Hast thou not wisdom to enwrap

My waywardness about,
In doubting safety on the lap

Of Love that knows no doubt?

Lo! Lord, I sit in thy wide space,
My child upon my knee;
She looketh up into my face,
And I look up to thee.

ELIZA SPROAT TURNER.

[U. s. A.]

AN ANGEL'S VISIT.

SHE stood in the harvest-field at noon, And sang aloud for the joy of living. She said: "T is the sun that I drink like wine,

To my heart this gladness giving."

Rank upon rank the wheat fell slain; The reapers ceased. "T is sure the splendor

Of sloping sunset light that thrills

My breast with a bliss so tender."

Up and up the blazing hills Climbed the night from the misty meadows.

"Can they be stars, or living eyes

That bend on me from the shadows?"

"Greeting!" "And may you speak, in

deed?"

All in the dark her sense grew clearer; She knew that she had, for company, All day an angel near her.

"May you tell us of the life divine,

To us unknown, to angels given?" "Count me your earthly joys, and I May teach you those of heaven."

"They say the pleasures of earth are vain ;
Delusions all, to lure from duty;
But while God hangs his bow in the rain,
Can I help my joy in beauty?

"And while he quickens the air with song, My breaths with scent, my fruits with flavor,

Will he, dear angel, count as sin My life in sound and savor?

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THE curtains were half drawn, the floor was swept

And strewn with rushes; rosemary and may

Lay thick upon the bed on which I lay, Where through the lattice ivy-shadows crept.

He leaned above me, thinking that I slept, And could not hear him; but I heard him say,

"Poor child! poor child!" and as he

turned away, Came a deep silence, and I knew he wept. He did not touch the shroud, or raise the fold

That hid my face, or take my hand in his, Orruffle the smooth pillows for my head. He did not love me living: but once

dead

THE SUNFLOWER.

TILL the slow daylight pale, A willing slave, fast bound to one above, I wait; he seems to speed, and change, and fail;

I know he will not move.

Around me spread and glow;

All rayed and crowned, I miss No queenly state until the summer wane, The hours flit by; none knoweth of my bliss,

And none has guessed my pain;

I follow one above,

I track the shadow of his steps, I grow Most like to him I love

Of all that shines below.

VESPERS.

WHEN I have said my quiet say,
When I have sung my little song,
How sweetly, sweetly dies the day
The valley and the hill along;
How sweet the summons, "Come away,"
That calls me from the busy throng!

I thought beside the water's flow
Awhile to lie beneath the leaves,
I thought in Autumn's harvest glow
To rest my head upon the sheaves;
But, lo! methinks the day was brief
And cloudy; flower, nor fruit, nor leaf
I bring, and yet accepted, free,
And blest, my Lord, I come to thee.

What matter now for promise lost,
Through blast of spring or summer rains!
What matter now for purpose crost,
For broken hopes and wasted pains;
What if the olive little yields,
What if the grape be blighted? Thine
The corn upon a thousand fields,
Upon a thousand hills the vine.

Thou lovest still the poor; O, blest
In poverty beloved to be!
Less lowly is my choice confessed,
I love the rich in loving Thee!
My spirit bare before thee stands,
I bring no gift, I ask no sign,

I come to thee with empty hands,
The surer to be filled from thine!

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For gifts, in his name, of food and rest, The tents of Islam of God are blest. Thou, who hast faith in the Christ above, Shall the Koran teach thee the Law of Love?

O Christian!-open thy heart and door,Cry, east and west, to the wandering

poor,

"Whoever thou art, whose need is great, In the name of Christ, the Compassionate

And Merciful One, for thee I wait!"

THE MEETING WATERS.

CLOSE beside the meeting waters, Long I stood as in a dream, Watching how the little river

Fell into the broader stream.

Calm and still the mingled current
Glided to the waiting sea;
On its breast serenely pictured

Floating cloud and skirting tree.

And I thought, "O human spirit! Strong and deep and pure and blest, Let the stream of my existence

Blend with thine, and find its rest!"

I could die as dies the river,
In that current deep and wide;
I would live as live its waters,
Flashing from a stronger tide!

UNKNOWN.

WHEN THE GRASS SHALL COVER ME.

WHEN the grass shall cover me, Head to foot where I am lying; When not any wind that blows, Summer bloom or winter snows, Shall awake me to your sighing: Close above me as you pass, You will say, "How kind she was," You will say, 66 'How true she was,' When the grass grows over me.

When the grass shall cover me, Holden close to earth's warm bosom ; While I laugh, or weep, or sing, Nevermore for anything

O, SWEET and fair! O, rich and rare! That day so long ago.

The autumn sunshine everywhere,

The heather all aglow,

The ferns were clad in cloth of gold,

The waves sang on the shore.
Such suns will shine, such waves will sing
Forever evermore.

O, fit and few! O, tried and true!
The friends who met that day.
Each one the other's spirit knew,

And so in earnest play

The hours flew past, until at last

The twilight kissed the shore.

We said, "Such days shall come again
Forever evermore."

One day again, no cloud of pain
A shadow o'er us cast;

And yet we strove in vain, in vain,
To conjure up the past;

Like, but unlike, -the sun that shone,
The waves that beat the shore,
The words we said, the songs we sung,
Like, — unlike, —evermore.

For ghosts unseen crept in between,

And, when our songs flowed free, Sang discords in an undertone,

And marred our harmony. "The past is ours, not yours," they said: "The waves that beat the shore, Though like the same, are not the same, O, never, never more!"

Sometimes they seem like living shapes, -
The people of the sky, -
Guests in white raiment coming down
From Heaven, which is close by:
I call them by familiar names,
As one by one draws nigh,
So white, so light, so spirit-like,
From violet mists they bloom!
The aching wastes of the unknown
Are half reclaimed from gloom,
Since on life's hospitable sea
All souls find sailing-room.

The ocean grows a weariness

With nothing else in sight; Its east and west, its north and south, Spread out from morn to night: We miss the warm, caressing shore, Its brooding shade and light. A part is greater than the whole; By hints are mysteries told; The fringes of eternity,

God's sweeping garment-fold, In that bright shred of glimmering sea, I reach out for, and hold.

roots;

And earthy odors of the moss and fern;

Burst on the hearth into fresh leaf and bloom;