HIT THE NAIL ON THE HEAD.

225

HIT THE NAIL ON THE HEAD.

THE world is no hive where the drone may repose,
While others are gleaning its honey with care;
Nor will he succeed who is dealing his blows
At random, and recklessly hits everywhere.
But choose well your purpose, then breast to the strife,
And hold to it firmly, by rectitude led;

Give your heart to that duty, and strike for your life,
And with every stroke, hit the nail on the head.

If Fate is against thee ne'er falter nor fret,

"Twill not mend your fortunes, nor lighten your load; Be earnest, still earnest, and you will forget

You e'er had a burden to bear on the road. And when at the close, what a pleasure to know,

That you, never flinching, however life sped,

Gave your heart to your duty, your strength to each blow, And with every stroke, hit the nail on the head.

GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY.

SHE stood at the bar of justice,
A creature wan and wild,

In form too small for a woman,
In features too old for a child;
For a look so worn and pathetic
Was stamped on her pale young face,
It seemed long years of suffering

Must have left that silent trace.

"Your name," said the judge, as he eyed her
With a kindly look, yet keen;

"Is Mary McGuire, if you please, sir."
"And your age?" "I'm turned fifteen."

"Well, Mary," and then from a paper He slowly and gravely read,

"You are charged here-I'm sorry to say With stealing three loaves of bread.

"You look not like an offender,

And I hope that you can show
The charge to be false. Now, tell me
Are you guilty of this, or no?"
A passionate burst of weeping
Was at first her sole reply,

But she dried her eyes in a moment
And looked in the judge's eye.

"I will tell you just how it was, sir;
My father and mother are dead,
And my little brother and sisters

Were hungry, and asked me for bread.

At first I earned it for them

By working hard all day,

But somehow times were bad, sir,
And the work all fell away.

"I could get no more employment;
The weather was bitter cold;
The young ones cried and shivered—
Little Johnny's but four years old;
So, what was I to do, sir?

I am guilty, but do not condemn,
I took-oh, was it stealing?-

The bread to give to them."

Every man in the court-room-
Graybeard and thoughtless youth-
Knew, as he looked upon her,

That the prisoner told the truth.
Out of their pockets brought 'kerchiefs,
Out from their eyes sprung tears,
And out from old faded wallets

Treasures hoarded for years.

it

THE STARLESS CROWN.

The judge's face was a study,

The strangest you ever saw,

As he cleared his throat and murmured
Something about the law;

For one so learned in such matters,
So wise in dealing with men,
He seemed on a simple question
Sorely puzzled just then.

But no one blamed him, or wondered,
When at last these words they heard:
"The sentence of this young prisoner
Is, for the present, deferred."

And no one blamed him, or wondered
When he went to her and smiled,
And tenderly led from the court-room
Himself, the "guilty" child.

227

THE STARLESS CROWN.

WEARIED and worn with earthly care, I yielded to repose,
And soon before my raptured sight a glorious vision rose.

I thought, while slumbering on my couch in midnight's solemn

gloom,

I heard an angel's silvery voice, and radiance filled my room.
A gentle touch awakened me; a gentle whisper said,

"Arise, O sleeper, follow me!" and through the air we fled;
We left the earth so far away that like a speck it seemed,
And heavenly glory, calm and pure, across our pathway streamed.

Still on he went; my soul was wrapped in silent ecstasy;
I wondered what the end would be, what next would meet my eye.
I knew not how we journeyed through the pathless fields of light,
When suddenly a change was wrought, and I was clothed in white.
We stood before a city's walls, most glorious to behold;

We passed through streets of glittering pearl, o'er streets of purest gold.

It needed not the sun by day, nor silver moon by night;

The glory of the Lord was there, the Lamb Himself its light.

Bright angels paced the shining streets, sweet music filled the air, And white-robed saints, with glittering crowns, from every clime were there;

And some that I had loved on earth stood with them round the

throne.

"All worthy is the Lamb," they sang, "the glory His alone."

But, fairer far than all beside, I saw my Saviour's face,

And as I gazed, He smiled on me, with wondrous love and grace,
Slowly I bowed before His throne, o'erjoyed that I at last
Had gained the object of my hopes, that earth at length was past.

And then in solemn tones, He said, "Where is the diadem
That ought to sparkle on thy brow, adorned with many a gem?
I know thou hast believed on Me, and life, through Me, is thine,
But where are all those radiant stars that in thy crown should shine?
Yonder thou seest a glorious throng, and stars on every brow;
For every soul they led to Me, they wear a jewel now;

And such thy bright reward had been, if such had been thy deed,
If thou hadst sought some wandering feet in paths of peace to lead.

"I did not mean that thou should'st tread the way of life alone,
But that the clear and shining light which round thy footsteps shone
Should guide some other weary feet to My bright home of rest,
And thus in blessing those around, thou hadst thyself been blest."
The vision faded from my sight; the voice no longer spake;
A spell seemed brooding o'er my soul, which long I feared to break,
And when at last I gazed around, in morning's glimmering light,
My spirit fell, o'erwhelmed amid that vision's awful night.

I rose and wept with chastened joy that yet I dwelt below-
That yet another hour was mine, my faith by works to show,
That yet some sinner I might tell of Jesus' dying love,
And help to lead some weary soul to seek a home above.
And now while on the earth I stay, my motto this shall be,
"To live no longer to myself, but to Him who died for me."
And graven on my inmost soul this word of truth divine,
"They that turn many to the Lord, bright as the stars shall shine."

GOOD-NATURE.

229

GOOD-NATURE.

HENRY WARD BEECHER.

Good-nature-what a blessing! Without it a man is like a wagon without springs, he has the full benefit of every stone and way-rut. Good-nature is the prime-minister of a good conscience. It tells of the genial spirit within, and good-nature never fails of a wholesome effect without.

Good-nature is not only the government of one's own spirit, but it goes far in its effects upon those of others. It manifests itself on every street; it humanizes man; it softens the friction of a business world. Good-nature is the harmonious act of conscience. Good-nature in practical affairs is better than any other; better than what men call justice; better than dignity; better than standing on one's rights, which is so often the narrowest and worst place to stand on one can find.

A man who knows how to hold on to his temper is the man who is respected by the community. And one who has a good nature, successfully travels about as does he who goes upon the principle-little of baggage, but plenty of money! A man who is armed with hopefulness, cheerfulness, and a genial spirit, is one who is going to be of practical and beneficent usefulness to his fellow-man. There are no things by which the troubles and difficulties of this life can be resisted better than with wit and humor. And let the happy person who possesses these-if he be brought into the folds of the Church-not allow conversion to deprive him of them. God has constituted these in man, and especially when they are so salient in meeting good-naturedly the trials of this world, they should be used. Happiness, at last, is dependent upon a soul that has holy communion with its Creator-"for in Him we have life eternal." Men also fail in happiness because they refuse to read the great lessons found in the great book of nature. Happiness is to be sought in the possession of true manhood rather than in its internal conditions.