3. b. Perkins.

1810-1849.

THE UPRIGHT SOUL.

Late to our town there came a maid,
A noble woman, true and pure,
Who, in the little while she stayed,
Wrought works that shall endure.

It was not anything she said,—
It was not anything she did :
It was the movement of her head,
The lifting of her lid.

Her little motions when she spoke,
The presence of an upright soul,
The living light that from her broke,
It was the perfect whole :

We saw it in her floating hair,
We saw it in her laughing eye;
For every look and feature there
Wrought works that cannot die.

For she to many spirits gave

A reverence for the true, the pure, The perfect, that has power to save, And make the doubting sure.

She passed, she went to other lands,

She knew not of the work she did; The wondrous product of her hands From her is ever hid.

Forever, did I say? Oh, no!

The time must come when she will look

Upon her pilgrimage below,

And find it in God's book,

That, as she trod her path aright,
Power from her very garments stole ;
For such is the mysterious might
God grants the upright soul.

A deed, a word, our careless rest,
A simple thought, a common feeling,
If He be present in the breast,
Has from Him power of healing.

Go, maiden, with thy golden tresses,
Thine azure eye and changing cheek,
Go, and forget the one who blesses
Thy presence through the week.

Forget him; he will not forget,
But strive to live and testify

Thy goodness, when earth's sun has set,
And Time itself rolled by.

Daniel C. Colesworthy.

1810.

A LITTLE WORD IN KINDNESS SPOKEN.

A little word in kindness spoken,

A motion or a tear,

Has often healed the heart that 's broken,

And made a friend sincere.

A word, a look, has crushed to earth
Full many a budding flower,

Which, had a smile but owned its birth,

Would bless life's darkest hour.

Then deem it not an idle thing

A pleasant word to speak;

The face you wear, the thoughts you bring, A heart may heal or break.

Unknown.

ORIGIN OF THE OPAL.

A dewdrop came, with a spark of flame
He had caught from the sun's last ray,
To a violet's breast, where he lay at rest
Till the hours brought back the day.

The rose look'd down, with a blush and frown; But she smiled all at once to view

Her own bright form, with its coloring warm, Reflected back by the dew.

Then the stranger took a stolen look
At the sky so soft and blue;

And a leaflet green, with its silver sheen,
Was seen by the idler too.

A cold north wind, as he thus reclined,

Of a sudden raged around;

And a maiden fair, who was walking there,
Next morning, an opal found.

Dscheladeddin.

THE ANSWER.1

Allah, Allah!" cried the sick man, racked with pain the long night through;

Till with prayer his heart grew tender, till his lips like honey grew.

But at morning came the Tempter; said, "Call louder, child of pain!

See if Allah ever hears or answers, 'Here am I,' again."

'Tholuck's version. Translated by Dr. J. F. Clarke, 1810-1888.

Like a stab, the cruel cavil through his brain and pulses went ;

To his heart an icy coldness, to his brain a darkness sent.

Then before him stands Elias; says, "My child, why thus dismayed?

Dost repent thy former fervor? Is thy soul of prayer afraid?”

"Ah!" he cried, "I've called so often; never heard the 'Here am I';

And I thought, God will not pity; will not turn on me His eye."

Then the grave Elias answered :

'Rise, Elias; go

"God said,

Speak to him, the sorely tempted; lift him from his gulf of woe.

"Tell him that his very longing is itself an answering cry;

That his prayer, 'Come, gracious Allah!' is my answer, 'Here am I !'"

Every inmost aspiration is God's angel unde

filed;

And in every

O my Father!" slumbers deep a

"Here, my child."