The Mountain Spring And Other Poems | Page 6

around them then
In desert weird and wild?
Ye weary souls,
Tired travelers on the sands of time,
Trust God and
look to him for strength!
The angel of his word speaks faith and
peace,
And presses to the thirsting lip the cup

Of immortality!

MUSINGS
"Childhood and youth are vanity."
Often o'er life's pathway straying
Come sweet strains of long ago,

To the chords of memory playing
Music sweet and music low.
When upon the gray rock musing
'Neath the tree by childhood's home,

In the wild bird's note so soothing
Tenderly these strains will
come.
Gazing on the deep fringed mountain,
Distance robing it in blue,

Quaffing the familiar fountain,
Each repeats the story too.
Wandering by the streamlet flowing
Where we played in hours of
glee,
Hear its murmurs coming, going,
Tell of joys that used to be.
Wandering in the leafy wildwood
Sometimes in our leisure hours,

In the sunny days of childhood
How much fairer seemed its flowers!
Watching from the hill the sunset
'Neath the spreading chestnut tree,

Youthful dreams and visions come yet
Through the years so
magically.
Yet how vain these memories olden
If they do not teach the truth

That within the city golden
Only, dwells perpetual youth.
BARTIMÆUS
"What means this throng?" a blind man said,
Whilst begging by the
highway side;
Begging and blind, and lacking bread,
His ears
discern the living tide.
"Jesus of Nazareth passeth by,"
Was
answered. Had he heard aright?
Oh, was the heavenly healer nigh,

He who could give the blind their sight?
"Jesus, have mercy!" lo, he
cried,
"Oh, son of David, pity me!"
And when the jeering crowd
deride,
His accents form a clearer plea.
Jesus stood still. A kindly

voice
Bade him good cheer--"He calleth thee."
Thus must his lonely
heart rejoice,
"He thinks of me; yes, even me!"
Bartimæus found
the Living Light
Who asked and granted his request.
His blinded
eyes received their sight;
With joy he followed with the rest.
How
oft when Jesus passes by,
The heart-blind hear but don't perceive,

Else how they would for mercy cry
Ere Christ their Lord should take
his leave!
Like him of whom this story's told
They'd pray, "Lord
Jesus, pity me!"
And find his power and love could fold
Them here
and in eternity.
ZACCHÆUS
Jesus entered and passed through Jericho.--Luke 19:1-10.
City of palms! whose ancient name
Suggests a line of scarlet hue,

Type of thy glorious Guest who came
And passed with crowds thy
borders through,
Did aught foretell that on that day,
The Lord of
life would favor thee,
And centuries ring the novel way
A soul was
made both glad and free?
Zacchæus knew that through thy gates
Came One he oft had longed
to see;
Alas! how adverse were the fates--
So dense the throng, so
small was he!
Considering, he ran before
And climbed into a
wayside tree,
And ever since the sycamore
Is blended with his
history.
While peering eagerly below,
Above the tumult of the town
That
soothing voice to mortal woe
Bade him to hasten quickly down.

"Come," Jesus said, "I must abide
And tarry at thy house with thee."

Zacchæus the honor swift applied,
And entertained him joyfully.
The people frowned that Christ should dine
With a rich sinner
publican,
Nor knew his act of grace would shine,

A star of hope, to
fallen man.
Zacchæus assured his royal guest,
"Lord, half my goods
I give the poor;
And if I falsely have opprest,
Fourfold I unto men

restore."
His listener reads the human heart
And all its thoughts unerringly;

Alone such wisdom can impart
And judge of its sincerity.
Jesus
received this sin-sick soul,
Salvation to his house was given;
And
while time's cycles onward roll,
His faith and works will point toward
heaven.
"I came," the Lord of glory said
(Nor did he count the pain and cost),

"To feed the hungry soul with bread,
To seek and save that which
was lost."
APRIL
When April weeps, she wakes the flowers
That slept the winter
through.
Oh, did they dream those frosty hours
That she would be
untrue
And not awaken them in time
To smile their smiles of love,

To hear the robin's merry chime,
And gentle cooing dove?
And when they feel their mother's tears
So gently o'er them weep,

Will they tell her of their simple fears
And visions while asleep?

And will they tell her that they dreamed,
Beneath their sheets of snow,

Such weary dreamings that it seemed
The winter ne'er would go?
They'll soon be wide-awake and up,
In dainty robes arrayed,
Blue
violet, gold buttercup,
And quaker-lady staid.
Wild eglantine and
clustering thorn
Will grace the byway lanes,
Whilst woodland
flowers the dells adorn
And daisies cheer the plains.
The rippling streamlet soon will be
A crystal mirror bright
For
waving branch and mint and tree
That nod in golden light
Of
summer sunbeams glad'ning rays
Filling the heart with love,
While
nature and earth, uniting, praise
The God who reigns above.
In lowly spots will lilies spring
And scent the summer breeze,

And

on the earth there'll be no king
Arrayed like one of these.
So
weeping April's tears will bring
Her children from the tomb,
Will
dress the earth in robes of spring,
Brightened by fragrant bloom.
BETHLEHEM
Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea.--Matthew 2:1.
Bethlehem, where Christ was born,
Bethlehem, the Christian's star!

Bethlehem's prophetic morn
Echoed ages from afar.
Where the
shepherds heard the song
Heralding the holy birth,
Tidings that
would right the wrong,
News of joy from heaven to