And so for me there is no sting to death, And so the grave has lost its victory. It is but crossing--with a bated breath And white, set face--a little strip of sea To find the loved ones waiting on the shore, More beautiful, more precious than before. [Illustration:] THE SADDEST HOUR. The saddest hour of anguish and of loss Is not that season of supreme despair When we can find no least light anywhere To gild the dread, black shadow of the Cross; Not in that luxury of sorrow when We sup on salt of tears, and drink the gall Of memories of days beyond recall-- Of lost delights that cannot come again. But when, with eyes that are no longer wet, We look out on the great, wide world of men, And, smiling, lean toward a bright to-morrow, Then backward shrink, with sudden keen regret, To find that we are learning to forget: Ah! then we face the saddest hour of sorrow. [Illustration: ACROSS THE SEA OF SILENCE] SHOW ME THE WAY. Show me the way that leads to the true life. I do not care what tempests may assail me, I shall be given courage for the strife; I know my strength will not desert or fail me; I know that I shall conquer in the fray: Show me the way. Show me the way up to a higher plane, Where body shall be servant to the soul. I do not care what tides of woe or pain Across my life their angry waves may roll, If I but reach the end I seek, some day: Show me the way. Show me the way, and let me bravely climb Above vain grievings for unworthy treasures; Above all sorrow that finds balm in time; Above small triumphs or belittling pleasures; Up to those heights where these things seem child's-play: Show me the way. Show me the way to that calm, perfect peace Which springs from an inward consciousness of right; To where all conflicts with the flesh shall cease, And self shall radiate with the spirit's light. Though hard the journey and the strife, I pray, Show me the way. MY HERITAGE. I into life so full of love was sent That all the shadows which fall on the way Of every human being could not stay, But fled before the light my spirit lent. I saw the world through gold and crimson dyes: Men sighed and said, "Those rosy hues will fade As you pass on into the glare and shade!" Still beautiful the way seems to mine eyes. They said, "You are too jubilant and glad; The world is full of sorrow and of wrong. Full soon your lips shall breathe forth sighs--not song." The day wears on, and yet I am not sad.