Never to weep.

The song of Azael melted away,
On the solemn midnight's bieath,
I thought of the talents, the oilless lamps--
Oh, Azael, Angel of Death,
I know that ere long thou wilt come for me.
Immanuel, Lord of life,
By Thy victory gained on the bitter cross,
Save in that hour of strife.





Only a Story



Let me tell you a story, dear,
Of someone I saw to-day,
Only a man with a pale worn face,
And auburn locks grown gray,
One, I thought would never again,
Come over my pathway here,
One, I still hope to meet forgiven,
In a better brighter sphere.

Why did you start, he knew me, yes,
A flush as of pain, or pride,