'HOW few who, from their youthful day, Look on to what their life may be; Painting the visions of the way In colors soft and bright and free; How few who to such paths have brought The hopes and dreams of early thought! For GOD, through ways they have not known, Will lead HIS own.
'The eager hearts, the soul of fire, Who pant to toil for GOD and man; And view with eyes of keen desire The upland way of toil and pain; Almost with scorn they think of rest, Of holy calm, of tranquil breast, But GOD, through ways they have not known, Will lead them home.
'A lowlier task on them is laid-- With love to make the labor light; And there their beauty they must shed On quiet homes and lost to sight. Changed are their visions high and fair, Yet calm and still they labor there; For GOD, through ways they have not known, Will lead HIS own.
'The gentle heart that thinks with pain, It scarce can lowliest tasks fulfil; And if it dared its life to scan, Would ask but pathway low and still; Often such lowly heart is brought To act with power beyond its thought: For GOD, through ways they have not known, Will lead HIS own.
'And they, the bright, who long to prove, In joyous path, in cloudless lot, How fresh from earth their grateful love Can spring without a stain or spot-- Often such youthful heart is given The path of grief, to walk in Heaven: For GOD, through ways they have not known. Will lead HIS own.
'What matter what the path shall be? The end is clear and bright to view; We know that we a strength shall see, Whate'er the day may bring to do. We see the end, the house of GOD, But not the path to that abode; For GOD, through ways they have not known, Will lead HIS own.'
These fervent lines are 'poetry.' * * * Mr. CHARLES L. ELLIOTT, the eminent portrait-painter, was safely delivered of the subjoined remark, at a quarter to four of the clock, on the afternoon of February the twenty-second, while crossing the Hudson River. He commenced as follows: said he: The epitaphs which you quote in a late number of the KNICKERBOCKER, remind me of a _verbal_ one which my father once heard. An old fellow, a coarse, ill-grained Dutchman, died one day. He was a disagreeable man, and a bad neighbor: even the children feared and disliked him. One of his neighbors asked him just before his death, if he was ready to go, to which he answered: 'Yes.' 'Well,' was the rejoinder, 'if you are willing to die yourself, all your neighbors are willing you should.' At the grave, even, there was no one to say a good word for him, except one good-hearted old German, who remarked, as he turned away to go home: '_Well, he vas a goot shmoker!_'' This was the 'shmoker's only epitaph. * * * A FRIEND mentioned to us the other evening an amusing example of '_A Dutchman's Reliance on Providence_.' There had been a great drought in the county of Columbia: no rain had fallen for the space of two or three months; and all the upland fields were parched and dry: insomuch that great fears were entertained that there would be an utter failure of the usual crops. In this extremity, a meeting was called of all devout citizens of that particular 'rural district,' to offer up _Prayers for Rain_ to the 'LORD of the Harvest.' One honest old Dutchman who had a large farm, stated _his_ 'views' to the meeting in this way: 'Dere ish some vields along der hills dere, dat ish pooty dry: I wis you bray for some rain on _dem_: but you needn't bray for any mores vater on der moisht black ground under der hills dere; 'cause corn _moosht_ grow on _dem_ vields any how!' The 'argument' was effective! * * * AMONG the _Public Lecturers of the Season_ we may mention the name of our correspondent, and country neighbor, Mr. WILLIAM WIRT SIKES. His lectures are upon attractive themes, are well written, and he delivers them with entire effect. The subjects of four, which we have seen mentioned, are: '_The Beautiful_,' '_William Wirt_,' '_The Noble Life_,' '_Insanity_.' Mr. SIKES' address is, Nyack on the Hudson. * * * '_A Conundrum by Induction_,' must have cost a good deal of hard work to make: