'■■^:ir!:B^ :: ::-s;l^T-^r; 
 
 J. K. Gctmpbcll. 
 
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SUNBEA-MS: 
 
 SOME 
 
 poems ano Essays on Darious £opic& 
 
 "I love the one whose spirit, like the sunbeam, 
 can paint a rainbow o'er Niagara." 
 
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 BIT OV .A.! CAMPBELL. 
 
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 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, 
 
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 49 "9/fi 
 
 CHEHALIS, W. T.: 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIS & RUSSELL AT "THE NUGGET" PRINTING HOUSE. 
 
 4886. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, November 26, 18H4, 
 
 By J. A. CAMPBELL, 
 In the office of the Librarian of Congress , at Washington 
 
 MESTON & DYGERT, 
 
 BINDERS, 
 PORTLAND, OREGON. 
 
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 etrtcafwti. 
 
 ^O all the climbers on the mountain of life, whether 
 treading wearily but resolutely up its steeps, 
 amid the rose-tinted splendors of early morn, trium- 
 phantly standing upon its loftiest heights with 
 kindling eyes and swelling soul, drinking in the varied 
 and beautiful scene in the gorgeous glories of high 
 noon, or, with faltering and unsteady steps, descending 
 its slopes among the golden billows and banners of 
 sunset, we dedicate these pages. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 ^^^^f^^ 
 
A Dream . . 48 
 
 A Mother's Lesson - 41 
 
 A Mystic Stream 152 
 
 A Picture of Memory 187 
 
 A Prayer . 153 
 
 A Thought at Sunset 77 
 
 A True Sketch 36 
 
 A Wish for Thee 129 
 
 Burial of General Grant 176 
 
 By the Sea. . . 129 
 
 Childhood 156 
 
 Christmas 150 
 
 Death 55 
 
 Death of Moses .122 
 
 Extracts 186 
 
 Faithful and True 161 
 
 Farewell 200 
 
 God is Love 178 
 
 He Dies 132 
 
 He is Risen 57 
 
 Hours of Peace 43 
 
 In Memoriam 89 
 
 In Memoriam— C. R. Morgan 94 
 
 In Memoriam — C. R. Morgan 96 
 
 In Memoriam — Ernest Stewart 78 
 
 In Memoriam — Edyth Shepard 108 
 
 In Memoriam — Ella and Daisy Campbell 85 
 
 In Memoriam — Franklin H. Crandall 75 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 In Memorial!] — Grandma Rowell 103 
 
 In Memorial!) — Jesse E. Dailey . . 99 
 
 In Memoriam — Willis Laughlin 91 
 
 In Memoriam — Wilson Frederick Grabel 82 
 
 In Memory of President Garfield 117 
 
 Imperfection on Earth 58 
 
 I Saw Thee There 155 
 
 It Pays 140 
 
 I Wish I Were in Heaven 80 
 
 Land Beyond 39 
 
 Lines to Mrs. Minnie Bone 126 
 
 Lines Written in an Album 90 
 
 Little Gracie 61 
 
 Little Things 106 
 
 Love* Reigned 97 
 
 Memory 29 
 
 My Boy ,.! 134 
 
 My Friend 125 
 
 My Grave 72 
 
 No Death 27 
 
 Not Forever 131 
 
 Old Age 33 
 
 Old Age 95 
 
 On the Sand : 113 
 
 On Wings 53 
 
 Our Father 158 
 
 Over the Wave 45 
 
 Some Mistakes of Moses 64 
 
 Sunset at Sea 110 
 
 Through the Valley of Death 93 
 
10 
 
 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 That ev'ry life tho' filled with love 
 And crowned with brilliants fair 
 
 Shall plunge at last from hights above 
 Into this deep despair ?" 
 
 What demon taught thy tongue to say 
 
 That "death itself is dark?" 
 For thou hast never passed that way — 
 
 And none turns back his barque ! 
 
 In death's deep night "hope sees a star," 
 
 Shining serene and bright, 
 Thro' all the clouds and mists that bar 
 
 The gates to heaven's light. 
 
 What is that rustling wing Love hears 
 
 In sorrow's darkest hour, 
 When strong men bow themselves in tears 
 
 And seek a higher power? 
 
 Is it the wing of the soul set free 
 
 From prison here below, 
 Or has an angel come to see 
 
 This spreading tide of woe? 
 
 No matter which your answer here. 
 
 Your doom it surely seals, 
 For like the silent falling tear 
 
 The heart's deep want reveals. 
 
 Why think death better far than life 
 To "all the countless dead," 
 
SUNBEAMS. 11 
 
 If hope's sweet dream of th' future rife 
 Has found a dreamless bed? 
 
 Let us believe, in spite of fears, 
 And tears, and words of doubt, 
 
 There is a living God who hears 
 For aye the victor's shout. 
 
 Let us believe the brightening eyes, 
 In death's last moment quite, 
 
 Have caught a gleam of sunlit skies 
 Ne'er viewed by mortal sight ; 
 
 That angels swiftly from afar 
 With gleaming wings of gold, 
 
 From out the, heavenly gates ajar 
 Bring earthward songs untold ; 
 
 That multitudes redeemed of sin — 
 
 Companions sweet of God — 
 Midst the angel bands have passed within 
 
 And golden streets have trod ; 
 
 That millions still upon this side 
 
 Are leaning on His arm, 
 For strength in parsing Jordan's tide 
 
 In safety from all harm ; 
 
 That those who scoff shall bow the knee, 
 
 Amidst a kneeling world, 
 And clouds of shame and wrath shall be 
 
 Forever there unfurl'd. 
 
THE RICH MAN AND LAZARUS. 
 
 LUKE XVI. : 19 ET AL. 
 
 fARIOUS and singular have been the opinions and 
 speculations of men upon this parable with re- 
 gard to its real and supposed import. We take the 
 liberty to say that the fourteenth verse of the same 
 chapter contains the subject of the Savior's remarks 
 and gives the key to the whole problem here involved. 
 The covetousness of the Pharisees, who were then 
 present, called out the Savior's burning words in this 
 wonderful parable. Jesus, therefore, takes a covetous 
 Pharisee, one of their own number, as it were, and 
 makes him a representative of all covetous people to 
 the end of time. His great sin was primarily covet- 
 ousness, and secondarily unbelief or infidelity, conse- 
 quent upon his inordinate or eager desire to accumu- 
 late riches. The great Master then proceeds to lift the 
 veil of the future world that they might see the legiti- 
 mate and inevitable end of a life according to their 
 principles. These Pharisees heard the Savior through 
 all his great discourse until he came to the home 
 thrust in these words : "Ye cannot serve God and 
 mammon." Here, the common version says, "they 
 derided him," but the original word literally means 
 turned up the nose at his doctrine — an act signifying 
 the utmost contempt for his teaching and a complete 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 13 
 
 _ 
 
 rejection of the same. By thus deriding and reject- 
 ing Him of whom the law and the prophets speak, 
 they rejected the testimony of their own great Moses : 
 "Search the scriptures, for in them ye think ye have 
 eternal life and they are they that testify of me." 
 The besetting sin of the Jews was, in Jesus' time on 
 earth, and still is, to give mammon the whole heart 
 and hand in service six days of the w T eek, and on the 
 seventh give him a cold and heartless form-worship in 
 the synagogue. Serve God one day and mammon six. 
 Through their rejection of Jesus and his doctrine they 
 showed their infidelity to the testimony of Moses and 
 the prophets, the very books which they claimed to 
 hold to as their only guide in this life, and* in doing 
 this they rejected the living God ; for "he that reject- 
 eth me rejecteth him that sent me." Christ proceeds to 
 show them the condition of such people beyond the 
 river; He shows them that a man may not only be 
 mistaken in and through life, but remain so in eternity. 
 The rich man's unbelief in the Jewish scriptures fully 
 appears when he calls upon Abraham to send Lazarus 
 to his five brethren to warn them of his torment in the 
 flames. The same infidelity that characterized him in 
 life remains with him in hades. Hence, if men 
 would be right in the future beyond death and the 
 grave they must be right here. To this the rich man 
 gives his full testimony when he desires his brethren to 
 repent here before they, too, die ant} "come to this 
 place of torment." This rich man, like many people 
 of the present day, had concluded something else to 
 
14 
 
 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 be more effectual than the Law of God. He had in 
 life rejected Moses and the prophets, and like king 
 Saul when he forsook the living God, cast about him 
 for one to come up from the dead to teach him. What 
 utter contempt of God and his word — which is "sure 
 converting the soul" — did he show by calling upon 
 Abraham to send Lazarus to earth to convert men 
 whom God's word had failed to convert. 
 
 Abraham's reply is certainly a very strong and for- 
 cible argument for the all-sufficiency of the w T ord of 
 God in converting men, and it is all the more forcible 
 coming as it does from the realm of spirits beyond the 
 river and from the "Father of the faithful." "They 
 have Moses and the prophets ; let them hear them. If 
 they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will 
 they be persuaded though one rose from the dead." 
 Abraham tells him that these Jewish scriptures were 
 sufficient to persuade men to repent without the event 
 of one coming to them from the shadowy land of 
 spirits. The very spirit of unbelief that caused them 
 to reject the testimony of God's law would cause them 
 to reject the testimony of a Lazarus from the bosom of 
 Abraham. For the statutes of the Lord were given to 
 them by "a dispensation of angels," whom Paul tells 
 us are spirits. If these Pharisees in the long, long ago 
 were without excuse because they were not persuaded 
 to repent by the teachings of their scriptures, what 
 shall be the fliml end of those who will not repent 
 'midst the full-orbed splendor of our scriptures in 
 which, superadded to the testimony of Moses and the 
 
SUNBEAMS. 15 
 
 prophets, is the evidence of a greater than Lazarus 
 or the brightest angel in the golden city — even Jesus, 
 our Savior, newly risen from the dead — the witness 
 of the apostles and early christians, many of whom 
 were martyred for the same, and the unearthing of 
 that long-hidden duplicate of God's word from moss- 
 grown ruins of cities, temples, towers, pyramids and 
 piles of art, gray with years and covered with the de- 
 bris of centuries. Surely, God speaks "out of the 
 ground" as well as from the parted skies. But, in the 
 face of this overwhelming tide of light, men openly 
 blaspheme the Lord's annointed and persecute his dis- 
 ciples, like Saul of Tarsus, even unto strange cities. 
 Even in this we find the word of the king fulfilled, for 
 "evil men and seducers wax worse and worse, de- 
 ceiving and being deceived." 
 
 Amassing great treasure on earth was not the sin 
 of this rich man, but his sin was in this amassing 
 great wealth even at the expense of the lives of others. 
 His covetousness, which God tells us "is idolatry," 
 was the outward manifestation of the inward condition 
 of the man's heart. His heart was with his treasure 
 on the earth. 
 
 Jesus does not condemn men for being rich, but 
 he condemns those who "will be rich" even though 
 they must, to get it, rob the poor, starve the sick and 
 hungering, and distress the widow and oppress the or- 
 phan. 'Tis not the man who simply possesses riches 
 that is here condemned, but the wickedness of the 
 principles that enables him to become rich. Of such 
 
J_ 
 
 16 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 an one the Savior says : "It is easier for a camel to 
 go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to 
 enter the kingdom of heaven." 
 
 That Dives was very rich is evident from the de- 
 scription given of his clothing and living. "He was 
 clothed in purple and fine linen and fared sumptu- 
 ously every day." Parkhurst objects to "fared sump- 
 tuously," and suggests instead — "lived in jovial splen- 
 dor every day." He then was a jovial and splendid 
 fellow every day. He was a man who was looked 
 upon by the world and called honorable and to whom, 
 as he dashed out of his gate in splendid chariot, his 
 acquaintances and even strangers would tip their hats, 
 as men are ever ready to do to the rich. His wealth 
 becomes still more conspicuous when we learn that his 
 garments were royal ones — such only as kings can 
 afford. The sea purple was the most beautiful and 
 costly. Pliny tells of "fine linen" being sold for its 
 weight in gold. Notice, too, that these were his every- 
 day wear. How grand he must have appeared clothed 
 in fine linen, clean and white, and over this suit of 
 spotless white the kingly robe of sea purple hanging in 
 splendid folds ! Notwithstanding his wealth and the 
 honors of men, the Savior gives not his name — only a 
 certain rich man. 
 
 Jesus seems to be reading here from the "Lamb's 
 Book of Life," in w T hich the names of such as will be 
 rich do not appear, but in which the honest, trustful, 
 faithful poor find a place and a worthy mention. The 
 voice of the Holy Spirit has said : "Hath not God 
 
_ 
 
 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 chosen the poor of this world rich in faith and heirs of 
 the kingdom which he hath prepared for them that 
 love him?" 
 
 While the name of the rich man is withheld, that 
 of the poor man comes down the rush of ages to every 
 nation, tribe and tongue with a meaning and a clear- 
 ness none the less felt and known because of inter- 
 vening centuries. 
 
 Lazarus — God, my help. His character corres- 
 ponded with his name, as may be learned from the 
 waiting band of angels ready to bear him away to 
 Abraham's bosom. The name of the rich man in his 
 splendid palace and royal habiliments is forever lost 
 to the human race, while that of the suffering poor 
 man at his gate is known and read of all men. So 
 the name of the proud Pharoah is lost to all time ; it 
 may be while the name of Moses is lisped by every 
 fireside beneath the sun. 
 
 This beggar was "laid at his gate," which in 
 Greek literally means was "thrown dow t n" at his 
 gate, full of sores. This shows us that some Good 
 Samaritans, it may be, had carried and laid him down 
 at the rich man's gate or palace door, in the hope that 
 his sorrowful condition would incite his pity and com- 
 mand the help which they were unable to give. How 
 vain the hope ! How often are our purest, fondest an- 
 ticipations doomed to disappointment in this world of 
 sin ! He was left in such place that the rich man 
 could not fail, every time he went out or came in, to 
 see him. Thus, in this life and that beyond the grave, 
 
 3 
 
18 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 he does not plead an excuse, save the implied one that 
 the Jewish scriptures were insufficient to convert him 
 or cause him to repent. He does not add falsehood to 
 his already dark catalogue of sins by pleading that 
 he did not know of Lazarus' condition. How long 
 Lazarus remained at his gate we are not told, nor is it 
 necessary for us to know, but a sufficient length of 
 time for the rich man to become perfectly familiar with 
 his appearance, for when he saw him again, though 
 he was "afar off," he immediately recognized him 
 though he was surrounded by angels and in "Abra- 
 ham's bosom." 
 
 Will you, kind reader, notice carefully, just here, 
 the short sketch of his condition while lying at the 
 gate. He "was laid" at the gate, unable to get there 
 himself without being borne. He was covered with 
 sores and "desiring to be fed." After being borne 
 to the gate he was too feeble to feed himself, but de- 
 sired "to be fed." He does not seem to have desired 
 or asked anything which the rich man wanted or 
 would use, only the crumbs which fell from his table, 
 and it is fair to presume that even this pittance was 
 denied him. Did wickedness ever surpass this ! How 
 hard does the heart of this idolater become! even as 
 hard as the gold which he worships. 
 
 This royal gentleman (?) did not even condescend 
 to bid his servants dress his wounds, but the dogs 
 came and licked his sores, showing that covetous^ess 
 so chokes out all the finer feelings of man that even 
 the dogs are superior to him in sympathy for the suf- 
 
 1 
 
SUNBEAMS. 19 
 
 fering. But an objector is ready to say : "He did not 
 do anything to Lazarus, and why, therefore, should he 
 be condemned ?" Doing nothing to him or for him is 
 the very thing for which he should be condemned. 
 Doing nothing w T hen they should have relieved the*" 
 needy and the distressed, is precisely the sin of those 
 on the left hand, to whom the King says : "Depart 
 from me into everlasting fires prepared for the devil 
 and his angels. " So also with that wicked and sloth- 
 ful servant, who did not go forth to increase his lord's 
 money, but digged in the ground and hid it. The 
 master, therefore, when he returned, said to the other 
 servants: "Bind him hand and foot, and cast him 
 into the outer darkness." He did not do anything, 
 yet his failure to. do was the cause of his master's 
 great displeasure. Doing nothing is often, as in the 
 parable we are considering, the greatest possible crime. 
 Remember, if you please, that Lazarus was sick and 
 perfectly helpless, and without the assistance of some 
 person must lie there alone and die, but with it per- 
 haps would survive. The rich man by withholding 
 that assistance withheld from him the only hope of 
 life. Therefore, in a sense, he murdered him. He 
 died and went into eternity with not only the stain of 
 murder upon him but the despicable crime of killing 
 a sick and helpless man, and that, too, at his own 
 door. How darkly the shadows gather, how gloomy 
 the picture. How fearful the thought of going to 
 meet the living God who cannot look upon sin with 
 even the least allowance, with such sin unforgiven. 
 
20 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 Here let us pause long enough to notice that it 
 was not the rich man's riches that took him to hell, it 
 was his covetousness ; neither was it the poverty, sores 
 and rags of Lazarus that took him to Abraham's 
 bosom, it was his faith in God. While here among 
 men the one is clothed in royal blue and white while 
 the other is clothed in rags. The one enjoys good 
 health and fares sumptuously every day, while the 
 other is covered with sores and perishing with hunger. 
 The one has many servants, the other is attended only 
 by the dogs. But this life, whether of splendor or 
 misery, must have an end. 
 
 "And it came to pass that the beggar died and was 
 carried by the angels into Abraham's bosom ; the rich 
 man also died and was buried." 
 
 The rich man started from the highest possible 
 point of human wealth, and fame, and honor, while 
 the other started from the lowest possible point of hu- 
 man poverty and need. The one, while following the 
 dictates of his covetousness was on the descending 
 grade, while the other, steadily following his helper, 
 God, was on the ascending grade. We here learn that 
 the tendency of covetousness is ever downward till it 
 reaches its farthest limit, which is hell, while the des- 
 tiny of one who follows faith is an abode with the an- 
 gels of God and in Abraham's bosom. But they, both 
 beggar and prince, reach and pass out at the same 
 gate. Here they are equals at last, but only for a mo- 
 ment even — the moment of death. Here the fortune 
 of the rich man must be left behind, and single-handed 
 
_ 
 
 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 21 
 
 and alone he must pass out at the gate and under the 
 deep shadow of eternity. His retinue of liveried ser- 
 vants can no longer attend him, and there are no 
 friends in waiting beyond the gate to escort him on, 
 for he has spent no time nor money making to him- 
 self friends to receive him into the everlasting habita- 
 tions. 
 
 With the other the case is far otherwise. He 
 spent his life in doing the will of God and acquainting 
 himself with the will of his father and the manners 
 and customs of his people ; therefore, beside the gate 
 the angels were in waiting to bear him on his way of 
 life. 0, thought, ineffably sweet ! that when the faith- 
 ful pass the mystic gate the white-robed and shining 
 bands of the further shore wait to welcome them and 
 "bear" them in triumph up to the City of God. Their 
 lines of life then cut in the hour of death, but each 
 pursues the same course beyond death. The course of 
 the rich man was downward until death and he pur- 
 sues it beyond — even down to hell. The course of 
 Lazarus Avas upward until death and he pursues the 
 same course beyond — even up to the bosom of the 
 Father of the Faithful. 
 
 We learn here that the path to hell is a continued 
 descent, and, therefore, no effort is required to reach it ; 
 like the current of a stream it carries all idlers down 
 to the one destiny — the storm-tossed and fearful sea. 
 On the other hand, the way to heaven is a continual 
 ascent, calling for unceasing effort to reach its gates of 
 pearl. 
 
22 SUNBEAMS, 
 
 The rich man is now the beggar and the beggar is 
 the rich man ; the former begs for Lazarus to come 
 and cool his tongue, while the latter has reached his 
 treasure and is rich beyond comparison, having an in- 
 numerable company of angels for his servants. The 
 one laid all his treasure up on the earth and had to 
 leave them, while the other laid up his treasure above 
 and went to it and was rich indeed. 
 
 Another matter deserving of thought is that the 
 rich man not only died but "was buried," an event 
 which is not mentioned concerning Lazarus, who, if 
 buried at all, was buried so humbly as not to attract 
 any attention whatever. But the other calls for men- 
 tion here, and no doubt but his burial was a splendid 
 event, like his life of splendor had been. We may im- 
 agine a costly and splendid monument and sepulchre 
 engraven with his many excellencies and virtues ; but, 
 like the subject of a story which w T e once read, which 
 was substantially as follows : A very wicked man 
 died and his relatives and friends put him in a splen- 
 did tomb, upon which they cut a brief sketch of his 
 life and noble deeds. But he came to life and got out 
 of the tomb and stood looking at the inscription. 
 Finally he shook his head and murmured, "They put 
 me in the wrong tomb." 
 
 The rich man's robe of purple is now exchanged 
 for a robe of flame, and the rags of Lazarus are 
 changed for a mantle of spotless white. We also 
 learn that these conditions are fixed — unchangeable. 
 While in this life, the gulf between a life of sin and a 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 23 
 
 life of holiness may be crossed, but beyond there is no 
 post mortem gospel to cause the wicked to forsake his 
 way and the ungodly man his thoughts ; neither are 
 there temptations to lead the pure astray. That gulf 
 is not only fixed, but it is a great gulf — so wide as is 
 the difference between absolute purity and sin. 
 
 He saw Abraham "afar off." "He cried and 
 said, Father Abraham." He still clung to his fleshly 
 relations. No doubt but still he is deluded, like Nico- 
 demus of old, then king, that his birth of flesh of the 
 seed of Abraham entitled him to the favor of Abra- 
 ham, no matter what his life had been ; but it was the 
 very fact of his being a son of Abraham and dishonor- 
 ing it by a life of sin that sent him to hell and tor- 
 ment. This request for Abraham to relieve his tor- 
 ment is the only "invocation of saints" mentioned 
 in Holy Writ, and this was denied. See with what 
 skill the denial is made : While acknowledging the 
 fleshly tie, he tells him the terrible truth that he ought 
 to have learned long before that his course of life 
 should have been worthy of a son of Abraham. "Son, 
 remember." "Ah ! here's the rub." He is thrown 
 back upon his past history as the sole cause of this 
 terrible condition of things. "Son, remember that 
 thou, in thy lifetime, received thy good things." Jesus 
 said : "Verily, I say unto you, they have (now) their 
 reward." "Likewise, Lazarus, in his lifetime, received 
 evil things." "But now, after death, he is comforted 
 and thou art tormented." 
 
 This condition of things in the case of each was 
 
24 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 -I 
 
 the necessary result of their deliberate choice and 
 course of life. 
 
 Jesus said that "Ye cannot pursue two courses of 
 life at once — God and mammon ;" hence a choice 
 must be made and a course of life according to it be 
 led, the end of which will be of a character suitable 
 for such a life. 
 
 The rich man chose the good things of this life 
 and the poor man chose the good things of heaven. 
 One chose mammon for his helper, the other chose 
 God for his help, hence the different lives and the dif- 
 ferent destinies. Yes, these men had reached the end 
 of their course and are called on to look back, and it 
 is fair to presume that all men beyond death are and 
 will be looking full upon the course which they pur- 
 sued in this life. One thing we wish to impress here, 
 so that it may not be forgotten ; it is this : Our lives 
 here fixes our condition there ; therefore, to be forever 
 happy beyond death and dwell in an abode of peace 
 and calm repose, we must, in this life, take God for our 
 helper or be co-workers with God. 
 
 Let us, ere we pass on and forget it, attend to the 
 rich man's prayer, which is perhaps the only one he 
 ever made, and this he put off till he w r as in hell. "I 
 pray thee, Father, that thou wouldst send him to my 
 father's house, for I have five brethren, that he may 
 testify unto them, lest they, also, come to this place of 
 torment." No doubt he now 7 remembers that he and 
 they had often scoffed together, like many persons at 
 the present, at the idea of such a place or condition as 
 
SUNBEAMS. 25 
 
 hell, but from sad experience he can now testify of it, 
 and so severe is it that he prefers eternal separation 
 from his brethren rather than that they should suffer 
 it with him. How lifelike this picture ! Even if the 
 man is in hell, he is not wholly devoid of care for 
 others. This shows us with how much of good a man 
 may yet go to hell. Like Adam in Eden, and all sin- 
 ners from that time to this, this man tries to shift the 
 sin from his own soul and place it upon some one else. 
 He strongly implies in his argument with Abraham 
 that God is at fault. He did not warn and persuade 
 me sufficiently, else I would not have been here now, 
 but would have repented. If God had sent one from 
 the dead I would have repented. Here he confesses 
 the cause of his being in hell : "If one went unto them 
 from the dead they will repent." Repentance then 
 will keep them away from that place of torment ; 
 hence, through failure to repent, he had reached it. 
 He also tells us what produces repentance : "That he 
 may testify unto them." Abraham tells us that it re- 
 quires persuasion to produce repentance. In per- 
 suading a man to repent the testimony is used no 
 doubt to convince him of the necessity of repentance. 
 This rich man then confesses that what he did not do 
 was the cause of his deplorable condition. He did not 
 repent. 
 
 Some contend that the hell of this parable means 
 nothing but the grave. Who ever heard of repentance 
 keeping a man out of the grave? "It is appointed 
 unto all men once to die." 
 
 4 
 
26 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 But, kind reader, Christ lies wounded and bleeding 
 at your gate. Will you care for him? Remember 
 that this same man of sorrows at your gate will come 
 to you in terrible majesty to judge you. How sweet — 
 in the gathering light of eternity's morn, when the 
 heavens are overcast with the brightness of a million 
 angels' wings, and the Redeemer with a loud shout 
 descends to gather up his jewels — to look back to the 
 days and years when he was in deepest need at your 
 door and found there the needed help at your hand. 
 
 s&*r 
 
L 
 
 NO DEATH. 
 
 H^HERE is no death ; each silvery star, 
 
 As it speeds away in its path afar, 
 But brighter shines on some fairer shore, 
 When its light by us is seen no more. 
 
 There is no death ; for the Master said 
 
 That they only sleep whom we call dead — 
 
 As the flowers wait, thro' the winter's day, 
 The sunlight clear and the warmth of May. 
 
 There is no death ; but an angel form 
 
 Speeds over the earth thro' calm and storm, 
 
 And, with eyes that scan the soul's great deep, 
 He watches the countless forms that sleep. 
 
 There is no death ; for a home on high — 
 The aiden sweet of the azure sky — 
 
 Awaits the souls of the pure that fade, 
 As autumn leaves in the dust are laid. 
 
 There is no death ; they only depart 
 
 And leave us here with an aching heart ; 
 
 But our souls shall be of sorrow shorn 
 When we shall meet in the rising morn. 
 
 There is no death ; with a fadeless brow, 
 A throne of white, and a robe of snow, 
 
28 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 Our King shall come to the silent grave 
 To finish his work — the lost to save. 
 
 There is no death ; for the earth once more 
 Shall in verdure bloom from shore to shore ; 
 
 All nations then from the dust shall spring 
 Earth's jubilee, when the dead men sing. 
 
 As the lightning's glare, when storm-clouds sweep 
 All over the earth and mighty deep ; 
 
 As the sun lies down in robes of gold, 
 The pure shall rest in His peaceful fold. 
 
 There is no death ; for the tempest's wrath 
 Is marked by verdure along its path ; 
 
 The rocks torn down by the earthquake's throe 
 Shall form the dust where the mosses grow ; 
 
 For Life is the victor, pure and fair, 
 Who reigns o'er earth, and sea, and air, 
 
 Who, mocking, sits on the mould'ring tomb 
 Rejoicing there in his brightest bloom. 
 
MEMORY. 
 
 tsit by the fire at eventide, when the sun has set be- 
 hind the western bulwark of mountains and hung 
 above the horizon a thousand broad banners of gold, 
 mellowing and softening the clouds far up in the sky 
 with indescribable waves of light and fringes of snow, 
 and think of by-gone years. In that panorama, cov- 
 ering a period of more than thirty years, are some 
 scenes of exquisite loveliness ; but sweetest of all in 
 fadeless beauty stands before me the image of a frail 
 and delicate child — looking out of the window, smiling, 
 as I return home at night ; escaping through the door 
 and hastening in glee to meet me at the gate ; climb- 
 ing up with joy to kiss me, and finally reclining the 
 little sinless head upon my bosom and closing the 
 beautiful eyes in soft and peaceful slumbers till the 
 morn. She belonged to another and better world and 
 to Him who "beareth the lambs in his bosom" and 
 "giveth his beloved sleep." For five delightful years 
 He gave her to my care ; but, oh, how sad the parting 
 when He took her away to His bosom and gave her 
 eternal rest. Hope points me heavenward saying, 
 "Thou shalt regain thy lost one, not as she departed 
 but with infinite sweetness and glory upon her "where 
 no thought of parting shall sadden the meeting." 
 
THE LOST CHILD. 
 
 JfAR o'er the distant heights, like wings of gloom, 
 The storm-clouds swept in dreadful marchings 
 forth, 
 While o'er the mountains' distant peaks, anon 
 The lightning played his fiery gleam of death. 
 The thunder, too, his organ deep attuned, 
 That woke the echoes of the cliffs from 'far. 
 And down the canyons vast his music rolled 
 Until it reached the distant plain and sent 
 The life-blood from the cheek of one who prayed 
 In deepest woe thro' all that night of gloom. 
 
 Around her trembling form that mother threw, 
 
 In haste, her robe, to shield her from the storm, 
 
 And forth amidst the fearful crash she went. 
 
 All broken were the prayers she said to Him 
 
 Who rules the storm and paints the bannered cloud. 
 
 There was no light to tell the way, save that 
 
 The brilliant lightning momentarily 
 
 Flashed a flood throughout the forest wild, 
 
 Then darkness, black as Erebus, was there 
 
 And shouting for her child died at her feet. 
 
 Her little girl had wandered forth along 
 The brook, where gentle ripples played, to see 
 The moss that hung in garlands from the rocks, 
 And silently bent down to kiss the stream, 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 31 
 
 For nature, careless of her gems, had sown 
 This wildwood thick with flowers ; here and there 
 Between the rocks came forth their starry leaves 
 To lure the child still onward down the stream, 
 And charm her soul afresh with joy, until 
 Night and the storm held full empire there. 
 
 Adown the brook, where forests dense confront 
 The way, o'er rough and hoary rocks, with eager 
 Haste she sped, while e'er round her in the gloom 
 Weird, ghostly shapes rose up, then disappeared. 
 Till childhood's strength exhausted quite, o'ercome 
 With many bitter tears, in wild despair 
 She fell upon the earth and, sobbing, fell 
 Asleep, and dreamed of mother's gentle song — 
 That angels white and pure stood near her couch 
 And beckoned her with snowy hands to Heaven. 
 
 The storm, as a receding battle, died 
 
 In gentle murmurs o'er the distant hills, 
 
 When silvery stars, with calm, pale faces 
 
 Peered from the azure canopy above, 
 
 In pity, on the sleeping child nestled 
 
 In a mossy nook between two giant rocks 
 
 Upon the very brink — 0, angels, bear 
 
 Her up — of frightful depths, an hundred feet 
 
 Below where dashed the silvery brooklet on, 
 
 Hastening to the sea to die amid its waves. 
 
 He gathers up his jewels bright, who notes 
 The sparrow's fall, nor lets his lambs be lost 
 
32 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 Without an angel's timely hand to guide 
 Amidst the vale of shade. While yet the moon 
 From snowy throne kept her watch and ward above, 
 Amidst the gray of faintest dawn a form 
 Bent low above the sleeping one whose lips 
 Of carmine softly moved then wore a smile 
 As mother when she looks upon her child 
 In the holiest quietude of home. 
 
 While silvery lamps of earliest dawn 
 
 Still lingered in the sky as lovers loth 
 
 To part, and o'er the eastern hills 
 
 The chariots of the storm, in robes of steel, 
 
 Rolled sullenly away trailing their 
 
 Banners, till silent pencils of the sun, 
 
 Dipped in Heaven's gold, transformed the scene 
 
 To one of purest loveliness, as if 
 
 An angel spread his pinions there ; two hearts 
 
 With gladness filled — the savior and the 
 
 Saved — with hurrying feet their threshold passed. 
 
OLD AGE. 
 
 ^HROUGH all the tempests and storms, disappoint- 
 ments and trials of life, there is a polar star to 
 which hope points with unerring finger — the home of 
 rest. The aged man, with snowy locks and furrowed 
 brow and trembling limbs, like a storm-beaten, battle- 
 scarred ship almost home, passes over the bar into the 
 calm waters beyond the dashing breakers of this wild 
 and stormy sea. No gale can ever strike him now ; no 
 blinding fogs concealing hidden rocks ; no chilling 
 blasts shall strike his frame nor freeze his blood ; no 
 sere and yellow leaf shall greet his eyes, for there 
 flowery spring reigns forever. No strangers wait him 
 on that shore — but the great family in Christ Jesus, of 
 which he is a member, all robed in vestments of snowy 
 white. "0, joyful and sweet will the meeting be." 
 
 a 01d age serene and bright, 
 And lovely as a Lapland night, 
 Shall lead thee to thy grave." 
 
SOMEWHERE, 
 
 IJOMEWHERE. I know, is an island green, 
 ^ Where the flowers never facie. 
 And the pure light falls with golden sheen 
 On an ocean round it laid ; 
 
 Where the fadeless sky is soft and clear 
 
 As notes of an angel's song 
 Over the wonderful city dear 
 
 To hearts that have waited long. 
 
 Myriad souls, through tear-dimmed eyes. 
 
 Look up to that sunlit shore. 
 Where the weary ones, in sweet surprise. 
 
 Shall hunger and thirst no more. 
 
 Each soul that passes from earth away, 
 
 To the fragrant groves of rest. 
 Dwells in the calm of eternal day. 
 
 In the army of the blest. 
 
 A crystal stream, o'er a pearly bed. 
 
 Inlaid with the purest gold, 
 Is flowing by, as the Father said, 
 
 Where the Savior leads his fold. 
 
 The tree of life, with a fragrant bloom. 
 On its verdant banks shall wave. 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 35 
 
 Where none shall weep at the silent tomb 
 Nor laurel a single grave. 
 
 A song rolls out on the balmy air, 
 
 That no otherwhere is known, 
 Whose notes are pure as an infant's prayer 
 
 Floating softly to the throne. 
 
 Soon we shall cross o'er the mystic sea, 
 
 To that island evergreen, 
 And join the victors pure and free 
 
 Which no mortal eye hath seen. 
 
 We wait and watch for the rushing keel 
 To strike on this darksome land, 
 
 To bear us forth where the surges kneel 
 Their praise on the golden strand. 
 
A TRUE SKETCH. 
 
 5|N the morning of my life I knew a maiden, fair and 
 ^ beautiful as the first faint streak of a May morn- 
 ing, in whose eyes sparkled the joyousness of the 
 spirit of love, and whose steps told of the Luoyancy 
 and ardor of the life within. The tinge of her cheeks 
 was like the indescribable blush of the fairest sunset, 
 which, with the slightest emotion of the heart within, 
 with magic quickness came and went. 
 
 Her w T hole life seemed one spotless page, on which 
 God had written naught but peace, and joy, and love. 
 
 She moved among the young, the gay, the beauti- 
 ful, dispensing the sunshine of her bright spirit to all 
 around. 
 
 Years rolled on, bringing hope's fruition or bury- 
 ing the jewels of the future, one by one, at our feet. 
 Again I saw her, this time a jeweled bride, led to 
 the hymenial altar in flowing robes, with bosom 
 heaving with bright hopes of a life full of peace and 
 unmingled joy. 
 
 Three years swept by on the wings of light and 
 shadow, changing all upon earth's bosom, and again 
 I saw her, not, indeed, a blushing bride, but lying upon 
 a cot, worn, weary, and wasted by disease and pain. 
 
 Already, the dark wings of the angel of death 
 were overshadowing her frail form, his lustre was 
 glittering in her eyes, and his icy signet was stealing 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 37 
 
 o'er her face, where patience had already left her 
 heavenly stamp. 
 
 As I took her wasted hand in mine and said "God 
 bless you ; good bye/ 7 she faintly said, "Thank you ; 
 goodbye." In her eyes I saw the crystal tear-drops 
 glittering one moment and then turned away to see 
 her not again until the word of God shall sound 
 through all the unseen world and stir once again the 
 dark and mouldering skeletons of the ages past. 
 
 Yes, the rosebud unseemly 
 
 Shall burst into bloom, 
 So the bodies that slumber 
 
 Shall rise from the tomb. 
 
 When life's sunlight has faded * 
 
 And night has come on, 
 We shall quietly rest till 
 
 The glorious dawn. 
 
 When the music shall greet us, 
 
 At break of the day, 
 And the night shall be banished 
 
 Forever away. 
 
 -^>^rs^- 
 
TO A FRIEND, 
 
 U^ HE bouquet you sent by your mother's hand 
 Was fair as a dream of Elysian strand : 
 The rainbow was robbed, and so were the skies, 
 Of their beautiful tints to furnish its dyes. 
 
 The robes of the west, that mingle and shift, 
 Were plucked to adorn this wonderful gift. 
 
 When I look on its hues sweet pictures rise 
 
 Of lovlier flowers and holier skies. 
 
 A valley enchanted, and lovelier far 
 
 Than the light that falls from the evening star, 
 
 When we shall be pure as the vesper chime 
 
 Of silver bells in the olden time. 
 
 Long years have flown and we're nearing the shore 
 
 Of that sinless aiden forevermore ; 
 
 Beside our Shepherd we'll silently stray, 
 And dwell forever in regions of day. 
 
LAND BEYOND. 
 
 |jf HRISTIAN, there is a land beyond, where no part- 
 ing ever comes. No sere and yellow leaf shall 
 ever break the continual and forever green of the 
 beautiful and refreshing groves. No dark and porten- 
 tous cloud shall ever obscure the peaceful skies or 
 wave their black wings over the terrified traveller. 
 When the weary pilgrim, pale, haggard and worn, 
 reaches the foot of the mountain of life, on the sunset 
 side, and silently disappears in the dark, unsounded 
 sea, whose waves wash a pearly strand on the other 
 side — alone he enters there — but emerges on the sun- 
 rise shore and treads the sands of gold beside the cru- 
 cified of Galilee. There the crystal waves of the river 
 of life^oftly murmur through the midst of the street, 
 far into whose sparkling depths millions of white- 
 robed forms are mirrored. "There the wicked cease 
 from troubling and the weary are at rest." There 
 "peace flows as a river all boundless and free." We, 
 who have had our hearts mangled and torn by the 
 parting kiss of our little darlings, and have followed 
 them with many bitter, bitter tears to the "silent halls 
 of death," shall meet them "beyond the river," "where 
 the surges cease to roll ;" where "we shall see Him as 
 He is, and be like him," with "countenances like 
 lightning and raiment white as snow ;" with buoyant 
 steps, immortal youth and eternal life. 0, how our 
 
40 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 hearts yearn for the time when this weary waiting 
 shall be ended, and the archangel's voice shall gently 
 break the solemn stillness, calling the victors home. 
 
 "There's a crown forthe victor, a crown of light, 
 To be worn with a robe whose spotless white 
 Makes darkness seem resting on Alpine snows." 
 
 Then "we shall rejoice with joy unspeakable and 
 full of glory," for — 
 
 "Spring shall revisit the mouldering urn 
 
 And day shall dawn on the night of the grave." 
 
 "The enrapturing joy of a moment there 
 Is sweeter far than the holiest prayer, 
 
 And the crowning bliss of that home shall be 
 To dwell with Him w T ho died for me. 
 
 "There, nearest the throne, where the spotless be, 
 All the jewels we've lost we then shall see, 
 Then, thrilled with the joys of heaven above, 
 We'll drink of the fountain of infinite love. 
 
 "How sweet to think that on our eyes 
 That lovely scene shall soon arise ; 
 , That we shall wake from sorrow's dream 
 Beside a pure and living stream." 
 
 &* 
 
A MOTHER'S LESSON. 
 
 9| child went forth on the pebbles to play, 
 In the holy calm of a autumn day, 
 The pure waters near by, with' dash and roar, 
 Were sweeter that day than ever before. 
 
 The sunbeams came with mystical glow, 
 Over waves and pebbles that glittered below, 
 And gave to the waters an emerald hue, 
 As they swiftly sped from the gazer's view. 
 
 The soft-tinted birds, with musical note, 
 In glittering splendor above did float ; 
 The fishes, all clad in silver and gold, 
 Sped swiftly aw T ay as dreams that are told. 
 
 The autumn leaves, of such magical dies, 
 All shimmering shone from inverted skies — 
 A living picture, of delicate size, 
 Of the beauties rare of God's paradise. 
 
 Now, quick as a thought, a rainbow has spread 
 Its wonderful pinions high overhead, 
 
 That joined one beneath, inverted and bright, 
 And formed a grand circle of glory and light. 
 
 Forgetful of self, 'mong glories he stood 
 
 And dreamed of the home of the pure and good, 
 
42 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 Till gently was laid upon his fair head 
 His mother's soft hand — who tenderly said : 
 
 Darling, our Father, in mercy, has given 
 These things to lure our spirits to heaven, 
 
 Where all things are pure, and holy, and bright, 
 And naught shall e'er come to mar our delight. 
 
HOURS OF PEACE. 
 
 r^iOURS of peace and gladness spread their silvery 
 ^ pinions over us in the thickest of the battle of 
 life, as angels came to the patriarchs and prophets of 
 God in the far distant ages — bright and beautiful — but 
 linger not beside us. In such moments we wonder 
 that our hearts should ever be aught but delightful 
 temples, decorated with gay and fragrant bloom and 
 cheered by heavenly strains of music. Indeed, when 
 we remember that the infinite expanse is filled with 
 countless golden spheres, rolling forever onward, mak- 
 ing the universe resplendent with the scintillations of 
 God's glory ; 
 
 "Forever singing, as they shine, 
 The hand that made us is divine ;" 
 
 That the earth is filled with singing birds, dashing 
 waterfalls, murmuring brooks, fragrant flowers, sighing 
 zephyrs, gorgeous rainbows, golden sunsets and ma- 
 jestic forests ; that over all the earth is spread, by in- 
 visible fingers, a robe of softest green that wearies not 
 the eye ; that high over all, at times, is seen the 
 chariots of cloud, moving swiftly on like armed war- 
 riors eager for the fray ; when we remember all these, 
 and ten thousand others that our good Father has 
 spread around our transient abode, we should be filled 
 with unutterable devotion to Him, and, as a feeble 
 token of our gratitude, give Him a life of obedience 
 
44 
 
 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 and trust. If the love of God filled the valley through 
 which we "flee as a shadow" with such delightful 
 sights, and sounds, and joys, what, 0, what shall we 
 find in that mansion where we shall dwell forever? If 
 God made the heavens and earth in six days, what 
 shall be the glory of the place which he has been pre- 
 paring for us for nearly two thousand years ? 
 
 All these are mine, in beneficence given 
 To soften the thorns in the pathway to heaven ; 
 To brighten the links of life's mystical chain, 
 As I swiftly pass on toward Eternity's main. 
 
OVER THE WAVE. 
 
 |gj|VER the wave, now washing the pearl, 
 Along the shore of the spirit world, 
 As a beacon bright, with shVry song, 
 That glittering boat still glides along. 
 
 Over the wave, through the mist and foam, 
 That phantom craft has forever come, 
 
 And forever found, where the wavelets died, 
 The mother's pet and the father's pride. 
 
 Brave warriors gray, on the battle plain, 
 Lay down their armor among the slain, 
 And children, too, forgetting their play, 
 Are borne by that rushing craft away. 
 
 This side the wave, where the king is laid, 
 The lover strong and the tender maid, 
 The watchers wait for the snowy white 
 Of the spreading sail to burst in sight. 
 
 Beyond the wave is the song so sweet, 
 That millions sing at the Father's feet, 
 
 Which none can learn but the pure and good 
 Who were redeemed by the Savior's blood. 
 
 Over the mountain, adown the wave, 
 Where the rainbow of life sets in the grave, 
 
46 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 My darling fair, with her blushes true, 
 Hasted away and was lost to view. 
 
 Over the wave, from the golden land, 
 The Pilot came with outstretched hand ; 
 With words of love and a face of light 
 He robed her then in garments white. 
 
 Beyond the tide, 'neath the crystal dome, 
 
 Amidst the bliss of a perfect home, 
 
 Where gleams the light of a thousand wings 
 Her blood-washed spirit forever sings. 
 
 Over the sea, in the gold-paved street, 
 Where all are charmed with music sweet, 
 She is watching still, as angels come, 
 To welcome me to a grand new home. 
 
THANK GOD FOR CLOUDS. 
 
 ^F there were no clouds to form the canvas we 
 ^ should never see the gorgeous dyes and indescrib- 
 able shades wrought by the wonderful skill of the In- 
 finite Artist. 
 
 We should never behold that charming picture — an 
 island celestial, floating silently over us, whose shores 
 are fringed with purest snow and tipped with faintest 
 gold ; so beautiful that it seems an angel's barque, 
 broken from its moorings on the margin of the crystal 
 sea, and floating away to us to show how surpassingly 
 lovely are all things where the light of eternity lingers. 
 
 Our Father hath given much beauty to charm 
 Our souls from sin, which allures but to harm, 
 And adapted the eye and spirit to view 
 With joy the spotless, the pure and the true. 
 
A DREAM. 
 
 ^1 dream of the night, with its silvery spell, 
 
 Came over my couch and around me it fell ; 
 'Twas the gleam of a robe, with a golden light, 
 That gave to my soul its triumphant delight. 
 
 In the years that were past she had gone far away, 
 Had faded and drooped, as the thing of a day, 
 
 And, with garlands of roses lain light on her breast. 
 
 In silence and tears we had lain her to rest. 
 
 The roses had grown, and the willows had spread 
 Their branches all over the fair sleeper's bed ; 
 Now all that was left, that the eye could behold, 
 Was the curl I still kept — a treasure of gold. 
 
 But my spirit, that night, in dreaming, had fled 
 To the evergreen shore of the spotless dead, 
 
 Where I heard once again her silvery tone . 
 
 Re-echo in sweetness around the white throne. 
 
 Again, by my side, knelt that angel, as fair 
 As the spirits of peace — the white wings of prayer ; 
 We wandered together in rapturous delight 
 Where day never fades 'neath the black wing of night. 
 
 Then, all through the streets of the city of gold, 
 Whose glory the angels in beauty have told, 
 
J_ 
 
 SUNBEAMS. 49 
 
 Or close by the waves of the crystalline stream, 
 As fair as the pinions of flight in a dream, 
 
 Beneath the fair rainbow, whose beauty unrolled, 
 With banners of glory and robings of gold, 
 We were lost in the charms of a heavenly spell, 
 As sweet as the ransomed in glory can tell ; 
 
 For each felt the thrill of the love that is sweet — 
 As shown in the life of the Savior replete ; 
 The spell was too sacred in rapture to last, 
 For all through my being its joys had passed. 
 
 The angel of morn softly opened the gate, 
 Where scenes of. the earth at its portals await, 
 Then past was the glory that over me shone, 
 With wings, as of lightning, my vision had gone. 
 
 E'er since, when the stars have all faded from sight, 
 And gone on the wings of the spirits of night, 
 
 When millions of dewdrops hold pictured the sun, 
 As bright as when first his career was begun ; 
 
 Or when, 'midst the gardens of flowers, I strayed, 
 As the King of the Heavens his chariot stayed, 
 When high on the tree-tops is seen his last beam, 
 'Tis then, in sweet rapture, I think of my dream. 
 
THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE. 
 
 /Sf'HE soul must be dull, indeed, who has not been 
 thrilled with the ten thousand beauties which the 
 Maker of earth and sky has left imprinted everywhere 
 in his vast universe. Who has not been filled with si- 
 lent, deep, unutterable joy while watching the changing 
 host of gold-tinted clouds at evening, when the sun 
 nears the horizon ? Now the scene is one vast ocean of 
 crimson, sapphire, opal and pearl ; now a vast sea of 
 gold, tipped with silver ; now a faint and indefinable 
 gray ; again a deep mantle of steel, on which may be 
 seen high and mighty billows, like giants on the field 
 of battle, which at iast becomes a robe of ebony, for a 
 background to the grand picture of the heavens, 
 whereon a million golden-armored sentinels of night 
 the brighter shine by contrast. 
 
 Not an angel to-day in the deep-vaulted skies 
 Shall be able to paint all those wonderful dyes — 
 From the snow on the mount to the gold of the mine 
 And a thousand fair tints that I cannot define. 
 
 Who has not stood transfixed with delight beside 
 some silvery brooklet, far away in some mountain 
 gorge, where grand old forest trees — hoary monarchs 
 of the centuries — rear to heaven their lofty heads, and 
 beside whose waters of silvery and transparent beauty 
 hang garlands and festoons of moss of unique and va- 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 51 
 
 rious forms, woven by the snow-white, magic hands of 
 the goddess of the mountain? Again, we watch with 
 kindling eyes and swelling soul the "Bow of Promise" 
 unrolled upon the deep-dyed background of the re- 
 treating storm, which is the sign and signal set to bid 
 our fears depart, for the storm is overpast. 
 
 On the wings of the tempest past over, 
 The Father his token doth spread ; 
 
 On the night that's most gloomy and starless 
 A morn of rare splendor is shed. 
 
 Again, we stand beside the "still waters," in the 
 "green pastures," and contemplate, with pleasure, the 
 snowy billows of cloud moving slowly on, like the 
 measured tread of a white-robed army, or sw 7 iftly 
 changing "a thousand fathoms down." Now we climb 
 wearily upward for miles and leagues, every inch of 
 which has been beautified by an infinite mind and 
 skill, till we stand at last upon the lofty summit of the 
 everlasting hills where, before us, east and west, north 
 and south, for miles and miles, the landscape stretches 
 until it is lost in the hazy distance, where earth and 
 sky meet and mingle. The vast panorama of moun- 
 tains, hills, lakes and prairies lift and fall upon our 
 vision like retreating waves. While standing here 
 clouds begin to gather far down the mountain side and 
 quickly shut out the landscape from our sight, when 
 we are treated to such a display of beauty as rarely 
 falls to the lot of mortals. The sheeted lightning, 
 
52 
 
 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 darting here and there, like streams of liquid fire, in 
 what looks to us like dark, deep waters, far below us, 
 while we stand amid the calm sunshine beneath un- 
 clouded skies. At last the storm god has vented his 
 ire, and instead of streams of fire we behold upon the 
 cloud not a rainbow but a full circle — an aureola, 
 lying peacefully there like the rainbow eternal around 
 the white throne. How easy the transition of thought 
 from this scene of physical nature to that grand realm 
 of spiritual existence and life pictured in the wonder- 
 ful gallery of God's eternal truth : The twelve founda- 
 tions laid of precious stones of various hues, super- 
 imposed upon each other, through which the glory of 
 God and the Lamb eternally shines, producing such a 
 rainbow around the throne and the victors there as eye 
 hath not seen on earth. Surely, neither the light of 
 the sun nor the moon is needed to illumine the spirits' 
 sweet home. 
 
 0, the spirits' sweet home, no tongue can e'er tell 
 How fair is the place where the pure shall dwell. 
 Where their whole lives shall be as a peaceful dream 
 That flows on for aye. as a gentle stream. 
 
 In our descent from our mountain hight. richly 
 plumed songsters of the forest from leafy bowers sa- 
 lute our ears with their unwritten songs of praise to 
 Him who notes the sparrow's fail. We reach home at 
 last feeling like we had "Once lived in heaven and, 
 straying, had lost our way." 
 
ON WINGS. 
 
 HEN round me the whirlpool of sorrow shall rise, 
 Till spray from its surges mount up to the skies. 
 And around my frail bark the death angel sings, 
 'Tis then, like an eagle, Fll mount up on wings. 
 
 When flowers of hope shall all wither and fade, 
 And the joys of life in the dust shall be laid, 
 
 When friends all prove false, where affection still 
 clings, 
 
 Tis then to the Savior I'll mount up on wings. 
 
 When sickness shall come and my cheeks shall grow 
 pale — 
 
 0, how many on earth can tell that dread tale — 
 By prayer I must rise to all heavenly things, 
 Ah, yes, I must mount up to God upon wings. 
 
 When I shall at last in my coffin be laid, 
 And the hand of death's angel forever is stayed, 
 When in dust I shall lie, and forgott'n shall be, 
 Yet still in my flesh the blest Savior I'll see. 
 
 I'll slumber in silence, forgotten by all, 
 
 And the pearl of the night shall over me fall, 
 
 The grasses shall wave and the clouds shall unfurl 
 Over my silent bed in this sinful world. 
 
54 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 But the River of Life, where the angels lave, 
 Shall wander at last to the depths of the grave, 
 And my body will touch with its magic springs, 
 Then, rising, I'll fly to the Savior on wings. 
 
DEATH. 
 
 ST has been truly said that the three sweetest words 
 ®^ in human speech are Mother, Home and Heaven 
 — sweetest because of the happy associations cluster- 
 ing around them. But if we were called upon to se- 
 lect the one word having the most of mystery w T ithin 
 it and associated with it, that word should be Death. 
 Though surrounded by mystery, with clouds of gloom, 
 and the awe of the grave, yet I think we may learn 
 much of its meaning from the vegetable productions of 
 the earth. The tender twig first appears and rapidly 
 unfolds under the pure sunlight of heaven, till a swell- 
 ing bud begins to burst, through which the softly-tinted 
 petals of a beautiful flower begin to peep, which, as if 
 by magic, bursts into glory. But soon these lovely 
 things wither, and fade, and fall, and we feel as if our 
 fond pride and joy was forever blasted. Now, care- 
 fully scrutinizing the — to us — ruinous event, lo, the 
 wonderful truth flashes upon us that these rainbow- 
 tinted leaves were but the gorgeous canopy which na- 
 ture spread around the tender fruit to shield it from 
 the withering frosts till it should grow older and able 
 to grow unprotected in the open light of God. Thus 
 the death of the flower is but the removal of that 
 which is not only useless now but an actual hindrance 
 to the perfection and maturity of the fruit. So, I re- 
 joice to think, it is with our humanity. The body is 
 
56 
 
 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 given as a protection and a means of development to 
 the "inward man," until the fullness of its time ar- 
 rives, when it is put aside, as a worn-out garment, 
 while the "inward man," the fruit, unfolds unto per- 
 fection in the holy calm and under the transforming 
 power of the perfect day. 
 
 ^0^% 
 
HE IS RISEN. 
 
 ITH the swiftness of lightning, at close of the night, 
 
 Came an angel from heaven, in garments of white, 
 
 To the tomb where the Savior was shrouded in gore, 
 
 And the bravest and strongest of Rome watched the 
 
 door. 
 
 0, fearless and fierce, as a thunderbolt given, 
 Was that messenger, sent from the gateway of heaven ; 
 At the shaking of earth, and the sign in the sky, 
 And the gleamings of light at each flash of his eye. 
 
 The bravest hearts quailed, and the soldiers gave way, 
 And the stone he hurled back, as a child at its play ; 
 
 With the quickness of thought, and with power 
 sublime, 
 
 Jesus rent the dark pall that covered all time. 
 
 He broke the strong chain that had fettered the race, 
 And his glorious presence still hallows its place, 
 But away to bright realms, on a fetterless wing, 
 Soared the crucified Lord — but all-conquering King. 
 
 All the legions of heaven his coming did wait, 
 To triumphantly shout as he neared the bright gate ; 
 Whom they welcomed within, and appointed a seat — 
 For all heaven and earth must soon bow at his feet. 
 
 -~- > >-^rS— - 
 
IMPERFECTION ON EARTH. 
 
 ST has teen said that of countless millions of leaves 
 ®^ falling in autumn time, not a single perfect one 
 has been found. Not a single spear of grass, however 
 beautiful it may appear to the careless observer, but 
 what, if closely scrutinized, bears some defect. Not 
 one of all the delightful flowers of the field that is 
 perfect in all its parts. When we turn our attention 
 to the finest piece of art that man has ever produced, 
 we meet the same humiliating fact still more apparent. 
 The finest painting, when greatly magnified, looks 
 almost hideous. When we retire at last within our- 
 selves, and view the workings of our own hearts, we 
 are reminded that we ourselves are not perfect. Our 
 happiness is only relative and mingled with some sor- 
 row of heart. When we are bus} 7 with our hands our 
 hearts are holding sweet converse with some darling 
 one long since dead, whose voice, save in memory, is 
 hushed forever on earth. "They are not lost but gone 
 before. 7 ' They rise before us at ever) 7 step of our lives. 
 "Of life they form a part." They meet us at the gate 
 with loving smiles and gentle kisses on our return 
 from the toil of the day. They clasp us about the 
 neck and charm our hearts with their bewitching love. 
 Their deeds of kindness we unconsciously remember 
 and link them inseparably with the angels of God and 
 heaven. But then the bitter, bitter thought returns 
 
 
SUNBEAMS. 59 
 
 that they are mouldering in the grave. Ah ! yes, we 
 saw them and watched the rosy tinge fade from their 
 cheeks as they met the destroyer ; we heard their last 
 faint words ; stood by their couch when all was over. 
 We kissed their cold, pale forehead, lips, and snow- 
 white hands again and again ; we saw them lowered 
 by gentle, loving hands to their last ted and rest in the 
 gloom of the grave, where they mingle to dust in that 
 quiet abode. Then with weary footsteps and broken 
 heart we tread our way homeward, almost unconscious 
 of the beauties of nature along our way. And when 
 we enter the house everything reminds us of the loved 
 one gone. The silent room, the little playthings, the 
 carefully treasured lock of hair, the dear, priceless 
 photograph, each, all, tell us in language more forcible 
 than speech of the pure joy lost to us here and of the 
 deep sorrow now felt and that must be felt until we, 
 too, go to our graves. 0, whjr must all the beautiful, 
 the pure, the lovely die and leave us only the gloom 
 after the light. All of the most beautiful things in 
 nature the soonest fade. The rainbow no sooner ap- 
 pears and gladdens the eye with its radiant foldings 
 than it is gone, and instead the great, gloomy cloud 
 winding and twisting its tremendous folds like moun- 
 tains tossed by unseen giant hands. The rose blooms 
 only for a few days, and we reach out our hand to 
 pluck it and enjoy its fragrance when lo, the dropping 
 leaves fill our hand or fall noiselessly to the ground and 
 lie scattered in ruins about our feet. The most de- 
 lightful stillness and quietude in the elements is fol- 
 
60 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 lowed by the earthquake and the march of death. The 
 most beautiful of our children and friends of to-day 
 become the pale and stiffened corpses of to-morrow. 
 "All that live and breathe must share their destiny." 
 "In the midst of life we are in death." Now, the de- 
 sign of all this imperfection, it seems to us, is to cre- 
 ate within us a deep yearning for a perfect home 
 with perfect surroundings. But while travelling 
 along this weary way, most strange to say, the un- 
 mingled cup of joy is ever just ahead, but when we 
 grasp it and raise it eagerly to our lips, maddened by 
 disappointment we dash it from us and grasp another 
 only to be deceived. This genius within us, so often 
 crushed, yet never discouraged nor destroyed, tells us 
 too plainly to be mistaken of the insufficiency of earth 
 to satisfy it and of the certainty of a place where not 
 one gem of joy shall ever fade in the deep, pure sun- 
 light of heaven. 
 
 ' W J ^ 
 
LITTLE GRACIE, 
 
 |gj|NE little voice is silent now — 
 As sweet as e'er was heard ; 
 I know not why God gave, nor how, 
 Such sweetness to that bird. 
 
 She came — an angel sent from heaven — 
 
 As pure as dewdrops fall ; 
 Her w r ords were pure as moonbeams given, 
 
 And she was loved by all. 
 
 Her brow was decked with richest hair, 
 And dark and bright her eyes ; 
 
 She w T as so matchless, pure and fair, 
 God took her to the skies. 
 
 It was not best that she should stay 
 
 In this dark world of sin, 
 For angels oped the shining way 
 
 And called her spirit in, 
 
 Where now, beside the throne of w T hite, 
 
 Beneath the living tree, 
 Without a trace of coming night, 
 
 She waiteth still for me. 
 
 Amidst the robes that ever shine, 
 Without a spot or stain, 
 
62 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 There is none brighter there than mine 
 In all that sinless train. 
 
 0, when I reach the pearly strand, 
 
 And cross beyond the sea, 
 I'll clasp her fondly by the hand 
 
 And ever with her be. 
 
 Together we will often roam, 
 
 Adown the golden street, 
 To view the glories of our home 
 
 That God has made so sweet. 
 
 For aye within that home of love, 
 
 Beneath the stainless sky, 
 We'll reign with millions up above, 
 
 Where none shall ever die ; 
 
 Where forms shall glide, as dreams of light, 
 Through shining streets of gold, 
 
 And be reflected clear and bright 
 From crystal walls untold. 
 
 No mark of time shall mar the brow, 
 Nor tinge the eye with shade ; 
 
 Within that land none ever bow 
 Beneath the weight of age. 
 
 There, all are wrapt in sweetest joy ; 
 
 Are young, and pure, and free ; 
 The Savior's praises all employ 
 
 In one long jubilee. 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 63 
 
 Lord, help us, that when we shall rise 
 From mouldering beds of clay, 
 
 To cleave with wings of light the skies. 
 And reign in endless day. 
 
SOME MISTAKES OP MOSES. : 
 
 ■=J 
 
 few years ago a wonderful took, written by a won- 
 derful man, made its appearance in this world of 
 thought and age of books. Flaming forth upon its 
 title page are these startling words : "Some Mistakes 
 of Moses," w T hich would be much more significant and 
 truthful- — "Some Mistakes of Ingersoll." Now it be- 
 hooves a man who makes such extraordinary preten- 
 tions to present something else in proof of them than 
 ridicule and the shafts of wit. This author, however, 
 has nothing else to offer against religion as taught in 
 the bible, and therefore his continual effort in this line. 
 This wonderful book — wonderful only in its ridicule — 
 startles us with this question : u Can we believe that 
 the inspired writer had any idea of the size of the 
 sun?" Here, as in many other places in his lectures, 
 this splendid free (?) thinker and thrilling lecturer im- 
 plies, with emphasis, that the Mosaic record of crea- 
 tion is not of God, because it does not give the minute 
 history and details of astronomy and geology, botany 
 and physiology. His argument here may all be 
 summed up as follows : If God had given to man a 
 revelation, it would have explained to him everything 
 that is necessary for the race to know from its cradle 
 to its grave. But instead we have a revelation adapted 
 to man as he is instead of as he w T ould like for man to 
 be. Now if this objection has any bearing against 
 
SUNBEAMS. 65 
 
 - 
 
 revelation as found in the bible, it bears equally 
 against the constitution of man, for a revelation that 
 made known all things which man might wish to 
 know in this world, to be adapted to man on earth, 
 it must find man without any such attribute as inquisi- 
 tiveness. Now this attribute he certainly has ; there- 
 fore, such a revelation would not be adapted to man as 
 he is. He utterly ignores the fundamental fact — else 
 never knew it — that the whole scheme of redemption 
 has for its object one grand aim, viz : A reformation 
 of the moral man, a regeneration of the heart, and, 
 through it, the outward life. God erected his empire 
 in the hearts of men upon one word — faith. A chris- 
 tian life, then, is simply belief in action. What rela- 
 tion, we ask, does the size of the sun bear to the 
 greatest of all great questions — a pure life? Verily, 
 as much as the wheel of a locomotive to Windsor 
 Castle, or Mr. Ingersoli's heart to an iceberg. 
 
 Again, he asks : "Did he know that the sun was 
 enveloped in an ocean of fire, thousands of miles in 
 depth, hotter even than the christian's hell, over which 
 sweep tempests of flame, moving at the rate of one 
 hundred miles a second, compared with which the 
 wildest storm that ever wrecked the forests of this 
 world was but a calm." [Page 73.] 
 
 Here again we find him in his favorite field of ac- 
 tion. He seizes the most mysterious and unknown 
 things and argues from them as if they were the 
 simplest things in nature. If you will take the care 
 to read any one of his series of offensive adjectives, 
 
66 
 
 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 which he calls lectures, and mark each page and para- 
 graph where he assumes the whole matter in debate, 
 and also each particular place where he substitutes his 
 unsupported assertion for proof upon the gravest 
 things, you will be utterly surprised to find how little 
 will be left. When he tauntingly asked the above 
 question it was done to cast opprobrium upon the 
 bible ; but it remains to be shown that Moses made 
 any mistake concerning the appearance of the sun, 
 or, indeed, any other phenomenon of nature. We 
 must remember that he was not writing a treatise on 
 science, but detailing the successive steps of creation, 
 as they appeared to an eye witness, or, as they would 
 have appeared to the eye. 
 
 Again, if Moses did know "that the sun is en- 
 veloped in an ocean of fire," he knew more than Mr. 
 Ingersoll or any other scientist of this late and scien- 
 tific age. Indeed, we do not know of a respectable 
 scientist who dares to speak other than most modestly 
 upon this theme. In fact, some of the ablest scientists 
 of the present time, writing through Wilford's Micro- 
 cosm, take position, with great show of reason, too, 
 that the sun is a cold body. Such men as compared 
 with whom, Mr. Ingersoll is the veriest pigmy in in- 
 tellectual ability, depth of research and literary 
 knowledge. He states these things so positively that 
 some, especially the young and those who have not the 
 time and ability to investigate them, are led to believe 
 as he declaims. I sometimes wonder if it ever oc- 
 curred to him how utterly useless the human race 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 07 
 
 - 
 
 would be if God had made a revelation of everything 
 that they might ever wish to know. The faculty which 
 gives the impetus to all the arts and sciences, inven- 
 tions and discoveries of all kinds and characters, 
 w T hether in mechanics or literature, would be thereby 
 rendered a useless incumbrance. This faculty, which 
 is unceasing in its operations all along the life of the 
 individual, manifesting itself in the discovery of the 
 electric telegraph, the electric light, the telescope, the 
 microscope, the telephone, the microphone, the audi- 
 phone, and a thousand more. If he had hold of the 
 helm he would have obviated all this hurry and worry, 
 this push and strain of the brain, by revealing the 
 whole thing ; yes, he would. But the one thing that 
 troubles him supremely is the truth of the bible. 
 He would have every child born into this world be- 
 gin his career fully armed and equipped with a com- 
 plete knowledge of all the arts and sciences. Or, per- 
 chance, he would have greased a rainbow and slipped 
 them down into this w r orld already full-grown angels. 
 He would have us believe that when a man in endued 
 with the Holy Spirit, or inspired, he must of necessity 
 be all-wise or know everything in the universe by vir- 
 tue thereof. But this show 7 s us how little he knows of 
 the great book of God. 
 
 Jesus said : "When He (the Comforter) is come, 
 He shall bring to your remembrance all things what- 
 soever I have said unto you." 
 
 The object then of inspiration was to remind the 
 disciples of all the w T ords of Jesus to them, and give 
 
68 * SUNBEAMS. 
 
 to the apostles miraculous powers to prove the divinity 
 of their mission to the world. He jeeringly asks of 
 the bible : "Is it inspired? If true, it don't need to 
 be inspired." In this, also, he reveals to us his shallow 
 conception of inspiration, or rather great want of 
 knowledge, for inspiration was not given to men to 
 enable them to tell the truth, but to prevent the possi- 
 bility of mistakes. Moses says just so much about 
 the physical creation as we need to know, as related to 
 the beginning of the human race, and no more, leaving 
 much, very much useful knowledge to be discovered 
 by human investigation and research. AH the time 
 that infidel scientists, mad against the Lord's an- 
 nointed, are pushing their researches into every pos- 
 sible recess of nature's vast arcana they are rolling up 
 a mountain of evidence which neither they nor their 
 successors can ever climb over. In all this vast reach 
 of evidence not a single line or scrap has been found 
 to militate against the truth of the bible. Surely, "He 
 makes even the wrath of the wicked to praise Him." 
 
 Moses was neither called nor sent to teach the 
 people the science of the physical world, but the moral 
 and spiritual ; to give a truthful history of the origin, 
 development and historical progress of the human 
 race. These he has portrayed a thousand fold more 
 minutely and faithfully than any revolutionized evo- 
 lutionized skeptic of the present day has done, or — I 
 hesitate not to assert — ever .will* do ; notwithstanding 
 he may have known nothing of the developments of 
 science, as known even to the school boys of the pres- 
 
J 
 
 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 69 
 
 ent day. We are exceedingly curious to know what 
 scientist of respectable and noted ability authorized 
 him to state so positively that "The sun is enveloped 
 in an ocean of fire thousands of miles in depth and 
 hotter even than the christian's hell," etc. I am not 
 aware that the bible tells us how hot hell is, neither do 
 I know of any teaching therein showing it to be in any 
 sense the property or possession of, or in any way re- 
 lated to the christians. Jesus says it was "prepared 
 for the devil and his angels — those who do his will, 
 whether they be fallen spirits or men in the flesh." He 
 would better change his phraseology to the following : 
 "Hotter even than the sinner's hell." But this writer, 
 together with all his class, prate exceedingly much 
 about science. Now it might be a matter of some 
 moment for them to call a halt and recover their 
 breath while we attend to this matter to some extent. 
 Let us then ask the true import of science. We find 
 that it comes from scientia, from scio — to know. 
 From any series of facts, or supposed facts, to assume 
 the dignified title and rank of a science they must be 
 certainly known, after which they must be systemati- 
 cally arranged and classified. Let me then impress 
 upon the reader here the great necessity of a certain 
 knowledge of the facts of nature, without which we 
 have no material of which to construct a science. You 
 see how unjust it is to call the rambling conjectures, 
 assumptions and speculations of such men as Darwin, 
 Beecher and Ingersoll — science ; especially when they 
 tell us, with all the dignity of one narrating a fact 
 
70 
 
 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 demonstrated a thousand times, of ''tempests of flame 
 sweeping over the surface of the sun at the incon- 
 ceivable velocity of a hundred miles a second and 
 thousands of miles in depth." Just a little grain of 
 proof would strengthen us wonderfully just here, the 
 absence of which is painfully unpleasant, especially as 
 we are called on to give it our unqualified faith and 
 reverence, instead of our time-honored, saint-loved 
 bibles ; the book which has stood intact the fiery 
 blasts of adversaries during almost its entire existence ; 
 but even now there are millions who would die for 
 their love of it and devotion to its teachings, to say 
 nothing of the millions who have died for their faith 
 in its principles ; the book 
 
 Which all nature's tongues proclaim divine, 
 On every page of which God's glories shine. 
 
 No matter how frail the foundation on which the 
 statement of a scientist rests — so it seems to militate 
 against the bible and the church of Christ — there 
 are thousands who are instantly ready to proclaim it 
 all over the earth with a great flourish of trumpets ; 
 but, on the other hand, no matter how clearly and 
 pointedly the truth of God's book is proven to them 
 they will not believe. Mr. Ingersoll puts an imaginary 
 case, which has no foundation in the bible nor in the 
 mind of any intelligent christian, and then asks : 
 "Who can believe such a thing? But I suppose I'll 
 be damned if I don't and I'll be damned if I do." 
 
SUNBEAMS. 71 
 
 The only way, it seems to me, of accounting for this 
 strange phenomenon in men who are wise in the mat- 
 ters of worldly things, is the Savior's own solution of 
 it : "They love darkness rather than light, because 
 their deeds are evil." Notice the argument here : 
 Their lives are such that they know a just God con- 
 demns, and for this reason only they seek darkness 
 and even shun the light. 
 
 Kind reader, it is a solemn belief of the author of 
 this book that if you will search the history of each 
 bold infidel you will find many evil deeds culminating, 
 it may be, in some one great evil w T hich, to cover up, 
 they strive long and hard to obliterate the bible, and 
 thereby banish all knowledge of the just retribution of 
 the God who says, "Vengeance is mine, I will repay." 
 
MY GRAVE. 
 
 |j|OONER or later the moon shall shine, 
 With silvery light, on shrub and vine, 
 And, silently, wreaths of light shall twine 
 All over that silent bed of mine. 
 
 Sooner or later the sun shall rise, 
 And anew the earth in gold baptize ; 
 To renew the tread of myriad feet 
 That trample above my winding sheet. 
 
 Sooner or later the storms will beat 
 Over the place where I -rest in sleep, 
 And deluge the earth in sheets of rain, 
 To waken the spring and birds again. 
 
 Sooner or later the stars shall fly, 
 Like silvery cars across the sky — 
 
 As angels, wrapt in the heav'nly light, 
 Who speed along in a rapid flight. 
 
 Sooner or later, at dead of night, 
 They'll over me scatter floods of light ; 
 As on they sweep with fetterless wing, 
 Ceaseless and sweet is the song they sing. 
 
 Sooner or later the bow of peace 
 Shall over me arch from west to east — 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 73 
 
 That sacred sign, to christians given, 
 Of final rest with. Christ in heaven. 
 
 Sooner or later, with sweet perfume, 
 The buds shall over my chamber bloom, 
 To bow with the dewdrops' sparkle near, 
 And over me shed the crystal tear. 
 
 Sooner or later the clouds shall sweep, 
 As mighty waves, all over the deep, 
 
 High over the mound that marks the spot 
 Wherein I shall sleep and be forgot. 
 
 The eve will come, with bannered west, 
 And say, "Ye weary ones, go to rest ;" 
 But to the coffin that rests below 
 It will send no thrill of joy or woe. 
 
 Sooner or later the Son will plead, 
 Before the throne, my terrible need ; 
 
 While angels, sent through the riven skies. 
 
 Shall with joyful hope my soul surprise. 
 
 Sooner or later a boat will come, 
 With silent oars, to carry me home ; 
 I will reach the place where unseen feet 
 x\re ever treading the golden street. 
 
 In the soft sheen of that fading eve, 
 When the Son shall grant his last reprieve, 
 The boatman shall plash his silv'ry oar 
 And bear me away to the unseen shore. 
 
 10 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 Sooner or later, upon that shore, 
 
 We'll tread the halls of the mansion o'er ; 
 
 We will hear the Savior's, welcome home. 
 
 As one by one the ransomed come. 
 
 Sooner or later a robe of white, 
 A home of beauty and crown of light, 
 A palm of victory, flashing fair. 
 Shall each belong to the spirits there. 
 
IX MEMORIAM. 
 
 FRANKLIN H. CRANDALL. 
 
 JtRANKLlN H., son of Kenyon Crandall of Hills- 
 boro, Washington county, Oregon, was drowned 
 in the Tualatin river, near Cornelius, August 23, 1885. 
 The corpse was brought to Hillsboro the same day. 
 The following day it was borne to the Christian 
 church, where w 7 e preached his funeral sermon to a 
 very large and tearful audience. The floral offerings 
 were profuse upon his grave, and very beautiful. 
 While they were being gently placed above his bed we 
 read the following poem as touchingly true in his 
 case — for he was a good boy : 
 
 We stand by the grave of the silent dead, 
 
 And mingle our tears around his bed ; 
 
 Down, far under the ground, we now have laid 
 The form in the image of God once made. 
 
 Now lay on his grave the fairest flowers — 
 Which God shall moisten with dews and showers — 
 The beautiful flowers, so newly born, 
 Bright emblems are of the rising morn ; 
 
 For they, coming up from under the ground, 
 Rise to glory at a single bound ; 
 
 So he shall arise from a bed so cold, 
 
 And dwell at once in a home of gold ; 
 
76 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 Where the river of life, with waves so clear, 
 Ne'er mingles its waters with a tear, 
 
 And the groves of beauty, its banks along, 
 
 Are ringing ever with sweetest song ; 
 
 Where the beautiful saints, with crowns of light, 
 
 Are robed in garments of snowy white, 
 And angels, as fair as the sweetest dream, 
 Shall go and come as the lightning's gleam. 
 
 Now, mantled in dust and asleep in clay, 
 His body shall wait the rising day, 
 
 When Christ shall speak from his throne in the sky, 
 
 And gather his jewels each on high. 
 
A THOUGHT AT SUNSET. 
 
 JfAST night I sat me by the door, 
 ^ And watched the sinking sun, 
 While thoughts came thronging o'er and o'er- 
 "My work will soon be done." 
 
 So when at last he sank within 
 
 A golden ocean's wave, 
 I thought how bright his course had been 
 
 To reach this golden grave. 
 
 And so, methought, that when I die, 
 
 Mav I not cease to shine, 
 But, falling prostrate, sweetly lie 
 
 Amid the light divine. 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 ERNEST STEWART. 
 
 IJKRNJEST, son of John Ben Stewart, who resides near 
 Reedville, died August 17, 1885, of sunstroke, 
 after two days suffering, aged 2 years and 12 days. 
 We preached his funeral sermon in the M. E. church 
 in Hillsboro, on the 18th of August, from which the 
 corpse was followed to the Masonic cemetery, west of 
 here, by a large train of mourners and sympathizing 
 friends. When the little corpse was covered in its 
 native dust, while the grave was being covered with 
 bouquets, floral crosses and snowy wreaths, we read 
 the following poem, composed for the occasion : 
 
 Our words alone can not express 
 
 The feelings of the heart, 
 In such an hour of deep distress, 
 
 When friends are forced to part. 
 
 When one has passed the shadow arch 
 
 And gone his way alone — 
 Filed into the spirit army's march, 
 
 Up to the great white throne. 
 
 We mingle here our offerings fair — 
 
 The purest gift of God — 
 And raise to him a solemn prayer 
 
 To guard this silent sod. 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 '9 
 
 Softly, as' nightfall brings the dew. 
 
 We lay these flowers down, 
 Above a heart that is as pure 
 
 As any glory-crowned. 
 
 One link is severed from the chain 
 
 Of holy ties on earth, 
 And one is added o'er the main 
 
 As pure as e'er had birth. 
 
 We leave the corpse within the hand 
 That rules the kingdom dead, 
 
 Assured that he again shall stand, 
 And glory crown his head. 
 
I WISH I WERE IN HEAVEN. 
 
 9| wish I were in heaven, within the pearly gates, 
 ^ With all my sins forgiven, where my dear Savior 
 waits ; 
 Beside the crystal fountains of life's unmingled 
 
 stream, 
 To lead me up the mountain — fair as the wildest 
 dream. 
 
 I wish I were in heaven, all robed in spotless white, 
 With crown and sceptre given, where falls no gloomy 
 night, 
 With myriads bathed in blood and cleansed from 
 
 every stain — 
 There I'd praise the Father good and ever there 
 remain. 
 
 I wish I were in heaven, beneath the crystal dome, 
 Within the beauteous rainbow forever round the 
 throne ; 
 I wish I were in heaven, where lightnings never play 
 Across the darkened heavens — but shines eternal day. 
 
 I wish I were in heaven, where death shall never spread 
 The land with sundered friendships nor strew the 
 plains with dead ; 
 I wish I were in heaven, where crystal waters play, 
 Outgushing from the fountain where white-robed 
 angels stray. 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 81 
 
 I wish I were in heaven, to join the loved ones there — 
 Who from my arms were riven and left me in 
 despair — 
 
 I wish I were in heaven, beside the tree of life, 
 Within the glorious number who have eternal life. 
 
 1 1 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 WILSON FREDERICK GRABEL. 
 
 i 1 1 HILE Mrs. Jasper Grabel was enjoying a few days 
 at Wilhoit Springs her little boy, Wilson Fred- 
 erick, aged 1 year, 6 months and 17 days, took sick. 
 While the parents were hastening home with him he 
 grew rapidly worse, and when they were about twelve 
 miles from home they were compelled to stop at a 
 wayside house where death quickly came to the relief 
 of the little sufferer, July 28th, 1885, after an illness 
 of only about three days. On the 29th we gently laid 
 his beautiful spotless form to sleep in dust among the 
 silent ones reposing there. 
 
 All language is but weakness now 
 
 Our sorrow deep to tell : 
 Beneath the hand of God we bow. 
 
 Who doeth all things well. 
 
 Thy silver laugh no more shall cheer 
 
 A mother's weary heart. 
 But heaven's music shall appear 
 
 The sweeter for thy part. 
 
 We know not why the Father gave. 
 Nor why He called thee there — 
 
 Consigned thy body to the grave. 
 Despite a mother's prayer. 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 83 
 
 With all the love we hear for thee 
 We would not call thee here, 
 
 For thou art now forever free 
 Where sorrow wakes no tear. 
 
 In sorrow we would bear the pain, 
 
 Until our latest breath, 
 Nor have thee here to tread again 
 
 The thorny path of death. 
 
 Far down the deep defile of shade, 
 
 Beneath the mystic rod, 
 The Savior's hand was on thee laid 
 
 And bore thee up to God. 
 
 His loving, gentle care shall keep 
 Each spotless lamb above ; 
 
 He giveth His beloved sleep 
 Within His arms of love. 
 
 ** 
 
THE CHRISTIAN'S GRAVE 
 
 COMPOSED IN 1868. 
 
 tcome to the spot where the winds softly sweep 
 O'er the form that lies resting forever in sleep ; 
 When in memory's mirror that loved one I see 
 Who, past the dark river, is waiting for me. 
 
 O'erarching the place is the rainbow sublime — 
 First painted by angels in th' morning of time ; 
 Methinks 'tis the arch where his spirit may rest 
 In flight from the earth to the home of the blest. 
 
 He arose on wings, as the eagles of heaven, 
 And passed to the home of the spotless, forgiven ; 
 He crossed the deep river and heard the sweet tone 
 Of the glorious in Jesus around the white throne. 
 
 He reached the fair city and passed through the door, 
 And plucked the bright flowers that bloom on that 
 shore ; 
 He was bathed in that fountain that cleanseth from 
 
 sin, 
 Hence the Savior has welcomed, thrice welcomed 
 him in. 
 
 -^V^^r-^- 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 LINES IN MEMORY OF ELLA AND DAISY CAMPBELL, WHO 
 DIED IN BETHEL, OR., FEBRUARY, 1877. 
 
 Iff WO angels walked beside us here, 
 
 For a brief summer's day, 
 And gladdened every hour drear 
 With their sweet childish play. 
 
 Ah, they were not of earthly mould, 
 
 But destined for the sky, 
 To walk the shining streets of gold, 
 
 Where none shall ever die. 
 
 For soon, too soon, an angel bright, 
 Came down the shining way, 
 
 To gather them to realms of light, 
 And loose them from the clay. 
 
 We bent above their little bed, 
 And cooled their fevered brow, 
 
 Rememb'ring that the Savior said, 
 "Such is my kingdom now." 
 
 O.ne last embrace, a farewell kiss, 
 And life's brief day was o'er ; 
 
 For heaven added to its bliss 
 Two angel voices more. 
 
86 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 We laid our darlings down to rest, 
 
 In robes of spotless white, 
 Until the Savior comes, all blest, 
 
 To break the tomb's dark night. 
 
 The grass will grow above their beds, 
 Sweet roses there w r ill blow, 
 
 And nature o'er their graves wdll shed 
 A robe of virgin snow. 
 
 The sun shall backward o'er them glance 
 His myriad beams of light, 
 
 And here his gentle waves shall dance 
 To kiss their graves good night. 
 
 The moon shall pour a silver tide, 
 Of white and pearly waves, 
 
 Upon the spot where, side by side, 
 Are dug their little graves. 
 
 A bright and burning train of stars 
 
 Above their vigils keep, 
 While not a cloud of darkness mars 
 
 The sweetness of their sleep. 
 
 Xow, too, the rainbow o'er it spans 
 That pledge of surest grace ; 
 
 'Tis but the writing of God's hand — 
 The shadow of his face. 
 
 The time shall come when armies bright, 
 With dazzling wings unfurled, 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 With words of joy and robes of light 
 Shall wake a buried world ; 
 
 Then from these lowly beds shall rise. 
 
 All shining in his might. 
 Two little angels for the skies, 
 
 To reign in endless light. 
 
WHY NOT? 
 
 IJf'HIS Sabbath day, as the soft winds sigh, 
 I clamber up to the deep blue sky, 
 And softly peer through the gates of pearl 
 At the sparkling gems of another world ; 
 
 Where the robes of white, like drifted snow 
 On mountain tops in this world of woe, 
 All sparkling flash in the crystal sea, 
 Washed in the blood that was shed for me. 
 
 While passing on, in the light divine, 
 I gather slips from each fragrant vine 
 That clusters about the narrow way 
 Which leadeth unto the perfect day. 
 
 I ceaselessly watch that they may bide 
 The withering frosts that fall this side ; 
 I want to plant them beyond the tomb 
 Where naught shall fade their wonderful bloom 
 
IX MEMORIAM. 
 
 OFTLY, as nightfall settles down, 
 Or purling waters lave, 
 So we place this floral crown 
 Upon her new-made grave. 
 
 Love's fingers wove this sweet bouquet. 
 
 To lay upon her bed, 
 Suggestive of a fairer day 
 
 When none shall mourn their dead. 
 
 We give her to a loving God — 
 
 All but our deathless love — 
 We would not bury 'neath the sod 
 
 That sweetest tie above. 
 
 Love oft shall wander to this spot, 
 
 To weep and pray alone, 
 But tears of blood shall call her not 
 
 Back from the Savior's throne. 
 
 We must press on, though tears and pain 
 
 Confront us on the way, 
 If we would meet the loved again 
 
 Whose bodies sleep in clay. 
 
 This floral gift — our last farewell — 
 
 A silent prayer shall be 
 That joys, no angel tongue can tell, 
 
 Be thine eternally. 
 
 12 
 
LINES WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM 
 
 DESCRIPTIVE OF A PICTURE ON THE OPPOSITE PAGE, 
 
 AND AT THE SAME TIME EXPRESSES THE 
 
 AUTHOR'S WISHES FOR HIS FRIEND. 
 
 ffHIS snowy white page is an emblem rare 
 
 Of one that is kept for thee over there. 
 Where the hills of God and the vales between 
 Are varied with flowers and ever green. 
 
 This charming picture, of delicate size, 
 Is an emblem faint of His paradise .; 
 This towering wall is a symbol free 
 Of the living rock that was cleft for thee. 
 
 The trees here growing so verdant and rife - 
 Are beautiful types of the tree of life ; 
 
 The house here raised on the sloping green 
 Suggests the mansion forever unseen. 
 
 When thou shalt at last be summoned to die. 
 Go fearlessly forth as this bird in the sky ; 
 Jesus will bid you sit down on His throne. 
 If thou art true till thy journey is done. 
 
 ty«~ 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 WILLIS LAUGHLIN. 
 
 tender and sweet were the words he said — 
 That youth of the gentle mein — 
 As he neared the home of the silent dead 
 And the river that rolls between. 
 
 His father, he said, would follow him soon — 
 
 His mother had gone before — 
 Where the sun shall never go down at noon, 
 
 And partings come nevermore ; 
 
 Where orphans shall ne'er in sorrowing die 
 
 'Mid strangers afar from home, 
 And none for father and mother shall sigh, 
 
 But sit on his glorious throne. 
 
 As he heard the waves of the river beat, 
 
 And the angels softly call, 
 He thought of the mansion so grand and sweet 
 
 For the sinless, one and all. 
 
 The gathering light of eternity shone 
 
 In his eyes of tender blue, 
 For over his spirit the heavenly dawn 
 
 Poured full as the veil withdrew. 
 

 92 
 
 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 0, tender and sweet were the words we said, 
 In the evening's gathering sheen, 
 
 As we tenderly smoothed his narrow bed 
 'Mong the trees of evergreen. 
 
 
 
THROUGH THE VALLEY OF DEATH. 
 
 ,jj| Y the side of his beautiful darling 
 
 He's sleeping the sleep of the dead, 
 And I know that they both shall awaken, 
 For Jesus that promise has made. 
 
 By the side of the deep rushing river, 
 That runs through the valley of shade. 
 
 As the autumn leaves rustle and quiver 
 The last of his journey was made. 
 
 In the path that shines brightly — but narrow 
 Straight on through the valley he sped, 
 
 With a beautiful spirit beside him 
 Who heard every word that he said. 
 
 When so close to the edge of the water 
 That spray to their garments did cling, 
 
 Then his Guide did not murmur nor falter — 
 For He of that valley is King. 
 
 When the darkness came over his vision, 
 And thundered the river between 
 
 The dark borders of sin and derision 
 And pastures that ever are green, 
 
 By his side He kept ever repeating, 
 In words of assurance most dear, 
 
 " 'Tis the time for thy soul to be reaping 
 In gladness the seed sown in tears." 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 C. R. MORGAN. 
 
 fifHE following poem was recited at the funeral of 
 C. R. Morgan, father of J. J. and J. W. Morgan, 
 of Hillsboro, Washington County, Or., to whose worthy 
 memory we sacredly dedicate it : 
 
 I love to think of the sweet surprise 
 That waits the christian when he dies ; 
 For the Jordan cleft from shore to shore 
 Shall give him quiet passage o'er. 
 
 The gathering waters up the stream 
 Shall prove as harmless as a dream, 
 Until his feet in triumph tread 
 Beyond the realm where sleep the dead. 
 
 I love to think of the Canaan fair — 
 The land beyond the hope of prayer — 
 
 The beautiful home of souls complete 
 
 Worshiping at the Savior's feet. 
 
 I love to think of his heart's sweet chime, 
 
 As lovingly it keeps the time 
 
 That gives to home its fondest spell 
 And whispers softly "All is well." 
 
 
 z& 
 
 
OLD AGE. 
 
 g|rHE evening time of life shall shine 
 
 In fadeless beauty where 
 The spirit form in peace divine 
 Reaches its sunset fair. 
 
 The storm has into silence fled, 
 
 A rainbow spans the sky 
 Along the line between the dead 
 
 And those who soon must die. 
 
 The mystic hand of faith, so fair, 
 
 A magic robe has wrought, 
 As pure as snowdrops in the air, 
 
 Of words, and deeds, and thought. 
 
 Life has worn its robe of green 
 And borne its wreath of flowers 
 
 Through summer's heat and autumn's sheen 
 As well as winter's showers. 
 
 And now its fruit is ripe and fair. 
 
 Among the tinted leaves, 
 Telling the angels, like a prayer, 
 
 To gather in the sheaves. 
 
 So, one by one, they pass the vale 
 
 And softly fade away 
 As sunbeams vanish from the dale 
 
 When night succeeds the day. 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 RECITED IN FUNERAL SERMON OF C. R. MORGAN, APRIL 
 18, 1886, IN M. E. CHURCH, HILLSBORO, OR. 
 
 fjjj|0 to thy last and sweetest sleep, 
 
 Thou fallen victor, go ! 
 Though loving children round thee weep 
 Their bitter tears of woe. 
 
 As sweetly falls the twilight calm, 
 When day's long reign has died, 
 
 And silence comes with healing balm 
 O'er earth and sea beside ; 
 
 As stars shine out, when shadows fall, 
 
 More lovely than the day, 
 For heaven's peace reigns over all 
 
 With strange and mystic sway. 
 
 So thou hast borne the armor bright, 
 Through all life's changeful sway, 
 
 But cast it down when on thy sight 
 Broke forth "the perfect day." 
 
LOVE REIGNED. 
 
 |tOR countless years ere time began, 
 ^ Or suns' fixed centres stood. 
 Or comets sped through pathless skies- 
 Swift messengers of God — 
 Love reigned. 
 
 Ere planets rolled their golden wheels- 
 Swift chariots of the night — 
 
 Ere angels watched in wonder deep 
 The mystic beams of light — 
 Love reigned. 
 
 Long ere the fountains of the sea 
 Burst forth from chaos deep. 
 
 Or infant fair on mother's breast 
 Fell sweetly into sleep — 
 Love reigned. 
 
 While yet the earth no tenants had, 
 
 Nor ocean deep, nor air, 
 And all the universe was peace, 
 
 Nor knew the need of prayer — 
 Love reigned. 
 
 When the almighty fiat broke 
 
 Th ? eternal reign of night, 
 And mercy's voice so sweetly spoke 
 
 These words, "Let there be light" — 
 Love reigned. 
 
 13 
 
98 
 
 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 Long ages ere the morning stars 
 
 All sang their anthem sweet, 
 When eve in graceful beauty knelt 
 
 At her creator's feet — 
 
 Love reigned. 
 
 Long ere God's sons their gladness spoke. 
 
 In that one matchless strain. 
 That sweetly through the silence broke 
 
 In heavenly refrain — 
 
 Love reigned. 
 
 When wise men sought the new-born child 
 
 As westward came their feet. 
 And angel hosts o'er Judas' hills 
 
 Proclaimed the tidings sweet — 
 Love reigned. 
 
 Throughout the gloom that sin has spread 
 
 His silvery voice was heard. 
 And told of life beyond the dead 
 
 In one sweet magic word. 
 Love reigned. 
 
 Through all the ages yet to be 
 
 Her reign shall be complete. 
 And countless thousands yet shall fly 
 
 To their Redeemer's feet. 
 Love reigns. 
 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 HEAD AT THE BURIAL OF JESSE E. DAILEY. 
 
 ENTLY, softly lay on his grave 
 Flowers of delicate hue — 
 Purest gift of th' mighty to save — 
 Love's fondest, fairest adieu. 
 
 Emblems of light over the way, 
 Where souls immortal shall tread 
 
 Unsullied and bright, is that day 
 Beyond the sleep of the dead ; 
 
 Where spirits shall wander in joy, 
 Through dells of purest delight, 
 
 Unmingled with sorrow's alloy, 
 Through all eternity's flight. 
 
 The grass shall long flourish and wave 
 
 Here over the silent mound ; 
 The matchless power of Christ shall save 
 
 His dust from under the ground. 
 
 Softly, gently lay on his grave 
 
 Flowers of delicate hue — 
 Purest gift of th' mighty to save — 
 
 Love's fondest, latest adieu. 
 
VOICES. 
 
 |gf HERE are whisperings in the air to-night, 
 
 There are voices soft and low 
 That come from the sunlit land of light 
 Where the pure in heart shall go. 
 
 They come from the beautiful sunbright plain, 
 
 Far over the jasper sea ; 
 Their Avhisperings tell me over again 
 
 Of a home prepared for me. 
 
 There was one I knew in my boyish glee 
 
 That's gone far over the tide, 
 With a wing that is tireless, bold and free — 
 
 She is by the Savior's side. 
 
 They tell of another sweet form divine, 
 
 That vanished as rainbows fade ; 
 How oft in my visions I called her mine — 
 
 But those hopes have all decayed. 
 
 They tell of the vow that she pledged me there. 
 
 As I knelt beside her feet — 
 'Twas beneath the shade, in the open air. 
 
 That we held this council sweet. 
 
 For there was no ear that could hear but mine- 
 Save the open ear of God ; 
 
SUNBEAMS. 101 
 
 How often I've thought of her words divine 
 Since she "passed under the rod." 
 
 Thus, over and over, again and again, 
 
 They tell of my joy and woe ; 
 As soft as the silver light on the plain 
 
 They speak of the long ago. 
 
 They speak of graves that were dug by the way 
 
 And hallowed by evening prayer, 
 Of joys, that vanished as bubbles as play, 
 
 Or meteors flashing fair. 
 
 But they have not gone — they ever are mine — 
 
 Of my life they form a part, 
 For I live with them in the hidden shrine 
 
 Deep down in the faithful heart. 
 
 Aye, they shall be mine while the throne of white 
 
 Shall stand on the other side, 
 Untouched by the gloom of a single night, 
 
 Far over the crystal tide. 
 
 I hail with rapture each whisper of love 
 
 That comes from the mystic past, 
 For, off from my heart, they gather above 
 
 The shadows that darken fast. 
 
 As the lightnings gleam from a darkened cloud. 
 
 They speak of my deep delight, 
 And I live again with a heart as proud 
 
 As twenty years to-night. 
 
102 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 I know that for every deed of mine 
 
 I shall feel a joy or pain ; 
 'Tis magical love from the hand divine 
 
 That speaks of the past again. 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 S||EAD while the author, assisted by Misses Mary 
 Walker and Julia Groner, decorated the grave of 
 Grandma Rowell, aged 83 years. 
 
 Time softly sat upon her brow. 
 
 As king upon his throne, 
 And wove her hair with mingled snow 
 
 Before his task was done. 
 
 Calm be her last sweet silent sleep. 
 
 Unmindful of our tears. 
 As kindred 'round her casket weep 
 
 In number as her years. 
 
 Now gently place above her there. 
 
 Bedewed by sorrow's tear, 
 The floral cross, an emblem fair 
 
 Of what she loved w 7 hile here. 
 
 The spotless wreath — a snowy crown — 
 
 Place just above her bed 
 Which angels guard as hallowed ground 
 
 Till God shall wake the dead. 
 
 Could every one that she has blessed 
 
 A floral tribute give, 
 'Twould bury deep her final rest 
 
 And cheer our hearts w r ho live. 
 
104 
 
 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 Her count of years was fully made, 
 The veil of death unrolled 
 
 And left her form in silence laid 
 Amid its sunset gold. 
 
 But God shall guard this silent bed 
 And crown it with a wreath 
 
 As fair as ever decked the head 
 Of martyr in his death. 
 
 The early flower thereon shall bloom, 
 
 So sweetly as at home. 
 And fondly shed upon the tomb 
 
 The fragrance of the throne. 
 
 The regal sun shall oft baptize 
 
 Her bed in dazzling gold, 
 And night let down when stars arise 
 
 His mantle for her fold. 
 
 The hand that gave her being birth 
 Still keeps her in the grave ; 
 
 In heaven above or on the earth 
 No other one can save. 
 
 To Him the countless dead still live— 
 
 Nor are there any dead — 
 To none of all the earth He'll give 
 
 An endless, dreamless bed. 
 
 Her children's woe shall oft bedew 
 This silent spot with tears, 
 
SUNBEAMS. 105 
 
 And here again their grief renew 
 Throughout succeeding years. 
 
 Now must the last farewell be said 
 Sleep thou in peace till dawn, 
 
 Till over thee at last shall spread 
 The resurrection morn. 
 
 14 
 
LITTLE THINGS 
 
 iff'HERE'S never a sunbeam falls, 
 On a bare and desolate place, 
 Bu£ it leaves a mark that all 
 Time can never efface. 
 
 There's never a thought that comes 
 Or goes over the wonderful brain, 
 
 But helps to foot up the sum 
 Of inf nite loss or gain. 
 
 There's never a grain of sand, 
 Bv the winds or waters driven, 
 
 But helps to build up some land 
 Beneath the blue heaven. 
 
 There's not a flower that's spread, 
 So far in the tenantless wild, 
 
 But helps to laurel the bed 
 Of a mother or child. 
 
 There's never a sprig of green, 
 
 In the carpet of earth that's wove, 
 
 But softens the landscape seen 
 By the eye from above. 
 
 There's never a snowdrop fair, 
 
 That gently came down on the trees, 
 
SUNBEAMS. 10' 
 
 But moistened the morning air 
 Or the evening breeze. 
 
 There's never a clewdrop hung 
 On a leaf or a bending plume, 
 
 But it kissed the rising sun 
 
 And caught the midnight moon. 
 
 There's never a little star, 
 In the azure brow of night, 
 
 But gives light to worlds afar, 
 Beyond our mortal sight. 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 EDYTH SHEPARD. 
 
 |f|ER coffin was opened, revealing within 
 ^ A form that was spotless in freedom from sin ; 
 The glance of the angel yet shown in her face, 
 Still peaceful and sweet in his silent embrace. 
 
 Her hands, mutely crossed, on her bosom were iaid- 
 The river was passed and the journey was made — 
 The flowers and robes on her bosom so cold 
 Were spotlessly white, as the snow on the wold. 
 
 Her soft hair in beauty now fell on her brow, 
 
 As gently as lovers do whisper a vow ; 
 
 The dear eyes were closed on a vision so bright 
 That it flooded the valley of shadows with light. 
 
 She saw through the mist of the vanishing shore 
 The mansion of God and the wide open door ; 
 Her sun-hat was setting low down in the west 
 But ushered her forth to the morning of rest. 
 
 O, glorious and sweet was the ecstacy wild 
 Of the angels above when they greeted the child ; 
 They welcomed her home to the city above 
 And bathed her pure spirit in infinite love. 
 
SOMETIMES. 
 
 ||OMETIMES the storms are fierce and wild 
 ^ Around the pilgrim here, 
 For each with Christ is sorrow's child 
 In anguish, pain and fear. 
 
 Sometimes the young, and pure, and fair, 
 
 Are withered by a blight, 
 And fade as dreams on midnight air 
 
 Forever from our sight. 
 
 Sometimes the sun between the storms 
 
 Pours down a golden tide, 
 And every pulse of nature warms 
 
 Through all the valleys wide. 
 
 Sometimes the buds unopened fall 
 
 Before their beauty's blown ; 
 So death may spread o'er us his pall 
 
 Before our task is done. 
 
 0, let us work, with tireless will, 
 
 To fit ourselves for home — 
 Our mission well and faithful fill 
 
 Until the angels come. 
 
 ** 
 
SUNSET AT SEA. 
 
 9| stood on the white sea sand, 
 ^ And watched the billows toss, 
 From crystal caverns on the strand, 
 White shells and tinted moss. 
 
 While down the western sky there rode 
 
 A splendid train of gold, 
 And o'er the gateway cast a robe 
 
 Of glory yet untold. 
 
 Now, nearer still, the monarch came, 
 While brighter rose his gleam, 
 
 Till earth and ocean all became 
 More splendid than a dream. 
 
 The decorations of his car, 
 
 As forth he rode in state, 
 Caught all their glory from afar — 
 
 From heaven's outer gate — 
 
 While waves of fire and billows bright- 
 Each wore the King's fair dye — 
 
 As gates of pearl and thrones of white 
 Were changing in the sky. 
 
 The sky beneath embosomed bore 
 That rapturous scene above, 
 
SUNBEAMS. Ill 
 
 And heaven's peace the circle wore, 
 Like to that home above. 
 
 No grander scene shall eye behold, 
 
 Until the river blue 
 Shall flash the streets of purest gold 
 
 Upon our ravished view. 
 
 The sapphire tinge and crimson stain 
 That fringed those banners gay, 
 
 In silence, on that upper plane, 
 Faded to faintest gray. 
 
 On ebon wings the night came down — 
 Fit mourning for the fled — 
 
 A million stars, in circles bound, 
 Their torches lit overhead ; 
 
 While all the waves a mournful dirge 
 
 Were beating on the shore, 
 And gentle zephyrs from the surge 
 
 Each whispered "Gone before." 
 
 Thus sets the sun when day is o'er, 
 With all its banners bright, 
 
 And trails its streamers on the shore 
 To kiss the earth "good night." 
 
 So when the christian wanders down 
 
 To life's storm-girded west, 
 The clouds that on the living frown 
 
 To him are glory-dressed. 
 
112 SUNBEAMS, 
 
 The pearly gates, by sight unseen, 
 
 Where faith familiar goes, 
 He enters, while from valleys green 
 
 Celestial music flows ; 
 
 Where angels, wand'ring.near the side 
 
 Of waters still and clear, 
 Their sweetest notes waft o'er the tide, 
 
 Unmingled by a tear. 
 
 Where streets beneath rich pictures hold 
 
 Of gems that glitter there, 
 For each is laid in burnished gold 
 
 And kept forever fair. 
 
 The rainbow that surrounds the throne, 
 The white-robed millions fair, 
 
 The dazzling angels, every one 
 Are held embosomed there. 
 
 Before, beside, beneath, above, 
 
 Where all is perfect day, 
 Is seen some object of His love 
 
 That "fadeth not away." 
 
ON THE SAND. 
 
 Sfi child went forth on a blushing morn, 
 
 Filled with a hope and pride new born, 
 Where the white sand beach in beauty lay, 
 Smoothed by the tide as it ebbed away. 
 
 There, with tireless hand, he wrought that day- 
 As boys are wont in their restless play — 
 A mansion fair, with turret and gate, 
 And himself the lord with grand estate. 
 
 But when the wings of the evening swept, 
 And over the landscape softly crept, 
 His weary feet to the threshold came 
 With the tread of joy and not of shame. 
 
 Then to his mother, with childish grace, 
 All shining forth from his sweet, pure face : 
 ''Mother, I've built, on the sun-lit sand, 
 A wonderful mansion, tall and grand." 
 
 Far out at sea, where turbulent waves 
 Were thund'ring over the sailors 7 graves, 
 A tempest had risen, in angry form, 
 And shoreward swept a furious storm. 
 
 Higher and higher the blue waves rolled, 
 The signal bells from the station tolled, 
 
 15 
 
114 
 
 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 The broad sand beach with ruins was driven. 
 Where angry waves with earth had striven. 
 
 He hastened back to the self-same place. 
 
 To finish his work with will and grace. 
 
 When the morning tipped the clouds in gold. 
 And the storm its vengeful ire had told. 
 
 Then a cry of sorrow and despair 
 Went forth on the calm, fresh morning air ; 
 His hope w r as blasted, his mansion fair 
 Was swept away — naught but sand was there. 
 
 So older ones, and wiser than he, 
 Are building on sand by time's dark sea ; 
 Sooner of later the waves will come, 
 When a wreck and ruin will be their doom. 
 
 But those who build on the Great High Rock, 
 Shall stand forever the tempest's shock ; 
 When the waves below 7 in haste are driven. 
 Bask in the sweet, pure light of heaven. 
 
THY IMAGE. 
 
 JKAS'T thou seen the sun, as he sinks away 
 ^ In robes of splendor at close of the day ; 
 Or, his signal flame in the northern sky 
 While silently waving a last good-by? 
 
 Hast thou seen th^ skies of a peaceful night, 
 As the stars come out in their brilliant flight, 
 
 When the moon rides forth as an armored queen, 
 And the silvery clouds aloft are seen? 
 
 Hast thou seen the lake, in its tranquil bed, 
 Clasp in its bosom that host overhead, 
 
 When the skies beneath mock the skies above. 
 
 As perfect as heaven, as pure as love? 
 
 Hast thou seen the trees, on the shadowy brink, 
 Each waving its thanks for the cooling drink, 
 When ghostly trees in the waters below 
 All gracefully move as the others go? 
 
 Hast thou seen the lilies, each bending low 
 
 To kiss its shade in the waters below ; 
 
 Or, thine own fair self, with wonderful grace, 
 Far down in the depths of the lake's calm face ; 
 
 Or, the sun's bright form in the rainbow spread, 
 When the storm is past and its wrath is fled ; 
 
116 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 As the rain-drop sleeps in the rosebud nigh, 
 Catching its hue from the gold-tinted sky? 
 
 Hast thou ever thought that my heart shall keep 
 Thine image, as stars in the waters sleep, 
 And, holding it clasped in a fond embrace, 
 In the years to come thy fair visage trace? 
 
IN MEMORY OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 
 
 JILL laureled and green shall his memory he, 
 
 While surge after surge rolls in from the sea ; 
 He shall live in the hearts of the noble and brave 
 Till none shall be driven away to the grave. 
 
 Whoever shall give to our country his fame, 
 No mortal shall ever write higher his name ; 
 
 As the sun to the west mantling earth in deep gloom 
 
 So quietly goes he away to the tomb. 
 
 Bright stars of the night, from their glittering home, 
 Shall shine o'er his grave through long ages to come ; 
 
 The soft winds shall sigh and the dew T drops shall 
 fall 
 
 O'er the grave of our leader, who answered the call. 
 
 The broad wing of death o'er our nation was cast, 
 And left a deep shadow on all as it passed : 
 The hearts of our people are tender and brave, 
 And ages to come they will laurel his grave ; 
 
 They'll strew o'er his bed the sweet flowers that fade — 
 Bright emblems of him who beneath them is laid ; 
 
 Naught else can e'er speak such soft language, of 
 love ; 
 
 They point us away to the Eden above. 
 
11& SUNBEAMS. 
 
 As clouds in the west hold embosomed the light, 
 Long after the sun has passed from our sight, 
 So, darkened to-night by this terrible shame, 
 We still shall reflect his bright record of fame. 
 
 Though thrones shall arise, and then totter and fall, 
 And oblivion cast o'er their ruins his pall, 
 
 Yet one from the wreck shall all glorious rise — 
 The name of our brother, now crowned in the skies 
 
 mm 
 
THE CITY ABOVE. 
 
 ^HERE'S a land all clad in sunset and gold, 
 
 And 'broidered with fairest flowers, 
 Tis the city above — the Savior's fold — 
 Amidst the immortal bowers. 
 
 'Tis amidst the street and beneath the throne 
 Life's waters wander soft and free, 
 
 And over each jewel of God's dear Son 
 He spreadeth his Evergreen Tree. 
 
 The streets of the city rich mirrors are 
 
 Of the stainless heavens above, 
 And beneath the feet of the ransomed far 
 
 Is reflected his matchless love. 
 
 No withering blight, in that land of light, 
 
 E'er over the living shall roll ; 
 Forever set free from the gloom of the night 
 
 In the perfect home of the soul. 
 
THE BOUQUET. 
 
 HfHE bouquet I found on my table, wife, 
 Was fair as an angel and pure as life ; 
 Those beautiful buds, like stars of the night, 
 Mingle so sweetly — the green, red and white. 
 
 And out from the water, with power divine 
 
 And magical vigor, came a sweet vine, 
 All twining itself, as if to embrace 
 Within its soft foldings the crystalline vase. 
 
 Its language is sweet as the chime of a bell, 
 Or the whispered vows that fond lovers tell. 
 0, what charming things our Father has made 
 To burst into glory and quickly fade. 
 
 But e'en as I write the meaning I glean — 
 
 To teach us all of the valley between ; 
 
 For years will come with their shadow and sheen, 
 And carry us forth to the pastures green. 
 
 Ah ! then we'll drink of the fountain of life, 
 And spring into glory at once, dear wife, 
 In a land unknown to a fading flow'r, 
 A mouldering urn, or a falling tow'r. 
 
 From a love as pure as these flowers fair 
 Shall arise for you my evening prayer ; 
 
SUNBEAMS. 121 
 
 Forever, the same as this tender vine, 
 My spirit shall cling renewed to thine. 
 
 But this sweet bouquet is the outward sign 
 
 Of a fairer one in that heart of thine, 
 
 Which never grows dim by the falling of tears, 
 But sweeter and brighter with gathering years. 
 
 With fingers of light thy spirit hath wove 
 
 This wonderful garland of purest love, 
 Entwined with truth and affection as fair 
 As an angel's flight through the midnight air. 
 
 Each beautiful thought, from its home in the sky, 
 I fancy hath wrought here its wonderful dye, 
 Till the fairest of earth and heaven combine 
 All their delicate tints in that sacred shrine. 
 
 When the silver of age on our brows is cast, 
 And the hour to part is at hand at last, 
 
 The river of death shall not fade its bloom ; 
 
 'Twill flourish for ever beyond the tomb. 
 
 With marvelous powers it then shall grow 
 In heaven 'mid robes that are whiter than snow ; 
 As countless its years as the sand on the shore — 
 There shall its glory be more, ever more. 
 
 ,&* 
 
DEATH OF MOSES. 
 
 JIROUND Nebo's lofty summit, where stay 
 
 The golden sunbeams longest, falls to-night 
 A silvery-tinted flood of glory. 
 In the far west a thousand flames arise, 
 As if the gods their incense burn anew 
 For the dying day. The sun is sinking for 
 The last time to Israel's mighty chief 
 Who treads alone, yet not alone, the rocks 
 On which the eye of weary pilgrim rests 
 From far as he rises o'er distant hills. 
 
 Amid the holy quietude so sweet, 
 
 That rested like the calm of souls at peace 
 
 With God, upon that lofty hight so far 
 
 Above the vernal hills and vales all fresh 
 
 And pure, the mighty chieftain calmly stands. 
 
 Upon his knees, with kingly brow bared 
 
 To the cooling breeze, as in thankfulness, 
 
 He poured all the great deep of his broken 
 
 Heart forth into the everlasting ear 
 
 Of God : He pleaded now for mercy's balm. 
 
 When his last prayer was ended, and his heart 
 Once more was calm as when on snowy couch 
 An infant slept in kingly palace hall, 
 He rose up, slowly, and leaned against a 
 Hoary rock, while his soul feasted on a 
 
SUNBEAMS. 123 
 
 Scene arrayed for this one special hour. 
 Eastward, bathed in snowy whiteness, softly 
 Rose and fell the hills as billows driven 
 On by tempest winds, while far beneath him. 
 Like to molten silver, ran the Jordan. 
 
 O'er those peaceful waters he had hoped, 
 
 Till now, to lead his faithful people on 
 
 To rest beneath the vines and figs beyond. 
 
 For long and weary miles he led the host 
 
 Of Israel on through forty years of 
 
 Manhood's noblest days. Unbidden, tears came 
 
 To his eyes as they rested on the white, 
 
 Broad field of tents, now spread -like snow T drops o'er 
 
 The plain beneath, w T hile underneath them spread 
 
 The everlasting arms of God's true love. 
 
 Above him, like a floating mountain, hung 
 
 A snowy cloud — fitting emblem of his 
 
 Pure and faithful love to God. The wreathing 
 
 Smoke of evening sacrifice to heaven 
 
 Rose up as prayer ascends from hearts made pure. 
 
 The soft and holy calm of twilight reigned 
 
 Over all, like outspread wings of angels ; 
 
 The time when God comes nearest to our hearts 
 
 And sweetest seems his mercy to the soul. 
 
 0, it was a glorious time to die. 
 
 When the calm of twilight stole in rapture 
 
 O'er the scene, and heaven's peace seemed strangely 
 
 Near — for angels stood in waiting bands to 
 
124 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 Guide his spirit up the shining pathway 
 
 Of the skies when his work was done — 
 
 With hands outstretched in benediction on 
 
 The host of Israel beneath, his last 
 
 Prayer was for them. With eye un dimmed and 
 
 bright 
 And step elastic, as in youth, he laid 
 Him down and died — the hero of a world. 
 
 In Moab's vale, so fair and green, angels 
 Cleft the sod and smoothed the turf above 
 His noble form, where summer's sunbeams bathe 
 The earth in mystic waves, and autumn winds 
 Still breathe a mournful cadence like far-off 
 Note of harp or song. Man hath not known the 
 Silent spot through all the flight of years since 
 Then — where sleep his dust — but in the ages 
 Yet to be, when cycles have an end, he 
 From that grave shall spring to live forever. 
 
MY FRIEND. 
 
 |jj|NE gentle thought let meni'ry give. 
 
 When days and years have fled, 
 To him who then, perchance, shall live- 
 As do the silent dead. 
 
 You know that oft we live again 
 Through all our former years, 
 
 And dwell beyond a thought of pain. 
 Or weep with bitter tears. 
 
 May you improve each day of life, 
 
 Nor mar its spotless page, 
 And may your path with joy be rife 
 
 When you shall reach old age. 
 
 And when the angels' silent call 
 
 Shall note your final hour. 
 Go thou, as moonbeams gently fall, 
 
 To your celestial bower. 
 
LINES TO MRS. MINNIE BONE 
 
 jglN her departure for the East, after a short stay in 
 Washington Territory, during which her husband 
 and one of her two little boys died : 
 
 We bid thee now a last farewell, 
 
 Amid this western wild, 
 While tears, for words, our wishes tell ; 
 
 God keep thee and thy child. 
 
 Thy stay to us was sweet, yet brief, 
 To thee 'twas fraught with pain ; 
 
 As early blight upon the leaf 
 Thy darlings here were slain. 
 
 Thy very sorrows drew our love 
 
 Instinctively to thee, 
 And daily to the throne above 
 
 We pleaded long for thee. 
 
 You know God's mighty arm is near 
 
 The wounded heart of pain, 
 To wipe away the falling tear 
 
 And bid hope rise again. 
 
 May years of peace around thee lie, 
 
 As sunbeams gird the rose, 
 And build for thee a treasure high 
 
 In heaven's sweet repose. 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 12' 
 
 May rainbows o'er thy pathway arch, 
 
 And roses bloom beside ; 
 In robes of spotless white then march 
 
 Down to the river side. 
 
BY THE SEA. 
 
 9| stand on the beach and hear the deep roar 
 ® Of waves as they break and dash on the shore ; 
 Far over the deep white gulls are at play, 
 Bathing their plumage in wreaths of white spray. 
 
 Just one little cloud moves up in the sky — 
 A robe floating down from the throne on high ; 
 The sun is folding his banners to rest 
 And going to sleep on ocean's deep breast ; 
 
 The waves all assume a shimmering light — 
 For the sun is kissing them each good night ; 
 
 But some day I'll stand by an ocean wide. 
 
 Where the angel bands are crossing the tide ; 
 
 For, like waves of light, they come to the shore, 
 
 To bear us away to wander no more ; 
 Just over that flood is a gleam of light 
 All cleansed in blood — 'tis a robe of white 
 
 And a crown of gold with its brilliants fair. 
 
 As the light comes down thro' th' purest air ; 
 But the light that shines on that better shore — 
 Ah ! he shall fade never, never more. 
 
 -¥— 
 
A WISH FOR THEE. 
 
 IgF I were asked to write for thee 
 ^ A wish of beauty rare, 
 I'd ask for thee in life to be 
 A child of humble prayer ; 
 
 To weave a robe of spotless w T hite, 
 
 By deeds of purest love, 
 And in the hour of sorrow's night 
 
 Cling to the hand above. 
 
 Each deed of kindness to the poor 
 Shall bind thee to thy Lord, 
 
 And bring the angels to thy door — 
 According to His word. 
 
 Drink deeply of the stream of life, 
 
 That murmurs softly by, 
 Thy cup with blessings shall be rife 
 
 Till thou art called to die ; 
 
 Then, with the angels hovering nigh, 
 
 Step camly in the waves, 
 For thou art treading closely by 
 
 A land unmarred by graves. 
 
 For all who tread that nightless strand 
 Ne'er feel a rising sigh ; 
 
 17 
 
130 
 
 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 In all that glory-covered land 
 Not one shall ever die. 
 
 Within the gates of solid pearl. 
 
 Whose walls are great and high. 
 Amid th' courts of a pure world 
 
 We'll meet thee by and by. 
 
 When ages, countless as the stars. 
 
 Or numbered as the sand, 
 Shall have passed and gone afar. 
 
 In youth still shalt thou stand. 
 
 With golden harp, of sweetest tone. 
 
 And palm of vict'ry fair, 
 Amid the blood-washed, near the throne, 
 
 Shalt praise forever there. 
 
NOT FOREVER. 
 
 ^IX vain we may look, as each child passes by, 
 ^ For the pale, sweet face, and the soft, dark eye, 
 
 But some day we'll see, as the children all come. 
 
 Our beautiful darlings gathering home. 
 
 For the Shepherd shall raise, from its couch of clay, 
 Each snowy white lamb and lead it away 
 By waters that How in sweet silence along 
 Through pastures of verdure enlivened with song. 
 
 Then the trials of earth, with their sorrows and tears, 
 Fraught with deep pain and the burdens of years, 
 Shall speed from our sight, as a bird on the wing — 
 We'll dwell in the presence of Christ, our King. 
 
 0, the spirits sweet home ; no tongue can e'er tell 
 How fair is the place where the pure shall dwell, 
 Where their whole lives shall be as a peaceful dream 
 And flow on for aye as a gentle stream. 
 
 Not a star shall speed there in its matchless flight — 
 For over the landscape gathers no night — 
 
 The leaves shall not fade, nor the flowers decay, 
 Nor light from the throne fade ever away. 
 
 ^ 
 
HE DIES, 
 
 2| LL* day long, with hurrying feet, 
 
 The rabble trod through every street, 
 Nor saw, till late, the coming doom 
 Foreboded by the gathering gloom ; 
 
 For, like the rushing, roaring waves, 
 
 And billows in the ocean caves, 
 That mighty host, on death intent, 
 With fearful cry the heavens rent. 
 
 The rich, the poor, the priest, the slave 
 Spared not the Mighty One — to save ; 
 With one accord that raging cry, 
 When read aright, said : "Crucify." 
 
 A robe of purple put they on 
 
 The Prince of Life — God's Blessed Son — 
 And laid the cross of death upon 
 Earth's only spotless, sinless one. 
 
 They smote Him then upon the cheek, 
 And asked that He their names should speak ; 
 They crowned His head with thorny wreath 
 And closed His eyes as if in death. 
 
 With anger fierce and cruel pride 
 
 They pierced Him in the hands and side, 
 
SUNBEAMS. 133 
 
 Then stood they by and, mocking, said : 
 "The vile deceiver now is dead." 
 
 "Truth crushed to earth again shall rise," 
 To claim her kingdom 'neath the skies ; 
 
 So Christ, the King, from death come forth. 
 The sceptre sways o'er all the earth. 
 
MY BOY 
 
 |jj|0 forth in the pride of an honest heart 
 
 To gather life's golden sheaves. 
 And never away from that path depart 
 As you turn its silken leaves. 
 
 For a pure heart, as a diamond rare, 
 
 Encases its home in light, 
 Whether hidden far in the ruder mines 
 
 Or shut in a casket bright. 
 
 But it shines at last with a borrowed glow. 
 
 As the moon reflects the sun, 
 For the light we give is a fading bow, 
 
 Its source — the Eternal One. 
 
THE FAMINE. 
 
 ^| famine swept forth — how fearful and dread 
 
 The tongue of no mortal can tell — 
 Her food was all gone, her husband was dead. 
 Her children were hungry and pale. 
 
 She sat where the flames of a brilliant lamp. 
 
 Just lit by a delicate hand. 
 Cast its light on the family bible — 
 
 Used simply to lay on the stand. 
 
 Op'ning the volume, she turned o'er the leaves. 
 
 Fraught with beautiful w r ords of truth, 
 As perfect as the golden harvest sheaves 
 
 Once gleaned by the hand of Ruth, 
 
 Till she came to the midst of the volume. 
 Where the matters of record are. 
 
 Then paused till she read in the margin 
 These w r ords that w r ere written there : 
 
 "When misfortune shall come as a tempest. 
 And whelm thee in utter despair. 
 
 Then search here for a magical secret 
 To banish thy sorrow and care." 
 
 Now the tears from a heart, tender, broken. 
 Fell fast as the life pulses go, 
 
136 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 And revealed to her wondering vision 
 The treasure long hidden below : 
 
 'Twas a paper containing a fortune, 
 Placed there by her own father's hand, 
 
 Close between the white pages, on tissue, 
 And granted her treasure and land. 
 
 There are treasures laid up in the bible 
 For all who will seek them with tears, 
 
 Placed there by a dear, loving father 
 Whose love never faileth with years. 
 
A PICTURE OF MEMORY. 
 
 <3|N the silence of the night, 
 ^ In the rush of busy day. 
 With cheeks of rosy light 
 
 And curls that softly play 
 With the breezes' balmy wings — 
 
 Voice as soft as music's strain 
 Or morning bird that sings 
 
 A low and sweet refrain — 
 Embodied form of heaven's grace, 
 
 And a heart that gives its loves. 
 With soft and childlike face 
 
 That with each emotion moves. 
 Before me stands the image 
 
 Of one I used to woo, 
 Deeply stamped on memory's page. 
 
 And blessed as the dew. 
 
 18 
 
THE JUDGMENT. 
 
 |IDST the wailing on earth and the sign in the sky. 
 The archangel shall summon the low and the 
 
 high. 
 For all heaven and earth to the Judgment shall 
 
 come — 
 Yea. the righteous to bliss and the wicked to doom. 
 
 He shall come on a cloud, in his beauty arrayed — 
 By a host of bright angels from glory conveyed — 
 
 Then, with one foot on sea and the other on land. 
 
 The blue heavens shall fade at the wave of his hand. 
 
 Then the sea that has kept all the secrets given 
 Away from the earth shall forever be driven. 
 And the bodies long hid in its caverns away 
 To the throne of -the Savior shall hasten that day. 
 
 The earth that was whelmed in the waves of a flood 
 Shall be burned and prepared for the pure and the 
 good; 
 Not a thorn shall e'er rend, not a thistle shall bloom. 
 Nor its bosom be marred by a grave or a tomb. 
 
 Then away from the lips of the mourner at last 
 Shall all sorrow and sighing forever be cast ; 
 
 Not a heart shall be broken, no tear-pleading eye 
 Where the river of life flows unceasingly by. 
 
SUNBEAMS, 
 
 139 
 
 There no sickness shall come, with its gathering gloom, 
 To e'er fade from the cheek its bright freshness and 
 bloom ; 
 In robes that were washed in the fountain of blood 
 They shall wander forever — the pure and the good. 
 
 In that city of God, from the heavens above, 
 Shall dwell only those who were purchased with love, 
 And no being shall enter the pearl gates within 
 Unwashed in the blood of the Lamb from all sin. 
 
 Then the earth, all renewed, shall God's paradise be, 
 In the midst of which standeth the life-giving tree 
 
 With the throne of the Savior — beneath the blue 
 dome 
 
 He shall dwell with His jewels forever at home. 
 
IT PAYS. 
 
 9|T pays to he kind to the suffering one, 
 ® Though his garments be tatters and clouded his 
 sun ; 
 
 Though stained he his soul with the footprints of sin. 
 
 Tt pays to he kind, for it marks thee within. 
 
 It pays to he kind to the young and the old — 
 Their blessings are richer than silver and gold — 
 It matters not now what their fathers have been, 
 It pays to he kind, for it marks thee within. 
 
 It pays to be kind, for it softens the pain 
 
 Of th' past as it comes with its changes again. 
 
 And takes from the soul the dark mantle of sin — 
 It pays to he kind, for it marks thee within. 
 
 It pays to be kind, for its labors are light 
 And free as the wings of an angel in flight : 
 
 It lights up the spot where the shadows have been — 
 It pays to be kind, for it marks thee within. 
 
 It pays to be kind to the sinner and saint, 
 To lift up the fallen and strengthen the faint. 
 To help in the right and drive out the sin — 
 It pays to be kind, for it marks thee within. 
 
 It pays to be land, for your face will be fair 
 When angels in rapture shall gaze on you there ; 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 141 
 
 Your eye shall be bright as your mission has been — 
 It pays to be kind, for it marks thee within. 
 
 It pays to be kind, for your dreams shall be sweet 
 As you bow to the tread of the spirit of sleep. 
 
 And the stars of the night their flight shall begin — 
 It pays to be kind, for it marks thee within. 
 
 It will pay to be kind wherever you be, 
 At home or abroad, on the land, on the sea ; 
 It quickens to life where no living has been — 
 It pays to be kind, for it marks thee within. 
 
 It pays to be kind, for we're wearing to-day 
 A robe that shall last us forever and aye ; 
 We're pluming our spirits for infinite flight 
 Where day shall ne'er touch the black mantle of 
 night. 
 
THE ROSEBUD. 
 
 aftlLENCE reigned unbroken within the home 
 
 ^ Where death had come. A little child was laic 
 
 Upon a spotless couch, whose cherub limbs, 
 
 White and perfect as if moulded by the gods 
 
 From Parian stone, contrasted richly 
 
 With the raven curls now falling o'er the 
 
 Snowy pillows. O'er her face there lingered 
 
 Still the gentle smile she wore when she stood 
 
 With God's messenger one moment face to 
 
 Face and caught one gleam of heaven's brightness. 
 
 Within her hands, so gently crossed, she held 
 A rose, as yet unblown, appealing to 
 The heart more eloquently of her own 
 Fair self than formulated speech. We leave 
 Her thus while the coffin lid is closed ; 
 And the good man came with holy words of 
 Truth to comfort broken hearts and heal 
 The troubled mind. He read in softest tone 
 The healing balm that flowed so like a 
 Mighty river from Jesus' tender heart. 
 
 Then with eloquence almost divine, her 
 Spirit, painted with radiant w T ings from 
 The abode of dank and mouldering forms. 
 Rising as eagles to starlit skies, e'en 
 Unto gates of pearl, by beings spotless, 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 143 
 
 Opened wide. u He cannot come to us but 
 We can go to him," said Israel's king 
 When death had claimed his spotless lamb, 
 For prayer had failed to stay the angel's wing- 
 Hut faith the riven chain unites again. 
 
 With reverent touch the lid again move 
 Back while weeping friends imprint a farewell 
 Kiss upon her icy lips ere to dust 
 They pass away. The lid's removed, and lo ! 
 The rose unblown has opened wide its bloom- 
 Suggestion solemn, sweet and pure of her 
 Own expanding spirit now from earth set 
 Free ; no longer hindered by the slow 
 Moving tide of human life, but, like the 
 Angels, swift unfolding in the "perfect day." 
 
THE BOOK OF MEMORY. 
 
 tHE mystic leaves of memory 
 I sometimes love to turn, 
 To scent the roses of the past 
 And view the broken urn. 
 
 Here I behold the blooming rose, 
 
 'Mid buds of tender shade ; 
 All mingled thus our lifetime goes 
 
 Adown the sunset grade. 
 
 We grasp the rose and feel the thorn. 
 
 All hidden 'neath the leaves, 
 As surely as the autumn morn 
 
 Brings in the golden sheaves. 
 
 The volume's written through and through, 
 
 And indexed by that hand 
 That holds the ocean, deep and blue, 
 
 Subject to His command. 
 
 Some pages now so faded are 
 
 That I no more can tell 
 Whether the angels from afar 
 
 Pronounce them good or ill ; 
 
 While others all too vivid seem, 
 For pleasure or delight, 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 145 
 
 And haunt me as a midnight dream 
 Of phantom or of sprite. 
 
 And yet I know that God has made 
 All things to work for good — 
 
 To those who dwell beneath the shade 
 Made by the cross of wood. 
 
 The centre shaft of history — 
 
 The fountain whence life sprang — 
 
 'Tis the rainbow of God's glory, 
 Where all his mercies hang. 
 
 19 
 
THE MORNING STARS. 
 
 UfHE morning stars together sang, 
 
 God's sons of joy shouted. 
 O'er earth new-born their anthem rang 
 Notes of peace unclouded. 
 
 Almighty power had hung the dome 
 
 With lamps celestial bright. 
 And boundless love man's early home 
 
 Filled with pure delight. 
 
 How oft we wonder what they said 
 
 In that first song of joy, 
 Ere sin its ruin forth had spread 
 
 Mingling a base alloy. 
 
 While yet the dewdrops trembling hung. 
 
 In time's first tinted morn, 
 And not a thrill of pain had wrung 
 
 The Godlike human form. 
 
 Who were those stars of wondrous tone. 
 
 Elate with pure delight. 
 When God had finished up man's home 
 
 And garnished it with light? 
 
 And who those sons that shouted loud, 
 Amid the morning air, 
 
SUNBEAMS. 14' 
 
 Ere yet the sky had known a cloud 
 Or sinner knelt in prayer ; 
 
 Before the tempter came to mar 
 
 The glory of the place, 
 Or sin had left its lasting scar 
 
 Upon the human race? 
 
 Had they gazed with wondering eyes 
 
 Upon the new-made world 
 And watched the canopy of skies 
 
 Above it when unfurled? 
 
 0, those bright angels from on high, 
 
 The army of the throne, 
 Whose legions are in waiting nigh 
 
 To God's beloved son. 
 
 Did they, hovering near the earth, 
 
 That song of peace proclaim, 
 And shout aloud the Savior's birth — 
 
 All glory to His name? 
 
 0, did they watch in sadness die 
 
 That Savior from the throne, 
 And hear that w r ailing, mournful cry : 
 
 "0, God! Thy will be done?" 
 
 Ah, were they, clad in raiment white, 
 
 The first to view the tomb, 
 Prom whence He burst the chains of night 
 
 And scattered all its gloom? 
 
148 
 
 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 They welcome Him once more on high. 
 Back to his Father's throne. 
 
 When legions, countless, bore him nigh 
 To the Eternal One. 
 
 Yet still they come, as lightnings gleam 
 
 From heaven to the earth, 
 And silent as a midnight dream 
 
 They give His people birth. 
 
THY PICTURE. 
 
 THERE'S a locket of gold 
 
 In a casket hid. 
 'Mong brilliants that sparkling gleam. 
 With thy picture within. 
 
 Just under the lid, 
 Where softly thy dark eyes beam — 
 As gems of light. 
 
CHRISTMAS. 
 
 3jf|E would not waken buried deeds, 
 w Excepting those of joy, 
 Which angels bear with quickened speed 
 And all their harps employ. 
 
 But yester' seems that rising morn, 
 
 Unclouded by a tear, 
 When heaven's Prince was found new-born 
 
 Within a stable near. 
 
 A guardian star then led the way 
 
 With brilliancy divine — 
 For o'er the earth no brighter day 
 
 Shall e'er in beauty shine. 
 
 Sweet baby eyes that morn looked up 
 
 In tenderness upon 
 A mother now whose youthful cup 
 
 Of joy and peace was won. 
 
 The wise men knelt beside His bed, 
 
 With precious gifts of gold, 
 And many words of wonder said, 
 
 By history untold. 
 
 Shall e'er the stars look brightly down 
 On lovlier scene than this, 
 
SUNBEAMS. 151 
 
 Or give a mother fairer crown 
 Or sweeter cup of bliss? 
 
 The shifting scenes of time and space 
 Have wrought their changes here, 
 
 For on a blood-stained throne of grace 
 He sits unchanging there. 
 
 And doubtless now when mother's eye 
 Looks fondly on her child, 
 
 He thinks upon that cloudless sky 
 Spread o'er the mountains wild ; 
 
 And of the morn that o'er it rose, 
 While angel notes still rung, 
 
 Far sweeter yet of all of those 
 For whom His birth was sung. 
 
 But when we reach the pearly strand, 
 And tread the sunlit shore, 
 
 We'll clasp Him fondly by the hand 
 And praise Him ever more. 
 
 ML 
 
A MYSTIC STREAM 
 
 9| mystic stream, in murmurs low, 
 ® Still echoes through the vale, 
 And o'er its waves still hangs the how — 
 God's pledge shall never fail. 
 
 Sometimes I think that the way of life 
 Runs strangely near its brink, 
 
 And myriads perish in the strife 
 Because they will not drink. 
 
 The darkest cloud may still be rent, 
 
 Admitting through the light, 
 If but the shaft be upward sent, 
 
 Though reaching out of sight. 
 
 The darkest storm that fills the sky 
 
 Forebodes the sweetest calm ; 
 Where'er the wounded soul shall cry, 
 
 There is the healing balm. 
 
 E'en o'er the tomb immortal flow'rs, 
 
 In fadeless beauty wave, 
 To point us to the fragrant bow'rs 
 
 Beyond the silent grave. 
 
 Out from the dust, new-born, shall spring 
 
 A magic being bright 
 And shout, u O, death ! where is thy sting ; 
 
 O, grave ! where is thy might." 
 
A PRAYER. 
 
 fcome to-night with a weary heart 
 To Thy throne of rest, 0, God ! 
 To ask a humble but earnest part 
 In the path Thy saints have trod. 
 
 I ask not gold, nor its pomp and pride, 
 
 But a pure and loving soul, 
 With grace to tread by my Savior's side 
 
 Till I reach the streets of gold. 
 
 0, wilt Thou still with the light divine 
 
 Illumine the narrow way — 
 Into the depths of my heart still shine 
 
 And guide to the perfect day? 
 
 0, Savior ! reach, down Thy helping hand 
 
 And my spirit safely hold 
 Till I shall tread the golden sand 
 
 Within Thy heavenly fold. 
 
 Thy peace let fall on my weary way, 
 As the dews of evening come, 
 
 That faith may be as a cloudless day 
 While I press my journey home. 
 
 Let the rifted cloud float far from sight 
 When the walls of jasper rise, 
 
 20 
 
154 
 
 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 As the lightning gleams within the night, 
 Or meteors through the skies. 
 
 O, give me the grace each test to stand 
 
 And the purer grow thereby. 
 Till I shall reach the immortal strand 
 
 Where the living never die. 
 
I SAW THEE THERE. 
 
 ID the silent flow of a gentle dream 
 I saw thee led by a silver stream, 
 In robes of pure white and a crown of gold 
 All mirrored bright in the waters cold ; 
 
 And the countless host in the crystal light 
 
 Came softly over my mortal sight, 
 
 Where nearest thy side, on the golden sand, 
 Was He who died in that olden land. 
 
 For the spirit of peace, oft felt unseen, 
 Has sweetly told of the pastures green, 
 Of the gentle flow of the healing tide 
 And the millions bright on either side. 
 
 Thy beautiful form was lovelier there, 
 Thy robes of glory were strangely fair ; 
 
 I pray for the time when sorrows are o'er — 
 I'll dwell with thee on the other shore. 
 
CHILDHOOD. 
 
 ,jj| ACKWARD, along the march of time, we tread 
 
 Amid the ruin he has wrought and hail, 
 Entranced with joy, angelic forms that rise 
 Before our eyes in robes of stainless white, 
 And hear their low, soft words of love and cheer 
 Borne faintly to our ear, as far-off song 
 Upon the zephyr's wave or angels' wings, 
 And find one page in life's great record past 
 Where naught but sunshine dwells and stars appear 
 
 It is when rainbows have their bags of gold 
 And every hour its wonders bring. "Tis strange 
 That from that page, as arrows from a shield, 
 All sorrows pass away or lie beside 
 A broken pile ; but every joy so deep 
 Imprints itself, nor loosens once its hold 
 Till life has reached its bannered west 
 And found its long-sought goal — the silent tomb. 
 Time but intensifies the joys of youth, 
 
 Though grander scenes in beauty rise before 
 Us now, and multitudes, applauding, cast 
 Bouquets of fairest flow'rs beneath our feet ; 
 And onward still the car of triumph wheels 
 Until all nations rise to call us great, 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 157 
 
 And good, and pure, and just, and ev'ry tongue 
 Our virtues lisp with joy ; we, falt'ring, sigh 
 To leave all these and dwell again a child — 
 To chase the rainbow- and the butterfly. 
 

 OUR FATHER. 
 
 |f ATHER ! I see Thy wondrous skill 
 ^ Impressed on every leaf; 
 On every bud I trace it still. 
 And in the harvest sheaf. 
 
 Thy smile doth shine from every star. 
 Far in the depths of night, 
 
 And not a world, however far 2 
 Escapes Thy wondrous sight. 
 
 I see it in the varied dyes 
 
 That flash upon my sight 
 On earth, and sea, and skies, 
 
 From morning until night. 
 
THE TRIALS OF LIFE. 
 
 3j remember the time when, side by side, 
 
 We wandered forth in our young hearts' pride, 
 When our lives were pure as snowflakes given 
 Or angels fresh from the gates of heaven. 
 
 The battle has grown till the cloud hangs deep 
 And we hear its roar in our silent sleep, 
 Till, waking, we wish our lives had fled 
 And our forms were laid with the peaceful dead. 
 
 Yes ; our trials come as the wavelets beat, 
 On the rocky shore, 'neath our weary feet. 
 And again recede, as the tide goes back, 
 Smoothing the sand as its only track. 
 
 Our loved ones lie 'neath the somber gloom 
 
 That forever gathers around the tomb, 
 
 While our faith still points to that hQme above 
 Where the pure shall rest in the arms of love. 
 
 But our Leader tries every soldier brave 
 From birth till he enters the friendly grave ; 
 For the chief delight of that home so fair 
 Is the one fond thought of the peace that's there ; 
 
 Where the blighted heart and a ghastly face 
 Are things unknown in that heavenly place ; 
 
160 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 Where the mingled songs of the ransomed rise 
 In melody sweet to the sunlit skies. 
 
 But with faintless will and with tireless feet 
 We must ever tread toward the golden street, 
 
 Till the dazzling light of the crystal sea 
 
 Shall arise in glorious majesty ; 
 
 Till we see the forms of the deathless glide 
 By the waters clear of that living tide, 
 
 And hear them sing of the fathomless love 
 
 Of Him who was crowned by His fellows above. 
 
 We'll join in the song of the victors there, 
 And dwell in a home surpassingly fair ; 
 
 But the sweetest thought of that home above — 
 It is written in light — 'tis : "perfect love." 
 
FAITHFUL AM) TRUE. 
 
 UK shadows deepen ; 
 
 Night's wing is brooding now like mourning 
 O'er distant hills and meadows soft and green ; 
 The holy calm of twilight over all 
 Is resting like the silent peace of hearts 
 Too full for speech. Hope's fruition time 
 Has come. The toil-worn laborer returns 
 Home, where loving hearts welcome him to 
 Rest with winning smile and kindliest speech ; 
 The instruments of toil, un lifted, lie, for 
 The day's task is done. 
 
 The starlight glitters 
 On the steel-like waves of a tiny lake ; 
 The shadows, phantom-like, of trees and ferns. 
 Of lilies tall and graceful, rise and fall 
 With the moving waters. Here, arm in arm, 
 Two lovers wander in the cool evening 
 Shade. Beneath these arching boughs their plighted 
 Vows were sealed, and thither often they 
 Return. Like angels wandering from above 
 They seem in the comeliness of their youth 
 So full of gladness. 
 
 The years roll onward ; 
 Another twilight is resting with soft 
 And placid touch upon the same lovers, 
 
 21 
 
1(32 SIX BEAMS. 
 
 Standing where once in youth we beheld them ; 
 They recall, with happy hearts, the time when. 
 Years ago, they drank, side by side, the deep 
 Peace of eventide. Time lightly hovers 
 O'er their brows with the faintest trace of care. 
 Little sterner now the features are where 
 Smiles still play as moonbeams o'er the earth 
 Or sleeping waters. 
 
 Twenty years have flown ; 
 Beneath the arching boughs? 1 eside the lake. 
 Among the ferns that softly sigh to the 
 Zephyr — spirit-like that moves their fronds — while 
 Sunsets glance, to liquid gold the waters 
 Change, two forms appear, arm in arm, as heart 
 To heart keeps time throughout the How of years. 
 The winter snows have tipped their locks with white 
 And furrowed deep their brows as time has 
 Marked his flight. The evening time of life, 
 Pure and bright, has come. 
 
 Two coffined forms 
 Beneath the same roof, asleep in serene 
 Unbroken rest, where noiseless watchers keep 
 Their tireless vigils through the night. Ay ! they 
 Were ever side by side, in youth, in age. 
 In death. Another scene now greets our eyes 
 Where they so often wandered. In the 
 Cool shade, with uncovered heads, now stand 
 A group of mourners. How fitting that 
 
SUNBEAMS. 163 
 
 Their forms should sleep at last within the spot they 
 Did so fondly love. 
 
 Faith points us away. 
 Where we see the crystal gates wide open 
 And angels waiting by the way that leads 
 Unto the throne of white. Once more, hand in 
 Hand, two forms appear, as youthful now as 
 If their brows had never felt the press of 
 Pain. The fruition time lias come at last, 
 When they shall enter the fullness of joy 
 From seed sown in tears. Music greets them there — 
 Such as ear hath not heard. The curtain falls ; 
 The scene is ended. 
 
SLEEP. 
 
 Text — "Awake thou that sleepest and arise from the 
 dead and Christ shall give thee light,"— Eph. 5 : 4. 
 
 OST certainly these persons addressed, whatever 
 their condition was, are commanded to awake 
 from their sleep and " a rise from the dead." Then 
 they were asleep and among the dead. We find a 
 passage in Paul's writing to Timothy which sheds 
 upon this theme a flood of light : "That they may 
 awake themselves out of the snare of the devil who 
 are taken captive by him at his will." 2 Tim. 2 : 26. 
 According to this text that sleep consisted in being 
 in captivity to the devil. Men are in captivity to the 
 devil when they are doing his will and wickedness of 
 whatever kind or caste is his w T ill ; hence men are his 
 captives or prisoners (for they are in his snare or trap) 
 whenever they engage in any kind of wickedness. The 
 word captive is in the Greek "taken alive." 
 
 This sleep then is not the sleep of death, for Paul 
 affirms that they are "taken alive" by him at his 
 will. We see then clearly that they are not literally 
 dead nor among the literal dead. 
 
 Now from what we have already seen we are pre- 
 pared for the declaration of the same writer as to their 
 condition, "you who were dead in trespasses and in 
 sins hath he quickened." These persons w r ho were 
 
SUNBEAMS. 165 
 
 asleep were "dead in trespasses and in sins/' and 
 their awakening consisted in "recovering themselves 
 out of the snare of the devil." They were commanded 
 to awake out. of sleep and arise from the dead to some- 
 thing. What, then, is the object to which they are 
 commanded to arise? "Awake to righteousness and 
 sin not." 1 Cor. 15: 34. Prepositions govern the ob- 
 jective case. Righteousness is in the objective case in 
 this declaration, and hence is the object to w r hich they 
 are commanded to awake. 
 
 • It is evident, indeed, that these parties were not 
 literally asleep nor literally dead, for they are com- 
 manded to "awake themselves," and commands are 
 given neither to men asleep or dead. They themselves 
 were to do the rising and recovering themselves out of 
 the snare of the devil. This awakening consisted of 
 freeing themselves from the power of the devil. 
 They had the ability to free themselves from the 
 power of Satan or else God would not command th'em 
 to do so. Not only are they ordered to recover them- 
 selves from the devil, but they are commanded to arm 
 themselves for the conflict. Arm yourselves with the 
 mind of Christ. 1 Pet. 4 : 1. The only arms neces- 
 sary to successfully defeat Satan is the mind of Jesus. 
 To all those who awake and arise there is a promise 
 given. "Christ shall give you light." They needed 
 light for they were in darkness and no wonder they 
 were sleepy. The light they needed comes from 
 Christ. What is the light then that Christ gives, for 
 He is the "Sun of Righteousness?" "In Him was 
 
166 
 
 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 life and the life was the light of men." Jno. 1. The 
 life of Jesus was the light given to men. He showed 
 them the beauty of holiness in a perfeet life. But the 
 light of that perfect life and example comes to us 
 through the written life of Jesus or the gospel. There- 
 fore Paul calls it "The light of the glorious gospel" of 
 Christ, 7 ' and says it "shines into them." 2 Cor. 4 : 4. 
 Christ then shines through the gospel, and into 
 men's hearts. "God who commanded the light to 
 shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts," 
 and what does God shine in men's hearts for? "To 
 give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in 
 the face of Jesus Christ." He shines in men's hearts 
 to give light, the light of knowledge, the knowledge of 
 the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. This 
 light reaches the heart through the mind. "For the 
 God of this world hath blinded the minds of them 
 that believe not, lest the light of the glorious gospel 
 of Christ should shine into them." He blinded the 
 minds of them that believe not, because that is the 
 only possible door of entrance to their hearts, and if 
 he can get them to close their eyes and ears against 
 the gospel, there is no danger of its light getting into 
 their hearts. Sometimes, however, Satan succeeds in 
 taking the word away from the heart, even after it 
 reaches it. In the parable of the sower the Savior 
 said : "The wayside hearer, or those by the wayside 
 are they that hear, then cometh the devil and taketh 
 away the word out of their hearts." Luke 8 : 12. 
 Why make such a fight against the word in their 
 
SUNBEAMS. 167 
 
 hearts? Because Satan knows more than many mod- 
 ern theologians, for he knows that "the gospel of 
 Christ is the power of God unto salvation to every one 
 that believes. 7 ' Rom. 1:16. Yes, "he taketh away 
 the word out of their hearts, lest they should 
 believe and be saved." Luke 8 : 12. The word in the 
 heart, if it remain, will produce a belief, and belief 
 will produce salvation or recovery from the snare of 
 the devil. This gospel shines unto men by preaching, 
 "For we preach not ourselves but Christ Jesus, the 
 Lord." 2 Cor. 4 : 5. Satan, then, to prevent the en- 
 trance of the light of the gospel to the hearts of men, 
 does all he can to prevent the preaching of the word ; 
 therefore, we continually hear the most unreasonable 
 and disreputable stories about ministers and pro- 
 fessors of religion. Why is this, if it be not to blind 
 the minds of them that believe not "lest the light of 
 the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Je- 
 sus Christ should shine unto them." 
 
 Another phase of our subject now presents itself 
 to our notice, viz : How shall these persons be able 
 to pass from the death in sin to life and peace and joy 
 in the Holy Ghost? "Verily, verily, I say unto you, 
 he that heareth My word and believeth Him that sent 
 Me hath everlasting life, and shall not come into con- 
 demnation, but is passed from death unto life." 
 They are enabled to pass from death unto life by 
 hearing the words of Jesus and believing on God who 
 sent Him. The words of Jesus Christ, or the gospel, 
 then is the power of God to save men from this death, 
 
168 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 this snare of the devil, this sleep in sin. The light 
 from Christ is the will of God. ^Wherefore, be ye not 
 unwise, but understanding what the will of the Lord 
 is." Eph. 5: 17. "That servant which knew his 
 lord's will and prepared not himself, neither did ac- 
 cording to his will, shall be beaten with many stripes." 
 Luke 12: 47. 
 
 But now we reach the concluding part of this 
 essay, and have seen that the sinner is dead. ! 
 what a wreck is a ruined soul. We may wander in 
 solemn wonder over the ruins of cities, towers and 
 ' mouldering urns piled by human hands, but what are 
 these to compare with a ruined soul? These are the 
 works of man, but man is the grandest work of God, 
 for whom all others w r ere wrought. Yes ; sun, moon 
 and stars — all created things — were formed for his 
 good, and yet he, with all this heritage, may ruin his 
 soul and blight his destiny. O ! how sad to think 
 that he for whom earth was made and carpeted with 
 verdure, for whom the grand old ocean rolls her 
 waves, and rivers majestic wander through fields of 
 delight, for whom the heavens were spread out in 
 beauty and garnished in light, for whom the hand of 
 God hath strown the sky with stars as innumerable as 
 the sand upon the sea shore ; that even he whom God 
 has destined to a dazzling throne eternal, may become 
 the companion of devils and fallen angels, and his 
 final receptacle be the outer darkness and the eternal 
 fires. 
 
THE SHADOWY WAY. 
 
 9|N archway unseemly hangs over the gate 
 ® That passes us out of this world, 
 Whose portals are gloomy and ghastly as fate 
 With wings of deep darkness unfurled. 
 
 The children, unconscious and pure as the snow. 
 
 All torn from our loving embrace, 
 As a wonderful stream with a ceaseless flow 
 
 Are passing, nor leaving a trace. 
 
 Our brothers and sisters, with whispered farewell, 
 
 Pass out through the shadowy way ; 
 The message, half uttered, their fond lips would tell 
 
 Shall be finished at last some day. 
 
 Our friends, too, are going all day and at night — 
 
 What a long and noiseless train — 
 How often we think of their wonderful flight 
 
 Away from life's sorrows and pain. 
 
 Our fathers and mothers are fading like leaves 
 
 When autumn is passing, for aye ; 
 Ay ! the reapers still gather the golden sheaves 
 
 And haste with their trophy away. 
 
 Yes ; the young and the old, in an endless train, 
 As drea,ms, in the shadows fade ; 
 
 22 
 
170 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 A sweet song returns with a whispered refrain : 
 "We've passed through the valley of shade." 
 
 When Time's checkered drama shall come to its close 
 
 And spring shall revisit the tomb, 
 The cheeks that were lurid shall blush as the rose 
 
 In sweetest and earliest bloom. 
 
 ! haste thou mystical, wonderful "Some Day" 
 
 To earth with thy glorious spell, 
 When death shall be banished forever away 
 
 And life shall forevermore dwell. 
 
PREACHING TO THE DEAD. 
 
 "For, for this cause was the gospel preached also 
 to them that are dead (see 1 Cor. 5: 5) that they 
 might be judged according to men in the flesh, but 
 live according to God in the spirit." — 1 Pet. 4 : 6. 
 
 H^O the advocates of a post-mortem gospel we wish 
 to say that whatever the apostle meant in this 
 language, he certainly did not say that this preaching 
 was done to these people after their bodies were dead 
 and their spirits separated therefrom. On the other 
 hand, if tense has anything to do with language, it is 
 plainly inferable from this text that the} 7 were living 
 when the preaching was done, but that they are now 
 dead. "The gospel was preached to them that are 
 dead." But the advocates of said doctrine with an air 
 of triumph quote : "For Christ also hath once suf- 
 fered for sin, the just for the unjust, that he might 
 bring us to God, being put to death in the flesh, but 
 quickened in the spirit. By which also he went and 
 preached unto the spirits in prison, which sometimes 
 were disobedient, when once the long-suffering of God 
 waited in the days of Noah, while the ark was pre- 
 paring, wherein few, that is eight souls were saved by 
 water. 1 Pet. 3 : 18-21. From this declaration they 
 attempt to draw the following conclusion, viz : That 
 Jesus went by the spirit and preached to the spirits of 
 
172 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 those wicked antediluvians while his body was lying 
 in Joseph's new tomb. 
 
 Now, unless Jesus was mistaken, he was not 
 preaching to the spirits of those violent fellows while 
 his body was in the grave, but was resting amidst the 
 delights of Paradise, for to the poor thief w r ho was 
 crucified beside him he said : "To-day shalt thou be 
 with me in Paradise. " The only way that you can 
 get Jesus and the antediluvians together during his 
 stay in the grave is to take the absurd position that 
 the spirits who w r ere so disobedient that they filled 
 the earth with violence were all in Paradise whither 
 Jesus and the thief went that day. If they were in 
 that happy place for twenty-three centuries and that 
 place remains all that time Paradise instead of Pan- 
 demonium, then death and the terrors of the flood 
 must have wrought a change in their moral status. 
 Or if they remained unchanged amidst the joys of 
 Paradise and enjoyed its bliss and drank in its peace 
 that flows all-boundless and free for more than two 
 thousand years, then one might more than suspect 
 that Christ acted the part of cruelty in going there 
 and disturbing the peace of that quiet retreat by 
 preaching to those peaceful fellows the terrifying doc- 
 trine "That they that have done evil (shall come 
 forth) to the resurrection of damnation." Jno. 5. 
 
 Again if they remained in that glorious, delightful 
 place for ages, then will we begin to suspect that the 
 wicked might enjoy eternal happiness. 
 
 Christ w r ent by the spirit that raised him from 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 173 
 
 the dead, not in person, and preached to the spirits 
 in prison. The text does not say that the spirits were 
 in prison when he preached to them, but he preached 
 by the spirit to them while the ark was being pre- 
 pared, but their spirits are now in prison. They, no 
 doubt, are not only in prison, but are like the angels 
 who kept not their first estate, bound under chains of 
 darkness reserved unto judgment and the perdition 
 of ungodly men. 
 
 But if the spirits of fallen men, and the fallen 
 angels shall share the same eternal destiny, as the 
 Savior's own language clearly proves — "Depart from 
 me ye cursed, into the eternal fire which is prepared 
 for the devil and his angels, " (Matt. 25 : 41), it looks 
 a little unfair to preach the gospel to the former and 
 not preach it to the latter, for they are spirits. Heb. 
 1 : 14. But we have said that Christ did this preach- 
 ing by the spirit, and that "the spirit" is Christ's 
 spirit, is evident from this : "The spirit of Christ 
 which was in them (the prophets of old) did signify." 
 1 Pet. 1 : 11. Now then a question of vital import- 
 ance arises here, viz : How did Christ preach to them 
 by the spirit that raised him from the dead, and that 
 was in the prophets? To understand this it is neces- 
 sary to remember that Noah was "a preacher of 
 righteousness," and also that God said to this same 
 people to whom Noah preached : "My spirit shall 
 not always strive with man, for he also is flesh, yet his 
 days shall be a hundred and twenty years." Gen. 4 : 
 3. From these passages we learn that God's spirit 
 
174 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 strove for a hundred and twenty years with, and Noah 
 preached to the same men and^at the same time. Now 
 to ascertain whether the spirit of God that raised 
 Christ up strove through the preaching of Noah or 
 not, it is only necessary to hear Paul's explanation of 
 the matter : "Knowing the terrors of the Lord we 
 persuade men." 2 Cor. 5 : 11. 
 
 The spirit in the days of Paul strove by per- 
 suading men through the preachers, and I presume 
 the unchanging spirit strove in the same way in the 
 time of Noah. God most assuredly gave these wicked 
 ones who committed ungodly deeds every day a splen- 
 did chance for their lives, for he strove by his spirit to 
 reform them for a hundred and twenty years, and still 
 they continned to be lawless and went on filling the 
 earth with violence. They were more highly favored 
 in this respect than we, for we of this day are not per- 
 mitted to hear preaching so long, being limited to a 
 shorter time, our whole lives being only three score 
 and ten years. But an objector says we have the 
 greater light to guide us and therefore do not need so 
 great a length of time to learn the "way of holiness." 
 Granted ; but what follows? Why ; our responsibili- 
 ties increase in proportion to the light we have. 
 
 But if Jesus actually did go to the place of de- 
 parted spirits and preach to the wicked ones, why 
 limit his efforts to those only "who were sometime 
 disobedient when once the long-snffering of God 
 waited in the days of Noah?" for there certainly were 
 thousands of other wicked spirits beside them. 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 175 
 
 Now it seems to me as utterly useless to preach 
 either to the living or the dead at any other time ex- 
 cept while the "long-suffering of God" waits. The 
 long-suffering of God waited while the ark was pre- 
 paring, but when it was finished then it waited no 
 longer. 
 
 Dear reader, do you suppose that after the long- 
 suffering God waited for those w r icked fellows to re- 
 pent, and not only that the Good Father persuaded 
 them for so long, his long-suffering will again wait for 
 Jesus to go to their prison and preach? 
 
 But if you will excuse me for these extended re- 
 marks, I will close by warning all men everywhere to 
 repent while the long-suffering of God waits for us, 
 and the gospel of the Son of God rings in our ears the 
 sweet music of the "glorious land" and offers eternal 
 life to those that do His commandments. 
 
BURIAL OF GENERAL GRANT. 
 
 august 8, 1885. 
 
 |jj|UR hero laid by all the trappings of war 
 
 As the messenger spirit appeared — 
 The helmet, engraven with liberty's star, 
 And the heart to a nation endeared. 
 
 For dim ranks of soldiers, in silent review, 
 To salute him, stood ready once more, 
 
 As he laid down his sword and softly withdrew 
 To the fields of the far-away shore. 
 
 While millions to-day in deep mourning shall weep, 
 And all nations shall honor his name, 
 
 We bear him away to his last silent sleep 
 Till the trumpet his presence shall claim. 
 
 The palace and throne of each kingdom shall be 
 
 Adorned with the trappings of woe, 
 As we bear to the tomb the chief of the free — 
 
 By the hand of the spoiler laid low. 
 
 The bugle no more can awaken from rest, 
 
 Nor the cannon disturb his repose ; 
 His warfare was done as the sun reached the west ; 
 
 What a gorgeous and beauteous close ! 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 177 
 
 The marble shall rise and be lettered in gold 
 With the words of his nation's esteem : 
 
 The world to its bosom his deeds shall enfold 
 While the sunlight in glory shall beam. 
 
 His bed shall be decked with the choicest bloom — 
 
 As the giver there silently weeps — 
 That day that's appointed to laurel the tomb 
 
 Where the soldier and patriot sleeps. 
 
 The muse shall arise with a heavenly strain 
 To his matchless and wonderful pow r er, 
 
 As he swept o'er the field through the hurtling rain, 
 Nor flinched in the deadliest hour. 
 
 The sculptor shall shape with his chisel divine 
 His calm features and form in the stone, 
 
 And over his brow shall the olive branch twine 
 As he stands in his greatness alone. 
 
 Our children shall rise as the ages go by — 
 As the buds of the springtime unfold — 
 
 And raise o'er his bed a fair rainbow, as high 
 As the nations shall ever behold. 
 
 We speak but the w r ords of our nation to-day 
 When we give him a loving good-by ; 
 
 Our pen cannot write and tongue cannot say 
 All the peace that shall over him lie. 
 
 
 A* 
 
 23 
 
GOD IS LOVE." 
 
 john iv. : 8. 
 
 Mf HEN we look out upon nature's ample page for 
 demonstration of this subject we find evidence 
 apparently contradictory. 
 
 When we go out by night and cast our eyes 
 heavenward and see skies all peaceful and the count- 
 less army of heaven marching on and on in bright 
 and irresistible ranks, when we feel the gentle breezes 
 fan our brow and scent the air perfumed with sweet 
 flow r ers, 'tis then we feel within our hearts that the 
 God of Nature "is love." 
 
 Again we cast our gaze upward and behold the 
 dark, terrible wings of storm-clouds, swift as an army 
 in battle unfolding above us, while from every fold the 
 brilliant flash of lightning glares and the dreadful 
 roar of thunder shakes the earth to its foundation. 
 Anon the solid earth is rent beneath us by the terrible 
 earthquake, and whole cities are engulfed in the fright- 
 ful chasm, while adown the slope of yonder mountain 
 rushes a tide of lava, a mighty river of fire, sent forth 
 by the volcano, burying everything in its course, men, 
 women, children, horses, sheep and goats— every living 
 thing — in one indistinguishable mass. 'Tis then we 
 feel that Nature's God is smiting the earth with a 
 curse. Hence the ancients, seeing these apparently 
 
SUNBEAMS. 179 
 
 contradictory or conflicting manifestations of nature, 
 had a separate god for each separate thing in nature. 
 
 They were not able, it seems, as we are, to soar out 
 far unto the great universe of God and see that the 
 same universal law called gravitation, with silent, mys- 
 terious, irresistible power binds all things, even to the 
 remotest verge of the great empire of nature, to one 
 common centre. 
 
 Plainly, then, here is a universal law. Law 7 always 
 presupposes a legislative powder. And the infinite 
 law suggests an infinite mind, an infinite legislator. 
 There can be but one infinite universe and one infinite 
 God ; therefore the same God presides over all the dif- 
 ferent manifestations of nature, from the unfolding of 
 the tiniest flower to the stupendous sw T eep of a mag- 
 nificent world, and our text proclaims that He "is 
 
 LOVE." 
 
 We understand the meaning of this short but 
 pregnant declaration of holy w r rit to be — that love 
 rules all the acts of God. 
 
 This being true, how 7 can he ' ; punish the wucked 
 with an everlasting destruction from the presence of 
 God and the glory of His pow 7 er." This can only be 
 answered in full by the further prosecution of our sub- 
 ject. 
 
 Love is generally thought to be a kind of abstract 
 something, a single passion of the mind. This, how- 
 ever, will appear to be utterly false as w T e proceed. 
 
 '"God is love." We presume no one in his sober 
 senses w T ill claim that God is a passion of the mind. 
 
180 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 God is infinite, therefore love is infinite, for God is 
 love. Love is not only infinite, but eternal also, for 
 David said : "From everlasting to everlasting Thou 
 art God." Having taken our stand upon the threshold 
 of the temple of truth let us now advance and gently 
 push open the door to catch a glimpse of the pearls 
 and jewels that flash their clear light upon us from 
 every niche and conceivable spot of the interior. It is 
 filled with all the treasures both of the knowledge and 
 wisdom of God. God has at least five attributes : 
 
 1. Power. If you wish to be impressed with this 
 attribute of Deity, take your stand upon some high 
 cliff overlooking the ocean and watch the mountain 
 waves as they rush after each other in quick succession 
 and thunder against the rock-bound shore, deafening 
 you with the fearful crash and making even the 
 mountains tremble as the storm lashes the ocean's 
 bosom to a foam. Most impressive and beautiful is 
 the language of Isaiah upon this point : "He hath 
 measured the waters in the hollow of His hand, and 
 meted out heaven with a span, and comprehended the 
 dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the 
 mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance." Isa. 
 40 : 12. "Mine hand also hath laid the foundation 
 of the earth, and my right hand hath spanned the 
 heavens." Isa. 48 : 13. 
 
 2. Wisdom. The attribute of power uncon- 
 trolled by wisdom w r ould in all probability soon rend 
 the globe in pieces, and extinguish all life upon its sur- 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 181 
 
 
 face and bring in a universal "wreck of matter and 
 the crash of worlds. " 
 
 3. Justice. As power alone might be so exceed- 
 ingly destructive it is balanced by wisdom to guide it 
 to legitimate and wise results, so power and wisdom 
 together might still work out infinite injury to man 
 and the universe, but they are ever guarded and 
 guided by that vigilant detective. Justice, so that ex- 
 act right is meted out in everything. 
 
 4. Vengeance is the attribute of Deity that 
 metes out exact punishment to the guilty. Men dis- 
 posed to cavil at the word of God speak of God as a 
 revengeful being simply because it says "Vengeance 
 is mine, I will repay saith the Lord." Rom. 11 : 19. 
 And also Jesus, we are told, will come again "taking 
 vengeance on them that know not God and obey not 
 the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ." Now in both 
 these sentances the Lord is declared to be the one who 
 exercises vengeance. Vengeance then and not re- 
 venge is the attribute of God. Vengeance means to 
 mete out the exact punishment due to the offender, 
 but Revenge means punish till man's passion is satis- 
 fied. The one is exercised by infinite power, wisdom, 
 justice, mercy, while the other is prompted by passion 
 and executed by a fallen, sinful, finite being. 
 
 5. Mercy. Now T over all the others and softening 
 and tempering them presides this white-winged attri- 
 bute of God. Therefore, combine in their proper re- 
 lations all these infinite attributes of the infinite God 
 
182 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 and we have infinite love. The problem then stands 
 when plainly stated as follows : Power, wisdom, jus- 
 tice, mercy, and vengeance equal and are love, for they 
 are the attributes of God and He is love. We have a 
 very beautiful and pointed illustration at hand. We 
 are told that white light as seen in the sunbeam is 
 composed of seven colors, viz : Violet, indigo, blue, 
 green, yellow, orange and red. As light is composed 
 by the proper blending of the seven colors of the rain- 
 bow, so love is composed of the proper union or ex- 
 ercise of all the attributes of God, and this may sug- 
 gest the reason for that declaration of truth, u God is 
 Light." We also learn, from the Lamp of Life, that 
 when christians are doing their whole duty they are 
 letting their light shine. 
 
 We have more than intimated in the foregoing re- 
 marks how God can be love and at the same time pun- 
 ish the wicked forever and ever, but we will now pro- 
 ceed to make this still more apparent. It has been 
 said that "order is heaven's first law 7 ." But order is 
 not a law at all, it is only the result attained by law. 
 Hence our legislatures enact law r s so that we may be a 
 quiet and orderly people. We can not be happy with- 
 out order, and can not have order without law. Law 
 produces order and order produces happiness. But 
 law is powerless to produce order among the disorderly 
 without punishment annexed, and the greater the pun- 
 ishment the more powerful the law to produce order. 
 Law produces order, order produces happiness. There- 
 fore, eternal happiness depends upon eternal law, and 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 183 
 
 eternal law depends for its power to produce order 
 eternally, upon eternal punishment. Hence he who 
 would strike eternal punishment from the bible would 
 take away the foundation upon which eternal happi- 
 ness rests. The punishment of the devil and his an- 
 gels is so severe that no angel can ever be induced to 
 sin. In order that their punishment be an eternal se- 
 curity against sin in heaven, it must exist eternally. 
 Eternal punishment is eternal, conscious pain, for 
 punish comes from poena, pain. 
 
 But some contend that eternal punishment is 
 annihilation, but this cannot be, for there can be no 
 consciousness of pain nor anything else in annihila- 
 tion. If the wicked shall be annihilated there is no 
 eternal punishment, and if no eternal punishment 
 Jesus has deceived us— Henry Ward Beecher and 
 Cannon Farrar to the contrary, notwithstanding. But 
 having spoken somewhat of the attributes of God, 
 and drawn some conclusions therefrom, we now pro- 
 ceed to the attributes of man. "In the image of God 
 created he him, male and female created he them." 
 Man then was created in the image of God, and this 
 being true, he certainly possesses all the attributes of 
 Deity only to a limited and circumscribed extent. 
 
 He has power, wisdom, justice, mercy, vengeance, 
 but is forbidden to exercise the last. "Vengeance is 
 mine, I will repay, saith the Lord." Rom. 12 : 19. 
 Though forbidden to exercise vengeance now, the time 
 will come when he must use it. When God shall say, 
 "depart from me into everlasting fire prepared for the 
 
184 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 devil and his angels/' He would be unable to approve 
 of so severe a sentence if He did not have this attri- 
 bute in His nature. To take vengeance is to punish 
 exactly enough, no more, no less ; but man has not 
 infinite wisdom to guide him in the exercise of ven- 
 geance, therefore, God knowing that man cannot ex- 
 ercise it in mercy, forbids him to try. Man possesses 
 all the attributes of God, and this fact alone makes it 
 possible for him to be redeemed. These attributes of 
 God, through the Gospel revealed, strike the corres- 
 ponding attributes in man and move him to action. 
 
 Man alone, of all the creatures that God made for 
 this earth, possesses these attributes, and consequently 
 is the only one that can be saved. -Even Darwin's 
 boasted monkey possesses not a single attribute of 
 God, save that of power ; but why save the offspring 
 and let the parents be lost? But this theory of Dar- 
 winism presents the unheard of phenomenon of an 
 effect greater than the cause producing it. 
 
 The gospel is a full and complete expression of 
 the attributes of God to the attributes of man, and 
 hence is the "power of God unto salvation to every 
 one that believeth." 
 
 Hence, the gospel is the expression of the love 
 of God, and the gospel is His power to save and His 
 power to save evidently exists in His attributes. 
 
 Thus you see that by another line of argument 
 our position is sustained. Man is good or evil in pro- 
 portion as he reflects these attributes of Deity or fails 
 to do so. The lily is said to be white because it re- 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 185 
 
 fleets all the colors of light in beautiful and exact pro- 
 portion. So the saints are said to be white-robed be- 
 cause they reflect in their lives all the attributes of 
 Deity as seen in the example of Jesus. May the God 
 of peace guide these words to the pouring out of a 
 flood of light upon this grand theme. 
 
 24 
 
EXTRACTS. 
 
 IJHE clasped a rosebud fair 
 
 Within her tiny hand, 
 As soft as whispered prayer 
 Goes to the sunlit land. 
 
 9|N angel came down, from the regions of light, 
 
 To meet at the River's deep wave 
 And bear through the shadows a spirit in white 
 To the throne of the Mighty to save. 
 
 SflES ; lay him down gently beneath the green sod ; 
 ®' Now print on his brow the last tender kiss ; 
 His spirit has crossed the dark River of God 
 
 Where pain shall ne'er break the sweet spell of bliss. 
 
 IN a beautiful day, when the autumn leaves fade, 
 
 Alone by the ocean I thoughtfully strayed, 
 And my soul was transported with gladness to be 
 By the side of the waters so boundless and free. 
 

 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 187 
 
 ''HERE'S never a star in the brow of night. 
 That looks on a scene so fair and bright, 
 Whose hills and dells are with verdure rife, 
 And flowers bloom on the tree of life. 
 
 ^ MIDST the green islands of coral, 
 
 & 
 
 Where the foot of no mortal hath trod, 
 
 She has reached the strand all immortal 
 And basked in the sunlight of God. 
 
 JI hush like the silence of death 
 Hangs over Calvary's brow, 
 For Jesus, with laboring breath, 
 Is treading the wine-press now. 
 
 9| wave can reflect the whole train of the skies, 
 
 As away from the wrath of the tempest it flies ; 
 A dew 7 drop can bear in its bosom night's queen, 
 All clad in her armor of silvery sheen ; 
 The drop from the cloud bears the rainbow within — 
 So the child is the emblem of freedom from sin. 
 
RELIGION. 
 
 M 
 
 fHIS word comes to us from the Latin "religio," 
 "to bind anew," "to bind again." If man can 
 be "re-bound" he must have been bound before. To 
 necessitate a second binding the ties which primarily 
 bound him must by some means have been rent. 
 Viewed in its scriptural sense, it teaches that man was 
 once united to his Maker by the golden chords of love, 
 purity and obedience, that those ties were severed, 
 and that now there is provision made to restore or re- 
 unite him to the fountain of life. The word religion, 
 then, embraces in its broad clasp the entire scheme of 
 redemption, from the first faint streak of the dawn of 
 creation's morn to the full-orbed splendor of creation 
 restored. 
 
 We shall devote this short chapter to the primary 
 union with God. 
 
 This is the happy condition of every child born 
 into the world. If they droop, as beautiful flowers, 
 and fade as by a blight while yet in childhood, they 
 are saved. Nothing good and perfect in this universe 
 shall be lost, for they all are the Father's own gifts to 
 the children of men. "Sin is the transgression of 
 law." Infants certainly cannot transgress law, there- 
 fore they cannot sin. If they cannot sin they are not 
 sinners. We further urge that they are not sinners 
 because they are not embraced in the commission : 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 189 
 
 - 
 
 "Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel to 
 every creature ; he that believeth and is baptised 
 shall be saved, and he that believeth not shall be 
 damned/' Mark 16 : 15. But, says the objector, 
 every creature was to hear the gospel preached, and 
 infants are creatures, therefore they are embraced in 
 this commission. Now if children are included sim- 
 ply because they are creatures then we may include 
 all the lower animals for the same reason. If this ar- 
 gument proves anything, it proves altogether too 
 much for the advocates of infant depravity. The 
 "every creature" here is limited to "he that believeth 
 and is baptised," or, if you please, to those who are 
 capable of believing on the Lord Jesus Christ and be- 
 ing baptised into his name. Now we believe it is 
 almost if not universally conceded that belief or faith 
 comes from hearing and understanding testimony; 
 but infants cannot understand the evidences upon 
 which the gospel stands and which gives it such won- 
 derful power over the hearts and lives of men. For 
 this if for no other reason Christ did not include them 
 in the commission. Not being included in "The 
 power of God unto salvation" they are in no danger 
 of being lost. If they need to be saved from sin, the 
 fact of their being left out of Christ's commission to 
 all the world, to every creature, is perfectly unaccount- 
 able, for he came "to seek and to save the lost and to 
 call sinners to repentance or reformation of life." 
 
 Jesus said : "Verily, I say unto you, except ye 
 be converted and become as little children ye shall not 
 
190 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 enter into the kingdom of heaven." Matt. 18 : 3. 
 Hence a little child is just as a converted man must 
 become to be fit for admission into the kingdom of 
 heaven. Now if little children are sinners, then Jesus 
 taught his disciples that they must become sinners to 
 be fit for the kingdom, for they must "become as little 
 children. 77 Except ye be converted and become such 
 sinners as little children are ye cannot enter into the 
 kingdom of heaven. When a man is converted his 
 sins are all forgiven him — they are blotted out; the 
 blood of Jesus cleanses him from all sin ; he is then 
 free, wholly free, from sin, and in this regard, as also 
 in many others, is like a little child. If little children 
 are included in the "every creature" of the commis- 
 sion they will all be lost, for they cannot believe the 
 gospel, and u he that believeth not shall be damned." 
 This is universal damnation to the purest, holiest, 
 sweetest ones of Adam's race. It is asked — if children 
 are not sinners at birth why do they sin so early in 
 life? We might ask such objector, why did Adam and 
 Eve sin so early in life, especially since they were sur- 
 rounded by everything pure and holy? If that weak- 
 ness in the child by which temptation overcomes it be 
 a sin, what was it in the first pair before they sinned? 
 If that weakness of nature be a sin, then Adam and 
 Eve were sinners before they sinned, for they certainly 
 had this weakness, else temptation could not have 
 overcome them. Again, if this frailty be sinful, then 
 God is the author of it, for he created it in the first 
 ones of our race. Children, it is true, have this weak- 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 191 
 
 ness, but cannot sin till they are old enough to act 
 understanding^ and voluntarily. Sin is an act, and 
 in the very nature of things cannot be transmitted by 
 generation. That all men suffer much from Adam's 
 sin cannot be disputed, but that they are held respon- 
 sible for it before God is here most emphatically de- 
 nied. Christ took away that "sin of the world," or 
 the sin which is world-wide in its effects, by establish- 
 ing, through his resurrection, the great resurrection of 
 the dead. If we are sinners because Adam was, and 
 inherit our sinfulness from our parents, from whom do 
 the children born of christians get their sinful na- 
 tures? Those parents are now 7 free from sin — cleansed 
 from all sin — and certainly cannot transmit to their 
 child by generation or otherwise that which they do 
 not possess. "Ex nihilo nihil fit." "Out of nothing 
 nothing comes." All sinful men, w T hen they cast a 
 backward look over their lives, cry out, even though 
 they be in the midnight revel, "0 ! for the purity of 
 my childhood once more." This universal feeling 
 proves that all men have the consciousness within 
 them that little children are pure. Yet teachers of re- 
 ligion claim that they are sinners at birth and liars 
 from the cradle. We read at this juncture "Methodist 
 Discipline," page 40, section 2, article 53, printed in 
 1872 : "We hold that all children, by virtue of the 
 unconditional benefits of the atonement, are members 
 of the kingdom of God, and, therefore, graciously en- 
 titled to baptism." If children are members of the 
 kingdom of God they are not sinners, and if they need 
 
192 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 baptism they are sinners, for baptism is "for the re- 
 mission of sins." Peter says : "Repent and be bap- 
 tized (eis aphes in hamartion) for forgiveness of sins." 
 Acts 2 : 38. Our Savior used exactly the same Greek 
 words with reference to the shedding of his blood : 
 "For this is my blood of the new testament which is 
 shed for many (eis aphes in hamartion) for the for- 
 giveness of sins." Matt. 26 : 28. The only rational 
 conclusion, it seems to us, is that the blood of the Sa- 
 vior and baptism are both for the forgiveness of sins. 
 Children, being already free from sins, are not proper 
 subjects of scriptural baptism. This becomes the 
 more impressive when we remember "Of such is the 
 kingdom of heaven," and "Their angels do always be- 
 hold the face of my Father which is in heaven." 
 
RELIGION 
 
 NUMBER TWO. 
 
 jjj|E not surprised when we announce to you that 
 while the progenitors of our race walked and 
 talked in union with God in Eden's shady groves, sun- 
 lit landscapes and balmy retreats, there was no such 
 thing as religion on earth. All was deep, pure, holy 
 piety upon the part of man, and perfect peace and 
 union, as well as communion, between him and his 
 Maker. Had this condition of things continued until 
 now the world would perhaps never have known how 
 much the Father loved His creature — man. But how 
 deep and exhaustless His love, as manifested age after 
 age, and century after century, as He unrolls the 
 scroll of time, revealing His goodness to the children 
 of men. 
 
 Cast now a glance forth into the physical universe 
 of God. See how that, age after age, millions of 
 w T orlds roll on without clash or discord, though appa- 
 rently strewn carelessly over the fields of space. Year 
 follows year, seasons come and go in perfect order, the 
 leaves and flowers brighten and cheer the fields of 
 earth, then fade and fall with the utmost regularity. 
 We ask ourselves, why is this ; while in the realm of 
 mind we find such wild confusion and disorder? It is 
 because everywhere else but in the realm of mind and 
 
 25 
 
194 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 spirit the infinite will rules undisturbed by any op- 
 posing power. Neither angel, man, nor devil can in- 
 trude here, for the Almighty has reserved the empire 
 of physical nature to Himself alone. When God gave 
 man a will, by that act He gave him the power to re- 
 sist His counsels, oppose His good pleasure, and intro- 
 duce confusion into the moral universe. Here it is 
 that disorder, wreck and ruin strew the bosom of cre- 
 ation. The original word, sin, translated, means "to 
 miss the mark." The Holy Spirit, through the prophet 
 Isaiah, says of Jerusalem and Judah : "When ye 
 spread forth your hands I will hide Mine eyes from 
 you ; yea, when ye make prayers T will not hear ; your 
 hands are full of blood." Chap. 1 : 15. By their dis- 
 obedience they had so far missed the mark that God 
 would not hear them. Jesus of Nazareth introduces 
 this deplorable state of things to us in the following 
 terms : "Come unto me all ye that labor and are 
 heavy laden and I will give you rest." Matt. 11 : 28. 
 Man, then, is separated from God and his Christ, or 
 else he could not come to Jesus. This distance is not 
 physical but moral. This distance is simply a differ- 
 ence of character. The distance between a sinner and 
 Jesus is the distance between sin and holiness. The 
 only way possible for sinners to come to him is to 
 change in character till they are like him. God 
 changes not. He is forever and ever the same. With 
 Him "is no variableness nor shadow of turning." On 
 the other hand the whole history of man is one cease- 
 less line of changes from birth to death. Indeed, the 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 19" 
 
 very terms of the gospel — believe, repent and be 
 baptized — are all indicative of change in man. Here 
 he is taught to become as a little child, and by so do- 
 ing he becomes Christlike. God did not leave man 
 and wander away, but man left Him, and it is but 
 just that the wanderer should return. The history of 
 the Prodigal is but the history of the race. He vol- 
 untarily went away from his father into a far country 
 — a land of famine and death — and placed so great a 
 distance between himself and a happy home that 
 naught but the remembrance of his father's love could 
 reach him and move him to return. So there is a 
 "great gulf" between sinful men and God, but, thank 
 Him for His goodness, it is not "fixed ;" yet it is so 
 broad, and deep, and fearful, that naught in heaven 
 above nor earth beneath can overlap it and save the 
 perishing but the love of God. Thank God, whose 
 matchless love has thrown over that awful breach the 
 glittering arches of the Bridge of Redemption and 
 illuminated it with His word, saying to all His wan- 
 dering children : "Gome unto Me all ye that labor 
 and are heavy laden and I will give you rest.'' 0, 
 what an army of men was once, ay, still are, beyond 
 that gulf and away from God. "The whole world lieth 
 in idleness." 1 Jno. 5 : 19. "There is none good ; no, 
 not one." "All have sinned and come short of the 
 glory of God." "Wide is the gate and broad is the 
 way that leadeth to destruction, and many there be 
 which go in thereat." Matt. 7 : 13. When a man 
 passes in at the wide gate he is from that moment 
 
196 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 separated from his Heavenly Father and on the way 
 to ruin, and unless he turns about and retraces his 
 steps he will surely reach that fearful destination. 
 Remember, too, that none are forced into the wide gate, 
 but voluntarily "go in thereat ;" so if they never re- 
 turn, but reach the dark regions of despair, they go 
 there in spite of all power in heaven and on earth to 
 save them. That this alienation still exists we have 
 only to look around us and see the carnage of ten 
 thousand battle-fields, hear the cry of broken-hearted 
 widows, and hear the heart-rending wail of orphan 
 children. Still closer home than this, even in our own 
 hearts, we see the scars of the conflict with sin, 
 proving that if we are not now we once were sold 
 under sin and aliens from God. Job laments this sep- 
 aration between man and the Father by saying there 
 is no daysman between man and God, that He might 
 lay his hand upon both and bring them together. But 
 now Jesus Christ, the true daysman, with one almighty 
 arm, lays hold of falling man, and with the other 
 seizes the throne of God and unites them again. 
 
RELIGION 
 
 NUMBER THREE. 
 
 HfHE Bible anticipates even the thoughts and intents 
 of our hearts. The Spirit, having infinite knowl- 
 edge, foresaw that men born in a land of sin and sor- 
 row, pain and woe, and death, would naturally in- 
 quire the cause of their condition ; therefore, God has 
 told in simple speech the story of the first sinner and 
 the first sin ; for sin alone is the cause of all our suf- 
 fering and our separation from God. Upon this point 
 Isaiah, the prince of prophets, is very clear : "Your 
 iniquities have separated between you and your God, 
 and your sins have hid His face from you that He will 
 not hear." Isa. 59 : 2. So also Paul testifies still 
 more universally : "For as by the disobedience of the 
 one man the many were constituted sinners." (M. E. 
 Lard's translation.) Rom. 5 : 19. Please notice here 
 that they were not actual sinners, but were only con- 
 stituted sinners. They were sinners only as to their 
 constitutions, and even that not by their own acts but 
 by the act of the one man, who was Adam. They, of 
 course, personally, had nothing to do with the con- 
 stitutions with which they were born, which had even 
 then the seeds of death within them. And they were 
 by constitution sinners only so far as to die the death 
 of the body. "As by Adam all die, even so by Christ 
 
198 
 
 SUNBEAMS. 
 
 shall all be made alive/ 7 1 Cor. 15 : 22. The Uni- 
 versalis ts and many others claim that all men were 
 made spiritual sinners in Adam, and, therefore, that 
 all men will be made spiritually alive in Christ. A 
 careful, candid examination of the context will con- 
 vince any man who trembles at the w T ord of God that 
 this is erroneous. Paul continues that verse by say- 
 ing : -"But every man in his own order— Christ the 
 first fruit, afterward they that are Christ's at his com- 
 ing. Christ the first fruit. He then w r as in that 
 death by Adam with all that it means, or else he could 
 not be the first fruit from it ; neither could he be the 
 redeemer of men from that death. When we notice 
 this feature of the case we cannot entertain the 
 thought for a moment that the death in advance is a 
 spiritual one. We cannot think that the immaculate 
 lamb of God was ever dead in trespasses and in sins. 
 Jesus did die the death of the body, on Calvary, and 
 was buried, and did arise the "first fruit" from it — 
 the first-born from the dead among many brethren. 
 This, then, is the death that all men die in Adam, and 
 the same from which they will all be made alive by 
 Christ. They were then constituted sinners that they 
 might die. They were constituted just only so far as 
 to be raised through Christ from the dead. How then, 
 do you ask, do all men die in Adam ? In this way, 
 and in this way only : When Adam and Eve sinned 
 they, by that act, became under the sentence of death 
 and had, as it were, the seeds of death sown in their 
 bodies, therefore, all their posterity must inherit like 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 199 
 
 constitutions from them, even mortal frames, and, be- 
 ing mortal, they must all die. We then have reached 
 clearly the cause of our separation from God. Sin is 
 that cause. The actual commission of sin by the in- 
 dividual. Adam became a sinner for himself when he 
 sinned. So do all his children become sinners when 
 they sin "in the similitude of Adam's transgression." 
 Each one then becomes a sinner for himself alone. 
 But the most solemn thought of all is that "as by 
 Adam all die, even so by Christ shall they be resur- 
 rected or made alive." As they die, even so they 
 will be made whole. If a man goes to the grave sin- 
 ful, even so will he rise from it. If he goes there 
 having woven a robe of white around him in Christ, 
 even so, or exactly so, shall he rise to stand before 
 Christ. How important then that each one flee for 
 refuge to Jesus, for the "Blood of Jesus Christ his son 
 cleanses us from all sin." 
 
FAREWELL. 
 
 JtAREWELL, dear reader ; our journey together, to 
 ^ me, has been a joyous pilgrimage. We have 
 gathered rich bouquets from the vernal fields of earth, 
 and, rising on the wings of thought, wandered away 
 with angels among the starry gems of night ; stood 
 beside the wildly rolling waves of the ocean at even- 
 tide and watched the departing sun tinging the west- 
 ern clouds and rolling waves with its glory — sweet 
 emblem of the christian's death. Far away in the 
 deep solitude of the eternal hills we have seen the 
 sparkling waterfall, with fantastic leap, dash away ; 
 heard the wild bird's scream ; woven delicate garlands 
 of autumn leaves entwined with moss and evergreens ; 
 seen the flash of angels' wings as they came and went 
 on errands of mercy. Together we have stood beside 
 the coffined form of the young and beautiful, and 
 laureled his grave with sweetest wreaths of spotless 
 white, and by faith have seen him rise on the side of 
 victory and eternal life. Now, kind friend, we must 
 part. May it be the unspeakable fortune of both the 
 reader and the author to meet at last in that home of 
 eternal youth to wear the crown of life.