Our Gift | Page 6

home above,

Through thee diffusing peace and holiness;
May his pure spirit ever with us dwell,
Shedding o'er all our thoughts
its heavenly ray;
Our hearts attune the song of praise to swell,
And
o'er our darkness pour eternal day.

And when thou'rt left alone, to bear the name
Of him whose faithful
emblem thou art made,
May thou through ages still endure the same,

Though all around thee shall decay and fade.
May his dear memory, which through thee shall live
Long in the
places which his love has blest,
Shine as a beacon, life and light to
give,
And hope at last in God's eternal rest.
SUSAN'S REPENTANCE AND APPEAL TO HER ELDER
SISTER.
I once knew two sisters, the only companions of a widowed mother,
who, though they had no relatives and but very few friends, and should
therefore have been the more closely united in heart, were in the habit
oftener of harshly rebuking and blaming, than of encouraging, assisting,
and comforting each other. I often wondered at this, as they both had
many estimable traits of character, and could only account for it, not
excuse it, by the fact, that they had been much separated in early life,
and, since their reunion, had had to encounter many obstacles, and bear
the weight of many heavy disappointments. I confidently hoped and
believed that the good sense of one or both of them, would in time lead
them to see their error, and the sin of thus fretting and irritating each
other. Nor was I disappointed. The younger, whose conscience was the
most sensitive, first made the discovery, and immediately began trying
to remedy the evil, and to induce her sister to aid her in the endeavor.
Imagining some of her thoughts and feelings, I have put them in rhyme.
We have done wrong, dear sister; and I'm very sad to-day:
For I have
felt how far we've strayed from wisdom's blessed way; Have felt how
much of angry strife hath dwelt within our hearts, And how, when that
has entered in, Life's happiness departs.
We have done wrong, dear sister; for we have not patient been, But
answered often hasty words by hasty words again;
And when we
should with gentle acts have soothed each other's care, We've made by
cold indifference our lot more hard to bear.

We have done wrong, dear sister; I remember how we've grieved Our
widowed mother's anxious heart, so long of joy bereaved; O, were we
loving, good, and kind, and all our murmurings o'er, Might not the
smiles come back again and light her face once more?
I know our lot in life, thus far, hath not been smooth and fair; That
often much of toil and ill has fallen to our share;
But why, dear sister,
why should we ourselves the load increase? Why, by our jangling and
our strife, shut out all joy and peace?
And more: we have offended God; this day I feel and know
We have
forgotten his commands, and gained us nought but woe. O join with me
as, filled with grief, most earnestly I pray, That he will yet be merciful,
and take our sin away.
"Love thou each other;" "love all men;" "and love shall make you free;"
Thus said the Savior, Jesus; and let this our watchword be; Let us each
other love; and pray that gentle thoughts may come, And gentle words
and acts may make an Eden of our home.
Forgive me now, dear sister, all the anger I have shown,
And all my
past unkindness, through the years already flown; I'll love thee
faithfully and true, and lay all harshness by; To be my loving sister,
then, wilt thou not also try?
LITTLE EMMA.
One Saturday afternoon, little Emma came into her mother's room, and
said to her, "Mother, may I go with Abba to her Sunday school? She
says, they are all so happy there."
"My child," said her mother, "why do you wish to leave your own
school and go to a strange one?"
"Because, mother, Abba has often told me what a good school they
have, and how much she loves it."
"Well, as you are very anxious to go, I will grant your request this once,

on condition that it must never be repeated."
The next morning, this pleasant little girl was up very early to make
ready to go with her friend to the new Sabbath school.
She was delighted with all she saw and heard; and when the pastor took
her by the hand, she said to herself, "I wish mother would permit me to
come here every Sunday. I will ask her, at any rate." After the school
was dismissed, she went home, revolving in her mind what she should
say to obtain her mother's consent.
Her mother observed how thoughtful she appeared, and said to her,
"Emma,