The blossoms white of a fair dawning spring.

Yet Victor Roy has a kindly word,
And a kindly smile for all he meets;
No cry of distress is by him unheard,
While many a blessing his pathway greets.

"Yes, that's right Jasper, draw the curtains close,
And make the fire burn bright;
God help the poor and suffering ones
Within this city to-night.
Did your wife send food to that sick girl in the market lane to-day?
Did you carry coals to the man whose limbs were crushed by the loaded
dray?
Well, that's all right, what is it you say? you wish that I did but know
The comfort I give to hearts that are weak, or erring or low.
Have you turned lecturer, Jasper? no; but it makes you sad,
To see me lonely and quiet when I'm making others glad.
But Jasper, remember that you and I, hold certain things in trust,
We must gain some interest on our gold, not let it lie and rust.
I am but a steward for the King, till the time of his return,
There, that will do, supper at ten; how bright those fresh coals burn."
Poor Jasper, he thinks me moping and sad; well, well, I only know
I do not wish that he or aught should ever consider me so,
It would seem like base ingratitude to the Ruler of my way,
Who showers His blessings about and around me every day.
But oh, Great Architect, whose hand has carved my destiny,
There was a time when in my pride, I owned not Thine nor Thee,
Unheeding the Holy Light Divine to man's dark pathway sent,
Unheeding the Bible, blessed chart, to storm tossed sailors sent;