Though one by one the pearly drops of morning, From drooping flowers, on viewless pinions rise, We’ll see them yet the gorgeous clouds adorning With glowing arches of celestial dyes. Though one by one the stars are fading slowly That all night long kept vigil in the sky, The distant mountain-peaks, like prophets holy, Proclaim that morning’s light and song are nigh. Though with slow step goes forth the sower weeping, And on earth’s lap his precious treasure leaves, Yet comes the harvest, with its joyous reaping, When shall be gathered home the ripened sheaves. Though one by one the friends we fondly cherish Withdraw from ours, the cold and trembling hand, And leave us sorrowful, they do not perish— They yet shall greet us in a fairer land. Yes; from all climes, where’er the faithful slumber ’Neath scorching suns, or arctic snow and frost, Stainless they’ll rise, in myriads without number; All, all, shall meet—there shall not one be lost. A. M‘L. * * * * * Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Paternoster Row, LONDON, and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH. * * * * * _All Rights Reserved._