THE LATTER RAIN.

THE latter rain, it falls in anxious haste
Upon the sun-dried fields and branches bare,
Loosening with searching drops the rigid waste,
As if it would each root's lost strength repair;
But not a blade grows green as in the Spring,
No swelling twig puts forth its thickening leaves;
The robins only mid the harvests sing

Pecking the grain that scatters from the sheaves;
The rain falls still, the fruit all ripened drops,

It pierces chestnut burr and walnut shell,
The furrowed fields disclose the yellow crops,
Each bursting pod of talents used can tell,
And all that once received the early rain
Declare to man it was not sent in vain.

THE SLAVE.

I SAW him forging link by link his chain,
Yet while he felt its length he thought him free,
And sighed for those borne o'er the barren main
To bondage that to his would freedom be;
Yet on he walked with eyes far-gazing still
On wrongs that from his own dark bosom flowed,
And while he thought to do his master's will
He but the more his disobedience showed;
I heard a wild rose by the stony wall,
Whose fragrance reached me in the passing gale,
A lesson give-it gave alike to all
And I repeat the moral of its tale,

"That from the spot where deep its dark roots grew Bloomed forth the fragrant rose that all delight to view."

BREAD.

LONG do we live upon the husks of corn,
While 'neath untasted lie the kernels still,
Heirs of the kingdom, but in Christ unborn,
Fain with swine's food would we our hunger fill;
We eat, but 'tis not of the bread from heaven;
We drink, but 'tis not from the stream of life;
Our swelling actions want the little leaven
To make them with the sighed-for blessing rife;
We wait unhappy on a stranger's board,

2

While we the master's friend by right should live,
Enjoy with him the fruits our labors stored,
And to the poor with him the pittance give;
No more to want, the long expected heir

With Christ the Father's love forevermore to share.

THE SPIRIT LAND.

FATHER! thy wonders do not singly stand,
Nor far removed where feet have seldom strayed;
Around us ever lies the enchanted land

In marvels rich to thine own sons displayed;
In finding thee are all things round us found;
In losing thee are all things lost beside;
Ears have we but in vain strange voices sound,
And to our eyes the vision is denied ;

We wander in the country far remote,

Mid tombs and ruined piles in death to dwell;
Or on the records of past greatness dote,
And for a buried soul the living sell;
While on our path bewildered falls the night
That ne'er returns us to the fields of light.

WORSHIP.

THERE is no worship now, -the idol stands
Within the spirit's holy resting place!

Millions before it bend with upraised hands,
And with their gifts God's purer shrine disgrace;
The prophet walks unhonored mid the crowd
That to the idol's temple daily throng;
His voice unheard above their voices loud,
His strength too feeble 'gainst the torrent strong;
But there are bounds that ocean's rage can stay
When wave on wave leaps madly to the shore:
And soon the prophet's word shall men obey,
And hushed to peace the billows cease to roar;
For he who spoke — and warring winds kept peace,
Commands again and man's wild passions cease.