THE MOUNTAINS OF EL TIH.

The pilgrim on the bleached El Tih
Stares at the rocky wall awhile,
Nor through the shadeless glare can see,
Rift, pathway, or defile.
Yet, just one burning corner past,
Behold the glittering cliffs dispart;
He finds himself ascending fast
Into the mountain's heart.
When troubles thus a barrier raise,
Oh, yield not to despair or wrath,
Press for the turn; by His own ways
Great God will show the path.

DAMASCUS IN THE EVENING.

The dream of an enchanted home
Set in an emerald frame,
Peach bloom, and topaz walls, and dome,
And minarets of flame;
So the great city flashed on us,
Descending Antilibanus.
From lower slopes a change we see;
The towers, like white-stoled maids,
All bleached to purest ivory,
Arise from purple shades:
So the great city smiled on us,
Descending Antilibanus.
But soon within her gates we found
The grace and glory gone:
Darkness for splendour all around,
And clay for precious stone.
Was this the joy that beamed on us,
Descending Antilibanus?
Again a change—a door we pass—
O magical surprise!
Fount, lamps, divans, arcaded glass,
A traveller's paradise!
Emblems of life and death with us
We brought from Antilibanus.