Immortal life is something to be earned, By slow self-conquest, comradeship with Pain, And patient seeking after higher truths. We cannot follow our own wayward wills, And feed our baser appetites, and give Loose rein to foolish tempers year on year, And then cry, “Lord forgive me, I believe.” And straightway bathe in glory. Men must learn God’s system is too grand a thing for that. The spark divine dwells in our souls, and we Can fan it to a steady flame of light, Whose luster gilds the pathway to the tomb, And shines on through Eternity, or else Neglect it till it glimmers down to Death, And leaves us but the darkness of the grave. Each conquered passion feeds the living flame; Each well-born sorrow is a step towards God; Faith cannot rescue, and no blood redeem The soul that will not reason and resolve. Lean on thyself, yet prop thyself with prayer, (All hope is prayer; who calls it hope no more, Sends prayer footsore forth over weary wastes, While he who calls it prayer gives wings to hope,) And there are spirits, messengers of Love, Who come at call and fortify our strength. Make friends with them, and with thine inner self; Cast out all envy, bitterness, and hate; And keep the mind’s fair tabernacle pure. Shake hands with Pain, give greeting unto Grief, Those angels in disguise, and thy glad soul From height to height, from star to shining star, Shall climb and claim blest immortality. ANSWERED PRAYERS. I prayed for riches, and achieved success; All that I touched turned into gold. Alas! My cares were greater and my peace was less, When that wish came to pass. I prayed for glory, and I heard my name Sung by sweet children and by hoary men. But ah! the hurts--the hurts that come with fame I was not happy then. I prayed for Love, and had my heart’s desire. Through quivering heart and body, and through brain There swept the flame of its devouring fire, And but the scars remain. I prayed for a contented mind. At length Great light upon my darkened spirit burst. Great peace fell on me also, and great strength-- Oh, had that prayer been first! THE LADY OF TEARS. Through valley and hamlet and city, Wherever humanity dwells, With a heart full of infinite pity, A breast that with sympathy swells, She walks in her beauty immortal. Each household grows sad as she nears, But she crosses at length every portal, The mystical Lady of Tears. If never this vision of sorrow Has shadowed your life in the past, You will meet her, I know, some to-morrow-- She visits all hearthstones at last. To hovel, and cottage, and palace, To servant and king she appears, And offers the gall of her chalice-- The unwelcome Lady of Tears.