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The Other Side.
I wondered much what sight would greet
My eager gaze whene'er my feet Upon the topmost height should rest.
The other side was all unknown;
But as I slowly toiled along,
Sweeter to me than any song My dream of visions to be shown.
At length the topmost height was gained;
The other side was full in view;
My dreams - not one of them was true, But better far had I attained.
For far and wide on either hand
There stretched a valley broad and fair,
With greenness flashing everywhere, A pleasant, smiling, home-like land.
Who knows, I thought, but so 'twill prove
Upon that mountain-top of death,
Where we shall draw diviner breath, And see the long-lost friends we love.
It may not be as we have dreamed,
Not half so awful, strange, and grand;
A quiet, peaceful, home-like land, Better than e'er in vision gleamed.
J. W. Chadwick.
The Good Old Grandmother.
From off that aged brow!
A fitting crown is now.
That toiled so long and well;
Let sweet thanksgivings swell.
That life-work, stretching o'er long years,
A varied web has been;
And sunny gleams between.
Like flakes of falling snow,
When autumn breezes blow.
Each silver hair, each wrinkle there,
Records some good deed done; Some flower she cast along the way,
Some spark from love's bright sun.
How bright she always made her home!
It seemed as if the floor
And barred with brightness o'er.
The very falling of her step
Made music as she went;
The song of full content.
And now, in later years, her word
Has been a blessed thing
Her children's children spring.
Her widowed life has happy been
With brightness born of heaven; So pearl and gold in drapery fold
The sunset couch at even.
O, gently fold the weary hands
That toiled so long and well; The spirit rose to angel bands,
When off earth's mantle fell.
She's safe within her Father's house,
Where many mansions be;
Dear heart, to thee and me!
AS TENDER mothers, guiding baby steps,
Hope for the Sorrowing.
YE holy ministers of love,
Blest dwellers in the upper spheres, In vain we fix our gaze above,
For we are blinded by our tears. Oh! tell us to what land unknown The soul of him we love has flown?
He left us when his manly heart
With earnest hope was beating high:
Too soon, alas, for him to die!
Away, into the unknown dark,
With fearless heart and steady hand,
To seek the spirit's fatherland.
Hark! for a voice of gentle tone
The answer to our cry hath given, Soft as Æolian harp-strings blown,
Responsive to the breath of even,“I have not sought a distant shore: Lo! I am with you, weep no more! “Aye! Love is stronger far than Death,
And wins the victory o'er the grave:
Its mission is to guide and save.
True as the needle to the pole;
Nor is the grave man's final goal. The larger growth, the life divine,– All that I hoped or wished are mine.” Blest spirit, we will weep no more,
But lay our selfishness to rest: The Providence which we adore
Has ordered all things for the best. Life's battle fought, the victory won, To nobler toils pass on, pass on!
“Cone is Gone, and Wead is Bead."
Lips all tremulous with pain
Pain and death are everywhere,
faces to the light;
Evermore Love's quickening breath Calls the living soul from death;