True life is progressive, my lady fair,
And thou wilt re-open those radiant eyes;
Think you that I have no burden of care,
Azael has to account for each prize.
Banish doubt, gentle one.
Quicksands and pitfalls for thee are all done;
Human love may ere long deceive thee,
But Azael's love will never leave thee
Till those earth-dim eyes
Look on Paradise,
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,
Pass'd swiftly o'er the pale stern face,
And the high white forehead dyed,
I heard the roll of carriage wheels,
Unthinkingly raised my eyes,
One glance flashed out beneatt thosee Brows,
Like lightening across the skies.
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