THE WORLD GROWS BETTER.

O

H, the earth is full of sinning
And of trouble and of woe,

But the devil makes an inning

Every time we say it's so.
And the way to set him scowling,
And to put him back a pace,
Is to stop this stupid growling,

And to look things in the face.

If you glance at history's pages,
In all lands and eras known,
You will find the buried ages

Far more wicked than our own.
As you scan each word and letter,
You will realize it more,
That the world to-day is better,
Than it ever was before.

There is much that needs amending
In the present time, no doubt,
There is right that needs amending,
There is wrong needs crushing out.
And we hear the groans and curses
Of the poor who starve and die
While the men with swollen purses
In the place of hearts, go by.

But in spite of all the trouble
That obscures the sun to-day
Just remember it was double,
In the ages passed away.

And those wrongs shall all be righted
Good shall dominate the land,

For the darkness now is lighted
By the torch in Science's hand.

Forth from little motes in Chaos,

We have come to what we are, And no evil force can stay us,

We shall mount from star to star, We shall break each bond and fetter

That has bound us heretofore,

And the earth is surely better,

Than it ever was before.

A

THE BED.

HARSH and homely monosyllable,

Abrupt and musicless, and at its best
An inartistic object to the eye,

Yet in this brief and troubled life of man
How full of majesty the part it plays!
It is the cradle which receives the soul,
Naked and wailing, from the Maker's hand.
It is the throne of Love's enlightenment;
And when death offers back to God again
The borrowed spirit, this the holy shrine
From which the hills delectable are seen.
Through all the anxious journey to that goal
It is man's friend, physician, comforter.
When labor wearies, and when pleasure palls,
And the tired heart lets faith slip from its grasp,
'Tis here new courage and new strength are found,
While doubt and darkness change to hope and light.
It is the common ground between two spheres
Where man and angels meet and converse hold,
It is the confidant of hidden woe

Masked from the world beneath a smiling brow.
Into its silent breast young wakeful joy
Whispers its secret through the starlit hours,
And like a white-robed priestess, oft it hears

The wild confession of a crime-stained soul
That looks unflinching in the eyes of men.
A common word, a thing unbeautiful,
Yet in this brief, eventful life of man
How large and varied is the part it plays.

TH

DISCONTENT.

HE splendid discontent of God With chaos made the world. Set suns in place, and filled all space

With stars that shone and whirled.

If apes had been content with tails,
No thing of higher shape

Had come to birth: the king of earth
To-day would be an ape.

And from the discontent of man

The world's best progress springs.

Then feed the flame (from God it came), Until you mount on wings.