November 6

To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna.

SHE had thought too little of self, always, for anything to have grown up in her that could turn, now, to an instant misery. She had seen, for a moment, a thing that might have been. Only, it was not; and that was enough for her. That which was not given was as if it were out of the world for her; except that nothing was out of her world, or wholly refused her, into which she could enter with that wide spirit-apprehension which is the genius for living all life. It is the meekness to which nothing is denied; which blessedly inherits the earth.

Not that this nature of hers was cold, inert, incapable of fire or passion: it would only never burn in upon itself; it was that divinely touched temperament, to which all fulness is possible, but which can wait, finding such fulness in the daily Will and Gift; feeling the wealth also out of which the daily gift comes; feeding upon grains that drop from an exhaustless storehouse.

ADELINE D. TRAIN WHITNEY

A CHARACTER

The redeemed shall walk there.

THERE is a way of peace that leads Through bordered fields and quiet meads; Those greenest meadows shepherds keep, Abiding 'mid their watered sheep.

No evil beast may pass that way, Thence never pilgrims' footsteps stray; But God's redeemed, with happy feet, Press on, their nearing joy to meet.

For still they see beyond them far A light that shineth as a star, A glory 'twixt the gates of gold, A gleam as when white wings unfold.

Lo, now the sounds of harping rare Slow falling through the upper air; The perfumed air, with sweetness fed More fine than whitest lily-bed.

Oh, thither fain my feet would go; My lips would sing the song they know, Who, crowned with joy, to Zion press Along the path of lowliness:

Until,—as fades across the bay The moon's broad track at break of day,— The shining path by pilgrims trod Ends in full presence of their God.