HE STANDETH AT THE DOOR AND KNOCKETH. IN the silent midnight watches, How it knocketh-knocketh-knocketh, Say not 'tis thy pulse's beating: 'Tis thy heart of sin; 'Tis thy Saviour knocks, and crieth Death comes on with reckless footsteps, To the hall and hut: Think you Death will tarry, knocking, Jesus waitethwaitethwaiteth, But the door is fast; Grieved, away thy Saviour goeth; Death breaks in at last. Then 'tis time to stand entreating Christ to let thee in: At the gate of Heaven beating, Wailing for thy sin. THE CROOKED FOOTPATH. Nay!-alas, thou guilty creature! Jesus waited long to know thee; Rev. ARTHUR CLEVELAND Coxe. THE CROOKED FOOTPATH. Ан, here it is! the sliding rail That marks the old remembered spot, The gap that struck our schoolboy trail, The crooked path across the lot. It left the road by school and church: And ended at the farmhouse door. No line or compass traced its plan; But always kept the door in sight. The gabled porch, with woodbine green, Though many a rood might stretch between, THE CROOKED FOOTPATH. No rocks across the pathway lie, Perhaps some lover trod the way, With sinuous sweep or sudden start. Or one, perchance, with clouded brain, Nay, deem not thus: no earth-born will Could ever trace a faultless line; Our truest steps are human still, To walk unswerving were divine. Truants from love, we dream of wrath; OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. Hurrah! And so the world goes well with me: Hurrah! And who has a mind to be fellow of mine, Why, let him take hold and help me drain These mouldy lees of wine. VANITAS. I set my heart at first upon wealth: Hurrah! And bartered away my peace and health: The slippery change went about like air, I set my heart upon woman next: For her sweet sake was oft perplexed; The false one looked for a daintier lot; I set my heart upon travels grand: And spurned our plain old fatherland ; But ah! Naught seemed to be just the thing it should: I set my heart upon sounding fame: And, lo! I'm eclipsed by some upstart's name ; When in public life I loomed quite high, |