The Hour of Song Monument Over the Remains of John Howard Payne "Nothing Mercenary Should Enter Into the Plans of True Love D. L. Moody's Mother "My Mother Looked So Smiling and So Tenderly at Me "If I Had Known in the Morning 333333 35 37 39 42 "Prayers Which are Rising That Thou May'st be Blest" Mr. and Mrs. Squirrel at Home The Old Homestead 119 121 123 125 129 133 135 137 138 143 147 150 153 159 163 165 169 174 176 177 180 189 191 192 "Where the Child Has Found Its Mother The Principal Building at Mont-Lawn Hope Cottage, One of the Buildings at Mont-Lawn "The Fragrance and Radiance of the Rose " "You Spoke of Your Husband" Heaven's Ministries "Like a Bird" The Guardian Angel "Sleep, Sleep, My Dreaming One "Our Blended Life Is But Begun Morning without a cloud. The Atmosphere without a chill. Foliage without a crumpled leaf. Meadows without a thorn. Fit morning for the world's first wedding. It shall be in church, the great temple of a world, sky-domed, mountain-pillared, sapphire-roofed. The sparkling waters of the Gibon and the Hiddekel will make the font of the temple. Larks, robins and goldfinches will chant the wedding march. Violet, lily and rose burning incense in the morning sun. Luxuriant vines sweeping their long trails through the forest aislesupholstery of a spring morning. Wild beasts standing outside the circle looking on, like family servants from the back door gazing upon the nuptials. eagle, king of birds; the locust, king of insects; the lion, king of beasts; waiting. Carpets of grass-like emerald for the human pair to walk on. Hum of excitement, as there always is before a ceremony. Grass-blades and leaves whispering, and the birds a-chatter, each one to his mate. Hush all the winds, hush all the birds, hush the voices of the waters, for the king of the human race and his bride advances, a perfect man leading to the altar a perfect woman. God, her father, gives away the bride, and angels are her witnesses, and tears of morning dew stand in the eyes of the violets, and Adam takes the round hand that has never been worn with work, or stung with pain, into his own stout grasp, as he says, "This is now bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh." Tumults of joy break forth, and all the trees of the wood clap their hands, and all the galleries of the forest sound with carol and chirp and chant, and the circle of Edenic happiness is complete; for while every quail hath answering quail, and every fish answering fish, and every fowl answering fowl, and every beast of the forest appropriate companion, at last man, the immortal, has for mate woman, the immortal. |