L

LIFE'S HARMONIES.

ET no man pray that he know not sorrow,
Let no soul ask to be free from pain,

For the gall of to-day is the sweet of to-morrow,
And the moment's loss is the lifetime's gain.

Through want of a thing does its worth redouble, Through hunger's pangs does the feast content, And only the heart that has harbored trouble, Can fully rejoice when joy is sent.

Let no man shrink from the bitter tonics

Of grief, and yearning, and need, and strife, For the rarest chords in the soul's harmonies. Are found in the minor strains of life.

WR

PREPARATION.

E must not force events, but rather make The heart soil ready for their coming, as The earth spreads carpets for the feet of Spring, Or, with the strengthening tonic of the frost, Prepares for Winter. Should a July noon Burst suddenly upon a frozen world Small joy would follow, even tho' that world Were longing for the Summer. Should the sting Of sharp December pierce the heart of June, What death and devastation would ensue!

All things are planned. The most majestic sphere That whirls through space is governed and controlled

By supreme law, as is the blade of grass

Which through the bursting bosom of the earth
Creeps up to kiss the light. Poor puny man
Alone doth strive and battle with the Force
Which rules all lives and worlds, and he aloné
Demands effect before producing cause.

How vain the hope! We cannot harvest joy
Until we sow the seed, and God alone

Knows when that seed has ripened. Oft we stand
And watch the ground with anxious brooding eyes
Complaining of the slow unfruitful yield,

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Not knowing that the shadow of ourselves
Keeps off the sunlight and delays result.
Sometimes our fierce impatience of desire
Doth like a sultry May force tender shoots
Of half-formed pleasures and unshaped events
To ripen prematurely, and we reap

But disappointment; or we rot the germs
With briny tears ere they have time to grow.
While stars are born and mighty planets die
And hissing comets scorch the brow of space
The Universe keeps its eternal calm.
Through patient preparation, year on year,
The earth endures the travail of the Spring
And Winter's desolation. So our souls
In grand submission to a higher law

Should move serene through all the ills of life,
Believing them masked joys.

GETHSEMANE.

N golden youth when seems the earth

IN

A Summer-land of singing mirth,

When souls are glad and hearts are light,
And not a shadow lurks in sight,

We do not know it, but there lies
Somewhere veiled under evening skies
A garden which we all must see-
The garden of Gethsemane.

With joyous steps we go our ways,
Love lends a halo to our days;
Light sorrows sail like clouds afar,
We laugh, and say how strong we are.
We hurry on; and hurrying, go

Close to the border-land of woe,

That waits for you, and waits for me—

Forever waits Gethsemane.

Down shadowy lanes, across strange streams,

Bridged over by our broken dreams;

Behind the misty caps of years,

Beyond the great salt fount of tears,
The garden lies. Strive as you may,
You cannot miss it in your way.

All paths that have been, or shall be,
Pass somewhere through Gethsemane.

All those who journey, soon or late,
Must pass within the garden's gate;
Must kneel alone in darkness there,
And battle with some fierce despair
God pity those who can not say,
"Not mine but thine," who only pray
"Let this cup pass, and cannot see
The purpose in Gethsemane.