Gleams of Sunshine Part 3

A WORLD REDEEMED

This world is but the shadow Of the world that is to be, A ripple on the surface Of a deep, unfathomed sea.

G.o.d's plans are always perfect, But long ages intervene From the planning of the temple To the glow upon its sheen; But we can be co-workers In accomplishing his plan; For in G.o.d's purpose is a place For every son of man.

The germ may be developed In a more salubrious clime, All obstacles surmounted In the onward march of time, And nature's forces harnessed Will their destiny fulfil, And things now deemed supernal Respond to human will; For G.o.d has so adjusted The laws of this earthly sphere, That by man's help his plans unfold, And order doth appear.

The words of G.o.d's own prophets Concerning these latter days Of mighty transformations, To our great Redeemer's praise; When wastes shall glow in beauty, And the savage beast be kind, Though they have prior fulfilment In the realm of soul and mind; Will then be more than figure, Though that we all count sublime; The earth will wear its regal robes In every land and clime.

This life is but a sample Of the life that is to be; There we know the perfect lesson, Here we learn the a--b--c; And the life beyond is fashioned By the thoughts and deeds of this; Fitting it for realms of darkness, Or for never-ending bliss; For those alone will sorrow Who receive His grace in vain, But those who wrought with G.o.d will prove That G.o.dliness is gain.

ALASKAN BOUNDARY SETTLEMENT

My neighbor's farm and mine lie side by side, And nothing should our mutual trust divide; But they who made th' original survey Were guided by the stars, the records say, So that the line that marks out our domain Is indistinct, and puzzling doubts remain.

Our farms are large, and portions near the line With rocky soil and stunted spruce and pine, With scarce a wigwam or a ranger's hearth, We left untilled, and deemed of little worth; The petals of this desert rose unfold, When man discovers mines of yellow gold.

"Where is the boundary line?" is now the cry.

Each stakes his claim and gives his reason why; One sought an exit to the main highway, The other closed the gates and gained the day In custom duties on the shining ore, And stores for man and beast that inland pour.

Each claimed his own, whatever that may be, Yet, neighbors true, we feared to disagree.

We studied maps and treaties old and new, Yet each his own line-fence declared was true; Then, to avoid unseemly strife, we chose To settle our dispute as friends, not foes.

My neighbor chose three men in his employ, I three, at least, accepted them with joy; Not chosen these to arbitrate our case, But from material at command to trace, In harmony with law, the primal line For boundary fence, between his farm and mine.

I _lost my case_--all but one narrow lane!

All other gates are closed, but why complain?

Diminished somewhat is my large estate, But self-respect remains--nor place for hate; O'er our line-fence we grasp each other's hand, And for the right, united, ever stand.

MY PRIMROSE

My sweet primrose with thy open face, And with fringe-like leaves, without a trace Of coa.r.s.eness, either in flower or stem, Among all my plants thou art the gem.

My lovely lilies soon disappear; Thy bloom is constant through all the year; In summer's heat and winter's cold, Undimmed the light of thy floral gold.

Or if thy color be pink, or blue, Or white as snow, thou art ever true; My room is bright with thy smiling eyes, And thy fragrance rare I also prize.

Thou hast done thy part, my little pet-- Let me keep thy roots forever wet, But guard with care all thy tender leaves And growing crown, which the earth-crust heaves.

Thou dost heaven-ward tend, aspiring high, To kiss the stars in the vaulted sky, And they look down from the azure blue, My sweet primrose--they are smiling, too.

NIAGARA'S RAINBOW

Upon the "table-rock" I stand, And gaze into the depths profound, In ecstacy at sights so grand, And deafened by the sound Of rushing waters, as they leap Like maddened steeds, down hillside steep.

The falling spray my head bedews, As gently as a vernal shower; Or, as the Holy Ghost imbues In consecrated hour, The soul that inly yearns for love, And seeks it from the throne above.

But I see more than chasm deep, Than falling spray and rushing tide.

Sublime, indeed, the awful leap; The awe will long abide-- G.o.d's _rainbow hangs in colors bright_, A thing of beauty in my sight.

Our cousins on the other side And we too often disagree; Puffed up, I fear, at times, with pride, Each strong, and brave, and free; But we forget the stormy past, Our lands and hearts are linked at last.

The "Union-Jack" hangs o'er my head, The "Stars and Stripes" my cousin rears, But old-time grievances are dead For all the coming years; As separate flags they still may wave, But we are _one_ the world to save.

MY SISTER NELL AND I

We strolled down by the river side, My sister Nell and I, To watch the waters onward glide, And vessels pa.s.sing by.

On Nature's floor of lovely green, Bedecked with flowers of gold, The purple sa.s.safras as sheen, Which trumpet vines enfold.

We played our youthful games for hours, And told our childish tales; Adorned each brow with fragrant flowers, And slept 'neath cooling gales.

For I was then but nine years old, And she was only seven; Yet joys like ours can ne'er be told-- They savored much of heaven.

Close by the bank, in shady nooks, The waxen lilies grew; We called them fish, and with our hooks To sh.o.r.e full many drew.

With these I made a wreath for Nell.

She was so good and pure, They seemed to suit her brow so well, Yet could not long endure

The heated brow and dewless air-- The river suits them best; But graced awhile her golden hair, As dove would silken nest.

Frail like the lilies, too, was Nell.

The fever's scorching blast Swept by, and my fair flowerette fell, And to the dust was cast.

But now she blooms in glory land, Close by the tree of Life; Better to bloom at G.o.d's right hand Than in this world of strife.

I hope some day to meet her there, And as in days of yore We plucked the lilies, pure and fair, Up there we'll gather more.

GATHER THE WAYSIDE FLOWERS