Veiled the future comes, refusing, To be seen, like Isaac's bride Whom the lonely man met musing In the fields at eventide. Round him o'er the darkening waste Deeper shades of evening fall, And behind him in the past Mother Sarah's funeral. Mother Sarah being dead, There comes his veiled destiny; The veiled Rebecca he must wed Whatsoe'er her features be. On he walks in silent prayer, Bids the veiled Rebecca hail, Doubting not she will prove fair When at length she drops the veil. When the veil is dropped aside, Dropped in Mother Sarah's tent, Oh! she is right fair, this bride Whom his loving God has sent. To those walking 'twixt the two-- 'Twixt the past with pleasures dead And the future veiled from view-- The veiled future thou must wed; Walk like Isaac, praying God; Walk by faith and not by sight; And though darker grows the road Doubt not all will yet come right. Things behind forgetting, hail Every future from above. Doubt not when it drops the veil 'Twill be such as thou wouldst love. Till at death-eve, when the past Rings dear Mother Earth's own knells, Bridal heaven unveils at last With a peal of marriage bells. --William Robertson. The night is mother of the day, The winter of the spring; And ever upon old decay The greenest mosses cling. Behind the cloud the starlight lurks, Through showers the sunbeams fall; For God, who loveth all his works, Has left his hope with all. --John Greenleaf Whittier. IMAGINARY EVILS Let to-morrow take care of to-morrow; Leave things of the future to fate; What's the use to anticipate sorrow? Life's troubles come never too late! If to hope overmuch be an error, 'Tis one that the wise have preferred; And how often have hearts been in terror Of evils that never occurred. Have faith, and thy faith shall sustain thee; Permit not suspicion and care With invisible bonds to acclaim thee, But bear what God gives thee to bear. By his spirit supported and gladdened, Be ne'er by forebodings deterred; But think how oft hearts have been saddened By fear of what never occurred. Let to-morrow take care of to-morrow; Short and dark as our life may appear We may make it still darker by sorrow, Still shorter by folly and fear! Half our troubles are half our invention, And often from blessings conferred Have we shrunk, in the wild apprehension Of evils that never occurred. --Charles Swain. THE MORNING STAR