Of varying faiths, a common cause fused all their hearts in one. God give them now, whate'er their

names, the peace of duty done!

How gladly would I tread again the

old-remembered places, Sit down beside your hearth once more and look in the dear old faces!

And thank you for the lessons your fifty years are teaching,

For honest lives that louder speak than half our noisy preaching;

For your steady faith and courage in that dark and evil time,

When the Golden Rule was treason, and to feed the hungry, crime;

For the poor slave's house of refuge when the hounds were on his track,

And saint and sinner, church and state, joined hands to send him back.

Blessings upon you!- What you did for each sad, suffering one, So homeless, faint, and naked, unto our Lord was done !

Fair fall on Kennett's pleasant vales and Longwood's bowery ways The mellow sunset of your lives, friends of my early days.

May many more of quiet years be added to your sum,

And, late at last, in tenderest love, the beckoning angel come.

Dear hearts are here, dear hearts are there, alike below, above; Our friends are now in either world, and love is sure of love.

KINSMAN.

DIED AT THE ISLAND OF PANAY (PMLIPPINE GROUP), AGED 19 YEARS. WHERE ceaseless Spring her garland twines,

As sweetly shall the loved one rest, As if beneath the whispering pines And maple shadows of the West.

Ye mourn, O hearts of home! for him,
But, haply, mourn ye not alone;
For him shall far-off eyes be dim,
And pity speak in tongues unknown
There needs no graven line to give

The story of his blameless youth;
All hearts shall throb intuitive,

And nature guess the simple truth.

The very meaning of his name

Shall many a tender tribute win; The stranger own his sacred claim, And all the world shall be his kin.

And there, as here, on main and isle, The dews of holy peace shall fall, The same sweet heavens above him smile,

And God's dear love be over all!

VESTA.

O CHRIST of God! whose life and death

Our own have reconciled, Most quietly, most tenderly

Take home thy star-named child!

Thy grace is in her patient eyes,

Thy words are on her tongue;
The very silence round her seems
As if the angels sung.

Her smile is as a listening child's
Who hears its mother call;
The lilies of Thy perfect peace
About her pillow fall.

She leans from out our clinging arms,
To rest herself in Thine;
Alone to Thee, dear Lord, can we
Our well-beloved resign!

O, less for her than for ourselves

We bow our heads and pray; Her setting star, like Bethlehem's, To Thee shall point the way!

THE HEALER.

TO A YOUNG PHYSICIAN, WITH DORÉ'S PICTURE OF CHRIST HEALING THE SICK.

So stood of old the holy Christ

Amidst the suffering throng;
With whom his lightest touch sufficed
To make the weakest strong.

That healing gift he lends to them
Who use it in his name ;

The power that filled his garment's hem

Is evermore the same.

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