I
could not tarry. I lingered at a thousand fountains to catch the
life-giving spray and studied, as far as I possibly could, the faces of
these favored creatures.

The whole vegetable world is a long extended floral garden. Where
formerly deserts lay waste and wild, now the blooming roses and
expansive lawns can be seen. Is it possible to picture to your mind's
eye a line of lofty mountains whose sides are dressed in living colors
and trimmed with rare flowers? If you cannot paint this picture, then
you must not endeavor to form the faintest conception of the natural
features of this Millennial world.

Being still filled with the lingering memories of this happy sphere, and
looking forward to the coming golden age of our own world, I read with
pleasure a few stanzas contemplating Christ's second coming.

"A SONG OF HIS COMING."

See the virgins at midnight yearning,
To behold the face of the Groom.
Their lamps are all trimmed and burning,
As they peer through the misty gloom.

"He will come," is the shout of voices,
Which have sung in a thousand ways;
For the heart of the saint rejoices,
At the thought of the coming days.

When the war of creeds will be over,
And our King descends from above,
Only they shall witness His crowning,
Who have lived in the light of love.

Then the Christ shall reign in his glory
On the throne of his sovereign might:
And the theme of Redemption's story
Will be sung with perfect delight.

And our minds will dazzle with brightness,
As our thoughts forever aspire,
For a mantle of perfect whiteness,
Shall cover the youth and the sire;

Then we know that none will be jealous,
And no one will envy our lot.
For against the one who is zealous,
Not a soul will contrive or plot.

And our actions will chime in pleasure,
All refined from malice and sting.
We shall all reach the perfect measure,
In the reign of this conquering King.

We will have everything we can use,
In those beautiful realms of light;
There the people will do as they choose,
For each one will choose to do right.

We will sail through the seas of beauty,
And return to the shores we please;
Far away from the callings of duty,
In the shade of undying trees.

All the riches of Christ will be ours,
'Tis a wealth without