THE VISION OF THE CROSSES. In the mild light of evening, the pilgrim stretched himself to rest on the odorous grass, and it was not long till his heavy eyelids fell together. But as he slept a dream bore away his wakeful spirit from the earthly covering of his wearied members. It seemed to him as if the sun's shield which he had seen in the heavenly space, had become the countenance of the Eternal; the firmament seemed his garment, the earth his garment's hem. "Lord," he said, "thou wilt not sure in wrath withdraw thy peace from one whose heart still names thee Father, if to thee he confess his weakness. Right well I know that every one born of woman has here his cross to bear, but it is not the same burden and suffering all men have to endure. My cross is much too heavy. I desire only a burden befitting my strength; I am sinking, Lord, under this too heavy pressure." As thus, in child-like wise, he spake unto the Highest, behold! the storm came rushing along, and he felt himself caught aloft by its power. And as he came to standing ground again, he was in the midst of far-stretching halls, where all around him he saw a countless multitude of crosses. And a voice sounded through that lonesome place, "Lo! here is the magazine of trouble: thou mayst choose for thyself from amid all these crosses." Then he went from one to another, examining each, to prove which was the easiest burden; but could come to no determination. This cross was too large for him, and that one was too heavy, and a third was neither so large nor so heavy, but its sharp-pointed corners galled him exceedingly. And yonder was one, and it cast a glittering light like gold, and it enticed him not to pass it untried; but he found its weight also corresponding to its golden brilliancy. He had now examined the entire collection, but there was not one that would exactly suit him. He must survey the whole a second time. And now, before overlooked, he remarked a cross that seemed to him more tolerable, and beside that one he stood still at last,-a homely tree of pain, not light, but one that fitted properly his strength and measure. "Lord, if thou wilt," he cried, "let this cross be mine." And as his eyes proved it more attentively, lo! it was the same he had borne before-the same against which he had dared to murmur. He lifted it now, and carried it without complaining. From the German of Chamisso. SONNET. "Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted." IN youth we dream of joys to come :-regret W. W. B. LIGHT'S TEACHINGS. THE Light is ever silent; It calls up voices over sea and earth, And fills the glowing air with harmonies,- It wakes the voice of childhood soft and clear; The Light is ever silent; It sparkles on morn's million gems of dew; On Which the faint touch of insect's wing would shiver. The Light is ever silent; Most silent of all heavenly silences; Not even the darkness stiller; nor so still; That flows but ebbs not, breaking on the shore Such let my life be here; Not marked by noise but by success alone; Its silent but resistless influence; Wasting no needless sound, yet ever working, Sunshine is ever calm; There are no tempests in yon sea of beams, Sunshine is ever strong; No blast can break or bend one single ray; LIGHT'S TEACHINGS. In seven-fold strength it faces wave and wind Sunshine is ever pure; ; No art of man can rob it of its beauty, Sunshine is ever joyous; Its birthplace is in yon bright orb which flings, And sunshine, such as earth has never known, 185 Shall fill these skies with mirth, and smiles, and beauty, Which the long curse had deeply graven there. Kelso. H. B. |