It is God’s law. Remember it In your still chamber as you sit With thoughts you would not dare have known, And yet make comrades when alone. These thoughts have life; and they will fly And leave their impress by-and-by, Like some marsh breeze, whose poisoned breath Breathes into homes its fevered breath. And after you have quite forgot Or all outgrown some vanished thought, Back to your mind to make its home, A dove or raven, it will come. Then let your secret thoughts be fair; They have a vital part and share In shaping worlds and molding fate-- God’s system is so intricate. THERE COMES A TIME There comes a time to every mortal being, Whate’er his station or his lot in life, When his sad soul yearns for the final freeing From all this jarring and unceasing strife. There comes a time, when, having lost its savor, The salt of wealth is worthless; when the mind Grows wearied with the world’s capricious favor, And sighs for something that it cannot find. There comes a time, when, though kind friends are thronging About our pathway with sweet acts of grace, We feel a vast and overwhelming longing For something that we cannot name or place. There comes a time, when, with earth’s best love by us, To feed the heart’s great hunger and desire, We find not even this can satisfy us; The soul within us cries for something higher. What greater proof need we that we inherit A life immortal in another sphere? It is the homesick longing of the spirit That cannot find its satisfaction here. THE WORLD. With noiseless steps good goes its way; The earth shakes under evil’s tread. We hear the uproar, and ’tis said, The world grows wicked every day. It is not true. With quiet feet, In silence, Virtue sows her seeds; While Sin goes shouting out his deeds, And echoes listen and repeat. But surely as the old world moves, And circles round the shining sun, So surely does God’s purpose run, And all the human race improves. Despite bold evil’s noise and stir, Truth’s golden harvests ripen fast; The Present far outshines the Past; Men’s thoughts are higher than they were. Who runs may read this truth, I say: Sin travels in a rumbling car, While Virtue soars on like a star-- The world grows better every day. NECESSITY. Necessity, whom long I deemed my foe, Thou cold, unsmiling, and hard-visaged dame, Now I no longer see thy face, I know Thou wert my friend beyond reproach or blame. My best achievements and the fairest flights Of my winged fancy were inspired by thee; Thy stern voice stirred me to the mountain heights; Thy importunings bade me do and be.