Then earth and heaven were rolled up like a scroll; Time and space, change and death, had passed away; Weight, number, measure, each had reached its whole : The day had come, that day.

Multitudes

multitudes- stood up in bliss, Made equal to the angels, glorious, fair; With harps, palms, wedding-garments, kiss of peace, And crowned and haloed hair.

They sang a song, a new song in the height,

Harping with harps to Him Who is Strong and True: They drank new wine, their eyes saw with new light, Lo, all things were made new.

Tier beyond tier they rose and rose and rose

So high that it was dreadful, flames with flames: No man could number them, no tongue disclose Their secret sacred names.

As though one pulse stirred all, one rush of blood Fed all, one breath swept through them myriad

voiced,

They struck their harps, cast down their crowns, they stood

And worshipped and rejoiced.

Each face looked one way like a moon new-lit,

Each face looked one way towards its Sun of Love ; Drank love and bathed in love and mirrored it

And knew no end thereof.

Glory touched glory on each blessed head,

Hands locked dear hands never to sunder more: These were the new-begotten from the dead

Whom the great birthday bore.

Heart answered heart, soul answered soul at rest,
Double against each other, filled, sufficed:
All loving, loved of all; but loving best
And best beloved of Christ.

I saw that one who lost her love in pain,

Who trod on thorns, who drank the loathsome cup; The lost in night, in day was found again;

The fallen was lifted up.

They stood together in the blessed noon,

They sang together through the length of days;
Each loving face bent Sunwards like a moon
New-lit with love and praise.

Therefore, O friend, I would not if I might
Rebuild my house of lies, wherein I joyed
One time to dwell: my soul shall walk in white,
Cast down but not destroyed.

Therefore in patience I possess my soul;
Yea, therefore as a flint I set my face,

To pluck down, to build up again the whole

But in a distant place.

These thorns are sharp, yet I can tread on them;
This cup is loathsome, yet He makes it sweet:
My face is steadfast toward Jerusalem,
My heart remembers it.

I lift the hanging hands, the feeble knees

I, precious more than seven times molten gold — Until the day when from His storehouses God shall bring new and old;

Beauty for ashes, oil of joy for grief,

Garment of praise for spirit of heaviness:

Although to-day I fade as doth a leaf,

I languish and grow less.

Although to-day He prunes my twigs with pain,
Yet doth His blood nourish and warm my root:
To-morrow I shall put forth buds again,
And clothe myself with fruit.

Although to-day I walk in tedious ways,
To-day His staff is turned into a rod,
Yet will I wait for Him the appointed days

And stay upon my God.

OLD AND NEW YEAR DITTIES.

N'

I.

IEW Year met me somewhat sad:

Old Year leaves me tired,
Stripped of favorite things I had,
Balked of much desired:

Yet farther on my road to-day,
God willing, farther on my way.

New Year coming on apace

What have you to give me?
Bring you scathe, or bring you grace,
Face me with an honest face;

You shall not deceive me :

Be it good or ill, be it what you will,
It needs shall help me on my road,
My rugged way to heaven, please God.

2.

WATCH with me, men, women, and children dear,
You whom I love, for whom I hope and fear,
Watch with me this last vigil of the year.

Some hug their business, some their pleasure-scheme;
Some seize the vacant hour to sleep or dream ;

Heart locked in heart some kneel and watch apart.

Watch with me, blessed spirits, who delight
All through the holy night to walk in white,
Or take your ease after the long-drawn fight.
I know not if they watch with me: I know
They count this eve of resurrection slow,

"How long?" with urgent utterance strong.

loneliness:

And cry,
Watch with me, Jesus, in my
Though others say me nay, yet say Thou yes;
Though others pass me by, stop Thou to bless.
Yea, Thou dost stop with me this vigil night;
To-night of pain, to-morrow of delight:

I, Love, am Thine; Thou, Lord, my God, art mine.

3.

PASSING away, saith the World, passing away:
Chances, beauty and youth sapped day by day:
Thy life never continueth in one stay.

Is the eye waxen dim, is the dark hair changing to gray
That hath won neither laurel nor bay?

I shall clothe myself in Spring and bud in May:
Thou, root-stricken, shalt not rebuild thy decay
On my bosom for aye.

Then I answered: Yea.

Passing away, saith my Soul, passing away:

With its burden of fear and hope, of labor and play ; Hearken what the past doth witness and say:

Rust in thy gold, a moth is in thine array,

A canker is in thy bud, thy leaf must decay.