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A FRIEND INDEED

Tho' human love may fail And friends deny, How can I courage lose, Since Thou art nigh? Thy Love doth still supply me In my need; Thy hand as truly guide,— A friend, indeed. Then let me never grieve, Nor yet repine, For, though all else forsake me, Thou art mine; Thy tenderness and love Beyond compare! Thy Substance and thy Truth Are still my share.

THE SONG OF THE ANGELS

Hear ye the song of the angels, Singing so sweet and low, Peace to the troubled spirit, Joy to the world below? Hear ye the song of the angels, At the first faint flush of morn, Thrilling the soul with rapture E'er sorrow and care are born? Hear ye the song of the angels, In the noontide's heat and glare, Breathing the peace of Heaven, Soothing the heart of care? Ever thy good angel singeth, The old, sweet song of peace; Didst thou but list' to its music The discords of earth would cease. — Jennie Walbridge Briggs.

A THANKSGIVING GREETING

Within our hearts what happy memories dwell To-day, and a new love in us compel! The by-gone years return, with only their Remembered tenderness, and, unaware Of age and change, the old-time love re-tell. But while we feast, we cannot quite dispel Regret for lost ones whom we love so well.

THE VOICE OF LOVE

Oh , Child of Light, awake,    The Dawn of Christ is here; The Day of Love begins to break,    So bright, so calm, so clear. Oh, Love-lit age, awake,    And list the grand refrain, Which o'er the world doth break,    To still the voice of pain.

ON GUARD

With ear attuned, and alert eye The Lord can never pass me by. I see His majesty and might Where mountains loom in towering height, Where pond'rous waves with ceaseless roar In fury lash the circling shore.

A CHRISTMAS CARMEN

SOUND over all waters, reach out from all lands, The chorus of voices, the clasping of hands; Sing hymns that were sung by the stars of the morn, Sing songs of the angels when Jesus was born! With glad jubilations Bring hope to the nations! The dark night is ending and dawn has begun: Rise, hope of the ages, arise like the sun, All speech flow to music, all hearts beat as one! Sing the bridal of nations with chorals of love Sing out the war-vulture and sing in the dove, Till the hearts of the peoples keep time in accord, And the voice of the world is the voice of the Lord Clasp hands of the nations In strong gratulations; The dark night is ending and the dawn has begun! Rise, hope of the ages, arise like the sun, All speech flow to music, all hearts beat as one! Blow, bugles of battle, the marches of peace; East, west, north, and south let the quarrel cease; Sing the song of great joy that the angels began, Sing of glory to God and of good-will to man! Hark! joining in chorus The heavens bend o'er us! The dark night is ending and dawn has begun Rise, hope of the ages, arise like the sun, All speech flow to music, all hearts beat as one! —Whittier .

THE MIRROR OF LIFE

" Do you wish for kindness? Be kind; Do you ask for truth? Be true, What you give of yourself, you find; Your world is a reflex of you. For life is a mirror.

The birds in the branches sang blithe overhead...

The birds in the branches sang blithe overhead, 'Twas the rarest of days in June; But I caught no joy from the warbler's lay. Though the strains were sweet, and gladsome, and gay, They woke no response, and they passed away, For my heart was out of tune.

"PALESTINE"

AND throned on her hills sits Jerusalem yet, But with dust on her forehead, and chains on her feet; For the crown of her pride to the mocker hath gone, And the holy Shechinah is dark where it shone. But wherefore this dream of the earthly abode Of Humanity clothed in the brightness of God? Were my spirit but turned from the outward and dim, It could gaze, even now, on the presence of Him! Not in clouds and in terrors, but gentle as when, In love and in meekness, He moved among men; And the voice which breathed peace to the waves of the sea In the hush of my spirit would whisper to me! And what if my feet may not tread where He stood, Nor my ears hear the dashing of Galilee's flood, Nor my eyes see the cross which He bowed Him to bear, Nor my knees press Gethsemane's garden of prayer.

SPIRITUAL SENSES

THERE'S an eye beyond the human, That beholdeth only good. That sees God's vast creation, And man's real brotherhood.