en the spirit grieveth,
And the heart relieveth
Itself of woe;
And the doubt-mists lifted
From the eyes love-gifted
Are rent and rifted
In the warmer glow.

In the inner Me, love,
As I turn to thee, love,
I seem to see, love,
No Ego there.
But the Meness dead, love,
The Theeness fled, love,
And born instead, love,
An Usness rare!

THE MEETING

BY S. E. KISER

One day, in Paradise,
Two angels, beaming, strolled
Along the amber walk that lies
Beside the street of gold.

At last they met and gazed
Into each other's eyes,
Then dropped their harps, amazed,
And stood in mute surprise.

And other angels came,
And, as they lingered near,
Heard both at once exclaim:
"Say, how did you get here?"

"THERE'S A BOWER OF BEAN-VINES"

BY PHOEBE CARY

There's a bower of bean-vines in Benjamin's yard,
And the cabbages grow round it, planted for greens;
In the time of my childhood 'twas terribly hard
To bend down the bean-poles, and pick off the beans.

That bower and its products I never forget,
But oft, when my landlady presses me hard,
I think, are the cabbages growing there yet,
Are the bean-vines still bearing in Benjamin's yard?

No, the bean-vines soon withered that once used to wave,
But some beans had been gathered, the last that hung on;
And a soup was distilled in a kettle, that gave
All the fragrance of summer when summer was gone.

Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies,
An essence that breathes of it awfully hard;
As thus good to my taste as 'twas then to my eyes,
Is that bower of bean-vines in Benjamin's yard.

THE TRIAL THAT JOB MISSED

BY KENNETT HARRIS

Job had troubles, I admit;
Clearly was his patience shown,
Yet he never had to sit
Waiting at the telephone--
Waiting, waiting to connect,
The receiver at his lobe.
That's a trial, I expect,
Would have been too much for Job!

After minutes of delay,
While the cramps attacked his knees,
Then to hear Miss Central say
Innocently: "Number, please!"
When the same he'd shouted out
Twenty times--he'd rend his robe,
Tear his hair, I've little doubt;
'Twould have been too much for Job.

Job, with all the woes he bore,
Never got the "busy" buzz
When he tempted was of yore
In the ancient land of Uz.
Satan missed it when he soug