Of bursting blooms
Haunt all the aisles of dying glooms!

And dreams arise
Of perfect skies
And all the worlds of prophets wise,
And tender hands
Whose fond commands
Lead fast and far through Love's sweet lands.

And bending low
We fondly know
The love-songs of the Long Ago,
So sweet and fair
With raptures rare,
And lips of welcome waiting there.

O, fields afar,
Whose echoes are
Soft whispers flung from sun and star,
Still faint and dim
I hear your hymn
Across the wide horizon's rim!

Little Sermons.

Drowning men were never rescued by eloquent preachers who stand on the
shore and shout at them how to swim.

The church that brings shadows to this world hangs no sunshine o'er the
portals of the next.

The noblest ambition of good men is to pluck the thorns from among the
roses of upright living.

Without Embarassment.

(John D. Rockefeller has recently offered the Congregational Missionary
Society $100,000; after much discussion, they have decided to take the
money.)

It must be very trying
When the wicked millionaires
Desire to trade the pulpits
Dirty dollars for their prayers;
But I miss the shame, you see,
And am happy as can be,
For John D.
Rockyfeller he
Hain't a-throwin' any of his awful coin at me!
Of course, if some rich sinner
Should attempt to subsidize,
I certainly would see, sir,
If I dared accept the prize;
But I worry none, you see,
And my fancies all are free,
For John D.
Rockyfeller he
Hain't expressed a notion to be subsidizin' me!

But I--I have the promise,--
You may spread the joyous news--
I get whatever millions
That the churches may refuse;
But I know still poor I'll be
And from dirty dollars free,
For John D.
Rockyfeller he
Will never have occasion to pass on the coin to me!

In the Dark.

It's all too lonely for speech,
Too drear for a swift remark;
I only grope till I faintly reach
Your finger-tips in the dark.

But there in the darkness near
Where the shadows clutch and cling,
Above the plash of the bitter tear,
A song and the lips that sing!