70

REMOTE RESULTS.

Their gospel, all God's holy word;
Their eucharist, the right;

All by one holy spirit stirred,
And brothers in His sight.

The higher they ascend in Him,

Whose goodness knows no bound,
The shadows fall away that dim,
Till perfect light is found.

Come, church of God and church of man,

Hope of these latter days!

Whose walls salvation's arch shall span,

Whose open gates be praise.

S. D. ROBBINS.

REMOTE RESULTS.

WHERE are the countless crystals
So perfect and so bright,
That robed in softest ermine

The winter day and night?

Not lost! for life to many a root,
They rise again in flower and fruit.

Where are the mighty forests,
And giant ferns of old,

REMOTE RESULTS.

That in primeval silence

Strange leaf and frond unrolled?

Not lost! for now they shine and blaze,
The light and warmth of Christmas days.

Where are our early lessons,

The teachings of our youth,
The countless words forgotten

Of knowledge and of truth?
Not lost! for they are living still,
As power to think, and do, and will.

Where is the seed we scatter,

With weak and trembling hand

Beside the gloomy waters

Or on the arid land?

Not lost! for after many days.

Our prayer and toil shall turn to praise.

Where are the days of sorrow,

And lonely hours of pain,

When work is interrupted,

Or planned and willed in vain?

Not lost! it is the thorniest shoot

That bears the Master's pleasant fruit.

71

122

72

LUTHER AND THE BIRD.

Where, where are all God's lessons,

His teachings, dark or bright?
Not lost, but only hidden,

Till, in eternal light,

We

see, while at His feet we fall,

F. R. HAVERGAL.

The reasons and results of all.

LUTHER AND THE BIRD.

THE sun was setting after a day

Gloomy and wet and chill,

And Martin Luther hurried away,

From the garden-spot where the shadows lay,

And the lurid sunset under the gray,

For his heart was darker still.

But out on a branch a bird began,
To carol a little song.

It struck the ear of the moody man,

Sorrowing under an awful ban,

And through his heart its music ran,
And it made him glad and strong.

Then it nestled its head beneath its wing
And quietly went to rest;

IS YOUR LAMP BURNING?

And the time was passing afar from Spring,
And the world had many a venomous thing,
And none knew what the night would bring,
With the sun gone out in the west.

But Martin Luther bent his head,

And in his own sweet words

He blessed the Giver of daily bread,
Who conquers the dark of doom and dread;
And he suffered himself to be gently led

By the God of the little birds.

SAMUEL W. DUFFIELD.

73

IS YOUR LAMP BURNING?

A party of young Friends, rambling through "The Glen," at Newport, on a rural excursion, found the following lines, Eighth month 31st, 1869:

SAY, is your lamp burning, my brother?

I pray you look quickly and see;

For if it were burning, then surely

Some beams would fall bright upon me.

Straight, straight is the road, but I falter,
And oft I fall out by the way;
Then lift your lamp higher, my brother,
Lest I should make fatal delay.

74

IS YOUR LAMP BURNING?

There are many and many around you

Who follow wherever you go;

If you thought that they walked in the shadow,
Your lamp would burn brighter, I know.

Upon the dark mountains they stumble,

They are bruised on the rocks, and they lie
With their white pleading faces turned upward
To the clouds and the pitiful sky.

There is many a lamp that is lighted,
We behold them anear and afar;
But not many among them, my brother,
Shine steadily on like a star.

I think, were they trimmed night and morning,
They would never burn down nor go out,
Though from the four quarters of heaven
The winds were all blowing about.

If once all the lamps that are lighted
Should steadily blaze in a line,

Wide over the land and the ocean,
What a girdle of glory would shine!

How all the dark places would brighten!
How the mists would roll up and away!
How the earth would laugh out in her gladness
To hail the millenial day!