ders through,
Did aught foretell that on that day,
The Lord of life would favor thee,
And centuries ring the novel way
A soul was made both glad and free?

Zacchaeus knew that through thy gates
Came One he oft had longed to see;
Alas! how adverse were the fates--
So dense the throng, so small was he!
Considering, he ran before
And climbed into a wayside tree,
And ever since the sycamore
Is blended with his history.

While peering eagerly below,
Above the tumult of the town
That soothing voice to mortal woe
Bade him to hasten quickly down.
"Come," Jesus said, "I must abide
And tarry at thy house with thee."
Zacchaeus the honor swift applied,
And entertained him joyfully.

The people frowned that Christ should dine
With a rich sinner publican,
Nor knew his act of grace would shine,
A star of hope, to fallen man.
Zacchaeus assured his royal guest,
"Lord, half my goods I give the poor;
And if I falsely have opprest,
Fourfold I unto men restore."

His listener reads the human heart
And all its thoughts unerringly;
Alone such wisdom can impart
And judge of its sincerity.
Jesus received this sin-sick soul,
Salvation to his house was given;
And while time's cycles onward roll,
His faith and works will point toward heaven.

"I came," the Lord of glory said
(Nor did he count the pain and cost),
"To feed the hungry soul with bread,
To seek and save that which was lost."

APRIL

When April weeps, she wakes the flowers
That slept the winter through.
Oh, did they dream those frosty hours
That she would be untrue
And not awaken them in time
To smile their smiles of love,
To hear the robin's merry chime,
And gentle cooing dove?

And when they feel their mother's tears
So gently o'er them weep,
Will they tell her of their simple fears
And visions while asleep?
And will they tell her that they dreamed,
Beneath their sheets of snow,
Such weary dreamings that it seemed
The winter ne'er would go?

They'll soon be wide-awake and up,
In dainty robes arrayed,
Blue violet, gold buttercup,
And quaker-lady staid.
Wild eglantine and clustering thorn
Will grace the byway lanes,
Whilst woodland flowers the dells adorn