First, faith in G.o.d's wisdom, then purpose and will, And, like mist before sunlight, shall vanish each ill.

To the far realm of Wisdom there lies a short way.

To find it we need but the pa.s.sword--Obey.

Obey like the acorn that falls to the sod, To rise, through the heart of the oak tree, to G.o.d.

Though slow be the rising, and distant the goal, Serenity waits at the end for each soul.

I seek it. Not backward, but onward I go, And since sorrow means growth, I will welcome my woe.

In the ladder of lives we are given to climb, Each life counts for only a second of time.

The one thing to do in the brief little s.p.a.ce, Is to make the world glad that we ran in the race.

No soul should be sad whom the Maker deemed worth The great gift of song as its dower at birth.

While I pa.s.s on my way, an invisible throng Breathes low in my ear the new note of a song.

So I am not alone; for by night and by day These mystical messengers people my way.

They bid me to hearken, they bid me be dumb And to wait for the true inspiration to come.

THE END.

BY ELLA WHEELER WILc.o.x

Poems of Pa.s.sion.

Maurine and Other Poems.

Poems of Pleasure.

How Salvator Won and Other Poems.

Custer and Other Poems.

Men, Women and Emotions. (Prose.)

The Beautiful Land of Nod. (Poems, songs and stories.)

W. B. CONKEY COMPANY, CHICAGO.