he wife and mother home,
And bade him wait.
Oh! why is it so hard for
Man to wait? to sit with folded hands,
Apart, amid the busy throng,
And hear the buzz and hum of toil around;
To see men reap and bind the golden sheaves
Of earthly fruits, while he looks idly on,
And knows he may not join,
But only wait till God has said, "Enough!"
And calls him home!

And thus the old man dreams,
And then awakes; awakes to hear
The sweet old song just dying
On the pulsing evening air:

"When other helpers fail,
And comforts flee,
Lord of the helpless,
Oh, abide with me!"

_Eliza M. Sherman._

God's Message to Men

God said: I am tired of kings;
I suffer them no more;
Up to my ear the morning brings
The outrage of the poor.

Think ye I have made this ball
A field of havoc and war,
Where tyrants great and tyrants small
Might harry the weak and poor?

My angel--his name is Freedom--
Choose him to be your king.
He shall cut pathways east and west
And fend you with his wing.

I will never have a noble;
No lineage counted great,
Fishers and choppers and plowmen
Shall constitute a state,

And ye shall succor man,
'Tis nobleness to serve;
Help them who cannot help again;
Beware from right to swerve.

_Ralph Waldo Emerson._

The Sandman

The rosy clouds float overhead,
The sun is going down,
And now the Sandman's gentle tread
Comes stealing through the town.
"White sand, white sand," he softly cries,
And, as he shakes his hand,
Straightway there lies on babies' eyes
His gift of shining sand.
Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown,
As shuts the rose, they softly close,
when he goes through the town.

From sunny beaches far away,
Yes, in another land,
He gathers up, at break of day,
His store of shining sand.
No tempests beat that shore remote,
No ships may sail that way;
His little boat alone may float
Within that lovely bay.
Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown,
As shuts the rose, they softly close,
when he goes through the town.

He smiles to see the eyelids close
Above the happy eyes,
And every child right well he knows--
Oh, he is very wise!
But if, as he goes through the land,
A naughty baby cries,
His other hand takes dull gray sand
To close the wakeful eyes.
Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown,
As shuts the rose, they softly close,
when he goes through the town.

So whe