And down the line I ran my anxious eyes, To find a weaver I might recognize, And saw, at last, a form by mirrors known. Oh! ’twas a shameful texture that I wove, So dark its hue, so little saving white, Such seldom bathing in the fountain stream, I could not look, but bowed my blushing face, And like the publican of old, cried out, “Be merciful to me a sinner!” “Rise!” The Angel said, “And worship God alone, Return to Earth, enjoy an humble faith, Whose simple trust shall make thee happier Than all the grandeur of philosophy. Should doubts arise, remember, God’s designs Above a finite comprehension stand, And finite doubts, about the Infinite, Assume absurdity’s intensest form. Man, from the stand-point of the Present, looks, And disappointed, bitterly complains Of what would move his deepest gratitude, Could he the issue of the morrow know. God sees the future, and in kindness deals To every man his complement of good. Remember then the weakness of thy mind, Nor doubt because thou canst not understand. To gather scattered jewels thou must kneel; So on thy knees seek truth, and thou shalt find; The nearer Earth thy face, the nearer Heaven Thy heart. And now farewell!” I sprang to clasp His hand in gratitude, but with a wave Of parting benediction, he was gone! Then in an instant, like an aerolite, With naught to bear me up, I fell to Earth, Swifter and swifter, with increasing speed! Now bursting through a sunlit bank of cloud, And clutching, vainly, at the yielding mist, Or through a cradling storm, with thunder charged, Down through the open air, whose parted breath Hissed death into my ears, while all below Seemed rushing up to meet and mangle me. I shrieked aloud, “Oh save me!”-- And awoke. The day was o’er, and night had drawn her shades; The twinkling eyes of Heaven shone through the leaves, And lit the tiny rain-globes on the grass; The cloud had passed, and on th’ horizon’s verge, A monster firefly, with shimmering flash, It slowly crawled behind the curve of death. And evening’s silence deeper seemed than noon’s, For not a sound disturbed the hush of night, Save katydids, with quavering monotones, Returning contradictions from the trees. All drenched and chilled, with trembling limbs I rose, And homeward bent my steps; and pondering Upon my dream, this moral from it drew: Man cannot judge the Eternal Mind by his, But must accept the mysteries of Life, As purposes Divine, with perfect ends. And in our darkest clouds, God’s Angels stand, To work Man’s present and eternal good. THE VILLAGE ON THE TAR DEDICATED TO PETTIGREW COUNCIL NO 1. F. OF T.