If none were sick and none were sad,
What service could we render?

I think if we were always glad,
We scarcely could be tender.
Did our beloved never need

Our patient ministration,

Earth would grow cold and miss indeed
Its sweetest consolation;

If sorrow never claimed our heart,
And every wish were granted,
Patience would die, and hope depart―
Life would be disenchanted.

And yet in heaven is no more night,
In heaven is no more sorrow!
Such unimagined new delight

Fresh grace from pain will borrow.
As the poor seed that underground
Seeks its true life above it,

Not knowing what will there be found
When sunbeams kiss and love it,
So we in darkness upward grow,
And look and long for heaven,
But cannot picture it below

Till more of light be given.

NOTE. A more complete version of this anonymous poem than that found in Harper's Encyclopædia of Poetry, in which the last eight lines given here are missing.

A PLEA FOR "CASTLES IN THE AIR."

AMID the myriad troubles that meet us day by day,
Who would not from the conflict a moment turn away,
And in a far-off fairy-land, where men no burdens bear,
Forget awhile our tears and toil in "castles in the air"?

When many a bright-hued prospect fades fast beyond our view,
And hopes which neared fruition prove shadowy and untrue;
May we not in that dreamland, beyond all clouds and care,
Behold our Paradise restored in "castles in the air"?

Oh, there are lonely chambers in every home and heart ·
And in life's song of sorrow each one must bear a part.
But hark! what mystic melodies soon hush the voice of care,
As parted hands are clasped once more in "castles in the air."

Then never grow discouraged though fortune favors not,
And we pursue life's pilgrimage unnoticed or forgot;
We have an hour of victory and lustrous laurels wear
For all are kings and conquerors in "castles in the air."

JACOB GOUGH.

LEARN TO WAIT.

LEARN to wait-life's hardest lesson, Conned perchance, through blinding tears, While the heart-throbs sadly echo

To the tread of passing years.

Learn to wait-hope's slow fruition;

Faint not, though the way seem long;

There is joy in each condition,

Hearts, through suffering, may grow strong.

Constant sunshine, howe'er welcome,
Ne'er would ripen fruit or flower;
Giant oaks owe half their greatness
To the scathing tempest's power.

Thus a soul untouched by sorrow
Aims not at a higher state;
Joy seeks not a brighter morrow,
Only sad hearts learn to wait.

Human strength and human greatness
Spring not from life's sunny side;
Heroes must be more than driftwood
Floating on a waveless tide.

BETTER TO CLIMB AND FALL.

GIVE me a man with an aim,
Whatever that aim may be,

Whether it's wealth, or whether it's fame,

It matters not to me.

Let him walk in the path of right,

And keep his aim in sight,

And work and pray in faith alway,

With his eye on the glittering height.

Give me a man who says, -
"I will do something well,
And make the fleeting days
A story of labor tell."

Though the aim he has be small,

It is better than none at all;

With something to do the whole year through

He will not stumble or fall.

But Satan weaves a snare

For the feet of those who stray With never a thought or care Where the path may lead away. The man who has no aim,

Not only leaves no name

When this life is done, but ten to one

He leaves a record of shame.

Give me a man whose heart

Is filled with ambition's fire; Who sets his mark in the start,

And keeps moving it higher and higher. Better to die in the strife,

The hands with labor rife,

Than to glide with the stream in an idle dream,
And lead a purposeless life.

Better to strive and climb,
And never reach the goal,
Than to drift along with time,

An aimless, worthless soul.

Ay, better to climb and fall,

Or sow, though the yield be small, Than to throw away day after day, And never to strive at all.

BY AND BY.

WAS the parting very bitter?
Was the hand clasped very tight?
Is a storm of tear-drops falling
From a face all sad and white?

Think not of it, in the future,
Calmer, fairer days are nigh—
Gaze not backward, but look onward
For a sunny by and by."

Was the priceless love you lavished,

Sought for, played with, and then slain?
Were its crushed and quivering remnants
Calmly thrown you back again?
Calmly, too, those remnants gather,
Bring them home without a sigh;
Sweet returns they yet shall bring you
In the coming "by and by."

Are the eyelids very heavy?

Does the tired head long for rest? Are the temples hot and throbbing, And the hands together pressed?

Hope shall lay you on her bosom,
Cool the poor lips parched and dry,
And shall whisper, "Rest is coming-
Rest forever,' by and by.""

And when calmed and cheered and freshened
By her soul-inspiring voice,

Then look up, the heavens are brightening -
Cease your wailing and rejoice.
Cry not for the days departed,

None will hear you, none reply;
But look up where light is breaking
O'er a brighter "by and by."

FAILURE.

THE Lord, who fashioned my hands for working,
Set me a task and it is not done;

I have tried and tried since the early morning,
And now to the westward sinketh the sun.

Noble the task that was kindly given
To one so little and weak as I,-
Somehow my strength would never grasp it,
Never as days and years flew by.

Others found me cheerfully toiling,

Showed me their work as they passed away;

Filled were their hands to overflowing,
Proud were their hearts, and glad and gay.

Laden with harvest spoils they entered
In at the golden gate of their rest;
Laid their sheaves at the feet of the Master,
Found their places among the blest.

Happy are those who strove to help me -
Failing ever in spite of their aid;

Fain would their love have borne me with them,
But I was unready and sore afraid.

Now I know my task will never be finished,
And when the Master calleth my name,

His voice will find me still at my labor,
Weeping beside it in weary shame.

With empty hands I shall rise to meet him,
And when he looks for the fruit of years,

Nothing have I to lay before him

But broken efforts and bitter tears.

Yet when he calls I fain would hasten
Mine eyes are dim and their light is gone;
And I am weary as though I carried

A burden of beautiful work well done.

I will fold my empty hands on my bosom
Meekly thus, in the shape of a cross;

And the Lord, who made me so frail and feeble,
Maybe will pity their strife and loss.

NEAR THE DAWN.

WHEN life's troubles gather darkly
Round the way we follow here,
When no hope the sad heart lightens,
No voice speaks a word of cheer;
Then the thought the shadow scatters,
Giving us a cheering ray,

When the night appears the darkest,
Morning is not far away.

When adversity surrounds us,

And our sunshine friends pass by,
And the dreams so fondly cherished
With our shattered treasures lie;
Then amid such gloomy seasons
This sweet thought can yet be drawn,
When the darkest hour is present,
It is always near the dawn.

When the spirit fluttering lingers
On the confines of this life,
Parting from all joyful memories,
And from every scene of strife,
Though the scene is sad and gloomy,
And the body shrinks in fear,

These dark hours will soon be vanished,
And the glorious morn be here.

Pain cannot affect us always,
Brighter days will soon be here;
Sorrow may oppress us often,
Yet a happier time is near;
All along our earthly journey
This reflection lights the way,
Nature's darkest hour is always
Just before the break of day.