MY "PATCH OF BLUE"

There's a bit of sky across the street
Which I have learned to love,
One end of it rests on the housetops high,
The other on the heavens above.
It looks most beautiful at times
And has been such a comfort, too,
That when I look thro' my windowpane,
I call it my "Patch of Blue"

When I think of God's great universe
With it's vast expanse of sky,
And of those that can roam from sea to sea
Without a thought of why
This wonderous joy is given to them
By God so kind and true,
I wonder if the are quite as glad
As I, for the "Patch of Blue."

I call it mine: God's gift to me,
From September until June,
It heals my hurt; it warms my heart;
And I'm sure that very soon
The lesson that it teaches me
Will warm me thro' and thro';
For it seems as though God's blessed smile
Shines thro' my "Patch of Blue."

I've seen it when light, fleecy clouds
Went scurryng 'cross it's face
And made that tiny bit of sky
Look like a bit of lace.
I've also seen the storm clouds burst,
And winds go rushing thro',
But I always knew that once again
I'd see my "Patch of Blue."

I've watched it when the wintery snows
Had hidden it from site,
But I have known full well that soon
It would once more be bright.
Whensunset drops her curtain down,
She turns to golden hue
That little bit of lovely sky
That was my "Patch of Blue."

When I lie upon my bed at night,
With a heart full of pain and fear,
I think of the twinkling stars out there
That shine so bright and clear.
I think of the radiant, glorious moon
Shining the whole night thro',
And I know that the morning sun will bring
Once more my "Patch of Blue."

I've looked across that bit of sky
As the twilight hour drew near.
And thought of one in that "Great Beyond"
Who was to me most dear.
He was such a very little lad,
Only four years old,
When he passed the portals thro'
And he's still waiting for me there
Beyond my "Patch of Blue."

There are other dear ones over there
Whose journey here is o'er.
I shall see them sometime, somewhere,
At rest on the shining shore,
Dear Lord! please help my life to be
So patient, kind and true
That when at last my race is run
I can cross my "Patch of Blue."

And then one day--when I tried to look
I found I could not see.
In my despair I cried aloud,
"O God--it cannot be
That I must never more enjoy
This precious, precious view,
That I must learn to do without
My little "Patch of Blue."

I know not what's in store for me
Of sorrow, joy or pain;
I do not know when I can see
My bit of sky again.
But I'm sure God's love and mercy
Will lead me safely thro',
And in my heart of hearts
He can put a "Patch of Blue."

Oh friend o' mine! Are you shut in?
Does your life seem hard to bear?
Does your heart grow sick with longing
For the joys you once could share?
"I'll go with you," saith the Master,
And his promises are true;
So we're sure that in His blessed arms
We'll find our "Patch of Blue."

Mary Newland Carson

BEAUTIFUL THINGS

Beautiful faces are those that wear--
It matters little if dark or fair--
Whole-souled honesty printed there.

Beautiful eyes are those that show,
Like crystal panes where heartfires glow,
Beautiful thoughts that burn below.

Beautiful lips are those whose words,
Leap from the heart like songs of birds,
Yet whose utterance prudence girds.

Beautiful hands are those that do
Work that is honest and brave and true
Moment by moment the long day through.

Beautiful feet are those that go
On kindly ministries to and fro,
Down lowliest ways, if God wills it so.

Beautiful shoulders are those that bear
Ceaseless burdens of homely care
With patient grace and daily prayer.

Beautiful lives are those that bless
Silent rivers of happiness,
Whose hidden fountains but few may guess.

Beautiful twilight at set of sun,
Beautiful goal with race well won,
Beautiful rest with work well done.

Beautiful graves where grasses creep,
where brown leaves fall, where drifts lie deep
Over worn out hands-oh! beautiful sleep!

Ellen P. Allerton

OUT WHERE THE WEST BEGINS

Out where the handclasp's a little stronger,
Out where the smile dwells a little longer,
That's where the West begins;
Out where the sun is a little brighter,
Where the snows that fall are a trifle whiter,
Where the bonds of home are a wee bit tighter,-
That's where the west begins.

Out where the skies are a trifle bluer,
Out where friendship's a little truer,
That's where the west begins;
Out where a fresher breeze is blowing,
Where there's laughter in every streamlet flowing,
Where there's more of reaping and less of sewing,-
That's where the west begins.

Out where the world is in the making,
Where fewer hearts in despair are aching,
That's where the west begins;
Where tere's more of singing and less of sighing,
Where ther's more of giving and less of buying,
And a man makes friends without half trying,-
That's where the west begins.

Aurther Chapman

A SONG FROM SYLVAN

The little cares that fretted me,
I lost them yesterday
Among the fields above the sea,
Among the winds at play;
Among the lowing herds,
The rustling of the trees,
Among the singing birds,
The humming of the bees.

The fears of what may come to pass,
I cast them all away,
Among the clover scented grass,
Among the newborn hay;
Among the husking of the corn,
Where the drowsy poppies nod,
Where ill thoughts die and good are born,
Out in the fields with God.

Louise Imogen Guiney

Try Smiling

WHEN THE WEATHER suits you not, Try smiling.
When your coffee isn't hot, Try smiling.
When your neighbors don't do right,
Or your relatives all fight,
Sure 'tis hard, but then you might Try smiling.

Doesn't change the things, of course-  Just smiling.
But it cannot make them worse- Just smiling.
And it seems to help your case,
Brightens up a gloomy place,
Then, it sort o' rests your face- Just smiling.

--Unknown