Like many scorpion rings,
The stairs to better things
In that high citadel
Which has a warning bell.

XVII.

Whence honor, wealth, or fame,
Which God delights to see?
Out of a blameless name,
Born of Eternity.
And these are prizes
At God's assizes,
Reported day by day,
Which no man takes away.

XVIII.

Life is movement, action,
Joy, and benefaction.
Rest is bravely doing,
While the past reviewing,
Still the years forecasting
With the Everlasting.
Such be days of thine,
Such thy rest divine.

XIX.

The brook's joy
Does not cloy.
Too much sun,
Too much rain;
Work is done
Not in vain.
Sun receives
And cloud leaves
Just enough.
Skies are black
And winds rough,
Yet no lack
Of good will;
For 'tis still
Understood
God is good.

XX.

The brook's rest
Is rest indeed;
The brook's quest
Is daily need.
Thoughts of to-morrow
They bring no sorrow;
And so it babbles away,
And does the work of to-day.

XXI.

The brook knows the joy
Down in the heart of a boy,
And the swallow kens the whirl
Up in the head of a girl.

XXII.

How many a psalm is heard
From yon rejoicing bird,
That finds its daily food
And feels that God is good!
That little life's employ
Is toil and song and joy.
Hast music in thy heart,
O toiler day by day,
Along life's rugged way?
Then what thou hast thou art.

XXIII.

True, Good, and Beautiful!
A perfect line
Of love and sainthood full--
And it is thine.

XXIV.

Thou doest well, dear friend,
Thy labor is not lost.
As notes in music blend,
So here Affection's host.
Their names thy book within,
Their thoughts of love and truth,
Are worth the cost to win--
First trophies of thy youth.
This little Album thine
Suggests to Book Divine--
The Book of Life, God's own.
What names are written there!
What names are there unknown!
Hast thou no thought or care?
I do thee wrong to ask--
God speed the nobler task
Until thy labor prove
Indeed a work of love!

XXV.

True friends
Are through friends
To the next world--
That unvexed world.
What will friends be