We had told our little darling, Of the land of love and light, Of the saints all crowned with glory, And enrobed in spotless white. We said that our precious mother, Had gone to that land so fair, To dwell with beautiful angels, And to be forever there. But the child was sorely puzzled, Why dear grandmamma should go To dwell in a stranger city, When her children loved her so. But again the mystic angel Came with swift and silent tread, And our sister, Jamie’s mother, Was enrolled among the dead. To us the mystery deepened, To Jamie it seemed more clear; Grandma, he said, must be lonesome, And mamma has gone to her. But the question lies unanswered In our little Jamie’s mind, Why she should go to our mother, And leave her children behind; To dwell in that lovely city, From all that was dear to part, From children who loved to nestle So closely around her heart. Dear child, like you, we are puzzled, With problems that still remain; But think in the great hereafter Their meaning will all be plain. TRUTH. A rock, for ages, stern and high, Stood frowning ’gainst the earth and sky, And never bowed his haughty crest When angry storms around him prest. Morn, springing from the arms of night, Had often bathed his brow with light, And kissed the shadows from his face With tender love and gentle grace. Day, pausing at the gates of rest, Smiled on him from the distant West, And from her throne the dark-browed Night Threw round his path her softest light. And yet he stood unmoved and proud, Nor love, nor wrath, his spirit bowed; He bared his brow to every blast And scorned the tempest as it passed. One day a tiny, humble seed— The keenest eye would hardly heed— Fell trembling at that stern rock’s base, And found a lowly, hiding-place. A ray of light, and drop of dew, Came with a message, kind and true; They told her of the world so bright, Its love, its joy, and rosy light, And lured her from her hiding-place, To gaze upon earth’s glorious face.