THE BAGGAGE-WAGON.
Scaring the timid sailors back, To harbors safer flying.
At last an angel softly came
Came with a simple story, Bidding the pilgrims either side
Walk upward, facing glory.
Then as they skyward took their way*
Still seeking wisdom higher, The river seemed again a rill,
The banks each side drew nigher, Till friendly faces looked across,
And parted hands clasped over The tiny fountain bubbling up
Between the heads of clover.
Then hand in hand the pilgrims went Up to the Gate of Glory ;
^ School and New told to the King At last the self-same story.
��THE BAGGAGE-WAGON.
IN from the ferry s pulsing door, In by the railroad-gate, Comes all day long the baggage home, Mighty in size and weight.
Trunks with their canvas quite unfurled, Boxes in woeful trim,
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