Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: Why is it that the groansome loads of Fate Are thrust, not on the shoulders, broad and strong, Of beings swart and big, who daily throng The ways of Life, but on the Souls that late Have staggered, spent and tired, from burdens great, And now deserve the laurel which their long And patient suff'ring earned ? It seems all wrong ! Why cannot Fate attack its size and mate ? Great God !—perhaps it does ; perhaps the weak, Refined and pure, are ablest, after all To bear the thorns and briers that abound In heaven's path ; and when they— aching, meek— Complete the task some obstacle must fall, And Souls of Men advance another round. Cbc Spirit of Cbrtotmas, Again the old, young day that gave to earth The Man embodying the Godliness That's in us all ; again the day we bless For charities and gifts and hours of mirth. But oh, before the year that gave Him birth, The world—that heeded sorrow, knew distress— Possessed its heavenly gift, for nothing less It had in mothers, sisters, wives, whose worth Is scarce conceded. Yet they labor on, Performing miracles whose daily pain Puts death to shame. And when I see them triced On home-made crosses from the dawn to dawn, Enduring all, and less in sun than rain, I say, the world is full of Jesus Christ! ftaöißa ??? ©reat. Mohammed, with a mind God-budded, wise While yet but spring-time's leafy hours he wore, Wed Kadiga, his elder by a score Of years, and she, whose clear pro phetic eyes Saw deep, gave autumn fruits that he might rise ; And she alone a mother's anguish bore, Of all his wives. In later years, while sore With jealousy, Ayesha, false, with sighs, Said, "Kadiga was old, 'twas well she died," But oh his tears re...