A PAGE OF FUGITIVE VERSE. GATHERED HERE AND THERE.

"HOME TO-NIGHT."
The lessons are done, and the prizes won,
And the counted weeks are past;
Oh the holiday joys of the girls and boys
Who are "home to-night" at last!
Oh the ringing beat of the springing feet
As into the hall they rush!

Oh the tender bliss of the first home kiss,
With its moment of fervent hush,
So much to tell and hear as well,

As they gather around the glow!
Who would not part for the joy of heart
That only the parted can know—
At home to-night!

But all have not met, there are travelers yet
Speeding along through the dark,

By tunnel and bridge, past river and ridge,
To the distant yet nearing mark.

But hearts are warm, for the winter storm
Has never had a chill for love;

And faces are bright in the flickering light
Of the small, dim lamp above.

And voices of gladness rise o'er the madness
Of the whirl and the rush and the roar,
For rapids are strong, it bears them along
To a home and an open door-
Yes, home to-night!

Oh home to-night, yes, home to-night,
Through the pearly gate and the open door,
Some happy feet on the golden street

Are entering now to "go out no more." For the work is done, and the rest begun, And the training time is forever past, And the home of rest in the mansion blest Is safely, joyously reached at last. Oh the love and light in that home to-night! Oh the songs of bliss and the harps of gold! Oh the glory shed on the new-crowned head!

Oh the telling of love that can never be told-Oh the welcome that waits at the shining gates For those who are following far, yet near, When all shall meet at His glorious feet In the light and love of his home'so dear! Yes, "home to-night." -Frances Ridley Havergal.

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THE BABY I LOVE.

This is the baby I love!

The baby that cannot talk;

The baby that cannot walk;

The baby that just begins to creep;

The baby that's cuddled and rocked to sleep;

O, this is the baby I love!

This is the baby I love!

The baby that's never cross;

The baby that papa can toss;

The baby that crows when held aloft;
The baby that's rosy and round and soft!
O, this is the baby I love!

This is the baby I love!

The baby that laughs when I peep
To see is it asleep;

The baby that coos and frowns and blinks
When left alone-as it sometimes thinks;
O, this is the baby I love!

This is the baby I love!

The baby that lies on my knee
And dimples and smiles at me

While I strip it, and bathe it, and kiss it-O!
Till with bathing and kissing 'tis all aglow;
Yes, this is the baby I love!
This is the baby I love!
The baby all freshly dressed;
That waking is never at rest;

For the nice warm breakfast that waits it close
O, this is the baby I love!

This is the baby I love!
The baby that tries to talk;
The baby that tries to walk;

And O! its mamma will wake some day
To find that her baby has-run away!
My baby-the baby I love!
-Unidentified.

GOING OUT AND COMING IN.
Going out to buy us clothing,
Going out, the bills to pay;
Coming in so very slowly,

Coming in each working day;
Going out from us so easy,
Coming in, so hard to win,
Ceaseless stream of little pennies
Going out and coming in.
Through the many wants of home-life,
From beneath our humble cot;

To the butcher and the baker
Where the meat and bread are bought.
From the old and much-worn wallet,
To the cruel world of greed;
Going out with sighs and sadness,

To supply each family need.
Through the wants that crowd us daily,
Through the bills that must be met,
Through the many needs of children,
Where the family's growing yet;
To the busy world about us,

With its heartless woe and sin,
Restless stream of little pennies,
Rushing out into the din.

Coming back so very slowly,

Though we try to toil and save;
Coming to the dear old homestead,
Coming in to keep us brave;
Weary, are we very often,

Weary, when we try to win,
From the world the little pennies,
Which are slow in coming in.
Going out to pay the taxes,

Coming in our hearts to cheer;
Going out to pay for schooling,
Coming in to family dear;
Ceaseless stream of little pennies,
Which we find so hard to win,
From the doorways of the homestead,
Going out and coming in.

-Portland Transcript.

BACK TO THE OLD HOME ONCE
MORE.

In the golden glow of the setting sun

There it lay, nestled down by a hill;
The soft, gray shadows fell here and there
On green meadow and running rill.

I saw the fields of golden grain ;
I heard the caws and song of bird;

But at the door where the hollyhocks grew
I heard no welcoming word.

I strayed out in the orchard fair;
Old trees stretched their arms to me,
As if they would say, we remember you well,
And they whispered these words to me :
Have you back the hopes of youth?

Are your castles peopled with life?
Is your heart as brave and full of glee?
Were no dreams crushed out in the strife?

Yes, I shall sleep, so he sunny day,
When blossoms of the wind are dancing,
And winds at their cheerful play
Heed not the mournful crowd advancing.
Up through the long and busy street
They'll bear me to my last retreat.

Or else it matters not-may rave
The storm and sleet and wintry weather
Above the bleak and new-made grave,
Where care and I lie down together.
Enough that I shall know it not,
Beneath in that dark, narrow spot.

Oh, sweet repose! Oh, slumber blest!
Oh, night of peace!—no storm, no sorrow—
No heavy stirring in my rest,

To meet another weary morrow;
I shall note no night or dawn,

But still, with folded hands, sleep on.

Then weep not, friends, what time ye lay
The cold, moist earth above my ashes;
Think what a rest awaits my clay,
And smooth the mound with tearless lashes,
Glad that the wasted form within

Has done at length with care and sin.

Think that with her the strife is o'er

Life's stormy, struggling battle ended; Hope that her soul has gained that shore To which, though weak, her footsteps tended; Breathe dear hope above her sod, And leave her to her rest-and God.

-Unidentified.

"JUST FOR TO-DAY." "Lord! for to-morrow and its needs I do not pray,

Keep me, my God, from stain of sin Just for to-day.

"Let me both diligently work
And duly pray;

Let me be kind in word and deed
Just for to-day.

"Let me no wrong or idle word
Unthinking say,
Set thou a seal upon my lips
Just for to-day.
"Let me in season, Lord, be grave,
In season gay;
Let me be faithful to Thy grace
Just for to-day.
"And if to-day my life

Should ebb away,
Give me Thy sacraments divine,
Dear Lord, to-day.

"So for to-morrow and its needs
I do not pray,
But keep me, guide me, love me Lord
Just for to-day."

-Unidentified

UNIV. OF MICHIGAN,

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