And friends have placed upon my brow The laurels of renown; But she first taught me how to wear My manhood as a crown. My hair is silvered o'er with age, I'm longing to depart; To clasp again my mother's hand, And be a child at heart. To roam with her the glory-land Where saints and angels greet; To cast our crowns with songs of love At our Redeemer's feet. A GRAIN OF SAND. 3 A GRAIN OF SAND. Do you see this grain of sand Lying loosely in my hand? Do you know to me it brought Just a simple loving thought? When one gazes night by night On the glorious stars of light, Oh how little seems the span Measured round the life of man. Oh! how fleeting are his years With their smiles and their tears; Can it be that God does care For such atoms as we are? Then outspake this grain of sand "I was fashioned by His hand In the star lit realms of space I was made to have a place. "Should the ocean flood the world, Were its mountains 'gainst me hurled All the force they could employ Wouldn't a single grain destroy; And if I, a thing so light, Have a place within His sight; You are linked unto his throne Cannot live nor die alone. 4 THE CROCUSES. In the everlasting arms Mid life's dangers and alarms Let calm trust your spirit fill; Know He's God, and then be still." Trustingly I raised my head Hearing what the atom said; Knowing man is greater far Than the brightest sun or star. THE CROCUSES. They heard the South wind sighing A murmur of the rain; And they knew that Earth was longing To see them all again. While the snow-drops still were sleeping Beneath the silent sod; They felt their new life pulsing Within the dark, cold clod. Not a daffodil nor daisy Had dared to raise its head; Not a fairhaired dandelion Peeped timid from its bed; THE CROCUSES. 5 Though a tremor of the winter Did shivering through them run; Yet they lifted up their foreheads To greet the vernal sun. And the sunbeams gave them welcome. As did the morning air And scattered o'er their simple robes Rich tints of beauty rare. Soon a host of lovely flowers From vales and woodland burst; But in all that fair procession The crocuses were first. First to weave for Earth a chaplet To crown her dear old head; And to beautify the pathway Where winter still did tread. And their loved and white haired mother Smiled sweetly 'neath the touch, When she knew her faithful children Were loving her so much. 6 THE PRESENT AGE. THE PRESENT AGE. Say not the age is hard and cold-- I think it brave and grand; When men of diverse sects and creeds Are clasping hand in hand. The Parsee from his sacred fires Beside the Christian kneels; And clearer light to Islam's eyes The word of Christ reveals.