Ruth, the Moabitess

EMILY HOUSEHOLDER

To follow Truth, and leave the seeming all
For paths untried in erstwhile alien mead,
And see unlessened plenty from ripe harvest fall,
Annul the law, By sweat of brow shall be thy bread.

To glean with joy from every hope deferred
The precious sheaf of dauntless, patient trust;
To find in every thwarted aim the purpose stored,
Is answered prayer, replete and just;

To bring these treasures to Love's threshing floor,
Where tares nor moth nor mildew e'er can come,
Is garnered substance, full to running o'er,—
Is kingdom, heaven, and home.

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