So on and on they hastened
Where they never before had trod,
And the flaming Guide that led them,
Was ever the Glory of God.

By night in yonder heavens,
Within their hearts by day,
As of old the blessed Shekinah
Along the Red Sea way.

And they have troubled Herod
And left Jerusalem,
The joy-giving Star before them,
The Star of Bethlehem.

And they have seen and worshiped
The Everlasting Child,
In whom sweet Truth and Mercy
Were never unreconciled.

They have kissed the Beauty of Heaven,
Incarnate on the earth,
The Babe in the lap of Mary,
Of whom He came to his birth.

Their gifts of love they have rendered
Unto the new-born King,
Their gold and myrrh and frankincense,
The best that they could bring.

And vanished the Star forever,
When they turned from the Child away?
Shone it not then in their bosoms,
The light of Eternal Day?

They could not return to Herod--
Too precious for any swine,
The pearls which they had gathered
Out of the Sea Divine!

O Vision of the Redeemer,
In which faith has struggled to sight!
They carried it back to their country,
And published it day and night.

They carried it back to their country,
The vision since Eden's fall,
Which seen afar off has sweetened
The wormwood and the gall.

And it has become the story
Of every triumphant soul,
That in seeking the Eternal
Reaches a blessed goal.

* * * * *

XXVI.

FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.

THE HEROINE OF THE CRIMEA.

"The care of the poor," said Hannah More, herself one of the most
illustrious women of her time, "is essentially the profession of women."
In her own person, Florence Nightingale has proved this; and not in one
or two cases, but by a whole life passed in devotion to the needs of the
poor and humble, the sick and the distressed. Comparatively little was
known of Miss Nightingale before the year 1854, when the needs of the
English army in the Crimea called forth the heroism of thousands. Then
it was that Florence Nightingale and other heroic women went out to the
East, and personally succored the wounded, comforted the weak-hearted,
and smoothed the pillows of the dying.

Miss Nightingale is every way a remarkable woman. The daughter of an
Englishman, W. Shore Nightingale,