We are crossing little bridges That we never reach at all; We are climbing mighty mountains That are not upon our way; We are looking for a twilight While the morning sunbeams fall, And the troubled thoughts of future Take the gladness from to-day. We are losing Nature’s glories, Which are meant for us to see; We are finding weeds and grasses Where the pretty flowers grow; We are looking for the storm clouds Which perchance may never be, And we quite forget the sunshine Which to-day is ours below. We are filling life’s brief season Full of worry and regret, And the thoughts of past and future Rob the present of its best; And the happiness of others We perchance do oft forget. Past regret and future worry Banish peace and conquer rest. Life is ours! The day is passing, And the Present is our all; Past has gone, and future cometh In the moments one by one. If to-day we do our duty, Love the Saviour, hear His call, Earth will bless and Heaven receive us, And His words will be: “Well done.” RECOMPENSE. Not he who sins, but he who does God’s will Finds, in life’s cup, some added sorrows still; Not he who soars to heights of rank and fame, But he who climbs, is he who bears Christ’s name; Not he who wins, but he who daily tries Shall best deserve the joys of Paradise. WHY? Why do I love thee and how do I know That thou art the dearest of all to me? Why do the moments, wherever I go, Seem brighter and better because of thee? Why, mid the work of the long, weary day, Are burdens of life more easy to bear? Why pause I so often, upon life’s way, To ask God’s blessing for thee in prayer? Why does my soul, once so tempted and sad, Awaken to thoughts both noble and pure? Why does the loving thee make my heart glad,— God seem the nearer and Heaven the more sure? Why, in my dreaming, thy voice do I hear, Thy face do I see, and feel thy caress? Why, dreaming or waking, seemeth thou near, To soothe, to comfort, to help and to bless? I pass others by, in the crowded street, Whose faces, it may be, are fair as thine, Yet thine, thine only, to me is most sweet,— Thou only canst waken this love of mine. Another’s low word and sweet, winning smile, Tho’ sought by many, when given to me I dare to confess can charm for awhile, But love meaneth more and I love but thee. I hear other voices, see other smiles, But hearing and seeing bringeth unrest; Laughter and music the evening beguiles,— Thy voice and thy smile for me are the best. Why do I love thee? Ask God why he gave To thee, and thee only, that power divine My heart to touch and my soul to save, And then I can answer why thou art mine.