Of burning ruby on the towering trees;
The flowers held loving converse, while the birds
Filled the green covert with their hymn of praise.
The good man's room how silent! By his bed
His daughter watched, and in unuttered thought
Commended him to Heaven, nor left until
The solemn angel spake, and the first rays
Of spreading sunlight glorified her face,
When he she nursed so fondly moved his hand,
Whispering the name of Jesus, and was gone,
Swifter than thought, into the holy place
Where meet the blessed on the hills of Heaven.
When summer sunned the streamlet rose-embowered,
And the blue sky spread over the full corn,
Where swallows wheeled, and wandering winds came down
With God upon their wings, they bore him forth
And buried him in flowers; whilst o'er his tomb
The tree-tops kissed each other, and the breeze
Sighed through the ivy of the honoured dead;
Then sighed again in waves of pensiveness:
So that the orphan heard it in his tears,
The dresser of the garden, the gray hind,
The widow, and the child upon the grass,
That he who thus beneath the rose-wreaths slept
Was kind and good and loving, and his years
Were filled with deeds that sanctified his life:
Thus ripened he for richness unrevealed.
And so we turned and left him.
Shall rise for her who watched beside his couch,
In filial meekness, till the mists of earth
Were scattered by the splendour of the heavens ;
And with Christ's hand in his he vanquished death
And put on life eternal.
THE following incident occurred in one of the rivet-making districts in the Midland Counties, where girls from five to nine years of age are employed as little nurses.
RE not the warrior's wasteful deeds,
By sword and spear defiled,
Sometimes for bright intrinsic worth
Out-valoured by a child?
True hero-hearts are not confined
To fields of human gore,
With horrid shrieks and awful thrusts
Amid the battle's roar..
A baby nurse was Annie Salt,
A child of six years old;
And little David was her care
Both in the heat and cold.
And though she often longed to run
Where daisies gemmed the lea,
And cuckoo-buds were in the hedge,
She knew it could not be.
Along the street from day to day,
Amid its foul alarms,
Intent on her entrusted charge,
The baby in her arms,
She wandered up, she wandered down,
Without a sign of cheer,
Except the smile on David's face
To little Annie dear.
One day a cart came rolling by :
No time had she to call :
The horses swerved, and she was jammed
Against the rugged wall.
No shriek of dread escaped her lips,
Or echoed through the town,
Although her life was ebbing fast,
And blood came trickling down.
But little David-where was he,
The baby watched with zeal?
At her arm's length she held him up
Above the grating wheel;
Regardless of the cruel crush,
Regardless of the strife,
Intent, through that which cost her much,
To save the baby's life.
Dear little kind heroic nurse!
Over the circling blue
Bright angel-eyes are watching thee
Where flowers are ever new:
And though within the hospital
Thou now in pain dost lie,
The thought of thy heroic deed
Shall often dim our eye.
These are the acts that fill the world
With blossoms of delight,
Which flourish not along the track
Of wasting fire and fight.
If men gave help instead of hate,
And raised their eyes above,
Where roll the stars in harmony,
The earth would glow with love.
OR, THE RESCUERS AND THE RESCUED.
LD England needs no trumpet,
Where warriors take their part,
And proudly prance the chargers,
To reach her Christian heart.
The voice of suffering thrills her
More than the sounds of strife,
And hastes she now as ever
To rescue human life.
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