POETRY.
Challenge ages as they pass,— Bunyan's pilgrim, bent of back, With the Avenger on his track, Trembling under Sinai's Mount, Where wrath's rod flame has its fount, Marked with mire from the slough, But with angel's seal on brow, Till beneath the Cross one day Guilt's great burden drops away.
Let the varied scenes unroll That great drama of tho soul Till the pilgrim, faithful found Stands a victor, scarred ani crowned.
Fragile pictures, framed in stone, Grace and truth in symbol shown, Multitudes will pass you by With a casual, careless eye; Shine on, eloquently dumb, Till the man and hour come, Till one day some wanderer, Weary of the stress and stir Of great London's roar and rush, Greets the Abbey's welcome hush ;
Takes,—a refuge from the heat,—
Near you, not by chance, his seat ; Lifts his dim, bewildered eyes Of a sudden with surprise,— There in purple, crimson, gold Glows the ancient Tale re-told I Vivid on tho blazoned pane Faded memories gleam again, Yes a cynic's eyes can swim, When such memories crowd on him,
Yes I that stony heart can melt, Till it feels what once it felt, Till the Borrow long up-pent Under thick-ribbed ice finds
vent, Till the unsealed fount of tears Sweeps away the dust of years, And his heart is soft and mild Like the heart of a little child, For, in spite of hell's disdain, His dead soul is horn again.
Thus through coming ages gleam!
Do thy work, 0 Tinker's dream!
armed against
That that spotless child was ha,—
Spelling from the pictured page Bunyan's tale of pilgrimage ?— There the pilgrim setting out, Face like flint to jeer and flout. Thera the hard-won wicket-gate, There Apollyon crouched in wait, There Faith attack, (Armed in front, but not at back), Hill and Arbour, Vale and Fair, Doubting Castle, grim Despair, Till his weary brows are fanned By soft airs of Beulah Land, Whence the white-haired pil- grim sees The fair City of palm-trees Till he reaches, trial past, All he longed for, safe at last.
CLAUD FIELD.
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