To alleviate the pain,
    Bring the light of hope again! 
    One whose feet do lightly tread,
    One whose hands do raise the head,
    One who watches there alone,
    Every motion, every tone;
    Unaware an eye doth see
    All these acts of charity. 
    Know that in that lonely cot,
    Where the wealth of earth is not,
    These bright jewels will be found,
    Shedding love and light around! 
    Say, shall gems and rubies rare
    With these heart-shrined gems compare? 
    Constancy, that will not perish,
    But the thing it loveth cherish,
    Clinging to it fondly ever,
    Fainting, faltering, wavering, never! 
    Trust, that will not harbor doubt;
    Putting fear and shame to rout,
    Making known how, free from harm,
    Love may rest upon its arm. 
    Hope, that makes the future bright,
    Though there come a darksome night;
    And, though dark despair seems nigh,
    Bears the soul up manfully! 
    These are gems that brighter shine
    Than they of Golconda’s mine. 
    Born amid love’s fond caresses,
    Cradled in the heart’s recesses,
    They will live when earth is old,
    Marble crumble, perish gold! 
    Live when ages shall have past,
    While eternity shall last;
    Be these gems the wealth you share,
    Friends of mind, where’er you are!

LIGHT FROM A BETTER LAND.

    Here at thy grave I stand,
        But not in tears;
    Light from a better land
        Banishes fears. 
    Thou art beside me now,
        Whispering peace;
    Telling how happy thou
        Found thy release! 
    Thou art not buried here;
        Why should I mourn? 
    All that I cherished dear
        Heavenward hath gone! 
    Oft from that world above
        Come ye to this;
    Breathing in strains of love
        Unto me bliss!

POOR AND WEARY!

    In a low and cheerless cot
    Sat one mourning his sad lot;
    All day long he’d sought for labor;
    All day long his nearest neighbor
    Lived in affluence and squandered
    Wealth, while he an outcast wandered,
    And the night with shadowy wing
    Heard him this low moaning sing: 
        “Sad and weary, poor and weary,
        Life to me is ever dreary!”
    Morning came; there was no sound
    Heard within.  Men gathered round,
    Peering through the window-pane;
    They saw a form as if ’t were lain
    Out for burial.  Stiff and gaunt
    Lay the man who died in want. 
    And methought I heard that day
    Angel voices whispering say,
        “No more sad, poor and weary,
        Life to me no more is dreary!”

THE BANDBOX MOVEMENT.