For His bluid has made me white, an' His han' shall dry mine e’e, When He brings me hame at last, to my ain countrie. Sae little noo I ken, o' yon blessed, bonnie place, And carries them Himsel' to His ain countrie. He is faithfu' that hath promised, an' He'll surely come again, He'll keep His tryst wi' me, at what hour I dinna ken; But He bids me still to wait an' ready aye to be, For the soun'ing o' His foot-fa' this side the gowden gate; God gie His grace to ilka ane wha' listens noo to me, That we a' may gang in gladness to oor ain countrie. MARY LEE DEMAREST. If life awake and will never cease Let the world go round and round, For whether I'm on or under the ground - JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND. . Prospice TEAR death? -to feel the fog in my throat, NEAR The mist in my face, When the snows begin, and the blasts denote I am nearing the place. The power of the night, the press of the storm, The post of the foe; Where he stands, the Arch-fear in a visible form, Yet the strong man must go: For the journey is done and the summit attain'd, And the barriers fall, Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gain’d, The reward of it all. I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forbore, And bade me creep past. No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers, The heroes of old, Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears Of pain, darkness, and cold. For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, The black minute's at end, And the elements rage, the fiend-voices that rave, Shall dwindle, shall blend, Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain, Then a light, then thy breast, O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, And with God be the rest. Why will ye call it Death's Dark Night WHY will ye call it, "Death's dark night”? Death is the entrance into light: Behind its cloudy purple gates The everlasting morning waits. Then fear not death, its pains, its strife, When Christ says, “Come," and all is peace. C. M. NOEL. From "Thanatopsis " live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, that moves To that mysterious realm, where each shalt take WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. By permission of D. Appleton & Co. I The Eternal Goodness LONG for household voices gone, But God hath led my dear ones on, I know not what the future hath Assured alone that life and death His mercy underlies. And if my heart and flesh are weak No offering of my own I have, And so beside the Silent Sea No harm from Him can come to me On ocean or on shore. |