Then back to our separate places A little more lonely we creep, A little more care in our faces, The wrinkles a little more deep. And we stagger, ah, God, how we stagger As we lift the old load to our back! A little more lonely to carry Because of the comrade we lack. But into our lives whether chidden Or welcome, God's comforters come; His sunshine waits not to be bidden, His stars,--they are always at home. His mornings are faithful,--His evenings Allay the day's fever and fret; And night--kind physician--entreats us To slumber and dream and forget. O Spirit of infinite kindness And gentleness passing all speech! Forgive when we miss in our blindness The comforting hand them dost reach. Thou sendest the Spring on Thine errand To soften the grief of the world; For us is the calm of the mountain, For us is the rose-leaf uncurled. Thou art tenderer, too, than a mother, In the wonderful Book it is said; O Pillow of Comfort! What other So softly could cradle my head? And though Thou hast darkened the portal That leads where our vanished ones be; We lean on our faith in Thy goodness, And leave them to silence and Thee. Jenny June _By Fanny Hallock Carpenter_ A beautiful soul has journeyed Out from the Now into Then. Her voice echoes back to us, waiting, The sound of the great Amen. Her life was a song so winsome It sung itself night and day Into the hearts of the people Who met her along the way. Her life was a flower so fragrant That every one passing her, knew By the perfume from it exhaling, The love out of which it grew. Her life was a book so vivid That all, though running, could read The story of earnest endeavor Written for woman's need. Her life was a light whose radiance Brightened all woman-kind, As sunshine wakens the flowers, Or genius illumines the mind. Her life was a poem so tender It thrilled with its cadence sweet Many a life prosaic, Which caught up the rhythmic beat. Her life was a bell whose ringing Gave no uncertain sound, Its chiming rang out to the nations And girdled the world around. Her life was a deed so holy, So noble, so brave, so true, That it set all womanhood noting The good one woman could do. Her life was a brook, that swelling Grew to a river wide, That freshened the souls of the many Touched by its flowing tide. The song has trilled into silence, The flower is faded and gone, The book's strong story is ended, The light is lost in the dawn. The poem's sweet rhythm is ended, The chiming has ceased to be, The deed is fully accomplished, The river has joined the sea.