Our King, our Saviour, Son of Man, And Son of G.o.d--all-wondrous plan!

A Virgin's joy; a world's salvation; Humblest type of exaltation!

Highest form of life despised; Visage marred, and beauty prized.

By angels heralded on high; By men abhorred and doomed to die.

Entombed secure 'neath seal and stone; Uprisen to the Eternal Throne!

Hail, blessed light! Hail glorious morn!

The Wonderful, the Christ is born!

"A DAY IN JUNE"

The Early Dawn looked out upon the world And cried, "How beautiful a world to be!"

The Dawn herself was beautiful to see; Her hair of glowing golden light uncurled About a face of clear serenity, Whereon rose-tinted smiles played daintily and free.

"Aye, fair the earth," she said, "most fair--and yet How can I for one briefest s.p.a.ce forget How dark a stain its loveliness doth mar; A stain, a scourge, the cruel curse of war!

Even now I dimly see and faintly hear The clang of drum, the clash of sword and spear."

And pale with pity, swift she shrank away, Leaving the world and war to broader day.

The Sun at noon looked down upon the world; From depths of vast ethereal blue looked down, And mused, "You far, fair Earth, sure we must crown Queen of the Universe. Great flags unfurled O'er her bright waters witness high renown Won by her creature, Man; aye, bring for Earth a crown!

Yet stay--there riseth over Afric plains A cloud of battle-smoke; with crimson stains Her rivers run; her hills and meadows fair, Trampled by hostile hordes, lie waste and bare.

And yonder, in the islands of the sea, A people struggle vainly to be free; And everywhere the banners of fair fame Trail in the dust of hatred, greed and shame.

No crown for Earth; I mourn so bright a star Lost in the chaos of consuming war."

And veiled in robe of woe, he went his way, Borne by the pa.s.sing hours to close of day.

The twilight lingered, and the Evening Star Looked back upon the world and whispered low: "These who have spoken surely could not know:-- Earth is a great, pure pearl, and seems from far Set with fair homes, like gems; in amber glow, Or emerald green, or gold or roseate snow.

But hush! In palace hall a bitter cry; A mangled hero is borne in to die; And in yon lowly cot, a widow's moan;-- A mother's heart-break o'er her only son.

Alas! 'tis true. Earth's battle-fields destroy Her n.o.blest manhood; rob her homes of joy."

And sad the Star of Evening sank from sight, While Earth lay shrouded in the gloom of night.

But from afar--beyond the Morning's birth, Beyond the depths whence Sun looked down on earth, Beyond the dreamy distance of the Star,-- A voice proclaimed: "They shall no more learn war."

TO-DAY

Light on my pathway, blessed Lord, The light of life, I pray; O, let the glory of Thy word Shine o'er my life to-day.

I cry to Thee for present help, Turn not my prayer away; O Strength and Refuge of Thine own, Keep Thou my soul to-day.

My willing but uncertain feet Guide in Thy chosen way; And let Thy grace sufficient be For all my need to-day.

LOSING VICTORIES

My 'Infant Cla.s.s' one summer morn, Was gathered in the maple shade Near the church door, and there we talked Of the fair world our Lord had made--

The swaying trees upon the hill, The waving grain, the shadowy grove-- Till every little heart seemed filled With the sweet sense of Jesus' love.

A query came: Dear little ones, As days go by what shall we do-- Since Jesus has so loved us all-- To show him that we love him too?

"I'll mind mama," said wilful Tim; And Ben, "I'll carry in the wood;"

Said Mary, "I will lessons learn;"

While Dimple lisped, "I will be dood."

And how will Helen show her love?

She, with a wistful glance at Rose-- A sweet, but pale and timid child-- Replied, "By giving up, I 'spose."

Dear girl! To fragile sister Rose She oft must yield her will and way; But now this duty shall disclose Her love for Jesus, day by day.

Oh oft, were we but wise, we'd find Our triumph in another's gain; On glowing altar--coals of love-- Would joy to see self-idols slain.

In simplest ways the soul may drink With Christ the sacrificial cup, And many a victory is won, And n.o.bly won, by 'giving up.'

NOT MINE

Thy will, Thy way, not mine, O blessed Lord; My will would choose the smooth and pleasant way, And that might lead from duty's path astray; Nay, I would walk "according to Thy word,"

Choosing Thy way, not mine.

Thy peace, my gracious Saviour, would I choose, My peace might lead me man, not G.o.d, to please, Might lure my soul to take its selfish ease, And, gaining all the world, itself to lose, Give me Thy peace, not mine.

Thy will, Thy way, Thy peace, Thou knowest best; Let me but see the guiding of Thine eye, Let me but know Thy voice, and swift reply My soul shall make to every know behest, Doing Thy will, not mine.

IN THE DESERT

Ah me! what life since hers in age agone Hath not known Hagar's hour in desert wild; Outcast from sheltering home, adrift, alone, Bereft of love's sweet ministry, her child-- Her heart's one treasure--late so fond and fair, Become a burden more than she could bear; All earth and sky a strange enfolding scroll Writ o'er with nameless pain and sense of need To which nor pitying eye nor ear gave heed _Till came the thought of G.o.d._ Even so the soul, Consumed with vain regret and doubt and dread-- As she upon the barren sand her boy-- Lays all it once had counted hope and joy Upon the desolate waste itself had spread; Self-abnegating, tho with bitter cry-- "I yield thee, but I cannot see thee die."

But, pa.s.sing thence, the agonizing plea Faith transforms into tuneful harmony, Glad to remember "Thou, G.o.d, seest me."

A PHANTOM IN THE "CIRCLE"

Written for a literary club, to which the author had formerly belonged, in Waterford, Va.

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