The Purpose of Life.

Till, turning to the western skies,

Expiring day, with beauty rife, Points out those glorious crimson dyes Beyond the varied tints of life.

CARPENTER.

267

THE PURPOSE OF LIFE.

3AST thou, midst life's empty noises,
Heard the solemn steps of Time,

And the low, mysterious voices

Of another clime?

Early hath life's mighty question
Thrilled within thy heart of youth,
With a deep and strong beseeching,—
What, and where is truth?

Not to ease and aimless quiet

Doth the inward answer tend;

But to works of love and duty,

As our beings end.

Earnest toil and strong endeavour

Of a spirit which within Wrestles with familiar evil

And besetting sin;

And without, with tireless vigour,

Steady heart, and purpose strong, In the power of Truth assaileth

Every form of wrong.

J. G. WHITTIER.

THE SPRING-TIME OF LIFE.

HE summer comes with rosy wreaths,
To dance among the fragrant flowers,
While friendly autumn plenty breathes,
And blessings in abundant showers.
E'en winter with its frost and snow

Brings much the mind to calm and cheer,
But there's a season worth them all
And that's the spring-time of the year.

In spring the farmer ploughs the field
That yet will wave with yellow corn,
In spring the birdie builds its nest

In foggy bank or budding thorn;
The bank and brae, the hill and dell,
A song of hope are heard to sing,
And summer, autumn, winter tell
With joy and grief the work of spring.

Now youth's the spring-time of your life,
When seed is sown with care and toil,

And hopes are high and fears are rife,
Lest weeds should rise the grain to spoil.
I've sown the seed, my bairnies dear,
By precept and example too,
And may the Hand that guides us here
Preserve us all the journey through.

But soon the time will come when you
May lose a mother's tender care,

A world with sorrows not a few,

With all its stormy strife to share :

Happiness.

Then as you pass through life along
Let fortune kind or frowning prove,
Ne'er let the Tempter lead you wrong,

But still be guided by His love.

269

GEORGE DONALD.

HAPPINESS.

NE morning in the month of May

I wandered o'er the hill;

Though nature all around was gay,

My heart was heavy still.

Can God, I thought, the good, the great,

These meaner creatures bless,

And yet deny our human state

The boon of happiness!

Tell me, ye woods, ye smiling plains,
Ye blessed birds around,

Where, in creation's wide domains,
Can perfect bliss be found?

The birds wild carolled over head,
The breeze around me blew,
And nature's awful chorus said,
No bliss for man she knew!

I questioned Love, whose early ray
So heavenly bright appears;
And Love, in answer, seemed to say,
His light was dimmed by tears.

I questioned Friendship-Friendship mourned,
And thus her answer gave:

The friends whom fortune hath not turned
Were vanished in the grave!

I asked of Feeling if her skill
Could heal the wounded breast?
And found her sorrows streaming still,
For others' griefs distrest.

I asked if Vice could bliss bestow?
Vice boasted loud and well:
But, fading from her pallid brow,
The venomed roses fell.

I questioned Virtue,-Virtue sighed,
No boon could she dispense;
Nor Virtue was her name, she cried,
But humble Penitence!

I questioned Death,—the grisly shade
Relaxed his brow severe;

And, "I am happiness," he said,

"If Virtue guides thee here!"

THE WAY TO BE HAPPY.

HERMIT there was,

And he lived in a grot,
And the way to be happy,

They said he had got;

ANON.

The Way to be Happy.

As I wanted to learn it,

I went to his cell,
And when I came there,

The old hermit said, "Well,
Young man, by your looks,
You want something, I see,
Now tell me the business
That brings you to me?"

"The way to be happy
They say you have got,
And as I want to learn it
I've come to your grot,
Now I beg and entreat,

If you have such a plan,
That you'll write it me down,
As plain as you can,"
Upon which the old hermit

Went to his pen

And brought me this note

When he came back again.

""Tis being, and doing,

And having, that make
All the pleasures and pains
Of which beings partake.
To be what God pleases,-
To do a man's best,

And to have a good heart,
Is the way to be blest."

271

PETER PARLEY.