[Written for the Sentinel.]


Oh, seeker after happiness,
Ploughing life's fallow field,

Oh, sow you weal, or sow you woe,
What harvest shall it yield?

If 'tis for sensuous joys, life's fruits
You've pressed and gaily quaffed,

'Tis yours to drink the embittered dregs,
Instead of joy's pure draught!

Oh, plant in yearning hearts' fair soil
The seed of noble aims,

Let Love's sweet purpose find its growth,
Dispel unworthy claims.

Then pluck the choicest blossoms there,
And lay them at the feet

That seeking chance to pass your way;
'T will usage sweet!

And when denuded, stripped of all,
Your eager, helpful thought

Has fed this brother's starving soul,
For self reserving naught,

Receive in the pure love that beams
In his illumined eye,

The thanks of God for serving Him,
And blessings from on high.

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Wednesday Evening Meeting in Concord
July 8, 1905

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