CHORUS.

  O silvery strand, thou soft kiss of time,
    The beauties of youth are now past, are now past. 
  For evening of life are pleasures unknown,
    ’Tis love, only love, that will last, that will last.

Upon the shadowy threshold the small gray strand did lay,
And told the old, old story of ever changing day;
Within the mystic portals of life’s near ending stream
I stood and pondered vaguely, if death were but a dream.

I viewed the snow-white message and thought of bygone years,
The hopes, the waging conflicts, joys mingled oft’ with tears. 
Tell me, thou thing of pearl hue, what will the future greet? 
Will paths be strewn with roses, or thistles tear my feet?

A whisper floated near me in accents sweet and low,
“My child, what’er thy portion, if tares for thee will grow,
Thy soul keep pure and stainless, a crown thy brow shall wear,
’Twill shine with whitest tresses, that once was nut-brown hair.”

Life’s Curtain Unrolled.

Glad boyish voices with merriment ring,
Two children with nought, as gayly they sing
Of burdensome care, their hearts as the bird
To mountains oft’ soar in freedom, unstirred
By future, and what it furtively brings
Of pleasures, or grief, or life’s bitter stings. 
The shadowed cross e’er failing to see,
Thoughts flitting as bubbles on oft’ changing sea.

From childhood spring youths with fair open brows,
Surrounded by all earth ever allows
Of conquering fame, while life’s deepest charm
They sip from the fount of love’s laden balm. 
Of treasures untold to reap they aspire,
At vanity’s fair rich harvests acquire,
Over this vision in mystery toss,
A shadow that lifts, unveiling a cross.

In wonder they gaze at spectre so white,
As softly it beams in silvery light,
’Mid silence it pleads—­they pause all aghast—­
’Tis Jesus who calls, His Cross in their path,
Cross misty with tears, with sacrifice fraught,
While deeply inlaid with sorrows ’tis wrought,
Divided from world by widening stream
It leadeth through pain earth’s conquests a gleam.

Shall I?  Shall I not?  Self-questioned each youth,
Take up this Cross all laden with truth? 
Shall lingering fear of poverty’s vale,
The scoffing of friends if honors should fail,
Bar us accepting a promise of love
By way of the Cross—­the gift from above? 
Silently each life’s curtain unfurled,
One bends to his Cross, one flees to the world.

Two pictures are drawn on life’s beaten page,
The faces once seen have ripened with age;
The purpose of each, their loved ones a dower,
And conflicts of life are wielding with power. 
Surfeited was one with all earthly lusts,
His soul he’ed surrendered to prince of earth’s trusts;
One bearing a Cross, e’er toiling for right,
Walking with Jesus in spirit waxed bright.