But the past is still in God's keeping,

The future His mercy shall clear,
And what looks dark in the distance
May brighten as I draw near.

For perhaps the dreaded future
Has less bitter than I think;
The Lord may sweeten the waters,
Before I stoop to drink;

Or if Marah must be Marah,

He will stand beside its brink.

It may be he keeps waiting,
Till the coming of my feet,
Some gift of such rare blessedness,
Some joy so strangely sweet,
That my lips shall only tremble
With the thanks they cannot speak.

Oh! restful, blissful ignorance,

"Tis blessed not to know,

It holds me in those mighty arms,

Which will not let me go;

And hushes my soul to rest

On the bosom which loves me so.

So I go on not knowing,

I would not if I might,

I would rather walk in the dark with God

Than go alone in the light;

I would rather walk with Him by faith

Than walk alone by sight.

My heart shrinks back from trials.
Which the future may disclose,
Yet I never had a sorrow

But what the dear Lord chose;
So I send the coming tears back
With the whispered words-He knows.

MY LEGACY FROM PARNASSUS.

They told me I was heir; I turned in haste and run to seek my treasure, and wondered as I ran how it was placed; if I should find a measure of gold, or if the title of fair lands and houses would be laid within my hands.

I journeyed many roads, I knocked at gates, I spoke to each wayfarer I met, and said: A heritage awaits me, art not thou the bearer of news, some message sent to me whereby I learn which way my new possessions lie?

Some asked me in, nought lay beyond their door; some smiled and would not tarry, but said that men were just behind who bore more gold than I could carry. And the morn, the noon, the day were spent, while empty-handed up and down I went.

At last one cried, whose face I could not see, as through the mists he hasted: "Poor child! what evil ones have hindered thee till this whole day is wasted? Hath no man told thee that thou art joint heir with one named Christ, who waits thy goods to share ?"

The one named Christ I had sought for many days, in many places vainly. I heard men name his name in many ways; I saw his temples plainly. But they who

named him most gave me no sign to find him by, or prove the heirship mine.

And when at last I stood before his face I knew him by no token, save subtle air of joy, which filled the place. Our greeting was not spoken. In solemn silence I received my share. My share! No deed of house or spreading lands, as I had dreamed; no measure. heaped up with gold. My elder Brother's hands have never held such treasure.

Foxes have holes, and birds in nests are fed; my Brother hath not where to lay his head. My share! the right like Him to know all pain which hearts are made for knowing. The right to find in loss the surest gain; to reap my joy from sowing in bitter tears; the right with Him to keep a watch by day and night with all who weep.

My share! To-day men call it grief and death, I see the joy and life to-morrow; I thank my Father with my every breath for this sweet legacy of sorrow; and through my tears, I call to each joint-heir with Christ, make haste to ask Him for thy share.

THE CITY OF THE DEAD.

In a long vanished age, whose varied story
No record has to-day,

So long ago expressed its grief and glory,

There flourished far away

H. H.

In a broad realm, whose beauty passed all measure,

A city fair and wide,

Wherein the dwellers lived in peace and pleasure,
And never any died.

Disease, and pain and death, those stern marauders,

Which mar our world's fair face,

Never encroached upon the pleasant borders
Of that bright dwelling-place.

No fear of parting, and no dread of dying

Could ever enter there;

No mourning for the lost, no anguished crying,
Made any face less fair.

Without the city's walls death reigned as ever,
And graves rose side by side;

Within, the dwellers laughed at his endeavor,
And never any died.

Oh, happiest of all earth's favored places!
Oh, bliss to dwell therein!

To live in the sweet light of living faces,
And fear no graves between.

To feel no death damp gathering cold and colder,

Disputing life's warm breath;

To live on, never lovelier or older,

Radiant in deathless youth;

And hurrying from the world's remotest parts,
A tide of pilgrims flowed

Across broad plains, and over mighty waters,

To find that blest abode.

Where never death should come between, and sever Them from their loved apart,

Where they might work and win, and live forever, Still holding heart to heart.

And thus they lived in happiness and pleasure,
And grew in power and pride,

And did great deeds, and laid up stores of treasure,

Yet listen, hapless soul, whom angels pity,
Craving a boon like this;

Mark how the dwellers in the wondrous city
Grew weary of their bliss;

And many years rolled on,

And saw them striving with unbated breath,
And other years still found and left them,
And gave no sign of death.

One and another who had borne

The pain of concealing life's long thrall, Forsook their pleasant places,

And came stealing outside the city wall; Craving with wish that brooked no more delay, (So long had it been crossed)

The blessed possibility of dying,

The treasure they had lost.

Daily the current of rest seeking mortals,

Swelled to a broader tide,

'Till none were left within the city's portals,
And graves grew green outside.

Would it be worth the having or the giving,
The boon of endless breath,

Oh! for the weariness that comes of living,
There is no boon-but death.