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, For sweet it must have been at close of day MOTHER EARTH. Upon the earth we creep and pat her face; Older-we grasp her treasures, silver, gold; Earth bids her seasons pass, and says, we change, Older-we bend towards her face once more, But softly clinging to her kindly breast, Our Mother Earth receives us to our rest- 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 Hunger for the things that perish, All the hopes on earth we cherish Where we dwell, those lips are saying, 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, Bidding her grasses o'er them wave, 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 A building coarse and rudely shaped, But when the night drops down her mantle, Its dark waves crossed by golden bands. Or when the storm fills earth with beauty So what to us seems rude and worthless, 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 ; Labor and care to cheer. And she who brought them to us, A form erect and girl-like, For are they not like Angels 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. Over your petals comes a glow That seems the impress of our God. |