Adown the years they come, like fleeting dreams,— No sound disturbs the hush of daylight fair, Save song of bird, or many murmuring streams, Like sweetest music filling all the air. Near, and yet nearer, till each sunlight ray Reveals no shadows, as they onward glide, But two young friends, upon life’s unknown way, Eager to journey o’er a path untried. Youth knows no fear; the day is near at hand And Mother Earth breathes forth a welcome sweet; Thus do they wander o’er the sun-lit land Until they come to where the two paths meet. They pause a moment, in their eager flight, Uncertain which to take upon the way; But choose the path now filled with morning light Where flowers bloom and gentle zephyrs play. Now Pleasure points the way to paths unknown, The prospect brightens, as new scenes appear;— The world invites them,—they are not alone, But join a moving throng, who know no fear. To one, a still voice comes,—a breath, a prayer, Breathed by a brother, in life’s changing day; And, gazing up, he leaves the valley fair To seek that other path,—the surer way. He climbs the height; the vale beneath him lies, And angels guide his faltering steps aright; To gain the summit manfully he tries,— Above he sees the day’s eternal light; But looking downward, to the valley fair, Where, in youth’s morn, his weary feet have trod, He sees his fellow traveler lingering there And, in his strength, he leads him up to God. Happy is he who finds the heavenly way And lends to doubting souls a helping hand; God’s light directs him, step by step, each day,— God’s glory waits him in the Promised Land. STEADFASTNESS. We never know what we can do, Until we try; He who accomplishes the least, Stands idly by; While he who makes the most of life, Keeps plodding on, And earns at least his perfect rest When strength is gone. We never know what we can do, Until we dare; He who would gain the victor’s place, Must not despair; For tho’ life’s burdens seem too great, The way too long, He will succeed who conquers doubt By prayer and song. VOLUME ONE. How beautiful is youth that grandly gleams With bright illusions and aspiring dreams! Book of beginnings, such as Fiction paints, With model heroines and hero saints. Each precious page with expectation teems, Filling the mind as rain-drops fill the streams; Sweet and refreshing as the summer shower And adding charms to every passing hour. Each coming chapter with a new hope beams, But how ’twill end the wisest little dreams; And when, at last, the book of Youth is done A less romantic sequel is begun. HAPPINESS-KILLERS.