WHEN?
BY SUSAN COOLIDGE.
From The Independent.
IF I were told that I must die to-morrow,
That the next sun
Which sinks should bear me past all fear and sorrow
For any one,
All the fight fought, all the short journey through,
What should I do?
I do not think that I should shrink or falter,
But just go on,
Doing my work, nor change nor seek to alter
Aught that is gone;
But rise and move and love and smile and pray
For one more day.
And, lying down at night for a last sleeping,
Say in that ear
Which hearkens ever, "Lord, within Thy keeping
How should I fear?
And, when to-morrow brings Thee nearer still,
Do thou Thy will!"
I might not sleep for awe; but peaceful, tender
My soul would lie
All the night long; and when the morning splendor
I think that I could smile-could calmly say,
"It is His day."
But, if a wondrous hand, from the blue younger
Held out the scroll
On which my life was
writ, and I with wonder
Beheld unroll
To a long century's end its mystic clew,
What should I do?
What could I do, oh! blessed Guide and Master,
Other than this:
Still to go on as now, not slower, faster,
nor hear to miss
The road, although so very long it be,
While led by Thee?
Step after step, feeling Thee close beside me,
Although unseen,
Through thorns, through flowers, whether tho tem-
pest hide Thee.
Or heavens serene,
Assured Thy faithfulness cannoy betray,
Thy love decay.
I may not know, my God, no hand revealeth
Thy counsels wise;
Along the path a deepening shadow stealeth;
No voice replies
To all my questioning thought, the time to tell,
And it is well.
Let me keep on abiding and undearing
Thy will always,
Through a long century's ripening fruition,
Or a short day's
Thon canst not come too soon; and I can wait
If thou come late.
Sorrow.
Upon my lips she laid her touch divine,
And merry speech and careless laughter died;
She fixed her melancholy eyes on mine,
And would not be denied.
I saw the west wind loose his cloudlets white,
In flock, careering through the Ayril sky;
I could not sing, though joy was at its height,
For she stood silent by.
I watched the lovely evening fade away-
A mist was lightly drawn across the stars;
She broke my quiet dream-I heard her say,
"Behold your prison-bars!
Earth's gladness shall not satisfy your soul-
This beauty of the world in which you live;
The crowning grace that sanctifies the whole,
That I alone can give."
I heard, and shrank away from her afraid;
But still she help me and would still abide.
Youth's bounding pulses slackened and obeyed,
With slowly ebbing tide.
"Look thou beyond the evening sky," she said,
"Beyong the changing splendors of the day;
Accept the pain, the weariness, the dread,
Accept, and bid me stay!"
I turned and clasped her close with sudden strength
And slowly, sweetly I became aware
Within my arms God's angel stood, at length,
White-robed and calm and fair.
And now I look beyond the evening star,
Beyond the changing splendors of the day,
knowing th epain He sends more precious far,
More beautiful, than they.
-Atlantic for May.
Matthew Henry says that "the
woman was made of a rib out of the side of
Adam; not made out of his head, to top him;
not out of his feet, to be trampled upon by
him; but out of his side, to be equal with
him; under his arm, to be protected, and near
his heart, to be beloved." T.J.S.
ADDRESS TO OLNEY GRANGE
By Sarah B. Stabler
Sandy Spring, MD., March 15, 1875
To the Editors of the American:
The inclosed address was written by a much re-
spected member of the Society of Friends, now in
her 74th year, and was printed by Olney Grange for
the use of its members. Not being a member of the
grange, but recognizing the excellent sentiments
therin contained, I sent it to the widely read
American for publication.
ADDRESS.
"What can we reason but from what we know?" - Pope.
What can we write, who stand without the pale,
At the behest of those behind the veil?
How shall we venture in the dark alone,
And all unguided, groupe in paths unknown?
Or shall we write with "if," as saving clause,
and thus address you, after thoughtful pause?
If ye assemble for the good of man-
All human-kind, and not alone a clan;
If ye remember those who pine in want,
With life's most common comforts few and scant,
If ye with loving hearts, visit the lone,
And in their day's declining, cheer them on,
If ye forgive the enemy who smites,
Do good to him who has infringed your rights,
Are lenient to small errors-cover still
With Charity's fair mantle ever ill;
If idle gossip whisper in your ear;
And you have courage to refuse to hear,
Or, if ye find harsh censure on your tongue,
And check it, ere to wound, it forth hath sprung;
If ye essay to heal with gentle power
Wounds of the heart- our human nature's dower,
And if ye unto fellow-men shall do
Only what you would have them do to you,
Then have you joined to do a sacred task,
And wherefore brothers, do we year a mask?
This is a simple query of the mind-
We seek no answer; it would be unkind
To judge that secret counsels ne'er are wise,
E'en Heaven's blessings oft' come in disguise.
Ye may have found some evil in our land
Which, to remove, required a "master" hand;
We nothing know-but bid you all good speed
If ye brothers true, in word and deed.
If those whom once as strangers you passed by
Received the greeting of the friendly eye;
If walls of prejudice before you fall,
And you can give the friendly hand to all.
Again, good speed! for what should men divide
Whose veins are filled with the same purple tide?
May that fraternal love, you cherish here
Reach its full measure, in a higher sphere.
S. B. Stabler.
EN