Htmute 0f lialm. BY MBS. J. S. ADAMS. /< : < 01 : . W >XK< BOSTON: PUBLISHED BY ADAMS & CO., No. 21, Bromfield Street. 1866. 9& \ be* Entered, according to act of Congress, In the year 1865, by Mrs. H. A. ADAMS, In the Clerk's office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. XI XW SlEBEOTTPED BY C. J. PETEES & SON, No. 13, Washington Street. CONTENTS. oo^oo . Aimless Lives . A Life-Lesson . . . * ** An Allegory of Human Life .' 30 Angels of Mercy . 48 At Last ••..-.] 39 Autumn ... '•••... 191 A Vision . . [ ' 160 Children ... ' * # • • • . 163 Christ ... *••».. 175 Crosses ,.',', * • • ~ • • • . 138 Diversity of Life . 43 Dreams ' ' ' ' ■ * * 102 Earnest Lives . '••«.. 108 Faith and Doubt . ' ' ' ' ' 83 Friends . 161 Glimpses ...',' • 6 • • . 107 God in All Things' .' 172 God's Blessings Inexhaustible' .' ' ' ' f? Immortality . • • • . 24 In the Spirit^Land t 17Q In the World ... • • • • . 109 Invocation , •**».. 15a Let us Be Useful . ' * 5 Manifestations of Grief .' 12 ° Memory-Tides , . ' • * • • 41 Near the Shore .'.',' 23 Not Dead; not Absent.' * * < • • 37 Our Burdens , ••■•..« 16 Our Present Duty . « 183 Passive Life . 20 Prayer of the Wanderer .' 18 Purification . . ' 1G0 Questionings , ' •••... 171 79 S CONTENTS. Questions of Time Retrospection g5 Shadows 197 Waters lz ' 27 121 . 74 . . . • .139 21 . 136 SOUNDS FROM OVER THE Spring The Advent of the Angels The Aged The Angel and the Lilies The Awakening The Bereaved Mother The Dawn «~ The Divine Principle in Man J^ The Gem of Truth ig3 THE Golden Chain The Gold that Perisheth ^ The Harvest 6g The Land of Jewels The Lesson of A Summer Day . . . • • • The Light From Above ^ The Mother's Coronet gg The Mother's Vision . . « • • • * • The New Light that shineth on All . . . • ^ The Old and the New THE Passing on ••*••• ' lgl The Prayer oF Soul ..•■••• g? The Kiver ..." ^ The Sacrament The Temple and its Builders ^ The Three Angels g6 The upper Fold ...«♦••• 6g To Give is to Receive '47 Transition « ..»•*' 4 lgg Trust * 29 Unrecorded Beauties g Vision of the Golden Cross Q2 Vision of the Worshippers . ^ Waiting .*.♦••• ' ] 90 Where is God ? . « * * * * ^nbatuttart. HOLY and beloved Father, who holdest the universe in thy hand, who dwellest in the storm, who crownest all thy works with man in thy image, we need not ask thee to care for us ; for we know that thou art ever reaching out through our lives, expanding the power and capacity of our souls, and mak- ing us more like thee. Thou, who createst us, knowest every need; and whether we are weighed down by sor- row, or borne up by joy, thy hand is still the same, thy protection ever about us. Knowing that from thee emanates all life, that in thee we live, move, and have our being, how can we but forever trust thee, \ and say, " Thy will, not ours, be done " ? i Slowly we learn the richness of thy mercy and the measure of thy long endurance. Impatient, we cry out to thee, "Show us thy being and the fulness of thy love." Each day INVOCATION. thy glory shines about us ; and we see it not. Each blessing that descends to us is a mani- festation of thy protecting care. But we are weak and blind. We stray many times from the central light, and go down into darkness. Then we say, " Thou hast forsaken us, God ! " Alas ! it is our- selves that have gone out of thy kingdom; for thou art the same, yesterday, to-day, and forever. The seasons, nursed by thy hand, bring their round of changes. In them we see thy love and wisdom. The alternations of birth and death follow in rapid succession : but they are only the coming and going of thy breath ; for thou art over and in all. But for thee, how like waves should we be tossed ! How consoling the thought, that thou art all-powerful; that thy "mercy endureth for- ever ; " that whether -we sit in the evening shadow, or stand in the morning light, of life, thou art with us, and knowest whether our paths are filled with thorns, or gemmed with flowers ! With jubilant song we approach thy altar, and seek to harmonize our lives with thy manifestations of love. INVOCATION. Ages multiplied by ages will roll on, and we shall ever be learning of thee. Forever and ever the song shall arise, "Hallelujah! or our God omnipotent reigneth." Smut!** I LAY me down to rest one day, with the cares and burdens of life pressing heavily upon my brain. Soon the body was lulled into a quiet repose, and the soul had crossed the bridge that spans the outer and the inner worlds. I stood near the base of a mount, up which I had a strong desire to ascend ; but vainly I tried to approach it. A form came near me. His brow shone with a clear, resplendent light, which seemed akin to glory; his face was calm, and so radiant, so Grod-like, that I stood in his presence like one entranced, nor cared to speak. I soon observed that the light which transfigured his face shone upon the mount. " Why cannot I ascend ? " I said. 9 10 BKANCHES OF PALM. In a voice low, and musically sweet, lie an- swered, "Child, this is not the way unto the mount, not this steep ascent: thou must travel a long way ere the summit of that heavenly mount is reached. Yonder lies a path, a long and often dreary road, that winds unto the mount." " Who are those," I cried, " that already walk that road ? and why has each a cross ? '■ " My Master bade me give them to them," he replied. " I am the way and the life." " Do all receive their cross from you ? " " Yes, from my hands ; but they are ap- portioned to each by my Father : I am placed here to guide and cheer the pilgrims on their way." "Can none ascend without a cross?" I asked. " None. Just at the portal of the heavenly mansion stands the keeper, who takes the crosses from the pilgrims : they are their passports into the blest regions. None can enter who have not the holy emblem; for without it ye would not have seen me, whom the Father has appointed to give the emblem to all his children." "Are all the crosses heavy ?" was the VISION OF THE GOLDEN CROSS. 11 question which I framed ; but, ere the words were spoken, he said, " Not all : some choose to carry small ones, and few are willing to carry the unsightly crosses you see." " But where is mine ? " I cried. " I am going to the mount. I'm a pilgrim." With a face sad, but heavenly in its sadness, he replied, and placed his hand as though in benediction on my head, — " Child, this is thy cross ; " while with his finger he pointed to one that lay upon the ground. " Why this ? " I said in look, not word. " Because it must be borne unto the mount, and many have refused it." I gazed upon its huge proportions, and won- dered not. " I could make that burden easy to be borne," he said ; " but I must do my Master's bidding, and not unfold, before the journey's end, the glories of his kingdom. Take it, child," he said in pleading tones; "and thou shalt not regret the burden. He who is willing to carry this shall have many angel comforters, and my deepest intercessions for the Father's aid and blessing." He raised it from the ground, and pressed 12 BRANCHES OF PALM. to my parched lips a cup filled with the waters of life. I took the heavy cross, and with his blessing travelled slowly from his sight. I saw no travellers upon the road that day. It was dry and dreary ; but my heart rejoiced to see that the curves were winding in an up- ward course, and that, some day, after many t toils, I should reach the mansion. There' were many dales and lonely places from which the mount was not visible; and often, in anguish, I cried, " I have lost my way ! will no one come to show me the mountain and the mansion?" How weary grew my feet ! how heavy was the cross ! " Oh that I had taken a smaller, one ! " I cried. " What matters it, if 'tis only a cross by which we gain admission, whether it is small or great ? " ( At this moment a traveller appeared, bearing in his hand a small and elegantly carved cross made of pearls and precious stones. "How coarse and rough is mine," I thought j and as he came bounding, light and easy, over the road, what vexations filled my soul, what long- ings to rid myself of my great burden ! VISION OF THE GOLDEN CROSS. 13 " Pilgrim/ 7 I cried, u didst thou choose thy cross ? " " No : I had some pearls and precious jewels to carry unto the holy land. I made them in the form of a cross, and so was allowed to enter on the road." " Will he enter the same mansion," I thought, "as one who toils like me? as one whose burden is so great, that, at every step, the drops of sweat run down the face ? If so, the scale of justice surpasses my poor mind to comprehend. Who could not easily reach the mount with only a toy like that to bear?" Thus I sat musing until he was far from sight. I heard his feet a long way on the road, and, though a fellow-traveller, I felt no love for him, but only envy, and deeply mourned that my cross should be so great ; deeming strange and fathomless all the ways of God. My feet grew weary, my brain bewildered, a strange heaviness came over me, and I laid down beside my cross, and cried with grief. Something like a vision swept over my senses. I saw two lovely angels bending above me, and yet I had no power to move or speak. " He has fainted by the way," said one, as he laid his hand upon my throbbing head, 14 BRANCHES OF PALM. " The heavy cross ! — it was too large to bear/' said the Angel of Sympathy. " Not too great," answered Wisdom, who still kept his hand upon me. " We will give this pilgrim a little foretaste of heaven's joys to cheer and help him on his way." He passed his hand across my brow. I saw, — human heart, what weakness ! human ears, how dull ! — I saw, the end of the journey, — a soft green meadow, which a light, more glorious and bright than the heart of man can conceive, flooded with beauty. The pilgrims laid down their crosses by a sil- ver stream, when, lo ! the golden light, so deep, so mellow, fell upon the pilgrims' crosses, and turned them all to gold. " Who has the heavy cross, who ? " was the eager question bursting from eager lips. " Oh that / had taken it ! " said one. I looked whence came the voice. It was he who had passed me with the pearl and jewelled emblem. With curious gaze I looked for his cross. It had been taken from him ; for he had not received it from the Father's Son. 1 heard a voice say unto him, "The Father allows none to enter the mansion with but the semblance of a holy cross. You have gained VISION OF THE GOLDEN CROSS. 15 the kingdom and the rest too easy. Return, and scatter those jewels on the road, that the weary, way-worn travellers may be by their sight refreshed and strengthened. This is thy work and mission now. Then obtain from Him who is the way and the life thy cross." With a sad, downcast face, he left the happy group. " He shall not pass me, and find me sleeping beside my burden," I cried ; and with one great effort I awoke. " Where is my cross ? where are my angel guides ? " were my first inquiries. The dream was real. Its lesson sank deep into my soul ; and when, in after-years, sor- rows pressed upon me, and burdens came which seemed too heavy for me to bear, I re- membered the vision of the golden cross, and sighed no more. Clouds lie ofttimes between us and the sun. If we keep our eyes turned heaven- ward, we shall behold the glorious orb ; but, if our gaze is downward, we shall see only shad- ows lying on our path. 16 BRANCHES OF PALM. They are gone ! Ah, how we miss them ! We no longer hear their notes of joy, nor listen to their life-song. Suddenly the voice quivered, the song ceased, and white lips closed forever. But the soul went forth to join a chorus above. We loved them here. Does Affection die ? Shall Memory hush her magic sounds, and we remember them no more ? They are with us still. Their feet tread Elysian fields, whose verdant carpet echoes no tread. But are they gone because we see them not? Has the portal closed forever? Are there no finer senses in our souls by which we may be cognizant of their presence ? Does this form of flesh embody no delicate perceptions with which to perceive their gentle teachings? Yes ; we hear them coming: we hear them in our souls. Through the dark tomb, a ray of light shines : it falls upon our pathway ; and a new world dawns upon us whose orbit is a cycle, of end- less glory. The senses falter, then firmly grasp the mighty truth. A new power is 17 developed within us, something above and beyond the sense of sight and touch. This belief of the presence of invisibles around us cannot be grafted upon the external being. There must be an interior spiritual awakening for its unfolding. Many say that it has no pow- er, because intangible to human perceptions. Are not the most potent forces unseen and silent ? What more subtle than, yet what so powerful as, love ? Who has not felt a mother's love ? Can it die because she has passed to another form of life ? Is the rock less alive because it takes on a mossy verdure ? has it less of life? Is the human soul less alive when it has passed to a sphere of greater activity, a life of finer perceptions ? No : they are not dead, but alive, and near us ; appealing each day to our souls, impart- ing emotions which are often so attenuated that the external senses fail to feel their gentle teachings, and we sit with bowed heads beside the tomb, while rainbows of light are arching above us. Beautiful thoughts are the flowers of the mind. 2 18 BRANCHES OF PALM. gmivt gtffo There are times when the soul seems dumb ; when we hear the moments rushing by, but our dull brain catches no jewels as they fall from the hand of Time. No action floods the soul. We try to think ; but brain and heart alike are powerless to conceive. What is this state, this niche of passive soul-endurance, in which we seem to stand to wait God's bidding, and take what he doth send? All activity of the soul is not aggressive. There are silent forces which do not give themselves immediate expression, but grow and deepen in the soul's deep quarries till the hour of labor comes. We are not placed here merely to act ; we must also endure, — endure long and patiently. How such endurance sends- the soul aloft ! How, then, doth the soul go out to gather to itself the attributes of peace and gentle- ness ! Is there not action in all this ? Is the artist idle when his brush is laid aside, and his fancy seeks new creative realms ? Is the PASSIVE LIFE. 19 poet sluggish, because he sits in dreamy silence as the golden hours glide by ? Are those days wasted when we sit, and dream of holy things ? The waves must recede as well as advance. The tide of thought must ebb, and the waters go down and leave us on the sandy beach ; but we can gather the pebbles which the waves have cast on the shore, and await the incoming tide. We know that all our peace Is bought by strife ; That every haven of rest Lies o'er a billowy life. We know that darkest hours Precede the light ; That anchors, sure and firm, Are out of sight. Our most delicate and subtle thoughts we seldom transmit. The mind is not transparent enough to receive their impression. Their beauty would be lost in the deep shading of words. 20 BRANCHES OF PALM. The living — give them kind words and loving deeds. Wait not to carve an eulogy upon the stone above their heads ; keep not back the merited word of commendation while they dwell in the flesh. Too many, alas ! too many, shut the door of their hearts till the loved one has passed on ; till the warm, loving heart has ceased to beat, and the willing hand is palsied in death. Then the words which should have cheered their souls in life ripple over their graves, — words which, if given when they were with us in the flesh, would have linked them to our souls, and, now that they have arisen, would, like a chain of love, have drawn us up to them. It is natural for us to idealize, and speak tenderly, lovingly, of those, men call " the dead." It is refining to our souls to do so ; but let us remember that the kind word and deed to the living to-day are bet- ter than any eulogy we may place upon the tombstone we rear for them to-mor- row. THE AWAKENING. 21 Day was walking over the western hills, and throwing aside her golden bars on meadow and plain. Amber, rose, and pearl-tinted clouds floated on the sapphire sky, against which the tall green pines were waving. Nodding flow- ers closed their fringed lids, and raised their lips heavenward, awaiting the evening dew. Little brooks lay like sparkling gems in their setting of deep green meadows. The dark pines murmured a low sweet prayer, so soft, so sweet, it seemed the breath of angels. One by one the brilliant stars came forth. Night's coronet was set upon her brow, and Twilight slumbered in her arms. Amid this glory walked a man with weary feet, and heavy heart and brain. His daily task was done, and just beyond the soft green meadow and the lake lay his home. Amidst all this rich, resplendent beauty, no joy suffused his being; no deep, holy thrill from God's great works ran through his soul, for it was dumb. Like cattle driven to their feed, he plodded home. 22 BRANCHES OF PALM. Stars shone in vain ; winds sighed on sense- less ears; heaven's glories swept the aerial arch unnoticed. Then G-od spake nnto his soul in deep and awful tones. Over the starry realm he threw a cloud so dark no ray could penetrate it. Fierce lightning darted through the air ; loud peals of thunder rolled till earth trembled, and seemed like a ship afloat upon a tempestuous sea. Crash went the tall dark pines ! Wilder grew the blast, till his dull, dead heart began to tremble, and the slumbering pulse to quicken into life. Great drops of sweat stood on the laborer's brow. Great giant fears swept over his soul, till on his knees he sank. What was that sound that rose above the din and noise of the tem- pest ? A cry for help, — " Save, Father, or I perish ! " A soul was born, and this the first faint cry. The thunder ceased ; the surging winds died into a moan; the heavy clouds rolled back, and, lo ! the moon flooded all the scene with its silver rays. Behind the cloud, God's love is shining like the moon's mild rays ; but, if we see him not THE AWAKENING. 23 in beauty r and prosperity, he will send the storm, and drive us to his haven of love. Let us watch that we grow not dull and sordid in life's great labor, and fail to see the glories of the jewelled heavens and flower- painted earth as we walk homeward 1 We need changes not only of localities but of minds, from which to derive strength and life. Occupations too long continued in one direction deprive the mind of an elasticity which is necessary for an even development of the soul. In long-continued mental exer- tions, we become warped, the mind loses half its powers ; and we forget that there is another world beyond the line which bounds our vis- ion. My vision sometimes sweeps Over life's winding road, And sees the narrow path Grow high and broad : It sweeps far down the night, And sees a day, Resplendent with the light Of worlds away. 24 BRANCHES OF PALM. How insignificant, how atom-like, are the mightiest powers of man compared to the great Sun of Wisdom ! From what source, my soul, does that great centre gather its life, filling all immensity with immortality ; filling each soul, as fast as it can gather in the grains of knowledge, and yet hath in reserve ten thousand times, yea, myriad times, more of worlds on which to shower his blessings ! Who shall speedily stand in his presence ? We must gather him up in the particles of knowledge that he has given us; and they must be the God of the soul, till it has gained new powers of accumulation. Never write the word " despair " upon the book of time. Eternity is its running title, and the leaves are written over with immortal truths. We must think deeply, and act earnestly. MEMORY-TIDES. 25 Memory-Tides — hark ! Now there breaks on our life-shore a spray of golden memories, — of days when warm and youthful hearts clustered around our lives, and we pressed the cup of joy eagerly to our lips. Then the wave recedes, and by the light of recollection we read a dear name upon a time- worn stone. How leap the flood-tides ! What surges roll over us, as the well-remembered form comes to our mind ! How we long for sight and touch ! Has the soul no language but speech? How fast they come, — the memory-tides, and the dear familiar faces ! How the old years roll back again, and pass before our gaze *with their pictures of light and shade ! There, A the childhood home ; here, the lover's vow ; then the mother's parting kiss, the busy scenes, the cross, the crown of happiness, the open grave where we laid our first jewel which the Father gave ; the earthly trials, the vic- tories. 0, dashing memory-tides, recede, or the soul will grow weary recounting all its joy, its grief! Break from our shores, and 26 BRANCHES OF PALM. leave us to-day ! let the golden light of to- morrow's joy blend with the shadows of to-day ! The waves recede, leaving us purer for the baptismal billows which have broken over us. O Soul ! work, watch, and wait ; For we snail find The eternal city and the pearly gate, If pure and kind. O Soul ! toil, hope, and pray j For rest is ours After we've gained the high ascent Through sun and showers. O Soul ! have faith, and look Through clouds at even ; For the eternal sun will shed its rays On us in heaven. How lovingly has divinity deposited the el- ements of happiness where every soul can be filled with that which it craves. What an omniscient distribution of mercies. SPRING. 27 What pen can picture the beauties of this season? "What mind can transmit the fervid emotions and thoughts which sweep over us as we look on the tiny blades, or listen to the murmuring brooks and the warbling birds ? Where has all this life slept ? What master- hand has now struck the chords, and opened the gates of heavenly harmony ? What tints of beauty ! What rare and deli- cate combinations, — from dark forest-pines and moss-covered rocks, to the fringed and tas- selled boughs which sway in the gentle breeze ! Dull, indeed, must be the eye which sees no beauty in such shading. Earthly must that nature be which feels not the electric thrill from such bursts of life. The distant hills are gemmed with blos- soms ; the brooks that slept so long in silence now ripple a murmuring song. Busy insects hum, and skip from spray to flower, lending their orisons to swell the great chorus. A new pulsation sweeps over the earth. Loosed from their icy fetters, the laughing rills leap and dance with joy. The skies grow 28 BRANCHES OF PALM. soft and downy; the woodland paths, green- edged and mossy. In the rich and varied landscape, all harsh lines are swept away by the tender foliage, nodding gracefully among the deep, dark pines. What a season for aspirations and promises I How the mind rests in such a balmy life ! No piercing wind drives us within our walls, no cruel blast penetrates the lonely and shelter- less dwelling ; but warm winds lure us to wood and glen, while the soft breath of Spring kisses our aching brows. What makes this season so lovely ? It was the Winter's blast. It is the background of sorrow that makes our joy so thrilling. It is the night which makes the day glorious. No sunrise or sunset could gladden us with their beams of glory did not the darkness in- tervene. gentle spring-time of thought ! burst- ing buds of love ! Bloom forever, till from every heart buds of beauty shall blossom, which no Winter's blasts can chill. We need a margin for every page of life. UNRECORDED BEAUTIES. 29 What majestic thoughts flow daily from the lips of men, that no pen transcribes ! What heart-phrases, what fervid, earnest words of love, fall from childhood's lips ! What fires of love flash out from eyes of fond affection ! What great soul-tones flood out in blessings on the brave and good ! What silent prayers ascend for the wayward and the wanderer ! What pearly tears flow, silent and unseen, save by angels ! What faces rapt, transfigured with celestial love, that are never pictured on canvas ! What jewels in the sea of human love, that never rise above the daily wave ! Go into the wide world ; traverse the moun- tains of thought ; be a pilgrim in the land of beauty and perception; catch every sun-ray peculiar to each soul, so shalt thou gather all the beams that shine through the hearts of men. 30 BRANCHES OF PALM. It was a warm 'summer day. A soft haze hung over the meadows, while a gentle breeze stirred the long branches} which surged dreamily to and fro. Silvery brooks threaded their way through verdant fields, and sang joyously as they rippled over the shining pebbles on their bed. A youth lay dreaming away the hours of that summer day, under the wide-spreading branches of an oak. He had labored a few hours at his task ; but it was far from being completed. The waters of discontent had flooded his bosom, till they surged wildly within. He raised his dark, dreamy eyes to the clear blue sky, and, heaving a deep sigh, exclaimed, " Ah me, I wish I was rich ! then I should not have to toil and slave as I do now. If I only had a fortune, I would travel, and see life and the wonders of this world, and spend my whole life in pleasure. Why was I doomed to this life of drudgery, when others have enough to live without labor?" An angel passing at that moment, on an A LIFE-LESSON. 31 errand of mercy, read his thoughts, and heard the murmuring of his idle tongue. "I must teach him that wealth alone will never satisfy the cravings of the human soul." She touched him gently with her wand, and he seemed to rise from his body, and float out on the air. He gazed a moment on the beautiful angel at his side, and thought some fairy had come to bless him. " Follow me," said the angel. He arose and obeyed. Over land, over sea, they flew, till his brain grew dizzy, and his breath came hard and labored by the rapid flight. " Now," said the voice beside him, u we will descend." The youth gazed wildly on the glittering spires and lofty buildings. At first he trem- bled ; but his guide looked so calm and secure, that fear forsook him. " We will enter this city," she said. " Hasten ; for we must speedily enter the house of death. I am commissioned to bear a spirit from earth." He drew back. 32 BRANCHES OF PALM. " Fear not," said the guide : " I have a lesson to teach you." They descended, and entered a damp, gloomy cellar, in which no ray of sunlight ever entered. Upon a filthy bed of rags lay a man in the death-struggle. He was a miser. His life, or rather dead routine of existence, had been spent in the single act of accumula- tion, adding gold to gold ; never giving, never using the bounties of heaven to comfort him- self or his brother man, till a hand from another world came to take the wreck of manhood, to take the smouldering spark of humanity, and kindle it to a flame. A groan from the dying man caused the youth to start, and turn pale. Another, one convulsive gasp, and his soul was ushered into the presence of higher, holier intelligences, who stood ready to guide him to life and light, though years must pass before the corroding rust of his sin would wear away. " See ! " said the angel, and with her wand she pointed to a large chest which stood in a dark, dim corner of the apartment in which the soulless body lay. " There is the treasure you seek. Take it, and be happy. In one year I will return." A LIFE-LESSON. 33 She fled before he could sense her words. Gladly would he have given all that gold to have brought her back again. Alone in that strange city; alone with the dead! Gold, plenty of gold, but no friend, no counsellor, no guide ! Oh that he could return to his native hills. He walked stealthily to the chest, and, seiz- ing the heavy bags of treasure, ran furiously down the street. It was dark, and no one saw his wealth ; but soon his feet grew weary, and he longed for food and rest. " Where shall I hide this money ? n was the ever-recurring question. Already the gold, which, a few hours before he so coveted, had become an annoyance. " I'll bury it," he said, and hastened rapidly to the border of the busy town. By the light of a dim street-lamp, he concealed it beside a wall, and then, with a portion which he reserved for a few personal wants, ran hastily towards the city. In vain he tried to slumber after procuring a lodging. No sleep would come. The fear of losing his treasure had chased away all rest and peace. The pleasure of life soon, how- ever, displaced the heavy, anxious feeling in his mind. Day by day he grew more worldly- 34 BRANCHES OF PALM. wise, and plunged deeper into the vortex of the gay life about him. Scenes of dissipation became to him as familiar as was once his own quiet woodlands and murmuring brooks. Night after night he spent in revelling, till the heated brain grew sick and fevered. For weeks he lay upon his bed, tossed with pain. Oh for some water from his childhood's pure, deep spring, to cool the parching thirst that consumed him ! Oh for a mother's hand to soothe the aching brow ! The pale moonbeams swept over his bed one night as he lay lonely and uncared for; for his gold could not buy love. A voice — he had heard that voice before ! " I have come," said the angel, " as I prom- ised. Art thou happy? Thou hast gold enough." Inwardly he groaned. He tried to speak ; but the parched lips, and burning, swollen tongue could utter no reply. " In one year from now, I will return again." She was gone. The moon was clouded. No breath of evening air came through the open window. " I must die," he said, " here and alone ! Oh, let me live, my Father, let me live to atone for all my sins ! " A LIFE-LESSON. 35 In a few days, life and health returned ; and, with returning strength, the love of life's wild pleasures. He forgot the vow, the angel visitant, the pain, and plunged deeper into the busy current. He loved an earthly, heartless idol, formed of clay, soulless and sinful. He sought ever for the boon of happiness, but found it not. u Alas for the pleasures of earth ! " one day he cried. " Oh, give me but my boyhood's home ! My mother's happy smile were more than gold, a thousand times, to my sad heart ! " But the siren of pleasure was not done with her victim. She had yet more snares and temptations with which to lure him from vir- tue's path, while the guardian angel looked silently on his course, knowing that it would soon be run. One evening, wearied with the scene of gayety around him, he sat apart from the heartless, seemingly happy throng. He heard a voice — it was the voice of one who had vowed to love him through life — say in her sweetest tones, to another as false-hearted as herself, " I love not him, but the gold he brings me. The position his wealth gives me is what I really love." 36 BRANCHES OF PALM. A moment later the sound of rude, loud voices rang through the hall, telling him that all his earthly goods were swept away ! Now all was gone, — love, money, friends, and earthly hopes. His brain grew dizzy. A wild delirium seized his mind. He tried to call for help. To whom ? None loved him. No one cared to soothe his brow. "Hast thou found happiness?' 7 said the heavenly voice. "This is all of earth that I can give thee. Wilt thou not walk in higher paths ? Awake, arise ! I will release thee now. Go, and learn to be content in God's appointed ways. Find rest and peace in duty's paths." The youth awoke, and, lo, the evening sky was glittering with stars. A cold, damp sweat was on his brow. He gazed a moment wildly around to become assured that 'twas not more real than a dream ; then arose, tired and weary, from his cold, damp bed upon the grass. Not only from a physical sleep did he awake, but from a spiritual stupor of discontent ; and ever after, as years rolled by, and murmuring thoughts arose, the strange, wild dream came to his mind with all the vividness of ac- tuality. NEAR THE SHORE. 37 gto ill* $1xm. Come near to me, my darling, And lay your hand in mine, I am going to a temple Where heavenly beauties shine Throughout its lofty archway And round its pearly gate, Where I shall stand, my loved one, When " the cord is loosed," and wait. For I shall see you coming Along the heavenly shore ; Shall hear the silver waters Just broken by the oar, As the pale boatman plies it Along the river's tide : Then I shall clasp you, darling, And call you still my bride. The frosts of many a winter Have on our earth-life laid ; We've seen our roses wither, And many a hope-beam fade But we have had some sunshine, And many a golden ray Has lain across our pathway Throughout our long life-day. 38 BRANCHES OF PALM. The pearly gates of heaven Have opened many a time, And down the angel stairway We've heard the holy chime Of soft angelic voices, In sweet and thrilling song, Singing, " Behold, the morning ! The night will not be long." Lo, when the gates swing open Again, I shall pass in, Oh, while I walk the golden streets Let not your lamp grow dim ; But keep it bright and burning Through every care and strife, Till the gates once more are open, And death is lost in life. Behold the streams of mercy, how they water the parched and barren places of earth ! Are we sin-sick and weary: see the cool streams in which we may bathe, and be re- freshed. Have we trod the path of error un- til our feet are sore and bleeding: behold the fount of mercy which is never dry, — that stream kept full and flowing by the tears of angels who weep for wandering, erring souls. ANGELS OF MERCY. 39 Angels of mercy — the} 7 are bidden from our sight by robes of flesh. They pass in and out of our homes, administering to onr needs without parade or show. When we stray, they chide us; when we hunger and thirst, they give us food and drink; still we cry, " Send us angel comforters." Alas ! they are at our side, and we see them not. They are not robed in white ; but their souls are spotless. Such are angels, though in the flesh ; some in loving childhood, some in gen- tle age. Their footsteps are heard in the no- ble tread of manhood, as he visits the " widow and the fatherless/' There is one in every household, — one who truly lives for the good of man, and the glory of God, — one clothed in shining garments. They already walk the streets of the New Jerusalem, They have laid their hands upon the harps of heaven, and we hear sweetest music, from the melody of their harmonious lives. All who contribute to the happiness or comfort of those less favored are angels of mercy. They are not 40 BRANCHES OF PALM. all beyond the " river of death : " they are standing beside the cross we bear ; the crown is just beyond. \ If thou wouldst gather joys unto thyself so many that angels cannot number them; if thou wouldst draw the tide of eternity ever softly around thy soul, labor for humanity. Stand forth, and labor with the crown upon thy brow ! Trust in the God who made thee, the God who will keep thee ! Count thy spir- it as adequate to any work, and thus make up a grand, a positive power, that will attract those bright seraphic souls who will reflect upon you the light of their dazzling glory. When the tide goes down, we gather shells of lovely tints, and shining pebbles. We thought the spray and waves too beautiful to pass away. They were like the sparkling waters of pleasure which we long to retain; but, when they recede, we discover more last- ing beauties, and learn to rejoice that the wa- ters went down on our life shore. MANIFESTATIONS OF GRIEF. 41 Any duty, however irksome, which takes us out of ourselves, is a blessing. It is better to go from the grave of our dearest friend with no time for grief than to have days and months of leisure for mourning. Not but the heart will be saddened, and the soul grief-stricken, when we have followed the loved one to the last resting-place ; but, when others are dependent upon our exertions for their comfort, we have no right to become ab- sorbed in our grief. These wholesome cares save us from a morbid selfish sorrow, which gnaws away the souPs vital powers. There are many mourners who fold a heavy drapery above their heads, so that no sunshine can penetrate the blackness of their grief. They have laid fold after fold upon their hearts, until its pulsations are dull and heavy. A languor steals over the once healthy mind, and all things seem covered with a pall. Such grief is selfish. The world has a right to our smiles. It needs all our cheerful rays of hope to warm it into life. 42 BKANCHES OF PALM. We have no right to withhold what we can give. Is the peace of the loved ones who have gone enhanced by such sadness ? Can they reflect to us their new-found joys while we dwell in such darkness ? Not that the heart under bereavement can sing as joyously as before ; for the eye will moisten when we listen for the coming of those feet that once walked with us, but now walk the streets celestial. But there is a natural, and a morbid, sorrow. Let us discriminate carefully lest we cloud the horizon of our coming day with dark shadows, watchful not forgetting to lift the curtain of our grief when we hear the voice of the sweet bird of hope, warbling around our dwelling. We all need at times to be re-assured and strengthened. In the battle of life we lose our weapons, and are ready to lie down with fatigue, overpowered by the enemy. The humblest may hand us our sword, the lowliest bring us a cup of water when we faint by the wayside. CROSSES. 43 When crosses come, the glory is to meet them with hope and trust. That is the high- est culture of the soul, that enables us to meet any emergency unknown or unseen. If we knew that to-morrow some dark cloud was to come over us, the mind would grow spec- ulative, and seek to gather sympathy from those around, and, when the trial came, it would be borne partly by foreign power. Thus the power of the soul could never be tested. Let us first endure, then ask for sympathy. Sympathy can divide the grief, but it can never disperse the responsibility that belongs to every soul to bear its own sorrows. "We have gossamer wings of light With which to float in air : We may use them for our flight ; But never, never dare To soil them in the dust Of a dull, inactive life ; For e'en gold hinges rust Not turned in daily strife. 44 BRANCHES OF PALM. There are many mounds beside those which mark the forms we have laid in the dust. Friends we once loved have lost honor, repu- tation ; gone out of our lives as truly as buried forms have gone from our presence. We see them laid in the dust of an aimless life. " The places that knew them once know them no more." There is no death so sad as this moral and intellectual demise ; nothing that gives us greater pain than to see one who has talents, health, and vigor, fade out of busy, active life, and live intellectually dead at our feet. Mourn not the living dead, they who have passed on from this life to one of higher activity. They who walk with us day and night, calling us away from sordid cares to things that per- ish not, — they are not " dead ; " but they are dead whose aimless souls reflect no glory on their path. In life's great mausoleum, how many such forms lie mouldering ! Many a household is thus stricken. Where is the sympathy for such mourners ? AIMLESS LIVES. 45 But, when the mortal puts aside the veil of clay for immortality, how glorious ! Over the graves of such, we stand with thrills of joy ; but for him whose soul is dead we have no tribute. Memory has no garlands for him. She only cherishes the sad regret of what he might have been. There are moments when every soul feels the need of solitude, the necessity of with- drawing itself from every human heart. The nearest and dearest cannot be with us in those hours. The soul needs to be bal- anced. The life*cord which binds us to the Infinite becomes worn and attenuated; but, while we rest in prayer, the fibres are strength- ened. How great is the gift of life ! how precious the boon ! Are our years richly freighted with the gathered opportunities which God has given us ? Do we sail into the haven of his love with a record of hours, days, and months well spent? 46 BRANCHES OF PALM. Three beautiful angels walk the earth each day, and carry to their heavenly home the record they have kept of human hearts. Faith, Hope, and Charity are their names. Faith takes the hand of weary ones when the night-clouds gather around their heads, and leads them unto Hope, who crowns them with a wreath of flowers immortal. And when their wayward feet turn from the heavenly path, lured by false attractions, and they go on until their feet are torn and bleed- ing, and their garments soiled and stained, sweet Charity walks close to their side, and throws her pure-white mantle on their forms, covering all the stains and rags, that the passer-by may not see how soiled and torn they are. All things have their orbits. The kind and loving word never dies. The angry oath runs its cycle through human hearts. Let us sow as we would reap. Shall it be golden sheaves, or thorns and thistles ? TRANSITION. 47 White hands folded Over clay ; Midnight darkness Lost in day ; Spirit risen From its dust ; Trembling fears Launched in trust, — This is " death," Mortals say ; But o'er the tomb Gleams a ray, Telling it was Only dust Passed away. Life and soul Were hid in crust, Which spirit burst With deepened breath, Finding life Through mortal death. The pure white hand of faith lifts the curtain of night, and shows our feeble vision a golden glowing morn. 48 BRANCHES OF PALM. An old man who had counted many years, and gathered many a harvest-store of thought, sat in the beautiful moonlight of an autumn eve, and mused. His thoughts were not upon himself, but upon his children, his fair daughters three^ who had never beheld the world and its grer.tr scenes of human woe and joy ; for they were* born, and had lived from their first infant cry, in their fair island home. Round the island's mossy shores, the pearl waves dashed all day ; and, when the golden sun went down to his glassy bed, the queen of night came forth, and touched the foam- capped waves, and tall green pines, with her pure mellow rays. In this light, the old man sat long, and mused on the thoughts that weighed upon his soul. He had seen the busy world, had gathered its fair blossoms, and left its poisonous flow- ers behind. His rich experience in human hearts had taught him what was true and false. He knew the wail of sorrowing human hearts, and the soul's great bursts of joy. AN ALLEGORY OF HUMAN LIFE. 49 He knew how much of earth's glittering gems were dross ; and what to leave, as well as what to take. But his fair children, — they who had never known of the deep sea of human joy and grief, — he must send forth upon its waters, although 'twould cost him many a bitter pang to do so. Well he knew the thorny places their tender feet must tread, and the cups of woe that never pass the human lips untasted. In their blessed home, one sound alone was heard, and that was joy : deep heart-tones of love and kindness had ever fallen upon their ears. But the time had come when the father must no longer revel in their loving presence, but send them far away to gather gems of truth and wisdom, and learn, by observation and discrimination, what no life of peace and quiet could give them. They needed what all human souls need, — the light of wisdom's coronet on their brows. Without it, their feet would stumble in life's dark places. So the father gathered all his manhood's strength about his heart, as one gathers his mantle to himself when he starts to face a cold bleak air, and called them unto him. u Ruby, Pearl, and Diamond," — he had 50 BEANCHES OF PALM. named them for the gems of the deep-blue sea he loved so well, — " come here." Ere a moment glided, they sat beside him. In a firm yet gentle voice, he said, " I have called you, children, to fold you more lovingly unto my heart ; for / must send you over the sea into a great world that lies beyond. It will be years ere you return. I have a wish that each bring to me some treasure from the world which you will visit, — jewels, flowers, or rare things ; making your own selection, and thus indicating your individual tastes. Re- turn not empty-handed, nor with heart and brain unladen with grand and holy thoughts. Go, and see wondrous things. Learn to be strong. Receive my blessing, and, when the morning sun lights up the east, depart on yonder cloud, which will bear you safely over the sea, and descend at evening on the earth." The eyes of Diamond glittered like the evening stars. Ruby, flushed with joy, could scarce await the morn ; but Pearl, sweet clew- eyed Pearl, laid her fair face upon her father's breast, and wept. He pressed her tenderly unto his heart, and sighed to think it must be thus. He kissed her dewy lids, then placed AN ALLEGORY OF HUMAN LIFE. 51 her hand in that of Ruby, who led her to her evening rest. The eyes of Diamond shone throughout the night ; but Ruby slept, and dreamed strange dreams. She thought a form arose from the deep sea, a form of wondrous beauty, and beckoned her to him. About his waist was bound a golden girdle, in which were fastened charms and jewels from the ocean's depths, — jewels more rare and beautiful than she had ever seen. He came unto her side, and breathed strange words into her ears, — words that made her start and tremble, yet not with fear; but a strange restless feeling came over her. She longed to be alone : her brow grew fevered ; and her brain seemed bounding with wild thoughts. " If Pearl would only come, and cool my brow," she cried. At that moment, the form sank beneath the waves ; for Pearl was seen approaching her sister. The light of her lovely face seemed too pure for him to gaze upon. Ruby noticed that the waters where he sank grew wild and turbulent, and that a tiny boat which was then approaching was 52 BRANCHES OF PALM. almost clashed to pieces by the fury of the waves. She grew strangely restless, and awoke. The morning light already tinged the eastern sky. She looked towards the sea, as though expecting to behold the form, so real had seemed the dream. Diamond had arisen, and was already gazing impatiently on the golden-tinted sky. Pearl knelt in prayer ; her white hands clasped upon her breast, while her face shone with a light so deep and calm, that Ruby stood trans- fixed, and held her very breath for fear 'twould break the heavenly stillness. When Pearl arose, she threw a soft blue mantle over her head, and stood and gazed upon her island home, and then upon the sea, while the morning beams rested like a benediction upon her head. " Look you, the morning breaks ! the sun is coming over the sea ; we must away," said Di- amond. " Thou art impatient, sister mine," said Ru- by, shaking out her long brown curls. " Hast thou no regrets at leaving our fair home ? " " Yes, many ; but I long to see the world of which our father has so often spoken. I long to be away that we may gather all our stores and then return. Thou art thyself a AN ALLEGOEY OF HUMAN LIFE. 53 little pleased, sweet Ruby, for, methinks, the deep blushes on thy cheek reveal an inward joy ; but Pearl, dear Pearl, she is in tears. Why, darling, you will weep your life away." " Children," said a voice, the voice that had sounded through all their childhood's years, "you must away, the day has broke." Diamond clung a moment to his neck, Ruby pressed her warm red lips upon his brow, while Pearl clung tenderly unto his breast. " Yonder is the cloud," the father said, and that was all ; for he dared not trust his trem- bling voice, and so he waved them his adieu. Not till the evening shadows came, and the mild silver beams of the slow-rising moon lit up the waves, did he lift his head. All day 'twas bowed in grief and loneliness ; but his soul went forth in prayer to Heaven, that from temptation and long years of wandering they might be spared. Forth in the evening air he went ; and, as the dew fell on his brow, his soul felt a peace- ful calmness, for angels came to comfort him, — those messengers who walk where hearts are sad and lonely. " Where are my children now ? are they lov- ing and thinking of me ? " were the thoughts 54 BRANCHES OF PALM. that again and again swept all other thoughts away. Years rolled away. The white locks grew thinner on the old man!s brow. The years had brought him many tidings from the fair young wanderers. All had asked him for his blessing, and his prayers in their behalf. The gay, the busy world had charmed them ; and they tarried long. Pearl longed to come unto her father-; but Ruby and Diamond had not gathered half the treasures which they wished to bring unto their home. One day Ruby came flushed with joy to Pearl, and bade her write unto their father, that Love ha d spoken such rich words unto her heart, that she would longer stay. "What is thy' message, Diamond?" said Pearl, brushing aside a tear. " Tell him the world is grand, and that I love it. Tell him that it bows to me, his bright-eyed child ; and that it sighs when I say I must depart. I love my father, and my home; but I do long to see a little more of this great world." " But you, Pearl," she said, as Diamond fin- an'allegoky of human life. 55 ished her message, " has the world no charm for you?' 7 With eyes beaming with love, like dew on flowers, she replied, — " I love the world for what it does for hu- man hearts ; but I long to feel my father's arms about my form, and press my lips unto his brow. I shall return." " But your treasures, Pearl ; where are they ? shall you go empty-handed ? " " I have gathered them." " Show them to us," said Diamond and Ruby in one breath. " They are here," said Pearl, placing her hand upon her heart, and then upon her head. " I have learned that life is a great gift, and that the greatest treasure we can carry to our father is a heart unsullied by the evils of the world." " You have thought much for one so young," said Ruby ; " but I cannot bear to think that you must leave us. Perhaps I, too, may find that all is fleeting, and not worth the years of trial ; but dear, sweet Pearl, I have heard the voice of Love, it is so rich and mellow to my ears, I long to stay. I feel that I could revel years in such delight as this : do not leave us. Pearl ! " 56 BRANCHES OF PALM. " I hear my father's voice, and I must an- swer it." " Do I seem wicked, Pearl, because I love to stay?" Pearl kissed her brow, and left a tear-drop on her cheek. Then on the mind of Ruby flashed the dream. She read the vision clear. The form that arose from the sea was Love, and the golden girdle was the cord that bound her to the earth. She had not strength of will to break from her pleasing captivity, and Pearl departed to her home alone. One day, just as the sun lay his golden oars across the waves, a ship was seen sailing to- wards the island. The old man sat upon the vine-wreathed porch as in days gone by. His white locks lay about his radiant brow, like snow upon a sun-tipped hill. His eyes were fixed upon the beautiful rays of the sinking sun. The waves came dancing to the shore, and by that he knew that some great ship had dis- turbed the glassy quiet of the sea. How merrily the waters rippled as the ship's keel broke through the waves, — rippled as though they knew the vessel bore the form of one whose voice had long been hushed. AN ALLEGORY OF HUMAN LIFE. 57 The father rose with outstretched arms, and ran towards the shore, — a moment more, and father and child met in love's pure embrace. The evening shades drew on. The sun went down upon two happy hearts, no more to be made desolate by separation. The father gazed into the face of his fair child, and read the holy treasure she had brought, — " A heart unsullied by the world." That night in their evening orison, the wanderers' names were breathed in tender earnest words to heaven ; and prayer went up that holy guides might waft them safe home at last. We have all a Father's mansion and a Pa- rent's love, — a Father who does not willingly send us to the earth to gather truth and pre- cious gems of wisdom, but who, from his great height, can see that we must tread the thorny places and the desert land ere we can sense the glories of our heavenly home. Do we love the world for what it teaches human hearts ? or like the children linger amid its charms, forgetting that the years are rolling by, and we are gathering no jewels for our home ? When the golden ship of Death comes to 58 BRANCHES OF PALM. bear our forms away, shall we be ready with our treasures in our hearts and minds, — ready to journey home ? Our Father waits to greet us beyond the sea of Death. When the waves break on the shores of the Life Eternal, he will come to bear us in his amis safe to our home. Sleep, blest refiner of the human soul! how we lose in thy sweet embrace the cares, the trials, of the day, and in their place gather new hopes, whose rays dawn on our morrow like the bright, warm sun. Blest purifier, without thee, how dense, how sordid, should we become ! carrying to-day's shadows over the golden bars of to-morrow's sunshine. The noonday sun is dazzling to our sight. 'Tis the evening shade that gives to us most delicate beauties of earth's varied landscape : so adversity softens the glare of wealth, and gives us finer perceptions of life and human character. THE mother's vision. 59 8fo posted W%$xtm. " Would that my work was done ! " said a poor child of earth, weary with the cares of life. " I wish that I could lie in my grave, and sleep the long, last sleep ; for I am tired, ah, so tired, of this toiling life ! " The heavy lid pressed down, a sense of faintness passed over her weary frame, and, lo ! the angel Death had taken her unto himself. Her spirit arose, and left its form of flesh. A strange, enchanting scene was presented to her wondering senses. A landscape fairer than earth could offer; woods arrayed in ever-varying colors ; murmuring brooks sing- ing on their way; mossy dells, amid whose deep verdure sat beautiful children, their happy voices ringing upon the air, caused her being to thrill with ecstatic joy ; for it brought to her fair children on earth who once cheered her with their merry prattle. Sitting beside a moss-clacl mound, wonder- ing at what her eyes beheld, a well-known form approached her. It was she whom, in happy childhood and in sorrow's hours, she 60 BRANCHES OP PALM. had called "mother." How well she knew that face, that smile ! The years that had passed since she parted from her on earth seemed now but hours. " My mother ! " she was about to exclaim ; but, before the words could be expressed, the angel form had clasped her to her breast. " My sorrows and cares are all over at last," said the freed soul. " Dost thou not rejoice with me that they are, my mother?" And, fixing her earnest gaze upon her parent's face, she waited a reply. The mother looked long and tenderly upon her weary child, and answered not, but pointed to a group of lovely children playing by a silvery stream. Then, quick as the lightning's flash, came to her mind a thought of the dear children she had left on earth. " Alas, if they were only here ! " she said ; " then my bliss would be complete." Bliss ! Was it bliss that burst upon her soul, or a strange ecstatic joy which the scenes of the new life had awakened within her? New emotions came upon her each hour ; but she could not enjoy them fully, for something seemed to impress her with the idea that they were not her own. THE MOTHER'S VISION. 61 " Why am I denied all this ? " she continually- said to herself. " Am I not released from flesh as all these are who are about me? They seem happy and free. What gulf is it that lies be- tween them and me? — a gulf I cannot pass." She sat and mused long and deeply. A form of high, transcendent beauty came and sat beside her, and took her trembling hand in his own. His features shone with a strangely pure and celestial light, — a beauty so exquisite, that she involuntarily cast her gaze into the brook to see whether her own countenance in any way partook of it. It did not, and she was disappointed ; for, in place of it, a cloud dark and unpleasant to look upon rested upon it. " I see now why I cannot mingle with these fair beings/' she said. " But why is this my fate ? Have I not toiled enough ? have I not borne enough of the heat and burden of life's day, to be entitled to this season of rest? or is it because I am not pure as they, that I cannot be with them?" The angel read her thoughts, and said, "Poor weary child, does thy soul feel a deep repose in our bright land ? Look calmly into thyself, and see." 62 BRANCHES OF PALM. She sat and thought a while. " I do not know/' she at length replied. " It may be that all the wondrous things my eyes rest upon and my ears listen to have so enchanted me, that I cannot tell whether I have found repose or not." "Hast thou no attractions drawing thee earthward? no unfinished duties there thou shouldst perform? no deep yearnings to return ? " " I have dear and lovely children on the earth ; and were it not for them I should be happy here, and desire to remain in this fair land." " Then thou yearnest to return. Does that yearning deepen as you look upon the happy children here ? " A wild sob broke from the mother's heart, and she desired, oh, how strongly ! to clasp her dear children once again to herself. " Alas," she said, " how selfishly I wished to leave my cares and duties ! This lovely, heavenly land can be no heaven to me while I so wish to be on earth with my children." She bowed her head and wept, and, while she wept, the angel went away, and prayed. She heard the voices of happy ones around 63 her. She heard sweet music upon the air ; but she found no joy in these, for her soul longed to hear a sound of earth, — and that sound the joyous laughter of beloved children. Soon her mother was again at her side ; and with earnest gaze she looked up into her face, and asked why it was that she was not happy. The earnest look betrayed her depth of feeling, and the sincerity with which she longed for the bread of life. "My child, thy mission on earth was not finished. Thy children need thy earthly care and protection. Why shouldst thou ever desire to rid thyself of the work thy Father hath given thee to do ? Why seek to come to this land before thy Father called thee, and before thy labor on earth was done ? It was in an- swer to thy prayer alone that thou earnest, and not because thou could st not stay on earth longer to work God's will. This is why, amid all this happiness, thou art not happy." A face upturned, suffused with tears, looked for a moment upon the mother, then bowed itself, and wept. Ah ! thus it is we learn the lessons of life, when, tempest-tossed and weary, we turn our feet into duty's path. 64 BRANCHES OF PALM. " Woulclst thou then, if thou couldst, return to earth and to thy children ? " said the mother in deep, pitying tones. "Return? Oh, tell me how ! But well I know there is no return. I am freed from earth-life, as I so often longed to be. It is all laid aside. Had not I wished it thus, it had not been ; but now, alas, 'tis too late, too late ! My dear, bereaved children, may Heaven be with you ! " " How long she sleeps, poor tired mamma ! " whispered, a little voice beside an outstretched form. " I'm tired; I want my mamma ! " said a lisp- ing one, who, grown weary with its play, sat listlessly upon the carpet, the shades of twilight playing with its eyelids. Up from the land of sleep the mother came. She opened her eyes, then closed them again, and, again opening them, scarce knew where she was. Strangely she gazed upon her chil- dren ; then, with a quick, convulsive start, she sprang to them, and clasped them all to her heart as she had never done before. Only an hour had passed since the wild mur- THE mothee's vision. 65 mur of her heart revealed itself in words ; but what years of rich experience had been given her to realize in that brief interval, and gladly she accepted the lesson Heaven had given her in her dream. The shades of twilight lay about the room, a sort of setting for the jewel, Content, she had found. How sweet the rest that flooded her soul after its bitter, life-like experience ! So sweet and calm, that she cared not to break the spell ; and so she sat with her children in her close embrace, as securely as she in after- years enshrined them in her most tender, watchful love. Hope is an element of all great minds. The vision of the larger soul extends beyond the day, the hour. It sees through the dim vista of coming years, and twines its graceful foliage of hope over the ruins of time. Close, close to Nature cling ! Her paths may sometimes seem lonely, but they lead to God. 5 66 BKANCHES OF PALM. $0 <&\n %$ t# gwdM* We must bless if we would receive a blessing. We must pour the water from the cup if we would have it filled again. Life is. an exchange of bounties, a transfer from one hand to another. Earth gives her portion to the flowers, they send their fragrance unto man, and man gathers them, decks the path of friendship, and makes hearts sweeter with their rich fragrance. The sky is mellower for the passing cloud that lowers beneath it. The cloud receives its glory from the orb of day. All things are tributary to each other. The glow-worm lights a traveller's path : the peb- ble turns the tide. Bills fill the river : rivers send their vapors forth, and fill again the rills. If love flows from our soul unto our neighbor's, something must be dislodged within his breast. It may be envy, pride, or hate, — what matters it? or it may be sweetest strains of gratitude that will gladden some ear, though not our own. We are but workers, but not, like earthly laborers, waiting for our pay. It comes in TO GIVE IS TO RECEIVE. 67 God's time, and always at the needed moment. Keep the waves in motion. Roll the ball of love heavenward. It will strike many hearts, and gather accelerated speed. Pass the cnp around. Bid the thirsty drink, for dust and mould will gather on the cup that stands un- moved; and the water it holds will become unfit for our own or another's use. Give largely, that thy soul may grow ; Give nobly, that thy life may flow In sweetest strains. Give all thou hast unto the poor ; Then, at the pearly gates of prayer, Knock, and thou shalt enter where The harvest plains Are white with grains. Trustful, I place my hand in thine, God ; for I am blind, and cannot see the way to thy great throne. Happiness is ours to-day or never. 68 BRANCHES OF PALM. One eve, as the golden sunset Its splendor on all things shed, It crowned with beautiful halo Of light my darling one's head. Then she nestled her dimpled fingers In waves of the sunny light, While an angel drew the curtain Of earth from my mortal sight. And I saw another sunset More radiant, clear, and fair, Than eyes of the earthly pilgrim Oft see in this world of care. And there came a shining seraph From the fold of a happy band, Singing the name of my loved one, Giving me sight of a land Filled with the gems and the jewels Mothers once wore on their breast, Sparkling celestial in beauty, — Stars in the land of the blest. Then closer I pressed the darling, Till the light of her beautiful eye Passed from beneath my gazing To the ano-el fold on hm'h. A little mound in the churchyard, A deep, dark grave in my soul ! My darling went out in the starlight ; And the cold, cold billows roll THE LAND OF JEWELS. 69 O'er my spirit sad and lonely, Now waiting its sunset time, When gladly it drops its clay robe, To pass to the jewelled clime. But, list ! 'tis a note of music, And beyond, a star-crowned light ! The angel has lifted the curtain Again from my earthly sight. I see my beautiful darling, She stands by the crystal tide ; And I would not call her earthward To sit again by my side. I shall soon go out to meet her, Soon clasp her unto my heart, And prize her a gem far dearer Because for a day we part. Who is happy ? He who hopes for better things, hopes that the world will wiser grow, and works to make it thus. Who has heights? He who descends to take a brother's hand, and leads him home to God. Who has angel comforters ? He who does angels' work, and the bidding of his Maker's word. 70 BRANCHES OF PALM. "Let us build a temple," said a master- workman one day to a crowd of idlers who sat drowsily about the streets of a large city. Let it be high, strong, and beauti- ful ; surpassing in elegance the edifices around." 11 For what purpose ? " said one who was gazing dreamily on the sky. " For the worship of our heavenly Father," replied the master. " But can we not praise and worship him in the open air as well ? " " We can : we may praise him at all times, for the heart is his holy altar ; but the temple shows to the world what our life is. It will be but the outer symbol of our hearts, and bear to the world the same relation that our body does to our soul." The laborers began to work. Eight cheer- fully did they toil for many days, gathering materials from remote places to build the temple. But one day one grew weary, and laid his tools aside, and sank wearily to the earth. THE TEMPLE AND ITS BUILDERS. 71 Another sat by the roadside, and plucked flowers which grew within his reach, and tore them into fragments. Another followed his example ; and another, until a large crowd had gathered, and sat chatting in the same idle manner as when the master-workman first called them to their work. It was early dawn when he walked to the temple to note its progress, and saw, to his sorrow, so many of his laborers idly sitting by the road. " Why loitering here," he said, " when yon- der sun lights up the east ? " " We are weary," said one. " The work is going on so slow ! " said another. " There is more need of your labor then," said the master sorrowfully. " I long to see the temple finished, and am waiting to place the blue dome upon its top. I need, very much need, your help to-day : if you do not come, the work will be long delayed." One arose from the crowd and followed him ; but all the others idled the golden hours away, and when the sun went down they plodded slowly homeward. A crowd gathered about the unfinished 72 BRANCHES OF PALM. temple one chilly day, and spake among them- selves. " Oh that the temple were finished ! " A form stepped quickly to the side of the one who spake with such deep regret, and said, — " Why dost thou wish the temple finished? " " Because .we have come to worship, and the chilly blasts drive us to protecting walls." " We have many costly gifts and orna- ments," said another, "with which to adorn it ; and we are sad to see it so far from com- pletion." « Why does it remain thus ? " asked one in tones of disappointment. "My workmen refused to labor," said the stranger, and departed. The crowd passed on. The rust and mould of time gathered on the walls, and it remained a crude, unsightly thing for every passer-by. There is a temple of Truth which the Great Master is building, and we are the laborers. How often we sink by the way, and refuse to work! The crowd are the seekers for Truth. We keep them waiting in the cold and chilling THE TEMPLE AND ITS BUILDERS. 73 winds of Doubt and Distrust. The days go by : we sit and dream, while their golden hours glide on. The bright sun rises above us, and sinks to rest again. We sit with folded hands while the Great Master waits for our labor and the completion of the temple. What a free, full tide of gratitude will burst from our souls when we shall stand up- on the summit of all time, and see the reason why for us the fire and flood were needed ! What prayers of thankfulness will then arise to Him who cast the dross away that he might mould our crude form into the semblance of his own ! Each soul can walk where no other soul can go. There is a separate and a united power. There are some natures that bound our restless lives, and are to us what the shore is to the surging sea. 74 BRANCHES OP PALM. Love them more tenderly than the young lambs. Pluck the thorns from their paths, and lead them gently through the twilight shades, for they have borne for us the heat and burden of the day. Cheer them with song and psalm as they march homeward. Pave their way with kind and loving words. Do these things until they go home, and need no longer the hand of flesh to cast the thorns away, and guide them gently down life's steep declivities. Sweet is the recollec- tion of any work well done ; but holy is the joy that comes over us, long after the aged forms are laid away, from a consciousness that no fretful words of ours broke the har- mony of their closing lives. In almost every home there is a pleasant memory of a mild, sweet face, smiling above the wreck which Time hath made, and looking over the billows to the blessed haven of peace so near at hand. THE AGED. 75 Sweet to us will be the tides of memory that have within them no bitter waters. Pleasant will be the retrospective glance that looks down the vista of years and sees no wounded hearts of aged pilgrims strewn along the way. There are some faces which we meet in our daily life that seem to us like dear familiar friends, as though they had in some past time been called into a sorrow like our own, and we had met them in the deep waters. We have no strength only when we feel our weakness. High places are grand, but danger- ous. There is no warmth nor sunshine on them. The most beautiful flowers grow in the valley. God's image slumbers in our souls till sharp- edged grief cuts here and there, when, lo ! the semblance of his form appears sculptured by woes of time. 76 BRANCHES OF PALM. I sat within a temple's holy walls, and looked with reverent eyes "upon the white- haired man who broke the bread and poured the wine ; for we were sitting at the supper of the Lord. I pushed the busy world aside, and all my earthly cares, as one would brush the dust from off his feet ere he entered a holy place. I felt my inner being kindle to a holy flame of love to God and all mankind. I felt my feebleness, and how unworthy was my soul of all the mercies of the past. The quiet still- ness of the hour, the deep low hush of humble souls in secret prayer, soon closed in my outer sense; and my inner sight beheld the busy world with all its varied scenes. I walked amid the throng, and saw in each human face another face shine forth. At times its features would gleam with heavenly rays, and then be clouded, just as the sun struggles to shine through the clouds. Through clouds of mortal sins and passion the Saviour's image broke. I sorrowed much that I could catch no THE SACRAMENT. 77 clearer vision of that heavenly face, and passed along, watching with eager glance the busy crowd. I saw amid the throng a poor IJrail child. Her face was pale and wan ; and in her large blue eyes was seen the weary look of want. An old man, bowed with years, came leaning on a staff, and bent his ear to her sad tale. He put into her thin white palm some gold, and then passed on. I gazed into his face, and saw, all unclouded, the face of that divine and radiant One. He had broken the bread of life, and poured the cup of wine, and, lo ! the Master's face shone radiantly in his own. I wandered on, and gazed, with earnest, eager look, the heavenly face again to behold ; but clouds of passion and dark thoughts swept all heavenly trace away. The vision passed. I woke unto the outer sense, and heard these thrilling words break from the pastor's lips, — " As ye have done it to the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me." I gazed upon the little group who sat so humbly there, and saw in all their features a glimpse of that fair face, — the image of their 78 BRANCHES OF PALM. Saviour shining like rays of light through parting clouds. He is not blest who passes through the world with no great grief. The soul that sails on calm, still seas will never rise. ? Tis sorrow's surging wave that mounts us heav- enward. We must gather up the remnants of bliss that fall on us moment by moment, and weave them into an eternal raiment with which to clothe our spirits as we traverse eternity. The earth might as well say, when glowing in the golden beams of the sun, " See, how I shine ! " as for man to boast of the rays of truth which illumine his mind. To-day is a golden ray of joy ; to-morrow a cloud which we cannot penetrate. QUESTIONINGS. 79 What are these clouds that lie So often on my path ? Only the shadow of the all-seeing One : Whose eye doth slumber not. Why are my feet so slow In going to my home ? Why do I backward stray When to me God says, Come ? Why drink at earthly founts, "When ever far on high Celestial rivers run That never, never dry ? Let me in patience walk ; For well I know the road, Though often dark and drear, Is winding up to God. Do we all enjoy alike ? No : each tempera- ment has its own absorption, and enjoys the beantiful according to its intensity and capa- city. 80 BRANCHES OF PALM. 4M in §M f&Mtffl. Mortal. Where is God ? and how shall I worship him ? Angel. Find him in the hearts he has given thee to love. Worship him in his works. Mortal. But that is earthly love, and car- ing for the things which perish. We are told not to place our affections on things that fade and die, are we not? Angel. Yes, unduly. We are not to love any one or any thing to idolatry ; but earthly teachings have been false in regard to the love of God, whose being fills all space, and who lives in every atom of his kingdom, which is the world. Mortal. What ! the world his kingdom ? Angel. Yes ; and every soul he has created, his temple. When you administer to a human woe or want, you are, for the time, a God to the individual. Mortal. Then I may freely love what he has created? Angel. Yes ; and all his works. Do you not see God in the sweet flower, as well as in the great ocean? When, gazing on his works, GOD IN ALL THINGS. 81 your soul is filled with admiration, you are loving and absorbing God. Mortal. But if I love a human soul to almost idolatry, what then ? Angel. Then you are limiting the great Being who fills immensity, he whose glory is too great to be enshrined in one soul; and God in time will show you that you loitered upon your heavenly way. Mortal. I see. My vision grows clearer. God dwells in every thing. Each soul is an atom. Each flower, each tree, and blade of grass, are pulsations of his life. We must love the universe and every human soul. Angel. Or rather recognize the presence of that great Invisible in his works. Mortal. Shall we never see him face to face? Angel. Only through his works. We grow and go to him. He will descend each day into our hearts if we ask him for his love. Mortal. How may we know that love de- scends ? Angel. By holier thoughts and larger promptings in our hearts to bless mankind. His glory is so great it cannot be confined by selfish deeds. That which is pure is in motion, 82 BRANCHES OP PALM. flows : all that is unclean stagnates. Look on yonder brook that flows so pure that it mirrors the blue sky ; so our souls, they must be pure that they may be clear, and reflect the image of our God. Mortal. I see. I must love, and give, and worship him in human souls. How near is heaven to earth ! Alas ! how long I've trav- ersed the wide world to find my God, and, lo ! he is at my side. Angel. And thus of every blessing, we stray abroad, journey long, to find that which lies in our path. All our needed blessings are close about our lives, encompassing us like air and sunshine. Mortal. Angel, I thank thee for thy words, which are like lamps unto my feet. In thee I see the image of my Maker. My life hence- forth shall be attuned to sweeter praise. If our surroundings were entirely to our tastes, we should* have no incentives to exertion. Gradually the mind would lose its vigor, and a lassitude pervade the entire being. EARNEST LIVES. 83 Woek with a zeal and a purpose. Let the soul go forth in a full tide of love to all mankind, counting all men as brothers whom God appoints to walk in and about our paths. Labor diligently ; grasp every thought that will enlarge the soul, and prepare us for the eternal kingdom. Let no rust of selfishness corrode our lives away. If the temptation is great to turn aside, let the prayer be mighty, that our feet may be kept from the ways of error. Call largely on God, and he will largely descend and fill our cup to overflowing. Action and earnest effort are the steps to heaven. Unnumbered are the waves of joy that will break on our life-shores. If we cannot scale great heights ourselves, we can help others to ascend the mount. The kingdom is gathered by the hour ; rills make the river. We must gather and deposit every moment, that the great stream of love may be kept flowing. 84 BRANCHES OP PALM. How large the sphere of the earnest, labor- ing soul ! How grand its orbit ! Laborer, God hath given thee a great gift, — the gift of life. Love, labor, and grow strong ; for the Lord that gave thee the gift holds the crown with which to deck thee at thy jour- ney's end. Deep natures contribute to the great ocean of life as rivers give to the sea, and are not impoverished in so doing. As we re-turn the pages of our life's history, we note upon the margin sad or heavenly ex- periences. A surging sorrow, which stirs the soul to its depths, is far better for us than a stagnant life of ease. The soul that is most attuned to harmony feels most keenly the discords of life. SHADOWS. 85 " Great shadows all great images attend." A shadow lay upon my path one day, so deep I shrank affrighted at the darkness. " Oh, why this gloom and shade ? " I cried. A voice replied, " Look up." I turned my eyes from earth, and saw a heavenly shining form above, bending over me with flowers. " My presence made the shadows fall upon your path," the heavenly being said. " My mission is, to come to earth, and bear to sad- dened souls sweet flowers to cheer them on their way." " Forgive my weak and faithless heart. I waited long for some kind hand to bring me blessings, and grew weary; and, when the blessing came, I murmured at the shadow she who brought it cast upon my path." " Thy sorrows are many," the voice replied, and went on her heavenly way, and while de- parting said, — " Great joys are mingled with great griefs ; Great crosses bring great crowns." 86 BRANCHES OF PALM. " Among the shepherds of Switzerland, when the pastures become scanty in the valleys, in order to induce the sheep to ascend the mountains where the herbage is sweeter and more abundant, the shepherd carries up a lamb; so doth our Father lovingly bear our lambs from the scanty herbage of earth to the ever- verdant and abundant fields of heaven, and soon we shall follow on." Mourner, let not the veil of fear and dis- trust fall heavily between thee and the Good Shepherd. Trust his love ; lean on his arm outstretched to bear you over the river. Love him whose tender mercies are over all his works. Wrap no dark doubt about thy soul, question not him whose protection is sure; and, when he gathers the lambs of thy little flock to himself, let this thought comfort thee, — he has taken them into his everlasting fold to dwell with him forever. Waves of sorrow lay jewels at our feet. THE EIYER. 87 River, deep river, Where dost thou flow- Ever and ever, Solemn and slow ? Windest thou ever Gracefully so, Singing forever Deep-toned and low ? Goest thou ever Past fairy dell Where blooms the daisy, Violet, and bell ? Hast thou no secrets Hid in thy bed ? Hast thou no fair ones, Lifeless and dead ? Peaceful thy surface, Mild thy waves glide : Tell me, O waters ! Where clost thou hide. Treasures, rich treasures, We trusted to thee ; Have thy waves hid them In the blue sea ? 88 BRANCHES OF PALM. River that floweth Solemn and slow, Where is my lily-bud, White as the snow ? Is she now sleeping Cold in thy bed, With wreaths of coral Twined round her head ? River, cold river, Solemn and low, Flowed on as ever, Graceful and slow ; But her waves murmured Softly to me, River has laid them In the blue sea. But on immortal shores Life-waves shall flow, Lily-bud, back to thee, Whiter than snow." There are some persons we meet with in life who seem not as pilgrims walking with us on our earthly way, but rather as messengers from heaven bearing us holy tidings. THE OLD AND THE NEW. 89 WU ®U\ mut t\xt DUw* We die each day ; each hour some atom of our being goes down the silent stream ; each day some treasured thought is cast aside, and, lo ! we rise in bright and purer garments from the tomb of our dark imaginings. The swift evolving stream of time is ever bearing on its waves some treasure for our minds. We cannot seize the new until the old is cast aside. New temples cannot be reared until the old are destroyed. Our mortal bodies must first fall before our im- mortal bodies can be resurrected. Each day our spirit form unfolds. We mould it here by every thought and every deed. The flowers bloom bright and fair, accord- ing to the soil on which they grow. Our spirits grow majestic through our daily lives. No other state can make us blest if we carry not to it a soul worthy of a blessing. Affection, like a vine, creeps over a blight- ed heart, and makes it beautiful in death. 90 BRANCHES OF PALM. Wxm in M? Where is God ? asks the restless soul, that dashes like the heaving sea, and longs to be at rest; where shall I find him? and where shall I seek the peace my soul doth so greatly long for ? On the mountain, in the storm, in the ocean's roar, by the leaping cataract, beside the rippling brook, in the tiniest flower that jewels the sod, in the love of childhood, — in all these, his voice is ever speaking unto thee. His throne is the world ; and they love him best who love his works most. Go forth and worship. Love thy child, thy neighbor, thy friend ; and in the degree that thou lovest them is thy love to God, for the waves of his being dash through human hearts. Worship him in the jewelled heavens. Praise thy Maker at morn and evening by gazing on the beauties of the rising and set- ting sun. His eyes of love look on thee from the smallest flower, from every point through all the grades of creation. WHERE IS GOD? 91 In the lowliest form, his breath and being is. In the most wayward and erring, the divine spark burns, be it ever so dim. Therefore, when we turn from human wants and human cries for aid, we crucify our Lord ; for the divine and human are inseparable. Thy household, thy brother, thy friends, are atoms of divinity. How sacred becomes every soul when we feel that God breathes and lives in them I Language is powerless to paint the rich, fervid glow of joy that fills the human soul when it feels that all lives shall be gathered at last to the bosom of the Infinite ! All justice is not dealt by human hands. There is a higher form of equity than any of which the heart of man can conceive. This life is closely packed with joy. Sweet harmonies flow through the world, and all the elements of heaven are here. 92 BRANCHES OF PALM. I saw a crowd of people standing by a lake whose pure waters laved a mossy bank. I stood apart with curious eye, and gazed upon the throng that dipped their vessels in the stream. Some had large misshapen urns which they filled. On some the dust was thick, and most unsightly to behold. One came, and in the calm clear lake dipped a vessel pure and white, and then departed on the great highway, and joined a traveller with a dust-soiled urn. "Why is thy vessel so covered with dust?" the bearer of the pure white urn inquired. The stranger said in low, gruff tones, " This is our form of worship ; for years, my people have drunk their water from this urn, and the dust is sacred in their eyes. It was upon it when their fathers drank, and they will not have it removed." "But see/' the stranger said, "how pure and white the urn beneath this coat of dust ! Does it not seem as though the water would be purer if the urn was washed ? ;? VISIOX OF THE WOESHIPPERS. 93 11 But my people would not drink from it if I washed the dust away. It has been gather- ing there for years, and most ungodly and pro- fane would he be to us, who would dare attempt to wash it away." " They worship, then, the form, and not the spirit; they value the dust which rose from the march of their fathers' feet, and settled upon the urn above the pure clear waters of eternal life," the stranger said. " I am sad to see thee have no reverence for holy things," the pastor with the dust- soiled urn replied, and bore it speedily away as though the water might become impure from the stranger's irreverent words. He passed on, and soon was out of sight. .Another came up from the river's bank, bear- ing in his hand a large misshapen thing from which the pure clear drops were falling fast. The great drops of sweat ran down his face as he journeyed towards the temple where his people worshipped. " Behold ! my pilgrim," said the voice I heard before, "see ! thy vessel leaks ; the water will all be wasted ere thou readiest the temple. Why not cast the ponderous thing aside, and 94 BRANCHES OF PALM. procure a vessel sound ; and more lovely to look upon ? " " Stranger/' the pilgrim said, " dost thou not know that this is the urn our fathers used, and that it would be heresy and profanation to cast it aside, and take another ? " " But it holds no water/' said the earnest youthful pastor. " That is not my fault. My duty is to bear my people water in the urn from which their fathers drank." " Why not repair it, and make it whole ? for thy people surely will find no drink within when thou readiest thy temple." "I see thou hast no reverence for holy things," the solemn pastor said. " Is it not said in holy writ that we shall take nothing from, nor add thereto ? Even though the ves- sel holds no water, I must obey the great commands ; " and he hastened onward, while the water fell at every step upon the ground. The young man sat and thought most earn- estly upon the follies of worshipping the past, and said unto himself, " My people shall have living vital truths, water fresh from yonder stream of life, borne unto them in a pure ves- sel, on which no dust of time has gathered." VISION OF THE WORSHIPPERS. 95 While musing thus, another came, bearing on his head a massive urn, so heavy, that it nearly bowed him to the earth. " Why bear that heavy urn upon your head ? " the young man asked. The weary traveller gravely shook his head, and said, " Our burdens are not to be lightly borne unto the temple of our God. I teach my people that heaven is not so easily won, that we must endure the heat and burden of the day; but what hast thou in that small, white urn of thine ? " " I have water from the same pure stream. It is the water that my people want. They do not worship the forms or creeds of the dead past." " Ah ! " said the toiling, aged man, — " ah ! my young friend, you have departed from the good old ways ; you have broken your father's urn, and taken this light and toyish thing, in which to carry the waters of eternal life unto your people. Believe an aged pastor. Take warning, and beware ere it is too late. The gate of heaven opens not to those who bear not a heavy burden. Beware ! " His white locks waved in the wind around his head, and slowly he wound his toilsome 96 BRANCHES OF PALM. way up the steep ascent on which his temple stood ; bearing the heavy burden on his head. " I also must depart unto my people," said the young man. But on the highway came another form, from which he felt his mind could reap another lesson ; for he was garnering all these truths to give unto his people. The form came bearing a vessel on a golden salver. His garments were woven of the finest texture, and fell in rich folds unto the ground. They trailed along the dust, and caused a thick and blinding cloud to rise from the earth ; while the dust lay thick and heavy on his rich garments. All the travellers on the road were blinded by the cloud. " And thus it must be of his hearers," the young man said unto himself. " He has no vital food to give, but blinds them with a cloud of forms and words. I will speak to him." "Thy garments impede thy way. This cloud of dust is terrible to all the travellers upon the road. Is there no better way for thee and thy fellow-pilgrims to walk unto thy temple?" " Traveller, dost thou know to whom thou speakest? Thou art in the presence of a VISION OP THE WORSHIPPERS. 97 great high priest, who breaks the bread of life, and carries living waters to yonder temple, the dome of which thou seest reaching so high towards heaven. My people are rich and powerful. They offer incense, and lay costly gifts upon my altar. Wilt thou stand aside that I may pass on ? " " I, too, am bearing water from the stream. I have a little flock that gathers in a humble house of prayer. But see ! thy trailing gar- ments have thrown the dust upon my vessel. I must retrace my steps and wash it clean ; for I must not bear a soiled cup unto my people." " True, true, my pilgrim. Thou art young and meddlesome ; thou shouldst not have con- fronted one who walks to heaven another and a grander way than thine. Return and wash thy cup, and do not meddle with another priest, lest the dust that rises from his onward march descend upon thy urn." The priest passed on. The young man sat a while, and said, " Must I travel back through all this dust, keep my people waiting, and re- turn all soiled and worn into the house of God ? " I saw him sit beside the way, a look of 7 98 BRANCHES OP PALM. sadness gathering upon his happy face as clouds glide over the sun. I sighed ; for much 1 loved his earnest, truthful face. I was about to rise, and go and comfort him with words of pity, when I seemed to be borne away by the passing breeze unto the temple where his people sat waiting. They had grown impa- tent at his long delay ; and one by one were passing from the temple. " Do not, oh, do not leave ! " I tried to say; but my lips were closed, and no sound went forth from them. I heard them say among themselves, " We will not longer wait. Why comes he not among his people ? " And soon the most patient and loving among his flock walked away. All departed, even those who had loved and confided in him the deepest, — all went out, and naught but silent walls were there to greet the weary pastor when he came. I longed to fly and comfort the lone des- erted man. I flew to where he sat; but, lo ! he had passed on. Up and down the highway I gazed, but saw only clouds of dust, that told me weary feet had passed on. I threw myself beneath a spreading tree, and soon another scene was opened to my sight. VISION OF THE WORSHIPPERS. 99 I saw a temple large and beautiful, in which were gathered a great throng. The people sat expectant, waiting, as though some one was to come in their midst, and pour the water of eternal life from the pure crystal urn which stood upon the altar. Apart from the people, beneath the altar, sat three white- haired men whom the waiting people had chosen to select their pastor. One came, attracted by the beautiful temple. He walked the aisle with a majestic air, and stood before the altar. His garments were clean and spotless. No stain of dust was on his sandals, nor look of weariness was in his eye. All fresh and bright he seemed, and ready for the labor of the Lord. " Eeceive him, let him dwell among us ! " cried a chorus of voices. The white-haired men look steadily at the stranger, and then said, — " He will not do. He has no look of labor on his brow. No dust from life's great high- way rests on him. The stranger rose and left. Some followed him; but* patiently the larger portion of the people sat and waited. 100 BRANCHES OF PALM. A few more came, but were rejected. The day was waning ; and the crowd grew weary and restless. The aged fathers looked toward the western sky, hoping to read some sign of promise there ; hoping that some one would come to break the bread of life unto their people. No sound of steps was heard, no sign of any form ; and they were about to close the temple's doors, and send the people home, when, lo ! a traveller stood in their midst, toil-worn, and covered with dust. On his brow was a weary look, and the eyes showed signs of long and earnest watching. His sandals were white with dust. He stood afar from the altar, just within the temple-door, and raised his eyes with reverent gaze unto the aged men. " He has come at last : this is the man ! " the aged fathers said, and raised their eyes in silent gratitude to heaven. " He has a laborer's look," they said unto the people. " He has been a traveller upon life's highway ; and on his brow the look of earnest prayer." The toil-worn man went forth unto the altar ; the white-haired fathers placed their hands in VISION OP THE WORSHIPPERS. 101 benediction on his head ; and then I heard the people cry, " Allien." The vision was ended. In it I read a lesson deep, and full of meaning. I saw that he who traverses life's great highway must be covered with the dust of labor; and that he who bears these marks upon him will be received into the temple- of the Lord. The white-haired fathers represented the wisdom of the people* The little group, that grew impatient for their pastor's coming, and went forth from the temple, are those who grow despondent when our guides and teachers linger, forgetting there are truths that lie in realms beyond our sight, and that for these, while absent from us, they may be searching, soon to return laden with treasures for our souls, they could not find when at our side. I learned that he who humbly labors for the good of others getteth good for himself, and will find a place of rest at last. For our rest is where our labor is. 102 BRANCHES OF PALM. §wx$xty tf£ Writ* Man is composed of many mountain thoughts ; of rolling oceans of sorrow and doubt : of calm, green valleys of peace and happiness. And we are but pilgrims over our own spirit-globe ; sometimes on the mighty cliff, looking forth with wonder and joy on the majestic scenery ; at others, like voyagers on the ocean, our souls tossed by the waves, sickened with the motion of life, worn with the angry tempest that threatens to dash our bark into pieces. Anon we reach the green valley of the soul, safely landed from a voyage over the great ocean of despair. How fragrant the bud of happiness ! ? Tis then we can pluck flowers of love, and worship the hand that made them ; ; tis then we see the bright tints of life, — see that it is not all rocky cliff, cataract, and angry ocean, but partakes of calm sunshine, of peaceful fields, and valleys of repose. But we are voyagers of life, and cannot always remain in the vale. We must pluck a flower, put it in our bosom, and go forth again to be dashed by the wild waves that shall DIYEESITY OF LIFE. 103 bound us upward to meet the stars, whose brilliancy we shall catch, and sink again, but with more of heaven's eternal light upon our brow. What soul has yet fully embarked on the ocean of God's love ? What voyager has gone out to number its waves, or count the drops that form the un- fathomable sea of his glory ? Earth's children have as yet but tasted of that boundless existence in which their souls are immortal. Where is the soul that has learned of God's justice ? What bright angel has yet found out the glorious equanimity that reigns with divinity ? How he holds the universe ! What soul has scaled the towering heights of his wisdom? counted the avenues of his glory, or the pathways of knowledge that lead to his throne ? The most active man is he who waits on God. 104 BRANCHES OF PALM. mu (&m tut §amn%: ^ wmm He lay in a dark, cheerless room, while the shades not only of an external, but of a spir- itual night were gathering around hirn. Alone, sick, and friendless, wasting with dis- ease ; no one to sooth his dying hour ; no voice of love to fall in loving accents on his ears. The pain which was crushing his vital powers was only equalled by the great sor- row which lay upon his mind and conscience. For years he had lived only to gather gold, to add treasure to treasure ; and now it lay a useless heap, and a curse unto himself. He closed his weary lids, and tried in vain to sleep. Slowly the hours dragged on, and the room grew more dark and cheerless. At last a sluggish feeling came upon him. He slept, and saw himself, as in early life, when first the love of gain seized his soul. He seemed to be walking in a beautiful garden, which represented the world. Beside him were friends, whose smiling faces shone upon him like morning sun-rays, and whose happy laughter made all his pulses beat with joy- THE GOLD THAT PERISHETH : A VISION. 105 They were gathering flowers, when sud- denly a bright pebble which lay in his path attracted his attention. He stooped and picked it up ; then another and another, until they were so numerous, he left his friends, sat upon the ground, and labored to gather them till the evening shades began to fall. Then, for the first time, he looked up for his companions ; but they had gone on their way. In vain had they called him to follow them; but his attention was so absorbed, he neither saw nor heard them. He tried to rise, but, lo ! he had bent so long upon the ground, that he could not. He called loudly. In vain : his friends heard him not ; for they were far on their life journey. He gazed long and earnestly in the direction whither they had gone, and saw, far in the distance, on a gently sloping hill, the friends of his once happy hours. He had gathered only stones, while they had culled beautiful flowers, and were weaving them into crowns of happiness with which to deck their brows. He tried again to rise and join them, alas ! the heavy, glittering stones weighed him down : he could not rise. He called implor- ingly for them to come. The cry awoke him. 106 BRANCHES OF PALM. The death-dew had gathered on his brow ; and soon angels of mercy bore him over the river of death. The heavy stones were the gold which kept him all his life from all social and spiritual enjoyment. The flowers which his friends gathered were the beautiful truths of life, which became to them crowns of happiness. How many linger in the sphere of sordid gain for transient enjoyment, while their friends pass on to scenes and homes of endur- ing bliss ! In times of storm, those ships are safest that are in deepest waters, and far from shore : so in times of great affliction God keeps us from the shore of fond familiar scenes, far from human aid, that we may learn to look only unto him, and trust his guidance. There are monarchs sleeping in rough and common clay, who, when the world needs their power, will come forth, sceptre in hand, to lead the nations. FRIENDS. 107 Friends are scarcely worthy of the name untill they have proven themselves such through our sorrows. Flowers bloom in the sunshine and warm air; trees unfold their leaves in the balmy breath of spring : but a friend, whose smile breaks through our clouds of sorrows and adversity, and shines upon our path, is worth a thousand who flutter around us when the light of prosperity burns bright. He who can go down with us into the night of sorrow, and watch with us till the dawn, is alone worthy of the heavenly name of friend. All lives are full of surges of great joys and sorrows. "We need a friend to help us bear them all ; and he who shuts the door of sympa- thy upon a true and worthy one will have more tears to shed, and darker hours of grief to experience, than if the loving hand could have poured some balm into the cup of woe. Nature is the infalliable Word of God, 108 BRANCHES OF PALM. §mw$. Beautiful soul-lit dreams, Giving us wandering gleams Of the land that lies over the way ; Out from the line of our sight, Dazzling, supernal, and bright, Over the waves of day. Grateful shadows of night Draping the gold lines of light That fall from the pathway of day, Gladly we yield to them all ; We welcome the shades as they fall Over the twilight gray. Oh ! but for shadows of night Ne'er would the spirit catch sight Of beauties that lie over the way : Out on the wave lines of sleep We float o'er the misty deep, And rest on their golden spray. Oh, sweet, meandering dreams ! Winding by cool sylvan streams, So unreal, and changing alway ; Yet would our lives be more drear, Could not these dream-lives appear To mellow the harshness of day. IN THE SPIRIT-LAND. 109 A burning fever coursed through my veins. Sharp and fearful pains darted through my head, till I seemed to be no more on earth, and my soul passed the great portal of death. I knew not the precise moment, any more than we know when we pass from our waking condition into that of sleep. I only remem- bered my last throb of pain, and my first con- sciousness of another life. I was conscious of being wafted through the air, and lifted by strong arms, till I was conveyed to a resting-place. When I felt strong enough, I opened my eyes, and encountered the gaze of a pair of loving orbs bent on me with a kind look of recognition. They were my mother's. I knew them at a glance, though many years had elapsed since the hour when we parted. " Look ! " she said. I arose from the couch, and for the first time gazed upon my spirit- form, which I saw mirrored in a clear lake be- side which I was reposing. I started. It was like my earthly form in outline, but so 110 BRANCHES OF PALM. unlike it in expression, and shades of beauty ; for no other term can express my meaning. It was far more beautiful than I could ever have hoped to be. I gazed long and earnestly, until I felt weary, when my mother laid me on the couch again ; and I seemed to sleep. I saw my earthly body lying pale and still upon the bed ; but I felt a desire to return to it no more than one does to wear again a cast- off garment. How I longed to tell them on the earth how free from pain I was ! I grew strangely weary at that moment. My mother, who sat beside me, woke me from my dream or vision ; and when I told her what I had seen, and how weak I grew, she said the weariness was caused by my being in the atmosphere of my earthly body. " Think no more of that at present," she said, " and arise from your couch, and tell me what new sensation comes to you.' 7 I arose. All sense of weariness was gone. I found that my body could move simply by an act of my will, but without any physical exhaustion like that we experience in the earth -life. I was so pleased and occupied with this new sensation, that I did not notice IN THE SPIRIT-LAND. Ill the approach of a large group of friends who had come to welcome me. "We waited for you to obtain some rest before we bade yon welcome to this heavenly land/ 7 they said. I recognized voices of old and familiar friends. I looked, and knew them all. Each one came to me, and gave me a warm and earnest welcome. My pulses began to leap with the throbs of a new life. " How soft and balmy this air is ! " I said. " Is it always so lovely here ? " u In the external it is always the same," one said ; " but we have persons here who bring many shadows, and through whom we all suf- fer at times." I looked eagerly towards them all. " You will learn a lesson every day," said my mother, who had not for a moment left my side ; and then I noticed what I had not before, — that a light enveloped her form radiant and lovely, and that the same light shone around a portion of my own body, rising only to the shoulders. " When that light rises to your brow," said my mother, reading the current of my thoughts with a precision and accuracy which aston- 112 BRANCHES OP PALM. ishecl me, " you will see all truth as clearly as I do; but you must progress much more before it rises to the head." " How lovely this world is ! " I cried, as I gazed around upon the richest and most va- ried landscape that ever human eye looked upon. " How much there is to enjoy ! " " Thou hast experienced but an atom of its joys," said my mother : and, taking me by the hand, she led me into her home ; for all have homes as on earth, all things on earth being but types of this fair world. She led me into a room surpassing in beau- ty, and harmony of arrangement, every thing I had ever seen. The two windows, which opened on a vine-wreathed portico, were draped with lace of the whitest and daintiest fabric, looped with flowers. In the centre of the room stood a marble basin in which a fountain was playing, its waters falling upon flowers from which a most entrancingly delicious fra- grance was continually arising ; the air chan- ging both in quality and kind every moment. Lounges of most inviting form were about the room. I noticed a beautiful vine-wreathed chair which sat before a low table, on which were strewn books, and wreaths of flowers. It IN THE SPIRIT-LAND. 113 seemed as though the occupant had just left it. My mother looked tenderly on me as I stood with eyes riveted to that seat. There was a white velvet cushion beside it on which were wrought leaves of ivy. At that moment there came gliding into the room, I could not tell from what point, a young and lovely child. She came and stood by the fountain. I never remembered to have seen her on earth, and yet I felt a strange vibration through all my being as I looked upon her. She had the sweetest eyes that ever mortal gazed upon, — eyes of heavenly blue. You felt no need of speech ; for those liquid orbs told all. She was a being made to love, and be loved. " Whose lovely child is this ? " I said, while a strange tremor shook my frame. At that moment I felt my mother's hand upon my eyes. I sank upon a couch and slept, and yet it was not sleep. I saw myself, as in years gone by, lying on a bed of pain. How well I remembered that | day ! for I had given birth unto a child, a tiny form that never breathed on earth. How well I remembered the sorrow that wrung my heart then, that I should never see her loving eyes, nor hear her voice ! Silent and still ! 114 BRANCHES OP PALM. How the question came to my heart. Where had the little being fled? — or had soul and matter no affiliation at such times ? Instinc- tively I treasured the thought that there must be a soul for all organic bodies ; but it was only a dim, visionary thought : I could not make it real. I awoke, and saw my mother smiling lovingly upon me. Slowly broke the great truth on my mind ; but it came, like all truths, with the force which leaves no doubts, no questions : and then I knew the fair-eyed child was mine. A deeper light was in her eyes as she came towards me, and, press- ing her sweet lips to mine own, called me " mother." A deep maternal thrill pervaded all my be- ing. I trembled under the waves of joy that rushed over me. With that little hand clasped close in mine, we roamed over the beautiful garden that day. She gathered the choicest flowers for me, and made them into wreaths for my brow. How the touch of her soft lily hand thrilled me through and through ! Oh that I could tell my new-found joy to my friends on earth ! I gained new strength each day, and each IN THE SPIRIT-LAND. 115 day experienced some new sensation. Oh what joy for me to live in such a world, and one of which I longed to know more ! One day, I saw coming towards me a form of the most beautiful symmetry. The face was familiar ; but the form I could not recognize. I sat beside a brook gathering pebbles with my child, when he approached us. In a voice low and sweet, he said, " Wel- come, fair lady, to our land ! " I held my hand towards him, and, seeing no look of recognition, he said, " Dost thou not remember me ? " " I do not. Did you live on earth? " " I am the little cripple to whom you gave bread and shelter one cold cheerless night." I clasped his hand, and pressed it warmly. " And now so beautiful 1 " I involuntarily exclaimed. " Truly a world is glorious," I thought, " that transforms all unpleasantness of form and fea- tures into such loveliness." What a feeling of pleasure came over me at seeing him thus changed ! I remembered how many cold days on earth I had seen him pass my home, his very frame bent with labor, and a look of thoughtful sorrow on his brow ; 116 BRANCHES OF PALM. for he had no home. The work-house was his only shelter. " Come and sit by me/' I said, " and tell me of this land." Just as he had seated him- self, a form most unlovely to look upon passed by us. " What means it?" I eagerly inquired. " I thought all were lovely here." " Not so," he said. " This person on the earth was fair and lovely ; but his thoughts and deeds were sinful. He had no purity within." " Will he carry this unpleasant form for- ever ? " I asked. " No : it will change as his thoughts grow pure and holy, and he has repaired, as far as human power can, all the wrong of his earthly life. This is his first duty ; and he is obliged to be in the atmosphere of earth every day, in order to do it. This is a law of the soul's progression : none can escape it." " You know much of this life," I said ; for I felt I had a teacher in the once friendless, forsaken child. " Will you tell me," I asked, " how it is with those who have no congenial tastes ? Do they have to live together here ? " IN THE SPIRIT-LAND. 117 "No. For all are in freedom, yet not abso- lute ; for those to whom we mast impart strength and life must, for a time, be associated with us, but not continually : it is only at in- tervals. On earth we have to be every day and hour with those we can never assimilate with : here it is only in brief periods ; and the thought that we are imparting to them makes it pleas- ant rather than otherwise." " You have given me light," I said. " What can I do for you ? " " Only this, fair lady, — impart the light thou hast unto others, and new and fresh strength will flow to thee." He was gone, — the child - teacher. I watched him until out of sight. I prayed that I, too, might become life and light to others. As time passed on, I longed more and more to convey to my friends on earth some knowl- edge of the beautiful world I was in. I tried at times to draw near to them, and then I felt a strange, discordant feeling come over me. My mother told me it was the condition of the minds of my friends ; they were not harmo- nious; that it took a long, long time to be able 118 BRANCHES OF PALM. to impress those whose natures were not spir- itually inclined. " How you must have labored for me ! " I said. She did not reply in words, but drew me tenderly unto her. As I grew more and more enraptured with the scenes about me, I longed deeply for the power of words to paint the external beau- ties of that world : landscapes of such varied beauty ; rivers, lakes, and seas of every tinge, and changing every moment ; birds of every form and color; flowers rare and delicate ; fruits cool and luscious to the taste ; houses of such delicate and rare construction ; forms clad in garments of ethereal beauty, and wrought with elegant devices ; friendship of high and holy order, with no taint of earthliness ; each doing for another ; none self-centred, but all in divine order and harmony, — no wonder that I longed to transmit the joys, and to tell the children of earth how much they had to live nobly for ! This feeling at times deepened into a pain. Amid all that loveliness and my new-found joys, the thought that I might help the chil- dren of earth to lead better and holier lives haunted me, until, one day, my brain grew IN THE SPIRIT-LAND. 119 dizzy ; and I longed for a deep repose, a rest from all this keen enjoyment. I threw myself languidly within the shade of a large tree, and, clasping my darling's hand in mine, I fell into a sleep. I seemed suddenly to be drifting away. I felt the little hand loosing its grasp, but had no power to hold it. With one great effort, I reached forward to clasp her to my heart. I had not power to move. I moaned loudly, and awoke on earth. " Thank God ! the crisis is past," I heard the physician say to my husband and friends. " Her reason is restored, and she is safe." The words fell harshly on my ears. What had happened ? Where had I been ? Had years passed since I was seized with that dreadful pain ? I looked eagerly from one to another. " You have been delirious ten days," they said ; and the tears coursed down their weary, watchful faces. I thank God not only for the deep lesson which I to this day believe was given me from the other life, but that I was alive on earth, but better prepared to live a life of usefulness, and teach others how to obtain peace and rest here and hereafter. 120 BRANCHES OF PALM. Let us be of use in thy great kingdom, Lord. We would not be cast aside like worthless tools, although, in our short-sighted- ness, we murmur when our song should be one of praise. Could we fathom thy designs, how jubilant would be our feet! how gladly should we obey thy every call to labor ! But as years glide on, and we learn that he alone is blest who works, we long to be of use j and our soul's most earnest cry to heaven, is, Show me the way to the vineyard ! Let me be a laborer in thy kingdom, and a help unto thy hand. We are told, that, since the creation of the world, not one particle of matter^ has been lost : so every human deed of goodness may float away into the moral world, like vapors from the earth, and be transformed and come again, perhaps a flower to cheer the weary, perhaps a drop of dew to moisten a parched and burning life. THE ADVENT OF THE ANGELS. 121 A teacher, high, sublime, and holy, came into our midst one golden morning. He stood with eyelids drooped in prayer : with tear-drops trembling on them, like morn- ing dew on flowers. He prayed that the children of earth might be born to the principle of Love. The rustling of his garments was like music ; the tones of his voice, like the lute at eventide. As he prayed, the damp dew gathered on his brow, and his prayer was, '" Our father who art in heaven, let the children of earth have more light. Send unto them, our Father, angels." A divine radiance shone around his brow. His soul grew calm, and he ascended out of sight. Then, from beneath the cloud, a band of an- gels came, and broke forth in songs seraphic ; and the burden of their song was, " Give light to earth ; give love to its children." And then dawn broke upon the earth. 122 BRANCHES OF PALM. They that had wept through the night dried their tears ; for, lo ! their loved ones, those who had gone out in the twilight, stood forth on the day's horizon with messages and words of love. New light flooded the earth. The departed re-appeared, clothed in shining garments, bearing truths of life and immor- tality. Voyagers who had anchored in dark streams now had angel pilots to guide their barks into havens of rest. Around the heads of aged sires where rest- ed the snows of many winters, the angels bound wreaths of fresh-grown buds of hope. Widows and orphans wiped away their tears; for the swift messages of love came like heavenly baptisms to their souls. Little gems that were lost from parents' bosoms appeared reset in brighter efful- gence. Up and down the earth they went, till the mortal sky was all aglow with immortal day. A few of the children of earth slept, and, in their dreams, cried out, "It is not day : we see no light. Ah, foolish ones! back to your slumbers^ THE ADVENT OF THE ANGELS. 123 and let us rest." They will not awake till mid- day ; and the first glory of this great dawn of spiritual light they will never behold. But they who rose at the dawn will rehearse to them the glory of its light. We live a life within, of which the great world knows not ; a life made up of a round of joys and sorrows in a world all our own, — a world on whose shores no feet but our own do ever walk, and within which no sound is heard save the surging waters of our own ex- istence. The blue arch that spans that world is the eye of the all-seeing One, who smiles on all our victories over self, and drops tears of pity on our weak, frail thoughts. Hidden wings, slumbering genius, will some day burst their fetters. God in his own time will show us the image he has sculptured; and we shall find that that upon which we first gazed was but the rough material with which he fashioned his great work. 124 BRANCHES OF PALM. ®U State*'* (£mm. An angel sat beside a beautiful stream in heaven, weaving a coronet for a sad and weary form on earth. The flowers were rare and lovely : but two buds only were lacking to complete its won- drous beauty and harmony. She laid aside the wreath, and traversed hill, dale, and field, to no purpose. " Alas ! " she said, as she returned, " I fear that I must gather them from the earth. The coronet must be completed ; for it is not long before she for whom it is woven will lay aside the mortal, and join us here." The angel descended. It was night. Cold and dreary were the winds that swept over the earth. In a humble home a fire burned dimly upon the hearth, and before it sat a mother and her two children. They were fair and lovely to look upon ; too fair for earth. " It chills my heart to take them," said the guardian angel, as she looked upon the little group ; " but God's work must be done. THE mother's coronet. 125 She will soon follow, and then her sorrow will be turned to joy." The careful mother felt a strange thrill pervade her being, as she laid her darlings in their bed that night. She thought that the night winds sounded strange and fearful. A sense of alarm seemed to fill her being. The blasts grew colder towards the dawn. The mother slept, and dreamed that the snow fell on the bed of her little ones, and covered them from her sight. She thought she sat sadly by them and wept ; when, sud- denly, a bright ray pierced the clouds, melt- ed the white covering away, and, lo ! two fair lilies bloomed sweet, and full of fra- grance. She awoke, and stood beside her babes. The angel had taken them home ! The frost and snow of death had fallen upon them in the night. She wrung her hands with grief. Great sounds of agony burst from her lips. What voice can soothe sorrow like hers ? Is there a balm to heal such wounds ? Alone, sadly and silently, she 'trod the re- maining portion of her life-path on earth. All her treasures were gathered home, and one 126 BKANCHES OF PALM. day she lay down upon her couch, and sank into the sleep of death. The coronet was done, and waiting for her brow. The angel placed it there when her spirit was separated from its clay, and led her gently to a couch to rest. " My babes, my beautiful lilies ! v was the first utterance of her soul in that heavenly land where partings never come. She read the lesson of her Father who had kindly called her babes before her to his up- per mansion. The coronet shone with a heavenly light, as she walked those streets celestial ; and the fragrance of the lilies, gathered so early from all the trials of earth, was sweeter to the mother than any words of angel or mortal could ever portray. The waves of life place gems of rarest beauty at our feet. We gather them with gladness, forgetting that they were thrown there by surges of sorrow that well-nigh in- gulfed us. SOUNDS FROM OYER THE WATERS. 127 How refreshing and pleasant it is to stand on a summer's day, see the waves break along the shore, and listen to the sound of the wa- ters as they dash over the rocks ! But more beautiful and refreshing is it to feel on this great life-shore the waves of ce- lestial seas breaking on our parched and bar- ren life, and to listen to the murmuring of an- gels' voices far out on the waves, whispering to us of the beautiful land far over the sea. If summer's suns and heat oppress us, and the long days make us sigh for cooling streams and flowing tides, how much more does the scorching sun of trial and adversity make us long to lie where the waters of a spiritual life will break over us ! On the shores of our earthly life, these wa- ters are breaking. There lies a great sea be- fore us filled with gems. Shall we gather them, and listen to the music of the whispering waves ? or sit in bar- ren and sultry places, sighing for waves of joy to break over the stony places ? 128 BEANCHES OF PALM. We must grope in darkness. The light of heaven does not come down in great floods upon our path. The human soul must work in darkness, and put out in the evening shadows the hand of faith. It is then we feel the need of earnest prayer : then the soul senses all its dependence on the Divine ; and, like a child who has wandered from his father's home, we cry out for some one to come to our assist- ance. But when the day dawns, and over the hill- tops we discern the sun of prosperity, what a feeling of self-reliance vibrates through our being! How light seem all life's burdens then ! Not in the morning light, or in pros- perous days, is the soul wont to call on God : it is in the night of sorrow that our cry goes up to heaven. Ah ! if we could ever be near to God. It is going from him that makes our night. And as no light dawns on the earth till it turns sun- ward, so no joy and peace will fill us till we TRUST. 129 turn to the central light and life of the great universe. man, wherever thou art, learn God in his works ; then shall thy soul be filled accord- ing to its own expansion ; then to each day shall be given " daily bread/' spirit food, and you shall not be led into sin or " temptation." " From all evil," his hand of goodness and wisdom shall " deliver us ; " for, in seeking him, we know no path but beauty. Then in fulness of heart and soul, we can say, " Thine is the kingdom," thine the last- ing " power ; " and the universe shall echo " Glory forever. Amen." All have their garden of Gethsemane : on each soul has fallen the midnight dew. None can save us from suffering. Not even the dearest can lift the curtain of our grief, or quench the fire that burns our dross away. We are alone with God in the dark hours. When shall we learn to kiss the rod, and bless the hand that doth baptize us ? 9 130 BRANCHES OF PALM. Listen, soul ! Take hours of rest, and turn the retrospective glance down life's stream. Listen to the beatings of thy heart, and see if they are deep, and pulsing for hu- man woes. Look carefully down the years, and see if thy human weaknesses have given place to holy thoughts, if idols of clay have been broken, and in their place is reared the image of the Holy One. Glance faithfully, and see if thy soul has grown more sensitive to the footsteps of the unseen, who walk our earth each day, gather- ing and scattering truths. Lay aside thy earthly cares, and let a holy hush and calm descend upon thy soul, as dews descend upon the flower. Let down the cur- tain and shut off from thyself the glitter of earthly gain ; repose in the twilight of medita- tion. Compass thy soul. Gaze long and earn- estly into thy heart, and see how many sins lie smouldering there, impeding thy souPs progress. Let the light of new truth, gleam down the silent stream. Relight the vale, and then shalt thou know RETROSPECTION. 131 what thy joys are to-day , and what thy cause for grateful heart-offerings. Lean on the years, and listen; then gather courage from thy onward course, and make thy morrow bril- liant with holy deeds. All that Deity hath crowned thee with restore to him. Bring not to his sacred altar an empty life. Restore to him with usury each talent he has given thee. Train high every faculty he has en- dowed thee with; culture it to the highest point of thy capacity ; reflect not on his wisdom by leaving them uncultured, for it is his love that has placed them there. When a gardener sees an unsightly tree in his grounds, he does not go rudely to work, and cut it away, but carefully trims its branches, and prunes it into shape. So our heavenly Father cuts away our deformities, and gently, very gently shapes us into come- liness, 132 BRANCHES OF PALM. ^\xt (&zm mi Wxntlx. " My children/' said an aged -man unto a group who sat weary by the water's side, " in yonder sea lies a gem so clear and transparent, that it mirrors the heavens and all the starry orbs. To whoever will search for it, and bring it to me, I will give the world and its posses- sions." " But, father, we shall sink beneath the waves," said one whose timidity made him shrink from so great and perilous an under- taking. " The gem will repay you for all your trou- ble," answered the father, " and you may return safely ; yet if you should go down, the mission is a glorious one. It is far better to perish in activity than to live an idle life." "Let us go, and build our bark," cried a chorus of voices. " Farewell, my children!" said the father. " I hope to welcome you all home, bearing the precious gem upon your bosoms." They departed. Years swept by, and hopes and sorrows were born to many hearts. At the close of a dark stormy day, the THE GEM OF TKUTH. 133 father sat looking towards the sea, and praying for the safety of his children. A wild murmur rose upon the air, — a cry of distress. He ran quickly to the shore ? on which the angry waves had dashed all day ; and his eye caught sight of a human form struggling in the waves. Another surge, and his child lay at his feet. He took her tenderly in his arms, and bore her to their home. She laid her head upon his breast, and sobbed most violently. " I found the gem," she said ; " but the cruel waves washed it from me, and tore my bark in pieces. There were many other gems in the sea I might have brought to thee ; but they were not pure and sparkling like the Gem of Truth." " I care not so much to see the gem upon your breast, as to find in your soul the love of truth, my child. The gem is there, only hid- den from the external gaze. You have brought me more than gems or jewels, — your own pure self. Thou wouldst not bring to me aught but truth. Thou art the gem thy- self; " and he pressed her tenderly to his heart. " Dry thy tears," he said ; " for many search, and find not," 134 BRANCHES OF PALM. The sound of another voice came floating on the air. The door flew open ; and a youth came, proud and exultant, to his parent, with the gem clasped firmly in his hand. " Child," said the sire in deep reproving tones, " the Gem of Truth should ever be worn upon the breast, that all the world may see its brightness. You, like many others, have grasped it in your palm. That is selfish, and unlike the Giver of heaven's great boun- ties. Give the gem to me ; and when your heart is pure, and free from all unselfishness, I will give it back to thee." The youth shrank back, abashed, and sat still and silent through the hours. The sound of a boat was heard near the shore : a moment more, and all eyes were turned upon a fair maid, who came bounding joyously into the room. Her face was radiant with smiles, and a bright exultant look was in her eye, as she gazed upon the others. All eyes rested upon her garments. They glittered like rainbow hues amid a storm. She wore upon her breast the gem, but around it were many others of every hue, and on her garments jewels of every form and color. She clung fondly to her father*. THE GEM OF TRUTH. 135 expecting to receive his praise and bless- ing. " Alas ! my child, alas ! " he said ; " I sent you for the Gem of Truth. It is true you have found it ; but so surrounded by other jewels, that its own pure rays are destroyed. Go and take the precious gem from your breast, and replace it not, till these fading, worthless pebbles have lost their various hues. There are many who go into the great sea of life, and return laden with falsities and errors which so bedim the sparkling lustre of Truth, that it may as well not rest upon their breast. Learn wisdom from this, my child, and thou wilt rejoice that I taught thee the value of the heavenly gems." He does not know when heaven is found, Who has not had a thorny ground; No peaceful evening rest can come Without the long, hard toil of morn. Sighs are but soul-waves dashing jewels at our feet. 136 BRANCHES OF PALM. She laid them clown in sadness, and fast . her tears fell on the little graves : alone she went unto her desolate home. How hushed and still it was, — no more pattering of little feet, no more murmuring of sweet voices. mother ! sad is thy heart. It is dark and dreary, but thou shalt reap in gladness. The days have no sunshine in them when, the sower goes into the field to plant his grain; but the days are bright and fair when he goes to the harvest, and binds the golden sheaves together. Thou shalt garner thy sheaves of joy in heavenly fields, and press thy jewels to thy heart again, mother ! Then wilt thou re- joice that they were gathered home from the storms of earth. Then wilt thou look back over thy earthly years, and bless Him who gave thee such seeds of happiness to sow. Make thy soul radiant with hope, and thy little ones will hover over thee, and bring peace to thy wounded heart ; soft footsteps will be heard within thy home, and angels shall dwell with thee. Thou hast sown in THE BEREAVED MOTHER. 137 tears, but thou slialt reap in joy j and, when thy tried soul goes home, how sweet will be the song of thy dear ones, waiting beside the crystal stream for thee ! When journeying in strange lands, how dear to us is the sight of a familiar face ! So in traversing the field of thought, how the heart springs to greet those whose features glow with a perception of truths which we recognize ! Not in the sunlight of the soul, when rea- son beams forth, guarding each individual faculty, but in the twilight of life, and when we need a beacon -light, do angels come to direct us. All truths do not lie about our daily paths. We are often permitted to go astray, that we may gather unto ourselves not only gems of wisdom, but be made more sensibly alive to our possessions. 138 BKANCHES OF PALM. He walked in lonely ways. He knew no home, and there were few to call him friend. His deeds were lowly ; but his soul was deeply toned to human needs. He was but a man ; but possessed a soul so rich in gentle- ness and charity, so full of love to all mankind, that God could dwell within his soul, and work great and mighty deeds. Pure and stainless was his life, - — beautiful, true, and good ; and yet we crown him every day with thorns. Oh, how we pierce his hands and feet, and keep him crucified ! When shall we learn to love him as we ought ? Not until we feel the need of living lives of goodness, truth, and love. It was his life, and not his death, that makes us blessed. He is our light to heaven's courts ; and when we walk amid the poor and lonely, we shall feel him by our side. We feel not his presence, because we go not where he walks. He is the way, the life ; and when we feel not need of him to show us to the Father, we are not in the heavenly path. THE ANGEL AND THE LILIES. 139 There is an angel who visits the earth each day, bearing in her hands pure white lilies. She has one for each mortal. All receive a lily, but few keep it spotless. One- eve she came to three beautiful maid- ens, and approaching them in their sleep, laid upon the bosom of each a fair white lily. Then she whispered to them in their dreams, — " This is love, pure and spotless. If you wear the lilies through life, and keep them pure and unfading, I will reward you ; for, at the end of your life-journey, there is a heavenly mansion, of the glories of which no mortal has conceived. " If, at the close of this pilgrimage, I find the lilies pure and spotless, I will open the doors of this wondrous temple, and reveal to you all the joys of its inhabitants. " But if they are faded, you will be obliged to remain outside the temple until purified of your sins and earthly passions." When the light of morning tinged the hori- zon, the maids awoke. 140 BRANCHES OF PALM. " I had a strange dream/' said the youngest of the group. " So did I," chimed in her sister. " And I/' said the third and eldest. They related them to each other, and found, that, though they varied in detail, they were alike in substance, and bore the same teach- ing. " How strange ! " said the most thoughtful of the three. And she mused long upon the lesson, while the others became absorbed in the cares and pleasures of their daily life ; and the dream was forgotten. The years passed on, and the blushing light of love dawned on the hearts of all. The eldest kept the lily spotless on her breast. She loved truly and deeply, with no taint of selfishness. The angel looked often on her pure, calm life, and smiled. All that came within her home felt the calm, sweet peace of her daily life ; and when it closed the angel opened a pearly gate, and received her spirit into the beautiful temple. The lily was spotless and unfaded on her breast. The others mingled freely in the pleasures THE ANGEL AND THE LILIES. 141 of the world, thinking only of their own joys, forgetting the poor and needy, giving frowns and impatient words where smiles and God- | blessings should have fallen ; and the angel wept. The lilies drooped and faded on their breasts ; and, when death came, no gate opened for their spirits, but long they wandered, and wept tears of repentance. " Alas ! " said one, " why must we forever shed these tears ? my eyes are weary with weeping." " But, see ! " said the other, who at that mo- ment raised her head, " Our tears have revived the droopiog lilies. We can now enter the pearly gate, and see our beautiful sister." It was true, their tears had raised and .washed the drooping and soiled lilies upon their breasts. At that moment, the angel stood by their side, and said, " The waters of repentance are pure. Thou shalt speedily stand in the presence of thy sister." They wept tears of joy, and followed the beautiful being ; and she opened the gate for them to pass in. The sisters embraced each other while great flushes of joy stole over their features. 142 BRANCHES OF PALM. Angels of love and goodness joyed at the re- union. The three walked among the glorious beauties of that temple until their joy seemed too great to be borne. "What wouldst thou have more?" said a voice rich in love and harmony at their side. " We would share our happiness with our friends on earth." they said in unison. " I rejoice at thy unselfish love," the angel said. " I see the lilies on thy bosom are pure and spotless. Thou canst all return to earth at intervals, and teach the children there, by dreams or impressions, the glories of this land." " But we cannot be robed in flesh again ? " said the three. " Thou dost not need the flesh again. It is mind alone that teaches. Think now of one you would like to bless and comfort: think earnestly and prayerfully, and the link will be established." Down through the subtle currents came the electric cord of sympathetic fire, and rested in the bosom of one tempest-tossed, and locked in by storms. "I will not, cannot, bear this sorrow: life is too heavy a burden to be borne," said the THE ANGEL AND THE LILIES. 143 earthly one. " If no light breaks on me, I will destroy with my own hand this life so burden- some." The storm abated. The tempest-tossed soul grew calm, — a calmness unknown, unfelt before. " Whence this comfort ? why this peace that comes unto my soul?" said he. He lay down and slept. "He sleeps now. He has no pure love within, no lily on his breast: we will send him ours," said the sisters ; for the form was their earthly brother, who had traversed many paths of sin and error. They took the* lilies from their bosoms, and, twining their arms together, descended to the earth, laid' the lillies on his breast, and departed. When he awoke, a deep peace pervaded his entire being. The light of love glowed in his eye. The baptism of a new life had flowed over him; and his aspirations were heavenward. When the sisters returned, they found new and spotless garments awaiting them, and a garland for each, made of spotless lilies. " Some one is laboring for thee, when thou art working for others," said the sweet voice. 144 BRANCHES OF PALM. " This is the law of life ; and the more will- ing thou art to go to earth 7 and bless its chil- dren, the deeper and richer will be thy joys here. The Angel of Love blessed thee, now thou must, in turn, be angels of love to oth- ers." There are some souls that do not go be- yond and scale the heights to which their being can ascend, but stand as guide-posts, pointing out the way to life. We* pass them, and go on, but seldom think it was their hand which directed us to the path that leads to home and heaven. We see but dimly o'er the waves immortal ; The landscape lies across a mist of years ; We only know, that, through a golden portal, We shall meet those who left us here in tears. It is the good we have not done, and not positive evil, that keeps us from our posses- sions of happiness. THE NEW LIGHT THAT SHINETH ON ALL. 145 A strange light fell upon the earth one day : it glimmered along the horizon, and then rose high in the heavens, till every hill and tree and flower was edged with gold. Over the graves and tombs, it seemed to shine with an unearthly radiance ; and on the heads of sorrowing men and grief-stricken women. It was not the light of the sun, but the dawn of angels' coming, though many said, " This is but the light of day ; why do the people gaze and wonder so ? " But others, with more discernment, saw in the glorious rays the forms of angels with bright smiles, and bearing in their hands fresh garlands for the earth. Some grew wild with joy, and left their daily tasks, and turned aside from out the path of duty ; but, lo ! the rays fell not on them. It shone upon their path ; and, while they roamed, they lost the heavenly light. "We must not leave our duties or our daily tasks," said one whose years were rich in wisdom. " This light is sent from heaven 10 146 BRANCHES OF PALM. unto each soul. Let each one receive it into his daily life, and bear richer fruits for all its warmth and sunshine." Others, seeing the light upon their path, thought it must be in themselves, and cried unto the people, " See how bright and glow- ing all my thoughts are ! Look to me ! I am your leader.' 7 The fault was not in the light, but the soul on whom it shone ; but many mistook the weakness of the individual for the heavenly beams, and said, " We will not receive it. It does not shine from heaven : it is only a vision of the mind," and sat themselves down in darkness. Some turned their faces full upon the glare, until their sight grew dim, and they were forced to turn aside, and sit among the shad- ows. Others, more sensible, sat at their daily tasks, and let the rays fall, rich and warm, into their homes and on their heads, until all their works were tinged with this strange light. Each day their souls grew more beauti- ful and clear, till angels came : and in their transparent light revealed their heavenly forms. THE NEW LIGHT THAT SHINETH ON ALL. 147 This light is shining on every home, in eve- ry land. It is the light of angel-communion, and happy will he be who receives it with gratitude, and turns not away from any duty of his life. As we open our dwellings for the sunshine, so let us open our hearts to the floods of life and love that come from the un- seen land. Calm as the evening shadows that come stealing over us are the voices of our spirit- friends. Like gentle zephyrs, that fan the brow and waft sweet perfume from distant bowers, so is the holy influence of angel breathings that fall so quietly upon our ears. We find our happiest moments in doing good. It is more joy for the sun to shine than for the earth to receive its rays. Sublimest harmonies flow from high and holy lives. 148 BKANCHES OF PALM. It was evening. The bright, joyous light of day had given place to the moon's mild rays. I sat beside the form of one whose life was ebbing fast unto the eternal shores. I longed to take her hand, and go down with her to the still waters ; but my mission was not done on earth. Quick and fast her breathing came. I looked upon her form, and saw a light, pure and ethereal, gathering round her head ; and, as her breathing grew short, this light increased, until a form appeared rising from the brain. The features were like, yet unlike, those that lay before me. I I felt not the suffering of the earthly form, so great was this reality. One short convul- sive breath, and then the spirit burst its bonds of flesh, and rose from earth. For a moment, the soul gazed upon the form of clay, and then passed into the open air. It was a sight words cannot paint, — to have the inner vision extended beyond the life of clay, and to be able to follow the loved one to the immortal shore, where the shining gar- THE PASSING ON. 149 ment is in waiting to be put on, is a joy too thrilling for feeble words to portray, — an ex- perience to deep too be effaced. "Whose hands unlock the gates of our dull souls, that the* light of truth may shine in ? What loving eye watches our course, and what hand folds back the curtain of our doubts and fears, that the sun of glory may shine in our souls ? A Father's hand takes down the heavy bars of sin, and lets our prisoned souls escape. A Father unfolds the mantle of our grief, and stands with radiant shining face about our couch at night. All things on earth are but typical of the glorious hereafter ; and what man longs for as sources of happiness, Divinity has prepared for him. The enemy approaches while we sleep : not in our active, waking moments does he come. 150 BEANCHES OF PALM. Autumn. What rich, warm colors lie upon the distant hills ! How the forests glow as though crowned with wreaths of fire ! What depths of beauty, what tone and harmony, what crowns of glory, resting over all the land ! How grandly the harvest season comes marching up the summer's fields, receiving fresh tints of beauty at each step, till we sit under the archway of heavenly bounties, and lean on golden sheaves ! Great Giver of life, how should our hearts leap exultant unto thee, when we gaze on the wealth of thy hand ! How like the season should we come, full of song and praise, bearing sheaves of joy, and wreaths of thankfulness ! As earth turns sunward for its light, As flowers drink in the dew ; So our whole being seeks the bright, The beautiful, and true. FAITH AND DOUBT. 151