"I've fought the battle all my life Of outward foes and inward strife; The strife which flesh and spirit feel As keenly as the barbed steel; For ah! my soul has longed to be A perfect thing for God to see! And feels impatient for the time When I the heavenly heights shall climb, The good, in all the ages past, My eyes in love I've ever cast, Would imitate, admire, and aim Their glorious pinnacles to gain; A pedestal to call my own, One which my form might rest upon; My spirit feet cannot yet stand Upon the platform they command, But well I know I have been blest, And shall, in time, attain the rest; And I have sometimes felt ere while I moved 'neath God's effulgent smile That shed around me warmth and peace, And gave my captive mind release. The earth and every living thing Did tribute to my spirit bring; And then my soul was born anew, Begotten by the warmth and dew Which God's own spirit cast around, And placed my feet on holy ground. All things seemed tinged with light of heaven, My friends most loved, my foes forgiven! The fountain in my heart, to me Brought 'living water,' ecstacy! * * * * * * * * * * A little Goshen was my home, For joy and peace around it shone; And labor's self became delight, Making all healthy, strong and bright; And loving spirits gathered there As angels faithful, fond and fair. Was I not blest? Yes, I WAS blest, And truly 'twas a time of rest; Yes, rest from sorrow I had known, In youth, my sun but rarely shone, But, oh! I fought for joy and peace, And God, in mercy, sent release. And blest me with so bright a time That's rarely known in earthly clime! And grateful did my soul arise To Him who gave this paradise. But, oh! this picture! its reverse! A mighty contrast did disperse; The light and warmth would be withdrawn And I left freezing and forlorn; The heavens seemed brass above my head, The earth looked dark as molten lead; My God was hid beneath a cloud And I, like corse within its shroud! Alone, forsaken, desolate thing Hoarding my sorrows like a sting That probed and barbed my stranded soul, And well-nigh crushed all self-control; The loved and loving were away, And I to foes was left a prey; It seemed all blessings were withdrawn, And I left stranded and forlorn, To see if I would faithful stand And still hold on to virtue's hand. Yes, many such ordeal I've passed, And know I have not seen the last. Oh! Father! take my shrinking soul Beneath Thy love and sweet control; Thy feeble, trembling child, oh spare! Lay on no more than I can bear. May I endure unto the end, Whatever trials may portend; But Thou alone must bear me up, Or I shall fail to drain the cup." AUGUSTA JOYCE CROCHERON.