Again the gaunt Paulinus To ruddy Edwin spake: "God offers life immortal For his dear Son's own sake! Wilt thou not hear his message, Who bears the keys and sword?" --But Edwin looked and pondered, And answered not a word. Rose then a sage old warrior Was fivescore winters old; Whose beard from chin to girdle Like one long snow-wreath rolled: "At Yule-time in our chamber We sit in warmth and light, While cold and howling round us Lies the black land of Night. "Athwart the room a sparrow Darts from the open door: Within the happy hearth-light One red flash,--and no more! We see it come from darkness, And into darkness go:-- So is our life. King Edwin! Alas, that it is so! "But if this pale Paulinus Have somewhat more to tell; Some news of Whence and Whither, And where the soul will dwell;-- If on that outer darkness The sun of hope may shine;-- He makes life worth the living! I take his God for mine!" So spake the wise old warrior; And all about him cried, "Paulinus' God hath conquered! And he shall be our guide:-- For he makes life worth living Who brings this message plain, When our brief days are over, That we shall live again." ANONYMOUS. * * * * * THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY. Could we but know The land that ends our dark, uncertain travel, Where lie those happier hills and meadows low; Ah! if beyond the spirit's inmost cavil Aught of that country could we surely know, Who would not go? Might we but hear The hovering angels' high imagined chorus, Or catch, betimes, with wakeful eyes and clear One radiant vista of the realm before us,-- With one rapt moment given to see and hear, Ah, who would fear? Were we quite sure To find the peerless friend who left us lonely, Or there, by some celestial stream as pure, To gaze in eyes that here were lovelit only,-- This weary mortal coil, were we quite sure, Who would endure? EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN. * * * * * SONG OF THE SILENT LAND. "Das stille Land." Into the Silent Land! Ah, who shall lead us thither? Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather, And shattered wrecks lie thicker on the strand. Who leads us with a gentle hand Thither, oh, thither, Into the Silent Land? Into the Silent Land! To you, ye boundless regions Of all perfection! Tender morning-visions Of beauteous souls! The future's pledge and band! Who in life's battle firm doth stand Shall bear hope's tender blossoms Into the Silent Land!