First Love

Page God for me - once let His sparrows fall unheeded,
Once unattended go, their crushed and dust-grey wings;

Page Him, down the corridors of misery - He is needed
To answer here for urgent and more human things.

Then here, accuse Him of faulty manufacturing. This heart
He guaranteed to last for life - kept sixteen years; today
Used for the first time, and sparingly, it fell apart!

Page God to wipe a daughter's first real tears away.

FRANCES SHELLY HARHAN.

After Eden

What is the penance, Eve?
Can it be this?
Adam's strong arms that hold
My share of bliss?
A garden where serpents
Coil in despair,
Roses and hollyhocks
Blooming so fair?
A cottage where Love lights
Twin flames that blend
In one white holiness
Faith will attend?
This is the penance, Eve,
Fear is the key,
Lost in the tall silk grass
Under the tree,
Watching and waiting, I
Polish the lock,
Knowing that one may come
Who need not knock.

GLADYS McKEE.

A Sinner Contemplates

When all this life is suddenly quite done,

If I should meet with God, some April day,
Will He recall I hadn't time to pray
Or go to church, and sigh, "So, you're the one."
Or win He overlook that little thing,
And pause beside me, neighborlike and say,
“The daffodils are doing well this spring."

-Francefi Boal Mehlek

A Child's Prayer

Make me, dear Lord, polite and kind
 To everyone, I pray.
 And may I ask you how you find
Yourself, dear Lord, today?

John Bannister Tabb

A Child's Prayer

Little Jesus, wast Thou shy Once,
 and just so small as I?
And what did it feel like to be
Out of Heaven, and just like me?
 Didst Thou sometimes think of there,
And ask where all the angels were?
 I should think that I would cry
For my house all made of sky;
I would look about the air,
 And wunder where my angels were;
And at waking 'twould distress me
N at an angel there to dress me
 Hadst Thou ever any toys,
 Like us little girls and boys?
And didst Thou play in Heaven with all
 The angels, that were not too tall,
With stars for marbles? Did the things
Play Can you see me? through their wings?
 And did Thy mother let Thee spoil
 Thy robes with playing on our soil?
How nice to have been always new
 In Heaven, because 'twas clean blue
 I Didst Thou kneel at night to pray,
And didst Thou join Thy hands, this way?
And did they tire sometimes, being young,
And make the prayer seem very long?
 And dost Thou like it best, that we
 Should join our hands and pray to Thee?
I used to think, before I knew,
The prayer not said unless we do.
And did Thy mother at the night
Kiss Thee and fold the clothes in right?
And didst Thou feel quite good in bed,
Kissed, and sweet, and Thy prayers said?
 Thou canst not have forgotten all
That it feels like to be small:
 And Thou know'st I cannot pray
To Thee in my father's way
When Thou wast so little, say,
Could'st Thou talk Thy Father's way?
 So, a little child, come down
 And hear a child's tongue like Thy own;
 Take me by the hand and walk,
 And listen to my baby-talk.
 To Thy Father show my prayer
 (He will look, Thou art so fair),
And say: "0 Father, I Thy Son,'
 Bring the prayer of a little one."
 And He will smile, that children's tongue
 Has not changed since Thou wast young

(Ex ore Infantium) Francis Thompson

To our Lady

Lovely Lady dressed in blue
Teach me how to pray!
God was just your little Boy,
 Tell me what to say!
 Did you lift Him up, sometimes,
 Gently, on your knee?
Did you sing to Him the way
 Mother does to me?
Did you hold His hand at night?
 Did you ever try
Telling stories of the world?
 And did He cry?
Do you really think He cares
 If I tell Him things
 Little things that happen?
 And Do the Angels' wings
 Make a noise? And can He hear
 Me if I speak low?
 Does He understand me now?
 Tell me-for you know!
Lovely Lady dressed in blue,
 Teach me how to pray!
 God was just your little Boy,
 And you know the way.

Mary Dixon Thayer

I sing of a maiden (anon, 15th century)

I sing of a maiden that
 Matchless is,
King of all Kings is her son
 I wis.
 He came all so still
 Where his mother was
As dew in April
 That falleth on grass.
He came all so still
 To his mother's bower
 As dew in April
 That falleth on shower.
He came all so still
 Where his mother lay
As dew in April
 That falleth on spray.
Mother and maiden
 Was ne'er none but she
Well may such a lady
 God's mother be.

One more river

Old Noah once he built the Ark,
 And sealed it up with hickory bark,

Chorus: There's one more river to cross,
 And that's the river Jordan,
 One more river,
 There's one more river to cross.

He went to work to load his stock,
He anchored the Ark on a great big rock,

The animals went in one by one,
 The elephant chewing a caraway bun,

The animals went in two by two,
 The lion and the kangaroo,

The animals went in three by three,
 The skunk, the flea and the bumble bee,

The animals went in four by four,
Old Noah got mad and yelled for more,

The animals went in five by five,
Noah asked when the rain would arrive,

The animals went in six by six,
The hyena laughed at the monkey's tricks,

The animals went in seven by seven,
Said the rabbit to the elephant, "Who are you a-shovin'?"

The animals went in eight by eight,
 They came with a rush 'cause it was late,

The animals went in nine by nine,
 Old Noah hollered "Cut that line!"¬

The animals went in ten by ten,
 The Ark she blew her whistle then,

And then the voyage did begin,
 Old Noah pulled the gang-plank in,

They never knew where they were at,
 Till the old Ark bumped on Ararat.

Pontius Pilate speaks

I hoped to hear, through calls importunate,
 But yet another sound as moments passed,
A sudden clamor at the outer gate
 To tell me that his friends had come at last.
Where were they all? Why, only days before,
They hailed him with hosannas and with palms.
 Where was the palsied man who walked once more?
 The beggar given sight instead of alms?
 Where were the ones who saw their children blest?
 The erstwhile lepers free to roam at will?
The dead called back as if but waked from rest?
The hungry thousands fed upon the hill?
 Aye, even as he heard the taunting jeers
 On that dark morning of a darker day,
Peter was wasting precious time in tears
 And faithless Judas went the coward's way.
 I was a ruler sent from other lands.
 I worshipped other gods. Though I could see
 No fault in Him, I did but wash my hands
 To put aside responsibility.
And yet my heart was heavy. Had there been
 Even a few to shout for his release,
I could have told the gentle Nazarene
"I find you guiltless. Go your way in peace."
 So put not, overmuch, the blame on me.
 You who at Easter kneel again to pray,
For, more than by my indecision,
He was crucified by those who stayed away.

 MABEL FREER LOVERIDGE..

Woman's sacrament

Men were His last companions at the table
At that sad meal, within the upper room,
Striving to do the utmost they were able
To lift the shadow of His coming doom.

Men broke with Him the bread of consecration
And drained with Him the sacramental 'cup
 Through men He also suffered condemnation;
 By them the cruel cross was lifted up.

 The women He had taught and treated kindly,
Who had sat daily at the Master's feet,
Gathered in little' groups and waited blindly,
As they had waited in the learner's seat.

 For them there was no promise of tomorrow,
 No hope to carry with them through the years,
Upon their tongues the acid bread of sorrow,
And, on their lips, the bitter wine of tears.

 But, on the morning of the Resurrection,
Women were first to reach the open tomb,
 First with the evidence of their affection,
 First to put off the clinging shroud of gloom.

ANNA M. PRIESn.h

And this I ask

The "Now I lay me's" floated in
Rare eloquence, that once more sin
Be pardoned, shamed the sunset's glow.
And clouds grew thick with thanks.
 Below Earth held up hands for Heaven to still.
God leaned against His window sill
In pensive brooding, through the noise
 A sob cut clearly, then a boy's:
"If Rags should die before I wake,
I pray Thee, Lord, his soul to take."
God's hand, past priest and pedagogue,
 Reached out to heal a small boy's dog.

MAYHOWARD AUSTIN McEACHERN

two pictures

So he painted a picture of Judas,
 And the model who posed for the part
Had a face so repulsive and cruel,
 That it taxed e'en the great master's art.

And a story he told as he painted,
 The story of Jesus, so sweet,
When 'twas finished, the man took his wages
 And shambled out into the street.

Ten years passed and the artist grown famous
 Wished the picture of Jesus to paint,
So he searched till he found him a model
 With the sweet kindly face of a saint.

But before he had picked up his brushes,
 Cried the painter, "I've done you, I know."
"That is true," said the man, "I was Judas,
 But it happened a long time ago.

"And the man in the story you told me,
 Has come into my heart, thanks to you,
And it isn't my face that you see, sir,
 But the heart of the Man shining through."

 -R. H. Richardson

THE CREATION

(A Negro Sermon)

And God stepped out on space,

And He looked around and said, "I'm lonely­

/' II make me a world."

And far as the eye of God could see 

Darkness covered everything, 

Blacker than a hundred midnights 

Down in a cypress swamp.

Then God smiled,

And ,the light broke,

And the darkness rolledJup on one side, 

.And the light st~o<:l,shining on the other, 

And God, saicJ., "That's good!"

Then God reached out and took the light in His hand

And God rolled the light around in His hand,

 Until He made the sun;

And He set that sun a,blazing in the heavens. . 

And the light that was leftftom making the s~rL 

God gathered up in a 'shining ball

And flung against the dar¥:I\~ss,

Spangling the night with the moon and stars.

 Then down between

The darkness and theil light

He hurled the world;

And God said, "That's good!"

Then God himself stepped down­

And the sun was on His right hand,

 And the moon was on His left;

'J'4e stars were clustered about His head,

hands,

And the earth was under His feet.

 And God walked, and where He trod 

His footsteps hollowed the valleys ou

t And bulged the mountains up.

Then He stopped and looked and saw

That the earth was hot and barren.

So God stepped over to the edge of the world 

And He spat out the seven seas;

He batted His eyes, and the lightnings flashed; 

He clapped His hands, and the thunders rolled; 

And the waters above the earth came down, 

The cooling waters came down.

Then the green grass sprouted,

And the little red flowers blossomed,

The pine-tree pointed his finger to the sky,

And the oak spread out his arms;

The lakes cuddled down in the hollows of the ground,

 And the rivers ran down to the sea;

And God smiled again, .

And the rainbow appeared,

And curled itself around His shoulder.

Then God raised His arm and He waved His hand

 Over the sea and over the land,

And He said, "Bring forth! Bring forth!"

And quicker than God could drop His hand,

 Fishes and fowls

And beasts and birds

Swam the rivers and the seas;

Roamed the forests and the woods,

And split the air with their wings,

And God said, "That's good!"

Then God walked around 

And God looked around

On all, that He had made. He looked at His sun,

And He looked at His moon,

And He looked at His little stars; 

He looked on His world

With all its living things,

And God said, "I'm lonely still."

Then God sat down

On the side of a hill where He could think; 

By a deep, wide river He sat down;

With His head in His hands,

God thought and thought,

Till He thought, "I'll make me a man!"

Up from the bed of the river

God scooped the clay;

And by the bank of the river

He kneeled Him down;

And there the great God Almighty,

Who lit the sun and fixed it in the sky,

Who flung the stars to the most far corner of the night, 

Who rounded the earth in the middle of His hand-,­This Great God,

Like a mammy bending over her baby,

Kneeled down in the dust

Toiling over a lump of clay

Till He shaped it in His own image;

Then into it He blew the breath of life,

And man became a living soul.

Amen. Amen.

THE GIFT OF GOD

Blessed with a joy that only she

Of all alive shall ever know,

She wears a proud humility

For what it was that killed it so,­

That her degree should be so great :

Among the favored of the Lord 

That she may scarcely bear the weight 

Of her bewildering reward.

 As one apart, immune, alone,

Or featured for the shining ones, 

And like to none that she has known

 Of other women's other sons,­

The firm fruition of her need, 

He shines anointed; and he blurs 

Her vision, till it seems indeed 

A sacrilege to call him hers.

She fears a little for so much

Of what is best, and hardly dares

To think of him as one to touch 

With aches, indignities, and cares; 

She sees him rather at the goal,

Still shining; and her dream foretells 

The proper shining of a soul

Where nothing ordinary dwells.

Perchance a canvass of the town

Would find him far from flags and shouts, 

And leave him only the renown

Of many smiles and many doubts; 

Perchance the crude and common tongue 

Would havoc strangely with his worth; 

But she, with innocence unwrung, 

Would read his name around the earth.

And others, knowing how this youth 

Would shine, if love could make him great, 

When. caught and tortured for the truth 

Would only writhe and hesitate;

While she, arranging for his days

What centuries could not fulfill, 

Transmutes him with her faith and praise, 

And has him shining where she will.

She crowns him with her gratefulness, 

And says again that life is good;

And should the gift of God be less

In him than in her motherhood,

His fame, though vague, will not be small, 

As upward through her dream he fares, 

Half clouded with a crimson fall

Of roses thrown on marble stairs.

The Love of the World Reproved

THUS says the Prophet of the Turk:

"Good Mussulman, abstain from pork.

There is a part in every swine

No friend or follower of mine

May taste, whate'er his inclination,

On pain of excommunication."

Such Mohammed's mysterious charge,

And thus he left the point at large.

 Had he the sinful part expressed,

They might with safety eat the rest;

 But for one piece they thought it hard

From the whole hog to be debarred,

And set their wit at work to find

What joint the Prophet had in mind.

Much controversy straight arose

­These chose the back, the belly those;

By some, 'tis confidently said,

He meant not to forbid the head;

While others at that doctrine rail,

And piously prefer the tail.

Thus, conscience freed from every clog,

 Mohammedans eat up the hog.

You laugh-'tis well. The tale applied

May make you laugh on t'other side.

Renounce the world! the preacher cries.

We do! a. multitude replies.

While one as innocent regards

A snug and friendly game at cards;

And one, whatever you may say,

Can see no evil in a play;

Some love a concert, or a race;

And others shooting, and the chase.

Reviled and loved, renounced and followed,

Thus, bit by bit, the world is swallowed;

Each thinks his neighbour makes too free,

Yet likes a slice as well as he.

With sophistry their sauce they sweeten,

Till quite from tail to snout 'tis eaten.

THE LORD'S PRAYER

The following beautiful composition, the original of which is in the G. A. R. hall museum at the State House, Topeka, Kansas, was captured during the Civil War, at Charleston, South Carolina, by a brother of Mrs. S. B. Helmer of Kendallville, Indiana; it is printed on very heavy satin and is quite a literary curiosity.

Thou to the Mercy-Seat our sollis doth gather,

To do our duty unto Thee,

Our Father,

To Whom all praise, all honor should be given,

For Thou art the Great God

Who art in heaven,

Thou by Thy wisdom rul'st the world's whole frame.

Forever, therefore,

Hallowed be Thy name;

 Let never more delays divide us from

Thy glorious grace, but let

Thy kingdom come,

 Let Thy commands opposed be by none,

But Thy good pleasure and

Thy will be done.

And let our promptness to obey,

 be even the very same

On earth as it is in heaven

Then for our sollis, a Lord, we also pray,

Thou wouldst be pleased to

Give us this day

The food of life, wherewith our souls are fed,

Sufficient raiment, and

Our daily bread;

With every needful thing do Thou relieve us,

And of Thy mercy, pity

And forgive us

An our misdeeds, for Him,

Whom Thou, didst please

To make an offering for

Our trespasses,

And for as much, 0 Lord, as we believe

That Thou wilt pardon us

As we forgive

Let that love teach, wherewith'

Thou dost acquaint us,  to pardon all

Those who trespass against us;

 And, though, sometimes,

Thou find'st we have forgot.

This love to Thee, yet help

And lead us not

Through soul or body's want to desperation,

Nor let earth's gain drive us

Into temptation,

Let not the soul of any true believer

Fall in the time of trial,

But deliver

Yea, save them from the malice of the devil,

And both in life and death, keep

 Us from evil,'

Thus pray we, Lord, for that of

 Thee from whom this may be had,

For thine is the kingdom,

This world is of Thy work,

 its wondrous story,  to Thee belongs.

The power and the glory

And all Thy wondrous works have ended never,

But will remain forever and

Forever.

Thus we poor creatures would confess again,

And thus would say eternally

Amen

Charleston. South Carolina, July 4, 1823.

Anon.

THE RELIGION OF THE WORLD

Two Scots, Donald and Duncan, were carried out from shore in a sudden storm, and lost their way in the swirling waters. When the waves began to wash over their frail little boat, Duncan cried out: "Donald, you maun pray!"

"I cawn't pray." (Forcibly.)

They bent to the oars, but failed to turn the boat against the blinding waves, and Duncan commanded fiercely:

"Donald, you maun pray!"

"I cawn't pray!" (With awful emphasis.)

Then Duncan's voice rose above the storm.

"Dom it, you've got to!"

Then Donald got to his knees as well as he could in the rocking boat, and raised his voice to a shout.

"0 Lord, it ha' been fifteen year sence I ha' awsked anything at Thy hands! And, if thou wilt take this boat safe to shore, it will be fifteen more before I will pother thee again!"

Just then the boat touched the shore, and Duncan called out to him, "There, Donald, that will do! Don't

ye be beholden to nobody. The boat's already to the shore.

      William Black.

FAITH

If I could feel my hand, dear Lord, in Thine

   And surely know

That I was walking in the light divine

   Through weal or woe;

If I could hear Thy voice in accents sweet

   But plainly say,

To guide my trembling, groping, wandering feet"

   "This is the way,"

I would so gladly walk therein, but now

   I cannot see.

Oh, give me, Lord, the faith to humbly bow

   And trust in Thee!

There is no faith in seeing. Were we led

   Like children here,

And lifted over rock and river-bed,

   No care, no fear,

We should ~e useless in the busy throng,

   Life's work undone;

Lord, make us brave and earnest, true and strong,

   Till heaven is won.

Sarah K Bonlto.

By permission.

A BIBLE "HEART THROB"

"Let not your heart be troubled; ye believe in God, believe also in me.

"In my Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so I would have told you.

 I go to prepare a place for you.

"And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again,

and receive you unto myself, that where I am, there ye may be also.

"Peace I leave with you,- my peace I give unto you:

not as the world giveth, give I unto you.

 Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid."

John xiv: I, 2, 3, 27.

REMEDIES FOR TROUBLE

If you are down with the blues, read the twenty­ third Psalm.

     If there is a chilly sensation about the heart, read the third chapter of Revelations.

     If you don't know where to look for a month's rent. read the twenty-seventh Psalm.

     If you are lonesome and unprotected, read the ninety-first Psalm.

If the stovepipe has fallen down and the cook gone off in a pet, put up the pipe and wash your hands and read the first chapter of St. James.

     If you find yourself losing confidence in men, read the thirteenth chapter of I Corinthians.

     If people pelt you with hard words, read the fifteenth chpter of St. John and the fifty-first Psalm.

     If you are out of sorts, read the twelfth chapter of Hebrews.

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