Pebbles.

Pebbles, thrown upon the shore By a storm-stirred wild commotion, Tell of tumult, crash and roar, When wild furies lashed the ocean. Pebbles, gathered from the shore When the waves were only sighing, Tell of balmy evening strolls When the sunset fires were dying. Pebbles—some of brightest hue— That were snatched by dimpled fingers When the waves came rolling in— Loving thought around them lingers. Pebbles, in life’s pathway lie That the careless roughly tread, While another passing by Finds them gems that lustre shed. Pebbles—scan them—cast away Wave-worn, rounded bits of stone, But if one hath lighting ray, Keep the treasure as thine own. * * * * * When the heart is sorrow-laden Seek the spirit’s shrine of prayer, Jesus there will meet and bless you And you’ll leave your burdens there. * * * * * As the blessed, healing mentha Holds for mortal pains nepentha, So hath sympathy the art To soothe the bruises of the heart. * * * * * From each act, however small, Some result must ever fall; Drop a pebble in the wave Distant shores its ripples lave. * * * * * Give gladness to childhood! ’twill brighten life’s years; Pour hydromel for it, unmingled with tears, So fondly, caressingly, memory clings To youth’s every joy, forgetting its stings. * * * * * Experience teaches some lessons of worth— That wealth is not always of lordliest birth, That duty makes labor, tho’ humble, sublime— That crucial trial gives strength to the soul:— There’s no royal road to Life’s coveted goal, Earth’s throngs must all pass the same doorway of Time. * * * * * If Heaven’s light beam on your tears, Hope’s bright bow will span the cloud, While God’s own promise, calming fears, Will lift the soul by sorrow bowed. * * * * * Mystery deep, thy doors unbar, And let us look within!— Thought goes ranging far—afar, On webs our fancies spin. * * * * * The life I live is not my own— ’Tis subterfuge and dross, The yearning soul makes hidden moan, With secret sense of loss. * * * * * O, dear Savior, I am weary— Let me rest my soul with Thee! Mansions bright, Thou art preparing— Wilt thou, Jesus, welcome me? * * * * * For the bright, warm joys, once cherished, There’s a withered rose and a brown, sere leaf; Ah! dear were the hopes that perished, Yet there’s wealth of life, in the golden sheaf. * * * * * When a gleam of the sun, thro’ a rift in the storm, Throws a light on our path, that was shadowed before, We look to the cloud, for the beautiful form Of the bow, that is promise to us, evermore. * * * * * The rose is girt with thorns about, The berries sweet, with briars— Thus Fate doth ever hedge us from Our heart’s supreme desires. * * * * * Tossing, rolling, restless sea, Picture thou of Life to me—Shadow-clouds now floating o’er, Foam and drift-wood on the shore:— Depths of dark and billowy waves, Wrecking hopes and hollowing graves— Breaking on the beach in moans, Seem thy cavern’s echoed groans. Prosperous winds, and thou wilt bear, On thy heaving bosom fair, Snowy sails, with treasures laden From the distant, sun-kissed Aden,— Costly fabrics—richest stores, For their own, dear, home-lit shores, Where Love’s altars brightly burn, While she waits their glad return. * * * * * In all this beauteous world of ours What gift, of Love, so sweet as flowers! * * * * * O, sweet is the fountain of soothing That ever is found in His Word— Drink deeply when heart-wounds are bleeding And the peace of the spirit is stirred.