Faith and love that work together Will turn drudgery into joy; And make every service easy That doth trouble and annoy. Love will show where service waits you Tho’ it be but word or song; Faith will prompt you how to do it Be the service short or long. You can never be discouraged While the two together blend; Joined to faith, love meets all trials And endureth to the end. You can leave the lower places, And mount upward every day; Winning character exalted If you faithfully work and pray. You can reach the best attainments Doing service that you find; And a worthier example You can leave to all mankind. CROWNING LIGHT. There is a Land, beyond the gloomy sky, That needs no earthly light for its adorning; Where God’s own children nevermore shall die,— A home of perfect peace and endless morning. We cannot see the City’s shining towers, But truths divine proclaim the wondrous story,— On earth the cross, in Heaven the crown is ours,— While Gates ajar reveal an inner glory. NONCE. To-day is here; to-morrow’s dawn Perchance thou may’st not see; The noon-tide of another day May come, but not for thee. The sun at even’-tide may glow Upon yon mountain height, And pause to bless the Mother Earth Before he sinks from sight; And yet for thee no earthly light, No sunset glow at home, No shadows of life’s twilight hour,— No silent night may come. Thou knowest not; the “brighter days” May never come to thee; The future is thy present time Formed from life’s yesterday. Thou can’st not look beyond this hour To trace what may befall; But now is the accepted time To serve the Lord of all. To-day then do the good thou canst, And brighten home with love; Then shall thy soul more brightly shine In Heaven, the Home above. Thy blessings oft are in disguise,— What seems to be a sorrow May be the shades of deepening night Before a brighter morrow. THE GOAL. Each day we are grown older, Years swiftly pass away; And the world seems strangely colder, The heart itself less gay. The hopes that are brightly dawning, The joys that oft are ours, Shall vanish, in life’s fair morning, Like dew-drops on the flowers. Youth’s rosiest tints of splendor, Are fading fast from sight; And the trusting heart more tender, In patience waits the night. Like the athlete growing weary, No more we run the race; But near to the victors cheery We seek a resting-place. Just beyond the passing pleasure, And thought of added years, We can see Heaven’s greater treasure, Which satisfies and cheers.