Upon the faces of men of great crime, through all the scars of sin, may be found traces of happy days of innocence and pleasure. Doubtless, as the springtime sun streams faintly into the cell of many a criminal, memory is quickened to life by its soft rays, and flowers of tenderness which have long slumbered bloom again, in the garden of his heart. Perhaps he may remember days all sunshine, days of loving—when a dear face and the light of glad eyes transfigured everything into a world of glory. But temptation, like sorrow, overtakes us when we are least prepared, and on the stream of life we either drift with its current, or with strength of will and determined purpose, pull our fragile bark against it.
None need so much human sympathy and divine love and favor as the poor in spirit. The poor in purse may vie in happiness with the rich; but to a life from which the light of hope has all gone out, the journey to the end is drear and desolate. Thus, it is we dream our own dreams and live our own lives, however much we may live for others.
For myself—
To feel that the springtime is coming,
That the wildwood is all full of song;
That the leaves, and the grasses and blossoms,
In beauty are creeping along,
Thrills my soul with a deep song of gladness;
And the depths of my being are stirred,
Till I feel that the Master is tuning
My voice to the voice of the bird.
And what harmony thrills all creation,
From the brooklet’s musical flow
To the wonderful tide of the ocean,
With its ceaseless murmur of woe.
Yet, He who made earth, sky and all things,
Reckons man of Himself, a part—
And what to nature is budding and bloom,
Symbols love in the human heart.
And I look at the world as I see it,
With its mingled sorrow and strife,
And my lips cry out the thought of my heart,
What a wonderful thing is life!
With eyes to behold the glory of God
In the stars or the blossoms of Spring,
And hearts feel a love, that lips may not tell,
Of a glorified Presence, within.
TO HER DOLLY
Come here, poor little Dolly,
And sit upon my knee,
I will smooth your tangled tresses,
For I feel in sympathy.