o pure for earth it now seems to be;
My queenly wife, it was meant for thee.

Its wax-like petals with graceful bend,
Drink in the sunbeams as they descend;
And lade with fragrance the heated air
As it floats around us everywhere;
And the world grows better by its advent,
This lovely lily, so kindly sent.

It rested once on its crystal bed;
Neither wind, nor wave, occasioned dread;
Admired by all as they passed it by,
Though the contrast oft produced a sigh;
In purer soil than affords this earth
This lovely lily must have had its birth.

Dive down in search, where the root is found;
In vain you look for the purer ground;
The root is fixed in the foulest mud;
And from it grows this pure lily bud;
While speckled frogs, and the slimy eels,
Around its roots find their daily meals.

As lilies fair from the foul mud grow,
So oft it is with good men below;
In daily life they absorb the pure,
And the adverse elements endure;
And rise, through grace, to a higher sphere,
Their hearts in heaven, and their root down here.

Though foul the world where they have their growth,
Unfit the soil, and the climate both,
The blood of Christ does their stains remove;
His power to keep they all daily prove;
As lilies pure are these plants of grace,
Though growing now in so foul a place.

"HE SHALL WIPE AWAY EVERY TEAR"

Every tear that dims the eye,
Or bedews the careworn cheek,
Will our God, who reigns on high,
With a hand so kind and meek,
Wipe away, nor leave a trace
Of its stain on eye or face.

He alone life's ills can right.
Each His tender pity needs;
None are hidden from His sight;
"_Every tear_," the promise reads--
Every tear shall cease to flow,
Cease, likewise, the cause of woe.

O may I in Him confide
While I tread this vale of tears!
Walking closely by His side
He will dissipate my fears,
And when ends the weary strife,
May I share the tearless life!

THE TAJ OF AGRA

The Shah Jehan sat with his much-loved wife,
The Empress Mahal, one hot summer day,
In a cool arbor far from courtly strife,
Close by the Jumna, winding on its way.

In silence played they long their game of chess,
But Jehan's eyes rose oft to Mahal's brow,
His ardent love he could not well repress,
Nor tried--she was his own rich jewel now.

He stayed the game to breathe some words of love
And press her lips with lips that knew no guile,
And felt the thrill, and peace like white-winged dove