252 



ARBOR DA Y MANUAL. 



SCRIPTURE SELECTIONS Continued. 



18. A good tree cannot bring forth evil 

 fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring 

 forth good fruit. 



19. Every tree that bringeth not forth 

 good fruit is hewn down, and cast into 

 the fire. 



20. Wherefore by their fruits ye shall 

 know them. 



XII, 33. Either make the tree good, and 

 his fruit good; or else make the tree 

 corrupt, and his fruit corrupt: for the 

 tree is known by his fruit. 



HOSEA. 



IV, 13. My people burn incense upon the 

 hills, under oaks and poplars, and elms 

 because the shadow thereof is good. 



XIV, 6. His branches shall spread, and his 

 beauty shall be as the olive tree. 



JOEL. 



I, 12. The vine is dried up, and the fig tree 

 ianguisheth; the pomegranate tree, the 

 palm tree also, and the apple tree, even 

 all the trees of the field, are withered: 

 because joy is withered away from the 

 sons of men. 



Ill, 



AMOS. 



g. H ' * * Whose height was like the 

 height of the cedars, and he was strong 

 as the oaks. 



ZECHARIAH. 



10. In that day, saith the LORD of hosts, 

 shall ye call every man his neighbor, 

 under the vine and under the fig tree. 



MATTHEW. 



VII, 17. Even so every good tree bringeth 

 forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree 

 bringeth forth evil fruit. 



REVELATIONS. 



II, 7. * * * To him that overcometh 

 will I give to eat of the tree of life, 

 which is in the midst of the paradise of 

 God. 



XXI, 10. And he carried me away in the 

 spirit to a great and high mountain, and 

 showed me that great city, the holy 

 Jerusalem. * * * 



XXII, 2. In the midst of the street of it, 

 and on either side of the river, was 

 there the tree of life, which bare twelve 

 manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit 

 every month; and the leaves of the tree 

 were for the healing of the nations. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 



From the souvenir "Our National Flower," by permission of the publishers, Messrs. L. Prang & Co., Boston. 



1AM the rustic golden rod, 

 I know not pride nor shy reserve; 

 My tasselled plumes so gayly nod 



With freedom's grace in every curve. 



I bloom not when the year is young, 

 And growing day by day more fair, 



But when the autumn chill has flung 

 A sense of winter on the air. 



Then close beside the dusty road, 

 To cheer the humblest passer-by, 



Or in the fields, by harvest load, 



With lusty courage, up spring I. 



And in my honest gold there shines 



The promise sown in freedom's soil; 



No high or low its law defines, 



But lavish crowns the homeliest toil. 



Then let me be the emblem bright 

 Of hope and ptomise to the free, 



And in my pennons read aright 

 The glad fruition that shall be. 



When feudal spring has passed away, 



And monarchs* pomp has fled the earth, 



Then freedom's harvest shall be gay, 



And lowly wayside grace have worth. 

 HOPESTILL GOODWIN. 



