WHY ? 



REV. M. L. SCHOOLEY. 



The Master came to his garden, 

 Among- his earthly flowers, 



Searching out those the best fitted 

 To plant in Heaven's bowers. 



Some had bloomed in spring-time 



Ere snow had passed away, 

 Others had blossomed in April, 

 • And some were bright in May. 



These were now done with their labor 



Expecting soon to die, 

 And so they wonld never answer 



To transplant up on high. 



But here there is one just budding 

 Small and tender and sweet, 



And there is one lovely blossom, 

 Strong, vigorous, complete. 



So the Master takes his trowel, 

 Loosens the roots with care, 



Removes the brightest to Heaven, 

 And plants them over there. 



How we miss them from the garden 

 We wonder "why" 'tis so: 



That the fair and bright are taken 

 And we are left below. 



But the}' only are transplanted 



That Paradise may be 

 Brighter than gardens of earth-life 



For Angel eyes to see. 



We weep because we shall miss them, 

 Their absence makes us sad, 



But that which pleaseth the Master, 

 Shall ever make us glad. 



