Music mingled with the laughter, Like a hush from Dreamland sent; And the dancers followed after, While the moments came and went. Manly faces smiled a greeting, Tender glances woke love’s song; But my heart tho’ wildly beating, To one only did belong. Soon he touched me on the shoulder, While his head to mine he bent; And tho’ other looks grew colder, Yet my soul was quite content. AT NIGHT. At night when all the world is still, And stars in glory shine, There comes to earth a whisper sweet Of peace and love divine. And gazing upward to the sky, Where million lights appear, We seem to see the heaven beyond, And feel that Christ is near. The weary day is past and gone, The angels sing again Of glory to the God on high And “Peace, good will toward men.” We seem to hear beyond the night The music soft and sweet; And laying all our burdens down, We rest at Jesus’ feet. Our trusting hearts and hope of heaven Have banished doubt and care, And Christ is waiting to forgive,— To answer every prayer. This love immortal is our guide, And shorter seems the way; Beyond the stars and night of earth Is home and endless day. ONLY. By courtesy of Ladies’ World, New York City. It was only a gleam of sunshine After a day of gloom, Yet it brought it’s warmth and blessing To a dreary, darkened room. It was only a strain of music Wafted upon the air, Yet a heart caught up it’s meaning, Till Peace was a sovereign there. It was only a smile of welcome And a loving clasp of the hand, Yet it made the world an Eden To one who could understand. It was only a word, low spoken, To a spirit burden cast, Yet the angels sang: “Good tidings,” For it saved a soul at last. THE HOLY DREAM. His reverend head was bowed upon his hands; When in the lamp-light, thro’ his study door, Sleep’s angel came, who wisely understands How burdened hearts can be revived once more. The day, with all it’s quiet hours, was past; The sermon, that his weary brain prepared, Had, with a hopeful heart, been preached at last, And yet it seemed that not one listener cared. Life’s crosses looked too great for him to bear, And Hope was crushed beneath his spirit’s weight; His soul, at last, had yielded to despair And prayed for freedom, ere it was too late. The answer came, but not as he had prayed,— Life conquered death and sleep had mastered all; Like some fond mother gently now she stayed To soothe, and bless, and wake him at her call. Sleeping he dreamed that, on her heavenly way, The angel Death had listened to his prayer, And led him upward to the endless day, Beyond the valley known as Heart’s Despair.