A sneerish sort of fellow stood by me, And said, "To such extent as I can see, When churches get afire, by night or day, The Lord stands still and lets 'em burn away. If this is His abode beyond a doubt, Why doesn't He raise his hand and put it out?" Said I, "Young man, please do not try to aid With your advice the mighty Power that made What little there is of you. There are still Schemes you don't comprehend, and never will. You're talented, I think; but no one cares To have you help the Lord in His affairs. Why, probably, right where that church has stood, There'll soon be built another, twice as good; And some mean, tight insurance company will Perhaps be made to pay more'n half the bill. The Lord knows, in these fool-confounding scenes, When to rebuild, and where to get the means." He turned away his head exceeding far, And lit a little bit of white cigar; But gave, "to such extent as I could see," No more of his theology to me. I'm none too good; but when men jeer and flout, I like to have them know what they're about. [_From Arthur Selwyn's Note-book._] WHEN PROMETHEUS STOLE THE FLAME. When Prometheus stole the flame, Did he know what with it came? Did he look afar and see All the blessings that would be? Could he view the gentle gloam Of the fireside of a home? Or the centre-table's blaze, Turning evenings into days, Where, encamped with quiet zest, Happy children toil and rest? Did he view the parlor's gleam, Or the 'wildering palace dream? See the torch's floating glare Burn its way through walls of air; Or, through under-regions trace Earth's remotest hiding-place? Did he see the flags of steam O'er the cities flash and gleam? To his vision, like a star, Did the light-house gleam afar, Which another eye should be To the traveller of the sea? If Prometheus, tortured--bound-- Knew the blessings man had found, Then his sufferings must have been Soothed by blessings from within. * * * * *