Original Poetry.

Thames Star, Volume XVII, Issue 5155, 25 July 1885, Page 1

Original Poetry.

MILESTONES.

Man's life's a journeys the swift rolling yearßj And milestones on the weary march of Time j And sometimes flagging feet are wont to rest, Beside-the trodden pathway, wet with tears.

Now as I rested thus one summer day, When weary faintness o'er my spirit crept, An angel passing by the pilgrim's way, To my sad spirit spoke, as there I slept.

he cried^ "why doss thou pine and weep? As wearily thy footsteps flag and stay, Take heart; he whom the angels lore to greet Is he whose willing soul ne'er brooks delay. 1'

Now listen while I tell of one who trod, Along this self-same path in humble guise, Whose: spotless spirit found its way to^oa,™" While yet the nioruing star shone in the skies. '* '

His life began in humble poverty, His aching feet o'er many a thorny wayjPress'd wearily, till on this milestone he, Ilis weary head in softest slumber lay.

Then like an angel's mantle o'er him spread, A, heavenly vision to his sight was given. And as he slept, an anger swiftly sped, Oa"pinions light, to raise his soul to Heaven.

And then,- as o'er his weary spirit fell, The influence of that presence, light as air, He heard the Father's voice His servant tell, To keep-his feet from danger's fatal snare.

" Watch thou beside him this and every day, Preserve his soul from deathly error's foil, And keep him safely in the pilgrims way. Nor Jet the dust of earth his garments soil.

Nor let temptation's influence him remove,From duty's pathway; or his spirit pain, But whisper gently of the Father's love, And by sweet words of peace his soul sustain.

T;ll having ended pll his weary toil, And faithfully performed the Father's will, Ye bear his spirit through the gates of pear], To loves pure home, by quiet waters still."

Now when he heard this charge to angels

given, His spiritjfelt no more the weary pain,^ But in a song of gratitude .to Heaven, Spoke forth in accents sweet the angels name.

And thus a guardian angel walks beside, Each pilgrim as he presses on his way, And wbispera words of peace at oven tide, Or breathes a hopeful thought at dawn of day.

Rise! pilgrim! deem it not more hard for

theej ' ":■*.■ .-; Than for the hero of- tny feeble song, Learn this sweet lesson of His love for thee, And bear thy cross till love bestows the crown." - ..••..'

Jhnkt Wken.