We traveled by a mountain’s edge,
    It was September calm and bright,
    Nature had decked its rocky ledge
    With flowers of varied hue and height. 
    It seemed a miracle that they
    Should flourish in that meager soil,
    As noble spirits oftenest may
    Gleam forth through poverty and toil.

    Below were rippling, sparkling streams
    Through meadows kissed by shadowy hills,
    Reflecting autumn’s peaceful dreams
    Within those swift, translucent rills. 
    This lesson should these scenes impart
    As on the road of life we go,
    To do our duty and take heart,
    As flowers bloom and streamlets flow.

    Perhaps in ages yet to be
    May flowers wave here e’en as today,
    These streams still rush in merry glee
    To cheer and charm who here may stray;
    But we upon Time’s rapid tide
    Like morning mists will disappear;
    But if by faith to Christ allied,
    Heaven’s glory is both sure and clear.

    We look from Nature to her God;
    We feel his presence from above;
    We know that when the earth he trod,
    He preached through her his wondrous love. 
    What is there in our flitting years
    With this pure treasure can compare? 
    His love can wipe away our tears,
    His love can lighten every care.

THE MIGRATORY SWANS

    A necklace in the depth of blue
    Of scintillating, silvery pearls,
    Which peering eagerly we view
    As gracefully it curves and whirls,
    Safely and swiftly, far away
    They seek the groves of date and lime;
    Naught can arrest and naught dismay
    From heights so lofty and sublime.

    In dreams alone their wintry home
    Can haunt them with its ice and snow;
    Mingled with visions as they come
    Of shimmering waves where lilies grow
    And open lakes are fresh and clear,
    Fit mirror for a plumaged breast,
    Shaded by moss-grown trees.  ’Tis here
    They’ll dip and dive in gleeful rest.

    Vanished! and vainly do we try
    To trace upon the distant air
    That scroll which written on the sky
    Told of the hand which led them there. 
    Could we upon our heavenward way
    From tempting snares as far remove
    And be as disenthralled as they,
    We’d plainer show a guiding love.

    We skim too closely to the earth,
    We press too slowly for the prize,
    Let thoughts and cares of trivial worth
    Retard our journey to the skies. 
    Oh, let us watch and pray to have
    A loftier flight from transient things,
    Inspired like swans at last to lave
    In streams of bliss our wearied wings!

MINISTERING WOMEN

And Joanna, the wife of Chuza, Herod’s steward, and Susanna and many others who ministered unto him of their substance.—­Luke 8:3.  Mark 14:3-9.  John 12:3-8.  Matthew 26:6-13.  Luke 7:37-50.  John 11:3.