SNOWBOUND

O Time and Change!-with hair as gray
As was my sire's that winter day,

How strange it seems with so much gone
Of life and love, to still live on!
Ah, brother! only I and thou
Are left of all that circle now,-
The dear home faces whereupon
That fitful firelight paled and shone.
Henceforward, listen as we will,
The voices of that hearth are still;
Look where we may the wide earth o'er
Those lighted faces smile no more.
We tread the paths their feet have worn,
We sit beneath their orchard trees,
We hear, like them, the hum of bees
And rustle of the bladed corn;

We turn the pages that they read,
Their written words we linger o'er,
But in the sun they cast no shade,
No voice is heard, no sign is made,
No step is on the conscious floor!

Yet Love will dream, and Faith will trust
(Since He who knows our needs is just)
That somehow, somewhere, meet we must.
Alas for him who never sees

The stars shine through his cypress trees! Who, hopeless, lays his dead away,

Nor looks to see the breaking day,

Across the mournful marbles play!
Who hath not learned in hours of faith,
The truth to flesh and sense unknown,
That life is ever lord of Death,

And Love can never lose its own!

By permission

Houghton Mifflin Company.

Whittier.

WHAT WAS HIS CREED?

"Religion relates to life, and the life of religion is to do good."— Swedenborg.

He left a load of anthracite

In front of a poor woman's door

When the deep snow, frozen and white,

Wrapped street and square, mountain and moor.

That was his deed; he did it well.
What was his creed? I cannot tell.

"Blessed in his basket and his store"
In sitting down and rising up
The more he got, the more he gave,

Withholding not the crust and cup.
He took the lead in each good task
What was his creed? I do not ask.

His charity was like the snow

Soft, white and silent as its fall
Not like the noisy winds that blow
From shivering trees the leaves a pall

For flowers and weed drooping below,
What was his creed?

The poor may know.

He had great faith in loaves of bread,
For hungry people, young and old,
Hope he inspired; kind words he said

To those he sheltered from the cold.
For we should feed as well as pray,
What was his creed? I cannot say.

In words he did not put his trust

His faith in words he never writ,
He loved to share his cup and crust
With all mankind who needed it.
In time of need a friend was he.
What was his creed? He told not me.

He put his faith in goodness, and he
Worked well with hand and head,
And what he gave in charity

Sweetened his sleep and daily bread.
Let us take heed, for life is brief.

What was his creed? What's his belief?

Author unknown.

REMEMBER

You do not have to fight-
You do not have to struggle-

You only have to know.

Author unknown.