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THE MARINER'S DREAM

In slumbers of midnight the sailor-boy lay;

His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind;
But watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away
And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind.

He dreamed of his home and dear native bowers
And pleasures that waited on life's merry morn;
While memory each scene gaily covered with flowers,
And restored every rose, but secreted its thorn.

Then fancy her magical pinions spread wide,
And bade the young dreamer in ecstasy rise;
Now far, far behind him the green waters glide
And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes.

The jessamine clambers in flower o'er the thatch,
And the swallow chirps sweet from her nest in the wall;
All trembling with transport he raises the latch
And the voices of loved ones reply to his call.

A father bends o'er him with looks of delight,
His cheek is bedewed with a mother's warm tear,
And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss unite

With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear.

The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast;
Joy quickens his pulses, his hardships seem o'er;
And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest—
"O God! Thou hast blest me; I ask for no more."

Ah! whence is that flame that now glares on his eye?
Ah! what is that sound that bursts on his ear?
'Tis the lightning's gleam painting hell on the sky,
'Tis the crashing of thunder, the groan of the sphere.

He springs from his hammock, he flees to the deck;
Amazement confronts him with images dire,
Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel, a wreck;
The masts fly in splinters, the shrouds are on fire.

Like mountains the billows tremendously swell,
In vain the lost wreck calls on mercy to save.
Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell,

And the death-angel flaps his broad wing o'er the wave.

O sailor-boy! woe to thy dream of delight,

In darkness dissolves the gay frostwork of bliss; Where now is the picture that fancy touched bright, Thy parents' fond pressure, thy love's honeyed kiss?

O sailor-boy! sailor-boy! never again

Shall love, home or kindred thy wishes repay;
Unblessed and unhonored, down deep in the main,
Full many a fathom, thy fame shall decay.

No tomb shall e'er plead in remembrance for thee,
Or redeem form or fame from the merciless surge;
But the white foam of waves shall thy winding-sheet be,
And the winds of midnight shall winter thy dirge.

On a bed of green sea-flowers thy limbs shall be laid,
Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow;

Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made,
And every part suit to thy mansions below.

Days, months, years and ages shall circle away,
And still the vast waters above thee shall roll;
Frail, short-sighted mortals their doom must obey-
O sailor-boy, sailor-boy! peace to thy soul.

W. Dimond.

AN ANTHEM

A sailor who had been to a church service where he heard some fine music was afterward descanting upon an anthem which had given him great pleasure. A listening shipmate finally asked:

"I say, Bill, what's a hanthem?"

"What!" exclaimed Bill, "do you mean to say you don't know what a hanthem is?"

"Not me."

"Well, then, I'll tell yer. If I was to tell yer, "Ere, Bill, give me that 'andspike,' that wouldn't be a hanthem. But if I was to say: 'Bill, Bill, Bill, give, give, give, give me, give me that, Bill, give me, give me that 'and, give me that 'andspike, spike, Bill, give me that, that 'and, 'andspike, 'and, 'andspike, spike, spike, spike, Ahmen, Ahmen, Bill, give me that 'andspike, spike, Ahmen,' why, that would be a hanthem."

Selected.

THE ROCKY HILL

Oh, Jack and Jill went up the hill. They had with them a pail to fill

With water from the bubbling rill that from the top was flowing.

The way was steep and hard and rough, the little feet were far from tough,

But Jack was stout and bold enough and set his heart on going.

You may remember how they fared, that little couple sweetly paired;

What he would do she gladly dared. No tale is this for laughter.

For Jack, the heedless, tumbled down and cracked his little curly crown,

And Jill she tripped upon her gown and went atumbling after.

I do not think they ever tell that Jill was grieved because they fell,

And kissed the place to make it well and hurried off for plaster;

But never doubt the little maid no end of sympathy displayed

And did her very best to aid the victim of disaster.

I have a rocky hill to climb and I may reach the top in time;

My little Jill has faith sublime and she has not denied

me;

So what care I for broken crowns or fortune's smiles or fortune's frowns,

If I can have my ups and downs with little Jill beside me?

FAITH

Kenneth Harris.

If I could feel my hand, dear Lord, in Thine

And surely know

That I was walking in the light divine

Through weal or woe;

If I could hear Thy voice in accents sweet

But plainly say,

To guide my trembling, groping, wandering feet, "This is the way,"

I would so gladly walk therein, but now

I cannot see.

Oh, give me, Lord, the faith to humbly bow
And trust in Thee!

There is no faith in seeing. Were we led

Like children here,

And lifted over rock and river-bed,

No care, no fear,

We should be useless in the busy throng,

Life's work undone;

Lord, make us brave and earnest, true and strong,

Till heaven is won.

By permission.

Sarah K. Bolton.

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