DOMINIE DAY.
" Good-bye." I went back to my dreaming,
Till sofa and firelight were not ; Then silently rose a bright vision A crystalline, glittering grot.
There, mid the crown-jewels of heaven, I saw, wrought in emerald fair
And rubies, the mosses and berries That told a sick saint of God s care.
"These are Hester s," I said very softly; " These are Hester s," one echoing spake ; And so I learned, sleeping, a lesson That brought me true vision awake.
��DOMINIE DAY.
WE old folks remember the day long ago When our minister first trod the aisle Through the wide, open door where the clover ablow Sent its breath sweet and heavy the while.
I remember don t you, Deacon Story? how pale,
How slender and boyish he seemed, And how as he spoke, tinting forehead and cheek,
Earnest blood from his heart shot and gleamed ;
How after the service the elders remained,
And stood over there in the shade Of the sycamores, talking about the new man,
And the call that should not be delayed.
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