IN MEMORY OF JOSEPH DUNCAN PUTXAM. 



(ON RECEr\"ING A PICTURE.) 



Thy gentle, thoughtful face is good to look on, 



For, like an open window in a mansion 



Finely set, it bids me gaze far out 



On the wide fields of nature's busy life. 



Some faces are but rents in the blank wall 



Of the unknown : rough openings 



Into darkness, into doubt: while others 



Are quick conjurers of evil and of hate: 



Giving glimpses into regions of distress 



And torment dire. 



Thanks for a face so kindly fair. 



That opens in the minds of other men 



A windoft' towards the beauty of God's world. 



More than thine eyes we see, for through them 



We behold the things they love to look on. 



Threading the maze of myriad insect life, 



We follow thy quick sight and loving ear. 



To note the ways of nature's tiniest children. 



And perceive the little industries that thrive 



In every nook and cranny of the earth, 



Filling it full of interest. 



To know thee is to know much more 



Of wisdom and of goodness in the 



Universal plan. 



Looking at thee, I'm minded to behold 



Something that is not merely love of nature 



In her charming, changing forms. 



My vision travels on around the world 



Of happy, wholesome interests, that nature 



And her sciences afford. I catch the hum 



Of busy thought, that rises from the many 



Hivee of scientific lore, spread through the land. 



And watch the earnest workers come and go. 



Busily laden with delights fresh culled 



From truth's sweet opening flowers; 



And I reflect that truth in one. 



The universal scientist I see, 



The love of lowly, natural truth 



Joined with the truths of spirit and of life. 



As the dear Christ had set in the vain midst 



Of aged superstitions, 



A wondering child-love of the simple truth, 



A clear-eyed vision of his lovely world. 



And plainly said, "Of such the kingdom is;" 



For all is safety in the love of truth, 



Which cleanses from all guile. 



Like a great mountain stream, that takes its rise 



Far above all, and flowing down 



In its resistless might, washes the lowest vale. 



Even so the baptism of the Spirit of Truth, 



Down-streaming, purifies the natural mind 



To see the deepest things of God, 



Ard work His utmost will. 



— L. M. F. 

 Jacksonville, 111. 



