wm.. Ak*-- ^^^ ^ ^^^H^^^^^^H^^^HIulBi'i V» 'S LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, (Iliap Copyright Ko I 9 II UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. WAYSIDE FLOWERS Wayside Flowers By C. Benjamin Hopkins With an Introduction By Rev. Polemus Hamilton Swift, D.D. Chicago Press of Western Methodist Book Concern 802/2 Library of Conqrose' f WO Copies Receivfd I NOV 24 1900 y. Copyright entry SECONO COPY Oetiverod to 0R0£« OIV^ION JAN 2Q 1901 Copyright 1900 By C. Benjamin Hopkins DEDICATED TO MOTHER IN GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE OF AN UNTIRING DEVOTION AN UNWAVERING LOVE AND A LIFE THAT HAS BEEN A STIMULUS AND A BENEDICTION CONTENTS Has Someone Seen Christ in You? Thinkin' o' Her Sliding Down the Banisters The Sweetest Hymn A Song of Life On the Battlefield of El Caney Be on the Side of God Don't A Song for the Living The Sand Man My Prayer Conquered To a Little Maiden Thanksgiving Hymn Little Words We've Got to Move To-day Those Little Feet Deal Kindly Now Thy Father Knows Friendship My Sweetheart In Thine Own Time Happiness Decoration Day Memories 21 23 24 25 27 28 29 30 35 36 37 39 41 43 44 45 47 VI Contents When Mother Prays . 48 Are You Sad, My Dear ? . 49 Sometime .... 51 Like a Shepherd 53 The River .... . 55 The First Letter 57 Abide with Me .... • 59 Jewels .... 60 Wipe Away Your Tears, Dear Heart . 61 We Shall Know 63 "OldColumby" . 65 Death .... 69 If Christ Should Come To-day . 70 AN INTRODUCTION TT is ever a pleasure to introduce our friends. We want the world to know them and to share with us the delight of acquaintance and communion. This is something more than a selfish joy; it is altruistic. What enriches us will add to the wealth of others. It is not in any sense a formal duty that devolves upon me. It is with a rare sense of inner satisfaction that I respond to the request to write an introduc- tory paragraph or two for ** Wayside Flowers.'' The writer is pleased to count the author among the friends who have a place in the holy of holies of his life. Our lives have run^ for a time, side by side, like streams that seek the same great sea. In the Church we love, in the Epworth League, to which we have been alike devoted, in social work for God and humanity, it has been my privilege to feel the pulse-beat of this young life. That you may know my friend in some measure, I would introduce to you ** Wayside Flowers.'' These poems exhale a fragrance that will exert an influence to sanctify every-day life. The poets who have spoken most potently to the great masses of busy, anxious, wearied and burdened men and women viii An Introduction are those who have writtefi of commoji thingSy and have immortalized the incidents and experiences of every-day life. This is, in a measure, the power of Burns y the charm of Longfellow and the magic of Riley. We admire the brilliant poem that points the way to lofty peaks of sublime ideals; but we are more deeply moved, and quite as much helped, by the humbler productions which, springing from the heart and appealing to the heart, glorify the scenes and events that seem all too commonplace without the halo which the poet bestows upon them. There are more flowers by the wayside of every-day life than most men have ever dreamed. Our author has gathered some of these flowers, and will help the reader to see that there are many more springing up close by his pathway. There is more poetry in the experiences of the common people than has ever been given a place on the printed page. My friend has given form to some of these unwritten songs. He will help you to hear God^s angels singing their carols from New Tear's Day till New Tear's Day comes again. << Wayside Flowers " is loyal to the truth. Tou will find no false note in the music. No word has been written that will arouse a slumbering evil in the soul. Faith in God, loyalty to truth and devo- tion to man breathe in the poems as naturally as the An Introduction ix rose perfumes the air of evening. The thought that has found expression here is as pure as the lilies that grew in the lake in the old pasture at home. More than ever before in the history of this world the reading millions are demanding the pure in litera- ture. ** Wash thy lips clean and singy' urged the Voice to Sir Edwin Arnold^ before he undertook the composition of** The Light of the World.'''' My friend has heard the same Voice. It is welly for no bard or wizard of the pen can long hold the re- spect y admiration and love of the best reading world who does not speak in sympathy with purity and truth. The reader of** Wayside Flowers'" will not only come to know my friend in a measure, he will also have a vision of the best in himself and the beauty that crowns and glorifies the passing moments that are far too much burdened with the cares and per- plexities of life in a hurrying, worrying, crowding, busyy bustlingy elbowing age. That will be worth the while. POLEMUS HAMILTON S?FIFT. Chicago, September 20, igoo. WAYSIDE FLOWERS HAS SOMEONE SEEN CHRIST IN YOU? H AS someone seen Christ in you, today Christian, look to your heart I pray; The little things that you've done or said. Did they accord with the way you prayed? Have your thoughts been pure, your words been kind? Have you sought to have the Savior's mind? The worid with a criticising view Has watched— but did it see Christ in you? Has someone seen Christ in you today? Christian, look to your path I pray; Has it led you nearer the Father's throne. Farther away from the tempting one? Have your feet on errands of love been bent — Or, on selfish deeds your strength been spent? Has a wand' ring soul with hope born new. Found Christ through following after you? 2 Has Someone Seen Christ in You? Has someone seen Christ in you today? Christian, look to your Hfe I pray; There are aching hearts and blighted souls. Being lost on sin's destructing shoals. And perhaps of Christ their only view. May be what of him they see in you; Will they see enough to bring hope and cheer? Look to your light — does it shine out clear? Has someone seen Christ in you to-day? O Christian, be careful, watch and pray; '* Look up " to Jesus in faith, and then ** Lift up " unto him your fellow men. Upon your strength you can not rely. There's a fount of grace and strength on high; Go to that fount and your strength renew. And the life of Christ will shine through you. THINKIN' O' HER \T7HEN the twilight falls gently around me ^^ an' the sun is like gold in the west. When the cattle low soft in the distance an' the song-birds hev gone to ther rest. When the whipperwill pleads fer his thrashin' an' the screech owl shrieks in the woods. When it's quiet in barnyard an' stable an' the hens chuckle low to their broods. When bashful young laddies an' lassies er thinkin' of takin' ther strolls An' stealin' away to ther sparkin'— thet blissful communion of souls — When nature is sleepy an' peaceful an' ther's hardly a thing thet's astir. O'er my mind, like a flood, comes old mem'ries, an' I git ter thinkin' o' her. It's lonely fer me 'round the cottage, though others are here, to be shore. But I miss the smiles an' the sunshine thet bright- ened an' cheered it of yore; Ther's no voice thet ter me hez the music, no matter how clear it may ring. 4 Thinkin' o' Her Like the melody caused by her laffin' — no songs like those she ust ter sing; An' alius ez daylight was fadin' she'd start in ter hummin' a tune. An' although she'd keep at it all evenin' I'd swar thet she'd stop't it ter soon; The world is plum full of its music an' I wouldn't cast on it a slur. But I long fer her voice, an' most hear it, some- times, when I'm thinkin' o' her. Sometimes I go down by the willows thet er bendin' over the stream. An' set whar we set together in the days thet er now like a dream; Whar we talked of the days thet were comin', and recalled the good times of the past; Whar we told of our trials an' triumphs an' the time sped so 'mazin'ly fast; It was ther' thet I whispered the story I was almost afraid ter confess — Told it jest in a blunderin' fashion, but she under- stood and said yes; She looked up kinder shyly an' glad like — my, it seems thet it can't be back fur Ez I live the past over an' over, ez I do when I'm thinkin' o' her. Thinkin' o' Her 5 Don't tell me thet beauty is fadin' — thet things lose their charm with old age — The grandest oak tree in the forest is the one thet hez stood the storm's rage. An' my sweety was never so charmin' ez after the years left ther trace. When her footsteps grew feeble an' totterin' an' time writ its lines on her face. Ez a girl she was winsome an' sprightly an' her hair curled in ringlets of gold. An' her cheeks were ez red ez two roses thet faded some ez she grew old; But they'd flush up agin' when I'd whisper sweet nothin's — thet's all thet they were — An' I murmur 'em over, half dreamin', ez I sits here a thinkin' o' her. When things run on jest ordinary an' ther's little of change here er ther' We git kinder ust ter our blessin's — when all of our sailin' is fair; An' when we hev loved ones around us ther's little of sadness an' gloom, But when ther's a chair thet is empty it's the plainest in sight in the room. 6 Thinkin' o' Her I 'spose it's ez foolish ez can be fer a man thet's most seventy-five. Who's feeble an' most good fer nothin', ter wish his old sweetheart alive; But, foolish er not, I am lonely, an' Heaven seems ter be off so fur Ez I long fer the time I shall meet 'er — while I'm waitin' an' thinkin' o' her. 'Twas one mornin' in May thet she left me, back many a long year ago. When the birds thet she loved were a singin' an' the cherry trees blossomed like snow; Fer some little time she'd been ailin', but thought 'twant nothin' ter scare. She said perty soon she'd be better, but I noticed her growin' more spare; Don't know how I ever lived through it, a seein' 'er fade day by day An' hear her * good-bye' in a whisper an' lay 'er ferever away; It seems thet the sun hed stop't shinin' an' I hardly hed life 'nough ter stir. An' I jest bowed my head in my sorrow, a weepin' an' thinkin' o' her. Thinkin' o' Her 7 The years thet hev passed hev been many, the days hev been weary an' long. An' I can't git quite ust ter the silence — I still miss 'er voice an' 'er song. An' the flowers hev not been so fragrant an' the birds hevn't sung quite ez gay Since thet day long ago in the springtime when I laid my old sweetheart away; But some day the birds will sing sweetly an' the flowers bloom agin' ez of yore. When at last I shall cross o'er the river an' meet her over ther' on the shore; An' I know thet the good Lord of Heaven won't banish me off very fur. If I spend lots of time there in glory in gladness a thinkin' o' her. SLIDING DOWN THE BANISTERS SLIDING down the banisters — my, but it was fun! In the good old happy days when life was just begun; Starting 'way up at the top and making every turn At a mile-a-minute gait; but O, how it would burn! Rather hard upon the clothes, made of home-spun too. Not so very many slides before a hole was through. Of course it was against the rules, and often down below Mother waited for the ** train" — what happened then, you know. Sliding down the banisters — you did it, so did I, When we thought we were secure from mother's watchful eye; I can fancy that I feel the same old tingle once again That used to mark the journey's end when mother ** caught the train." Sliding Down the Banisters 9 Ah me ! what memories cluster round those old familiar stairs. Bringing back the days of childhood and forget- fulness of cares; Scenes that make the heart grow lighter, thoughts of happiness of old. Makes it seem that from life's pathway all the weight of years have rolled. The dear old homestead is no more, it passed to other hands; A mansion now replaces it, but yet to me it stands In memory as the same old place it was long years ago; A picture that time with its change can never over- throw. Sliding down the banisters, my, but it was fun! In the happy childhood days when life was just begun; And down those same old banisters I'd like to slide to-day. And get a «*warming" for it in the good old- fashioned way. THE SWEETEST HYMN T SAT in my window one Easter day, -■■ With my thoughts deep bent on the far away. And I wandered back upon fancy's wings To the rising morn of the King of kings. And methought of the songs that would rise that day. Because the grave could not keep its prey; And the thought of death with its power and gloom Was lost in the beauty of Easter bloom. And while I musingly sat that day, I saw a man that was old and gray. Whose step was tottering, whose coat was poor. Come around and knock at my neighbor's door. Then I saw an angel, of that I'm sure. Give food to him who was hungry and poor; And I know that the risen Savior smiled. On the good deed done to his needy child. In countless churches a world of tongues Gave voice to their praise in Easter songs; They sang, "The Savior is risen indeed," But I thought of the angel and child of need. And this thought through my mind the whole day ran : He does most for Christ who does most for man; And the sweetest hymn of the Easter day Was the good deed done just o'er the way. A SONG OF IvIFK T BEHELD her first in childhood, ^ Innocent; Like a song-bird of the wildwood. So content. She knew naught but joy and gladness. Life to her was only bright. And the days were but as moments Filled with sunshine warm and light. I beheld her when a maiden. Young and fair; With sweet flowers her arms were laden. And her hair; With her glad heart free and happy. Softly humming some sweet tune. And her face made by smiles' sunbeams Fairer far than any June. And I saw her in the gloaming. In the spring; With a youth she then was roaming. Listening While he spoke the old, sweet love-words. Spoken many times before. Growing sweeter, newer, truer. Every time they're spoken o'er. I A Song of Life Then I saw her at the wedding. She was fair; Golden beams the lights were shedding On her hair. Heart to heart was then united. For the joys and ills of life. For the conflicts and the victories. For the pleasure and the strife. Last, I saw her in the city Of the dead; There were tears of tender pity For her shed. Standing by the graveside weeping O'er the cold and silent clay. She was hid — the love she bore him Earth could never hide away. Two white stones now point toward heaven. Grim and tall; Silently their story's given Unto all. Just the story of our pathway. With its joy and pain and strife. Just a tale each day is telling. Just another song of life. ON THE BATTLEFIELD OF EL CANEY THE conflict was over, the dead and the dying Alone marked the scene of a dreadful affray; The battlefield, save for the wounded ones' sighing. Lay quiet and calm at the close of the day. The cannon were silent, the musketry's rattle Broke not the deep stillness that came with the night; With day they departed, but ravishing battle Had stamped o'er the scene its dread, terrible blight. Our banner had triumphed, but dear was the glory That liberty bought, at a terrible price. And stained was the sod with a crimson-tide gory — The flower of the land made the great sacrifice. Not a heart faltered and not a cheek whitened. As forth into danger they marched with firm tread Knowing full well ere another day brightened. Some of them surely would sleep with the dead. Out where the wounded in anguish were lying And clinging to life with fast weakening grip. Lay a young soldier who, wounded and dying. Kissed two worn pictures with feverish lip. Faintly^ he whispered in weak accents, "Mother, O could I see you ere life takes its flight;" 14 On the Battlefield of El Caney Then said, as he clasped to his bosom the other, ** Sweetheart, you're lonely without me to- night. ** You do not know that I, wounded, am lying. With no kindly hand e'en to soothe my hot brow; I know it would make it seem easier dying If only your hand could caress me just now; If only your lips could be laid as you laid them Warmly on mine when I bade you good-bye. If you could but whisper those words as you said them. It would comfort me here where so lonely I lie. **You sigh, perhaps, for my arms to enfold you. You yearn, maybe, for the home-coming time. Thinking of that day when safely I'll hold you; That greeting will be in a happier clime. Sweet were our dreams of the longed-for * to- morrow,' When we united forever would be; Little we thought of it dawning in sorrow — That I would die lonely and far off from thee. **And mother, who thought when with hand on my shoulder And with love-gleaming glances you looked in my eye. On the Battlefield of El Caney 15 When proudly you called me your boy and your soldier. That we were saying forever ' good-bye ' ? Oh, it would not be so hard to be dying If only my head I could lay on your breast; It seems I could wait for the end without sighing If you as in childhood could lull me to rest." Once more the pictures he raised and caressed them. Fondly he clasped them in one last embrace. With a faint voice breathed their names and he blessed them. Those who would never again see his face. When in the morning, the sun brightly gleaming. Shed o'er that desolate scene its warm ray. It could not awaken him out of his dreaming. For he had passed with the shadows away. Far o'er the dancing blue waves of the waters Two women in sorrow are weeping to-day. One is the fairest of Columbia's daughters. The other is aged and wrinkled and gray; And each for the far-away loved one is weeping. Each treasures in memory his last parting smile; Both sightfor the form that is quietly sleeping On the field of El Caney in Cuba's fair isle. BB ON THK SIDK OF GOD B" 'E on the side of God In the battle-strife That in every life Must mark the pathway trod. For fierce and bold are the many foes That assail thy path and thy way oppose. And who is the heart that can stand alone And resist the darts that are round him thrown ? O it matters not what his strength may be If not on the side of God is he. Ah, lest thy soul be overawed By the strifes and foes That thy path oppose. Be on the side of God! Be on the side of God When the fleeting breath In the hour of death Speaks the awaiting sod. When the waters deep of the still, dark stream Chill thy very soul with their sullen gleam. When Death, like a very king of foes, i6 Be on the Side of God 17 Fiercely seeks to fill thy heart with woes, A conqueror whom no foes o'erwhelm Is he who bids God take the helm. That thou may'st calmly sail unawed Safely in thy barque O'er death's waters dark. Be on the side of God! DON'T "r~\ON'T spend yer time a worryin' when ^^ things don't come yer way. It wont help matters any ef you sit an' mope all day; 'Stead o' sittin' an' repinin' fer the things thet *< might hev been," Git out an' get a hustle on an' make 'em come agin. Don't go a frettin' through the world an' lookin' black ez night — There's two sides to most everything an' one of 'em is bright; It's jest as easy fer ter smile as 'tis ter scowl an' frown — Don't stand upon yer head an' think the world's turned upside down, 'Twont make a ray of sunshine ef you murmur et the storm. An' growlin' 'cause the weather's cold will never make you warm; An' scoldin' at yer neighbor 'cause he don't agree with you. Will never end an argyment like keeping still will do. Don't 19 Don't think thet everybody's wrong who doesn't think like you On politics, religion, an' questions old an' new; God made their heads an' he made your'n an' filled 'em all with brains. An' don't you git to thinkin' thet he gave you extry grains. Don't even let the idee force itself into yer head Thet this earth' 11 cease revolvin' when you're numbered with the dead; It kept agoin' perty fast afore you saw the day. An' when your're through with mortal cares 'twill move the same old way. Don't think thet you hev troubles worse then mortals ever had. Or if you hadn't any you would be forever glad; You'd git mighty sick an' tired of the humdrum of this life, Ef there wasn't and trouble an' there wasn't any strife. Don't be afraid ter shed a tear, it does yer good ter cry. Relieves yer feelin's mebbe an' brightens up yer eye; 20 Don't But do your bellerin' good an' hard as though yer meant it, then Dry yer eyes an' face the world with a happy smile again. Don't get ter thinkin' that this world hez not a place for you. Because you don't see some great thing awaitin' you to do; The forest doesn't hold a tree but what was once a sprout — The little things er what count most, an' so to work set out. Don't think thet God hez given more or less to you then He Bestows upon the general run o' poor humanity; But make the best of what you've got an' He'll not ask of you To answer fer five talents ef he's given you but two. Don't spend yer time a standin' 'round a mournin' this an' that. But start right in an' hustle an' find out jest where yer' at; This world's a perty big one an' there's room for you an' I; There's not much time fer mopin' — we'll rest some bye-an'-bye. A SONG FOR THE LIVING HERE'S just a wee song for the living. For those who are burdened with care. Perhaps it is not worth the giving. Containing no treasure-thought rare; Perchance 'twill fall prey to the spoiler. The critic, vvho'll tear it apart. But 'tis just a wee song for the toiler, A melody sung from the heart. How little of thought that is kindly We spare to the living each day; We let them pursue their way blindly. Not a heart-cheering word do we say; What matters it if they are sighing For the love we might easily give ? We weep for the dead and the dying — How little we spare those who live. When gone from the cheeks are the roses That bloomed oft unnoticed in life. And our loved one in silence reposes. At rest from all v/earisome strife. Then we blame ourselves for not giving The kind words that might have been said. But what we've withheld from the living We cannot give unto the dead. 22 A Song for the Living The hours that we might have made brighter Passed in darkness forever aw^ay; The burdens we might have made lighter Will weary us many a day; The flowers we might have been strewing. Making pathways less barren and drear. And deeds that we might have been doing Will never bring comfort and cheer. If we could but pierce the to-morrow. See its anguish because *'we forget," Our actions would cause less of sorrow. Our hearts would ache less with regret; O we'll find sweeter rest on our pillows When we scatter kind deeds on our way. And a crumb that is cast on the billows May return with a blessing some day. So this is a song for the living Before they lay silent and cold. That we may be wise in our giving And never a kindness withhold; It may save us years of regretting And tears that in vain we may shed If we will just cease the forgetting The living until they are dead. THE SAND MAN " I ^HE sand man journeys around each day -*■ When our little darling is tired of play; From whence he comes and whither he goes No one but the little baby knows. We can not see him, but baby can — He knows his friend, the old sand man. When the sand man comes baby rubs his eyes. Kicks up his heels and maybe cries; But the sand man gives him a little sand. And baby is off to slumberland. Off to that place where we, you know. Used to find rest in the long ago. But, what would you give, and I, to-day. If the sand man would only come our way. And send us to rest, with his magic sand. Away to that same old slumberland? But the sand man's visits, to and fro. Are gone with the days of the long ago. MY PRAYER I DO not ask, dear Father, that thy peace Shall rest upon me all along life's way; That calm shall reign and troubling storms shall cease. Or that the clouds may never dark the day, I ask not that the billows may be still. That threaten oft to wreck my trembling barque. Take thou the helm and I will fear no ill. Though waves dash high and clouds be low and dark. I crave not for a straight and easy path. To lead me to the eventide and rest; Though rough or smooth, though dark or light, thou hath Tread all — and 1 can follow and be blest. I pine not for a never ending joy. To shine undimmed whatever may betide. Grief will be sweet and pain can not annoy. If only thou wilt in my heart abide. I ask but this: That love, thy perfect love. May through my heart and life be shed abroad. That failure, or success, alike may prove In me some trace, though faint, of Christ my God. CONQUERED HE was a warrior, a noble knight. Resplendent in his armor bright. Seamed and scarred from many a fray. Seated upon a charger gray. His glance was full of scornful pride. As if he every power defied. And this the boast of the knight of war: " I own on earth no conqueror." At the battle front where the fray waged hot, 'Mid flash of sabre and musket shot. Where men were falling on every side. Still in his eye that look of pride. ** Follow ! " with ringing voice cried he. And charged the foe that turned to flee; The boastful cry broke forth once more: << I own on earth no conqueror ! " 'Mid the captured ones of the vanquished throng Thus spoke a prisoner, a young man strong: ** Better my life blood should flow," said he, "Than from a foe I turn and flee; Rather than live with my country dead. Let my young blood be on her altar shed ! " The knight gazed on him with fierce, stern eye. And then condemned the brave lad to die. 25 26 Conquered A maiden whose face was sweet and fair. O'er whose white shoulders fell golden hair. With a form like an angel from out the skies. Came to plead for her lover, with tearful eyes. 'Twas a sight to cause e'en the angels to weep. As they their watch o'er the lovers keep. And was she not just as pure as they. Only they were spirits and she but clay ? ** O noble sir, O attend to my cry. Why thus condemn one so young to die ? You love your country, O gallant knight. And proud you are in her name to fight. To love one's country, is that as sin — To risk one's life for her cause to win ? Return my dear one to me, I plead. Or let me die for him, if a life you need ! ' ' Then spake the knight : ** Thy lover is free; Thy love and thy tears they have conquered me. And heaven forbid that thee I should part. Clasp him forevermore close to thine heart." 'Twas the same gallant knight, proud as ever before. Though no more came the boast of ** no con- queror. " For the might of man he had borne no fears — Conquered at last by a woman's tears. TO A IvlTTIyB MAIDEN SWEET little maiden of summers two. With your golden hair, and eyes so blue. In your little world of happiness. So void of weariness and distress. You do not know how I envy you. Sweet little maiden of summers two. How I wish I were so pure as you; Knew as little of sin and strife. And the bitter side of the joy of life. And, like you, believe that all are true. Sweet little maiden of summers two, I wish I were near to heaven, as you; From you to heaven is but a day. But from me, I fear, 'tis far away; How near, how far, ah, if I but knew! Sweet little maiden of summers two. May life's sky o'er you be always blue; May the paths you tread be fraught with peace. May blessings, as you go, increase. Till heaven's dawn bursts on your view. 27 THANKSGIVING HYMN TTTERNAL God who giveth naught but good, ■^— ' To thee our hearts in gratitude we raise; For mercies thou upon us hath bestowed. And for the blessings that have crowned our days. We give thee thanks, the best our hearts can give. For all the joys that doth our pathway greet. And for the blessings we may yet receive, O, do thou help us to fit praises meet. We thank thee for that band who, long ago. Sought out this land that they might worship thee. Braving fierce foes and winter's ice and snow. That from oppression they might e'er be free. We thank thee for our country's peace to-day; That we are troubled not by war's alarm. Guard thou our nation, keep us safe we pray, O God, preserve our nation from all harm! Well may our sweetest hymns of praise ascend. Well may our hearts in gratitude arise; To praise enough our songs would never end. Our thanks would echo through eternal skies. But human thoughts and human words are weak — Help us express our thanks by rightly living. And may our lives be monuments that speak The loudest praise that tells our hearts' thanks- giving. 28 LiTTIvB WORDS IT was easily said — that unkind word. That fell from your lips at morn. But you little thought as away it sped. It would tear some heart like a thorn. You did not mean it— 'twas thoughtless, yes. But it flew on its onward track And the prayers and tears of all life's years Can nevermore call it back. It was easily said — that kindly word That you spoke with a pleasant smile; But it cheered a soul that was lone and sad. And it braved a heart for a trial. The strongest monuments crumble and break. And into the dust decay; But a kindly word will live on and on. Though the speaker has passed away. O, let us be careful of each small word We speak with but little thought; They will carry a message of love away. If we say the words that we ought, And by-and-by, when our lips are mute. And our record of life is known. The kindly words will shine forth like stars. In the crown that shall be our own. w WE'VE GOT TO MOVE TO-DAY AL wife, it hez been done at last, the mort- gage's been foreclosed. An' though the times is perty hard, 'twas sooner 'an I supposed. I kind'er thought the squire would wait 'till things picked up a bit. An' I could work an' pay it off an' make an end of it. It wouldn't take so very long 'fore I could pay it all; But squire he couldn't see it so, an' so it hed to fall; I told him it would break our hearts to hev to go •away; Thet didn't do a bit o' good — we've got to move to-day! At first I couldn't realize jest what had come about; It seemed to me jest like a dream, but then I soon found out Thet we hed lost the dear old place — 'twas sad, but it was true — An' then I started on the way to break the news to you. 30 We've Got to Move To-day 31 The pathway back seemed awful long an' awful hard to tread. Although the flowers were bloomin' an' the birds sang sweet o'erhead; I've traveled it so many times, I've loved to go an' come. But all of this was changed to-day— I wasn't goin' home! 'Twas kind o'hard to see you smile when I come up the road; You didn't know thet I was bearin' sech a heavy load; My back is perty strong an' good fer many bur- dens yet. But I never hed one bear me down jest quite so much as thet. Fer I knew how the awful news I hed no power to keep. Would make you bow your poor old head, an' weep, an* weep, an' weep; I'd gladly given the rest o'life ef I hedn't hed to say *'The old home is no longer ours— we've got to move to-day 1" 32 We've Got to Move To-day 'Twas here we come long years ago, when you were first my bride; 'Twas here our children come to us, 'twas here our children died; Their finger-marks are on the wall — the prints o' chubby hands — Treasures dearer to our hearts than wealth of all earth's lands. 'Twas here they lisped your name an' mine in childish accents sweet; 'Twas here we heard the welcome sound o' tiny pattering feet, Twas here their infant prayers were said, when tired with their play — But all these scenes we leave behind — we've got to move to-day! Out there beneath the old elm tree thet stands upon the hill. In the silent city of the dead thet lies so cold an' still. Three tiny graves hold sacred dust of gems that once were ours. Now sparklin' in the kingdom of the land o' love an' flowers. We've Got to Move To-day 33 We sit here in the window, an' we gaze upon thet spot, Thet while we hev a heart to love will never be forgot; Let's take a look together, wife; then we must turn away. It's perty hard to do it, but we've got to move to-dav! Take down the pictures from the walls. *' You can't?" Wal, 1 will then. When we get into our new home we'll put 'em up again. **It won't be this home?" Yes, I know, but still it will be home — We'll try an' make it sech, dear wife, while yet through life we roam; For I've got you an' you've got me — I love to think of thet; Let's not ferget behind all clouds the sun is shinin' yet. An' afore we leave the old home, wife, let's both kneel down an' pray, An' thank the Lord the last time here — we've got to move to-day! 34 We've Got to Move To-day We both air somewhat feeble, wife; our hair hez long been white. An' to leave home in our old age I cannot think jest right. But it won't be fer very long, an' we hev still our love To brighten our remainin' days — a blessin' from above. Some time we'll lay our burdens down — ah, thet day we'll be glad — It won't be like it is to-day, so dreary an' so sad; An' we will smile upon our friends an' we will gladly say: "Don't weep fer us; we're goin' home — we've got to move to-day!" THOSE LITTLE FEET They had left their prints on the floor one day. When the prattling child came in from play. And the outlined forms were dark and small Of two little chubby feet, that's all; But a sharp word spoken flew like a dart And found a lodgment in the heart. And it left a wound that rankled sore — For two little marks on the fresh-cleaned floor. The two little feet are stilled to-night And the floor is spotless and clean and white; But the house is sad and still and lone. For the music of pattering feet is gone. The bright little eyes that were filled with tears Are closed forever; and through the years The tiny bare feet will vex no more Nor leave more stains on the whitened floor. O dear little feet! Could we call you back We would bear with patience each print and track. And we would be careful of every word. Lest one that would hurt a wee heart was heard; For the music of old how we long to-night. For the pitter-patter that made home bright; Could you leave your prints on the unmarked floor They would be treasure-spots forevermore. . DKAI^ KINDIyY NOW When I die The friends that love will gather 'round my bier And gently speak and shed a parting tear For me; and in that quiet lonely hour Will place, perhaps, upon my breast a flower. Some tender hand will close my sightless eyes — Eyes that no more will see earth's flowers or skies; Perchance some loving lips will press my own. The memory of my unkind words all flown. Thinking only of good I may have said; Forgetting that my weary feet have strayed. Oft, oh, so often from the paths of right — I'll be at peace with all the world that night When I die. While I live I yearn for friends to love me while in life; Friends to be true in happiness or strife. I need some tender hand to lead me on. Some hand to hold through darkness until dawn; Some one to guide the feet before they stray. Some one to help me walk the narrow way. O ye who would, to-night should death draw nigh. Stand round my bier to-morrow with dim eye. And with a kindly heart forgive my wrongful deeds. Help now the soul that cries to you its needs. Wait not till life is gone with all its powers. My friends, I pray, bring me your gifts and flowers While I live. 36 THY FATHER KNOWS O TROUBLED heart, thou who are sore dis- tresst. Thou who hast sighed, so long in vain, for rest. Thou who hast trembled 'neath the chastening rod. Dealt by the hand of thy kind father, God; And shed thy tears of bitt'rest agony. He knows, not thou, just what is best for thee; Look up, look up, although thy day be dim. Look up, look up, and leave it all with Him, O troubled heart, thy Father knows. O tempted heart, who in the trying hour. Hath felt indeed the subtle tempter's power So strong that thou couldst not resist alone. Think not that thou art tempted all unknown. God knows, and made a way of life for thee. Given through Christ who died upon the tree; Look up, look up, although thy hope be dim. Look up, look up, and leave it all with Him, O tempted he art, thy Father knows. O weary heart, thou who art travel worn, Oppresst with many a load that thou hast borne. Whose feet are bleeding from the long rough way. Thy pain will all be o'er some sweet glad day. J7 38 Thy Father Knows The path thou *st trod was not thine own to choose. But God to lead thee home wilt ne'er refuse; Look up, look up, although thy path be dim. Look up, look up, and leave it all with Him, O weary heart, thy Father knows. O saddened heart, thou who hast stood and wept. O'er the new grave where some dear loved one slept; Amid thy tears which silently did'st fall. With empty heart thou asked: ** And is this all?" All is not ended with the new-made grave. He still hath power who came on earth to save; Look up, look up, although thine eyes be dim. Look up, look up, and leave it all with Him, O saddened heart, thy Father knows. O wayward heart, thou who so long hast strayed Far, far from home, and now art sore afraid; Thou who hast spurned the voice that called to thee. The Savior bids thee still '* Come unto Me!" **Come unto me ye weary and distresst. Come unto me and I will give thee rest! " Look up, look up, although thy faith be dim. Look up, look up, and leave it all with Him, O wayward heart, thy Father knows. FRIENDvSHIP A LL wealth is not in gems or gold, ^ ^ Or lands that far and wide extend. Great wealth to him doth life unfold. Who knows the value of a friend. Friends are the precious gifts of God, Rich treasures from the throne above; Friendship is but a tender bud — The bud that blossoms into love. Life is a path whose wayside flowers Are friends we gain while years fleet by; Dear to our hearts these friends of ours. Their memory ne'er will fade or die. Friendship is true and though afar. Our friends may roam whom we hold dear, Yet like a sparkling evening star. Friendship shines out and brings them near. Earth would indeed be sad and drear. Without its flowers of sweet perfume; They lighten up our path with cheer. Enchanting us with beauteous bloom. 4 39 40 Friendship Just as the flowers make bright our way. And beautify the dreary road. So friendly hearts make glad life's day. And help us bear each wearying load. But when we part the tears fall fast; We say with saddened hearts ** Good-bye," Yet in the pathway which we've passed. Some flowers must droop and fade and die. Our lonely hearts still one hope hath, A hope that cheers us o'er and o'er. The flowers are taken from our path. To bloom upon some brighter shore. The parting sorrows we pass through; The tears from hearts so sadly riven. Will fall like pure, refreshing dew Upon our flowers which bloom in heaven. And when our earthly paths shall end. When we have answered to the call. We'll meet each dear departed friend. And wonder why we wept at all. MY SWBBTHKART T SING of no goddess of beauty divine, ■*- Whose charms are beyond all compare. Of rich golden tresses or form full of grace — You may not e'en think she is fair. The sweetheart I sing of is no longer young. She's nearing the three-score-and-ten, But the beauties enthroned in this sweetheart of mine Fade not upon life's western plain. No, 'tis not her beauty entrances my heart, 'Tis because she is loving and true; And this side of heaven I never will tire Of singing her praises to you. Your sweetheart perhaps may have beautiful hair. Mine has hair like the pure, driven snow; Your sweetheart may walk with a light, graceful step. Mine with step tottering and slow. Your sweetheart has eyes like diamonds so bright. Mine's eyes beam with lovelight for me; 42 My Sweetheart Your sweetheart has hands that are snow-white and soft. My sweetheart's are fairer to see; Your sweetheart may sing with a voice like a bird. Mine's voice is most ready for Heaven; When she calls me by name and says I'm her own. Sweeter music than that ne'er was given. Your sweetheart has loved you for just a short while. Mine has loved me since first I drew breath; Your sweetheart may leave you, but from me I know Mine cannot be e'en parted by death; And when she has passed from the scenes of this earth Like her there will ne'er be another; To me she's the fairest the sun e'er shone on — The name of my sweetheart is Mother. IN THINK OWN TIME T N thine own time, dear Father give to me ^ The spirit that I need to follow thee; The humble heart that knows no will but thine. The love made perfect by thy grace divine. Teach me to understand and do thy will; Help me thy loving purposes fulfill; Give me the mind of Christ, trusting, sublime. And grace to say: *