CONTRASTED LIVES.
Successful men,
Woo the diffusive fire
And yet feel cold.
What of the homeless, then,
In pitiful attire,
Poor, feeble, old?
Affluence weeps,
A bird the weather kills,
Great souls despair.
Love willing vigil keeps,
Till want all feeling chills,
Frozen by care.
Think not to choose,
Or mere convenience seek,
Some faint heart cheer.
Who comfort could refuse,
To weary ones and weak
Perishing near?
THE WAY WILL OPEN.
The way will open it is true
If I but do my best,
I’ll do the things I find to do
And leave to God the rest.
Although the clouds are hanging low
And all the way seems dark,
I’ll do the very best I know:—
The dove was in the ark.