BEAUTIFUL, HAPPY, AND BELOVED.

      WOULDST thou be beautiful? 
  Ah, then, be pure! be pure!  An angel’s face
    Is the transparent mirror of her soul. 
  If ghastly guilt on fairest brows you trace,
    Then do you hear the knell of beauty toll. 
  Let Purity her seal on thee impress,
    And thine shall be angelic loveliness. 
      The pure are beautiful.

      Wouldst thou be dearly loved? 
  Then love, love truly all that God has made;
    For by His name of love is He best known. 
  No damp distrust be on thy spirit laid;
    And let affection’s words and deeds be one. 
  Thy soul’s warm fountain shall not gush in vain;
    From Love’s deep source it shall be filled again;
      For they who love, are loved.

      And wouldst thou happy be? 
  Then make the truth thy talisman, thy guide. 
    Be truth the stone in all thy jewels set. 
  Into thy heart its opal-light shall glide,
    And guide thee where are happier spirits yet. 
  For these three rays are in the shining crown: 
    The seraph by the Throne of Light lays down,
      Truth, Love, and Purity.

“EVERY CLOUD HAS A SILVER LINING.”

WHAT! can this be true in this dark world of ours, where the thick clouds of sorrow, disappointed hopes, and bereavements are continually hanging over us, obscuring even the bright star of hope; where upon every passing breeze is borne deep wailings of woe, bitter sighs ascending from bruised and broken hearts mourning over lost hopes, crushed affections, wasted love; struggling vainly for victory in the fierce battle of life; groping about in darkness to catch, if possible, one gleam of sunlight from the heavy clouds—­but in vain?

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”  Another shrine robbed of its idol; another hearth left desolate.  See, how the black clouds settle down and press more closely around that lonely widowed one.  Grim Death mocks at his grief from the open grave, so soon to receive his heart’s idol.  Ay, remove the coffin lid; gaze with all the agonizing bitterness of a last look upon that cold marble face; was aught on earth so lovely?  Kiss for the last time the pure forehead.  Ah! those pale white lips give back no answering pressure of love; sealed for ever by that last chilling blast from the cold river.

And now the damp earth presses heavily over that cherished form; far down in the darkness and silence of the grave must the loved one remain, never more to cheer by her gentle words of love and kindness, the heart of him who so needed her sympathy and love.  Gone, gone for ever.

What on earth is now beautiful or bright since the dearest, best treasure is removed?  Oh, no! there can be no bright spot in affliction like this; there can be no bright ray to gild this night of sorrow.

Ah! thou erring mortal, repine not.  The all-wise Father knew thy frail heart, saw thy whole life and soul bound up in that one creature, weak and sinful like thyself; forgetful of the Creator; and wilt thou dare raise thy feeble voice against the Almighty when He removed the idol that He alone may reign?  Wilt thou not bow meekly, kiss the rod, and accept the bitter cup of bereavement, offered as it is in mercy?