A Lesson

We cannot always be giving ; The woman has come again ; She has such a winning story Of hunger, cold, or pain ; She wearies with petitions - Her Johnny is out of a place, Her children uie sick with honger, I tire of her listless face. Gr rand Philip sat lazily reading; The cfimson gas-liglit shook From a ahade that was ruby-tinted, lts red flakes over his book. I thought that he did not notice ; But suddenly, sweet and low, He said, with the voice of a dreamer, " Don't let the woman go." And then, with his smile so royal, So sweet with pity and pain, He called her into the study, Out of the merciless rain. " Sit down my frieud ; " and he gave her The best chair in the place : And I saw a quick blush brighten Her haggard and listless face. And then, in tonos like music, He sounded her frozen heart, Till the thrill ot a tender question Sundered its ice apart ; And tears and sobs and passion ('ame thick as the midnight rain ; And she told such a pitiful story My owil heart throbbed with pain. " You see," said Philip, softly, " She is greater than you or I ; [Iove, She has struggled and conquered where we, Would maybe sink down and die ; She has fought in the dark, with demons, With evil on every side ; And Satan hath tried to strip her Even of her wonianly pride. " Love, let us be very tender ; The lowliest soul may be A temple of pnceless treasures, That only a God can see." So the woman leit our study With the face of an angel of ligiit ; And she is my noblest pattern Who carne as a beggar that uight.