Godey's Lady's Book

THE Bridegroom cometh! Hark, the midnight voice-
Go forth, ye faithful, meet Him and rejoice!
Vainly the thoughtless their neglect may sigh,
Wao, when awakened by the warning sound,
In sad dismay, all unprepared are found.
Grant us, good Lord, that unction from on high,
By which, our lamps being filled with deeds of light,
We may so justly walk, that all who see

May glory give, O Father, unto Thee,

And we be found accepted in Thy sight!
Let us not hear the words, "I know you not"-
But be our portion with the wise and blest
To enter, with Thy Church, the heavenly rest,
Nor, with the foolish, find the portal shut.

III. THE TWO MITES.
AMID the crowd of ostentatious men,
Proud of their gifts, and seeking vain applause,
Intent upon their own, not Heaven's cause.
A widow, poor and sad, drew near. And when
Her offering in the treasury she had thrown,
Two scanty mites, her living and her all,
Then did the Saviour on His followers call
To mark her gift. That widow, sad and lone,
Had, He declared, a richer offering made,

And more acceptable, than all beside:
Thus is humility preferred o'er pride,
And mild sincerity o'er vain parade.
Men but perceive the tinsel outward part,
While God discerns the treasure of the heart.

IL THE SOWER.

BEHOLD, the Sower goeth forth to sow:
Some seed are cast upon the beaten way,
Whence they are stolen by the birds of prey;
Some upon stony places sudden grow,
But fade as sudden, for the lack of earth;
And some are strangled, even from their birth,
By thorns and briars. Others in good ground
Flourish and thrive, and in good fruit abound.
From wayside hearers Satan thus doth steal
The unheeded word. Thus others but awhile
Burn with a warm, but quickly fading zeal;
The thorns, earth's cares and riches, some beguile,
To lose the treasure, which the honest hold,
And bring with patience forth fruits many fold.

IV. THE VINEYARD.

WHY stand ye waiting, idle, all the day?
Enter the vineyard, and whate'er is right
The Master will His laborers requite,
Nor strictly search their poor deserts to weigh.
His grace the measure is, His love the meed,
Else sad our fate, and helpless were our need.
At His decisions shall we dare repine?
His right to give His own shall we deny,
Or look upon His good with evil eye?
Oh, let us rather thank the grace divine,
That, whether in the morn we heed His call,
Or at the ninth, or at the eleventh hour,
We own our duty and adore His power,
He will alike be gracious unto all!

OUR HOPES.

BY HETTIE HAREBELL.

LIKE clouds upon the midday sky,
Which float in snowy wreaths away,
And as they slowly mount on high,
In airy forms their light display,
Then, quickly fading one by one,
Dissolve, and while we gaze are gone:

So rise our brilliant, buoyant hopes
From fancy's ever-busy cell,
And to their beauteous, fairy shapes,
Bind our fond hearts as with a spell,
Till, like the clouds, their beauties fade,
Leaving no joy their brightness made.

THE HAPPY FAMILY

BY ALICE B. NEAL.

(See Plates.)

WE were talking of the Reformation, and how sadly a spirit of skepticism had of late crept into German, as well as French, philosophy.

But there is one thing," said a gentleman of the party, who had himself been educated at one of their famous universities; "do not be afraid of the Germans; their domestic life is their safeguard. So long as we see such devoted fathers and wives, such dutiful children, such peaceful family circles, there is no fear for that nation!"

And it is true, if we may believe travelers and writers. As a nation, they are distinguished for their household affinities; while the French have no word even to answer to our home. To go back to the very period we were speaking of. Look at the life of Luther, "the most German man of our history," as Henry Heine has called him. What attachment to his wife and children is evinced in those naïve and pleasant letters which have been preserved to us! Always thinking of them in absence, always wishing to be with them again; writJohnny Luther" of the beautiful garden, Sabbre "good little boys wore golden coats," and shot with "little silver cross-bows;" and the affectionate messages to "Lippus and Jost," who were to be admitted with Johnny to the children's Paradise, if they learned and prayed diligently! Then, too, the very superscriptions to his wife, breathing a playful affection, very unlike the "Dear Sarahs and Janes" of modern husbands:

"To my gracious Lady Katherine Luther, my sweetheart!"

To the rich lady at Zulsdorf, Lady Katherine Lutherin; bodily resident at Wittenberg, and mentally wandering at Zulsdorf-my beloved, to her own hands!"

And yet again, "My dear Housewife, Katherine Lutherin, doctoress, self-martyress. My Gracious Lady, for her own hands and feet!"

And now the peasant sits under the shadow of his own vine, or the scholar rests from his mental toil, in the warm, pleasant evenings, to watch the sunset streaming through the purple vineyards, with his wife nursing the "wee todlin' thing," and watching the play of the elder children, with a heart as full of love for them, and as thankful to the God who has thus bestowed on him "the best gift of his Providence," as was the Reformer's, when he yearned once more to see his "friendly, dear Kate Luther," and to have Johnny and Jost climb upon his knee, begging for further particulars about the lovely garden, where children could help themselves

to "cherries, plums-and what plums!"-at discretion! "There is no fear for Germany." Surely not, while the purer pleasures of life are preferred, and good principles descend from the fathers to the children "unto the third and fourth generation."

Domestic happiness, so to speak, is a plant that thrives only by careful and tender cultivation. The seed of example is easily sown, for children are minute and close observers. If the wife has her proper dignity and respect, the mother may be almost sure of it, as her children come to be intelligent companions. And yet how does it happen that so few happy families" are seen? and that, when such a one is found, it becomes not only a beautiful picture, but a rare example to us? In our own country, and our own generation, we have not time to be happy at home. The man of business remembers it as the resting-place of the past night, where he sat in a dressing-gown, with his feet upon the fender, and made ntal calculations of the week's loss and gain. He looks forward to it, for it is quieter than his counting-house, and he can take his papers home this evening, and rectify the mistake in his cash account that has just annoyed him so much.

If the children are clamorous, they must be sent off to bed; he has no time for stories of the lovely garden. Gold and silver have other uses in his eyes than for the manufacture of "coats and crossbows." What! sit an hour after dinner to watch the merriest game of romps that ever made the nursery ring with childish laughter! No, no! there is some one waiting at the store, or the northern mail is in; or, at the least, he will smoke his cigar in the counting-house, while he chats of the rise and fall of stocks with a neighbor. And the mother, thus left to be careful and anxious about many things-it would be a waste of the busy daylight to listen to the thousand and one questions which children ask, when their eager minds first begin to unfold in the light of reason, and "why?" becomes the preface of every inquiry.

But there is something before all this; something that closed the avenues of mind and heart between the husband and wife, before childish prattle and the patter of little feet sounded through the house. There was plenty of time in their first days of courtship. No lack of leisure to humor the whims of the pretty girl, who is now the faded wife. She could spend hours and days in practicing his favorite songs, or arranging the dresses he liked best to see, or reading the volumes he loved to discuss. To be

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Βιβλία

Godey's Lady's Book, Τόμοι 44-45