud roared the tempest,

Fast fell the sleet; A little Child Angel

Passed down the street, With trailing pinions,

And weary feet.

The moon was hidden;

No stars were bright; So she could not shelter

In heaven that night, For the Angels' ladders

Are rays of light.

She beat her wings

At each window-pane, And pleaded for shelter,

But all in vain ;“ Listen,” they said,

“To the pelting rain !”

She sobbed as the laughter

And mirth grew higher, “Give me rest and shelter

Beside your fire, And I will give you

Your heart's desire."

The dreamer sat watching

His embers gleam,
While his heart was floating

Down hope's bright stream; ... So he wove her wailing

Into his dream.

The worker toiled on,

For his time was brief;
The mourner was nursing

Her own pale grief;
They heard not the promise

That brought relief.

But fiercer the Tempest

Rose than before, When the Angel paused

At a humble door, And asked for shelter

And help once more.

A weary woman,

Pale, worn, and thin, With the brand upon her

Of want and sin, Heard the Child Angel

And took her in.

Took her in gently,

And did her best To dry her pinions;

And made her rest With tender pity

Upon her breast.

When the eastern morning

Grew bright and red, Up the first sunbeam

The Angel fled; Having kissed the woman

And left her - dead.