Who knows but earthly love came to His soul, Where heavenly love held e'er its high control, And sought to lure it from its onward goal!

Might she, He said, had chosen the better part Have nestled like a dove around His heart, Making it harder with this life to part?

O life of love! embracing all the earth,

The weary, sinful, sick, the low of birth;

Say, did'st thou find a heaven around one hearth?

The home of Bethany! all else forgot,
Love-lighted still would be that hallowed spot,
With holy memories forever fraught.

For sweet it must have been at close of day
To turn from worldly scorn and greed away,
And seek that quiet home in Bethany.

MOTHER EARTH.

Upon the earth we creep and pat her face;
We pluck her flowers so full of bloom and grace;
We run our fingers through her grassy hair;
And joy and innocence become a prayer.

Older-we grasp her treasures, silver, gold;
We strive for more than we can ever hold.
Earth's children all-yet we since time began
Oppress and trample on our fellow man.

Earth bids her seasons pass, and says, we change,
With greedy eyes we through her store-house range,
We heap her goods, her grains until they rust,
With grasping hands-forget that we are dust!

Older-we bend towards her face once more,
For rest upon her bosom we implore.
Like withered leaves, our treasures from us fall,
Greed, pleasures, pomp, no longer on us call.

But softly clinging to her kindly breast,

Our Mother Earth receives us to our rest-
Where, if we lie by all beside forgot,

Each spring with flowers anew she decks the spot.

THOUGHTS ON LOOKING AT A PHOTOGRAPH.

When we gaze upon the faces

That have vanished from our sight,

Softly 'mid the careworn traces,

Shines a beam of heavenly light.

From the eyes come spirit glances
Of a peace unknown before.
Where we dwell, those lips are saying,
Souls shall never hunger more.

Hunger for the things that perish,
Place or fame or love ungiven;

All the hopes on earth we cherish
Shall fulfilment find in heaven.

Where we dwell, those lips are saying,
We have met the lost from earth—
Earthly life is but a praying,

Longing for the heavenly birth.

Soon the circle undivided,

Face to face and heart to heart,

Round God's hearthstone shall be gathered Never, never more to part.

LINES

Sung at the Consecration of a Soldiers' Monument.

We meet to consecrate a spot

That guards the memory of the brave. Whoe'er must lie unknown, forgotForget not those who died to save!

How nature mourned with crimson plains,
For youth and worth untimely dead-
And sought to cleanse with tearful rains,
Each martyred hero's lowly bed.

Bidding her grasses o'er them wave,
Writing their epitaph in flowers.
Here willing hands a tribute gave,

For grateful memories are ours.

Our Union saved! our country free!

Brother no more with brother strives.

We raise this shaft to Liberty,

To those who gave their all-their lives!

DARKNESS AND DEATH REVEAL BEAUTY AND
LIGHT.

A building coarse and rudely shaped,
Where Toil, Briareus, plies its arms;
By day, the passer-by would wonder
Were I to say the place had charms.

But when the night drops down her mantle,
There an enchanted palace stands
Reflected in the flowing river,

Its dark waves crossed by golden bands.

Or when the storm fills earth with beauty
And every bough is decked with snow,
Amid the graceful, twining arches,
That palace sends a rosy glow.

So what to us seems rude and worthless,
Conceals full oft a hidden grace,
Seen only through the night of sorrow,
Or smiling forth from death's cold face.

LINES

Addressed to a friend, who brought us a beautiful bunch of Magnolias.

Sweet were the flowers, but sweeter

The thought that brought them here ;
The lonely home to brighten,

Labor and care to cheer.

And she who brought them to us,
Bright in her eighty years,

A form erect and girl-like,
In all love's light appears.

For are they not like Angels
Who bid the heart to sing?

If but a simple flower

With kindly wish they bring.

And so, my friend, I thank thee,—

The richest gift bears not

The fragrance of a flower

With God's own love 'tis fraught.

PRESSED FLOWERS FROM PALESTINE.
Sweet flowers that bloomed a year ago
Within the fields His feet have trod !

Over your petals comes a glow

That seems the impress of our God.