THE MIXED CUP.


Joy and sorrow, are they not mingled in every cup? We call some happy,
others unfortunate; and so they appear to us. But could we draw aside
the curtain that conceals the mysteries of the human heart what
problems would be solved, and how often we should be lead to exclaim,
"God dealeth justly: pain and pleasure are more equally distributed
than we imagined"! But this may not be. We judge according to
appearances, and this is one great source of misery; for, in our
grief, we imagine others are more favored than we, and for the
blessings we do enjoy we are not thankful. Oh, the great mercy of God!
What a wonder it is that he does not smite us to the earth when we
dare murmur at his dealings!




I SHALL DEPART.


When the flowers of Summer die,
When the birds of Summer fly,
When the winds of Autumn sigh,
I shall depart.

When the mourning Earth receives
Last of all the faded leaves,--