All hail, my love, good cheer!
Keep back thy unshed tear!
Not thou nor I

Shall mourn or sigh.
Nay now, we twain-
Old man, old wife.

The few days that remain

With head down bent,

And mantle rent,

In dole for her who lay in death,
And to the Sons of Heth
The silver shekels gave
For Mamre's gloomy cave,
To be her grave; –

Or, older still, like him
Who, feeble not of limb,
With eyes not dim,

Upclimbed, with staff in hand,
To where Mount Nebo cleft the sky,
And looked and saw the Promised
Land

For now at length we quaff
The last, best wine of life,
The very last-the very best,
The double cup of love and rest.

May it be Heaven's decree,
Here, now, to thee and me,
That, for a season still,
The eye shall not grow dim;
That, for a few more days,
The ear cease not to hear the hymn
Which the tongue utters to His
praise;

That, for a little while,

The heart faint not, nor fail;

For even the wintry sun is bright,
And cheering to our aged sight;
Yea, though the frosts prevail,
Yet even the icy air,

The frozen plain, the leafless wood Still keep the earth as fresh and fair

As when from Heaven, He called it good!

"The spirit and the body part, Yet love abideth, heart to heart.

"O silent comrade of my rest,

"Love's dust,

Whatever grave it fill,

breast,

Love hath no death, and cannot die! This love is ours, as here we lie, Thou and I!"

THE FOUR SEASONS.

IN the balmy April weather, My love, you know,

When the corn began to grow, What walks we took together, What sighs we breathed together, What vows we pledged together, In the days of long ago!

In the golden summer weather,
My love, you know,

When the mowers went to mow
What home we built together,
What babes we watched together,
What plans we planned together,

While the skies were all aglow!

In the rainy autumn weather,
My love, you know,

When the winds began to blow,
What tears we shed together,
What mounds we heaped together,
What hopes we lost together,

When we laid our darlings low!

RECOMPENSE.

THE Temple of the Lord stood open

wide,

And worshippers went up from many

lands,

Who, kneeling at the altar, side by side,

Made votive offerings with uplifted hands.

Their gifts were gold, and frankincense, and myrrh.

Then, with a lustrous gleam and rapturous stir,

While all the people trembled and turned pale.

There flew an angel to the altar-rail, Who, with anointed eyes, keen to discern,

Gazed, noting all the kneelers, who they were,

And what was each one's tribute to the Lord,

And, gift for gift, with sudden, swift return,

Bestowed on every suppliant his reward.

O mocking recompense! To one, a spear!

To many, each a thorn! To some a nail!

To all, a cross! But unto none a crown!

At last, they saw the angel disappear. Then, as their timid hearts shook off their fear,

Some rose in anger, flung their treasures down,

And cried, "Such gifts from Heaven as these, we spurn! They are too cruel, and too keen to bear!

They are too grievous for a human breast!

Heaven sends us heartache, misery, and despair!

We knelt for blessing, but we rise un

blest!

If Heaven so mock us, we will cease to pray!"

They left the altar, and they went their way;

But their blaspheming hearts were then self-torn