Peace keeps us company to-day In this old fragrant, shadowy wood; We lift our eyes to heaven and say: The world is fair and G.o.d is good.

O RADIANCE OF LIFE'S MORNING.

O Radiance of life's morning! O gold without alloy!

O love that lives through all the years! O full, O perfect joy!

The hills of earth touch heaven, the heaven of blue and gold, And angel voices swell the song of love and peace untold!

O radiance of life's morning!

The dew within the rose, The fragrance fresh from Eden That freights each breeze that blows!

Dear Christ, the wine of Cana pour out in rich supply, These hearts keep young with gladness while all the years go by!

O radiance of life's morning!

O gold without alloy!

O love that lives through all the years, O full, O perfect joy!

THE IDLER.

If but one spark of honest zeal Flashes to life within his breast-- A feeble, flick'ring spark at best; If for a moment he doth feel A dim desire to throw aside The bonds that idleness has wrought, To do, to be the man he ought, The tyrant thing he calls his pride--

The curse of all things good on earth-- Takes on the cruel midwife's role, And each high impulse of the soul Is strangled in the hour of birth.

"To dig I am ashamed," quoth he; "Mine is the pride of name and race That scorns to fill such humble s.p.a.ce-- Life's lowly tasks are not for me."

Oh, he can flatter with his tongue, Can toady to the rich and great, Can fawn on those he feels to hate, Until from out his nature's wrung Each shred of honesty and zeal, Each impulse independent, strong, Till truth and honor's but a song, And naught is beautiful or real.

THE TRUST.

We steal the brawn, we steal the brain; The man beneath us in the fight Soon learns how helpless and how vain To plead for justice or for right.

We steal the youth, we steal the health, Hope, courage, aspiration high; We steal men's all to make for wealth-- We will repent us by and by.

Meantime, a gift will heaven appease-- Great G.o.d, forgive our charities!

We steal the children's laughter shrill, We steal their joys e'er they can taste, "Why skip like young lambs on a hill?

Go, get ye to your task in haste."

No matter that they droop and tire, That heaven cries out against the sin, The gold, red gold, that we desire Their dimpled hands must help to win.

A cheque for missions, if you please-- Great G.o.d, forgive our charities!

We steal the light from lover's eyes, We hush the tale he has to tell Of pure desire, of tender ties-- No man can serve two masters well.

So loot his treasury of pride, His holy hopes and visions steal, His hearth-fire scatter far and wide, And grind the sparks beneath your heel.

A cheque will cover sins like these-- Great G.o.d, forgive our charities!

WHEN PAGANINI PLAYS.

"Dawn!" laughs the bow, and we straight see the sky, Crimson, and golden, and gray, See the rosy cloudlets go drifting by, And the sheen on the lark as, soaring high, He carols to greet the day.

Fast moves the bow o'er the wonderful strings-- We feel the joy in the air-- 'Tis alive with the glory of growing things, With wild honeysuckle that creeps and clings, Rose of the briar bush--queen of the springs-- Anemones frail and fair!

We listen, and whisper with laughter low, "It voices rare gladness, that ancient bow!"

Then, sad as the plaint of a child at night-- A child aweary with play-- The falling of shadows, a lost delight, The moaning of watchers counting the flight Of hours 'twixt the dark and day.

It echoes the cry of a broken heart, It grieves o'er a "might have been,"

It holds all the pa.s.sionate tears that start When our heaven and our earth drift far apart, And the way lies dark between.

It stills all our laughter, and whispers low-- 'Tis heart-strings it plays on, that ancient bow!

TO-DAY YOU UNDERSTAND.

You lifted eyes pain-filled to me, Sad, questioning eyes that did demand Why I should thrust back, childishly, The friendship warm you offered me-- Ah, sweet, to-day you understand!

'Twas that my heart beat rapturously At word of thine, at touch of hand, At tender glance vouchsafed to me The while I knew it must not be-- Ah, sweet, to-day you understand!

There's neither pain nor mystery In that far-off and fragrant land To which you journeyed fearlessly; By gates of pearl and jasper sea-- Ah, sweet, to-day you understand!

LOVE'S SACRIFICE.

"And behold, a woman in the city, which was a sinner, when she knew that Jesus sat at meat in the Pharisee's house, brought an alabaster box of ointment and stood at his feet behind him weeping, and began to wash his feet with tears, and did wipe them with the hairs of her head."

The eyes He turned on her who kneeling wept Were filled with tenderness and pity rare; But looking on the Pharisee, there crept A sorrow and a hint of sternness there.

"Simon, I have somewhat to say to thee,"

The Master's voice rang clearly out, and stirred, With its new note of full authority, The list'ning throng, who pressed to catch each word.