ARBOR DA V MANUAL. 
252 
Scripture Selections —Continued. 
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. 
, AMOS. 
II, 9. * * * Whose height was like the 
height of the cedars, and he was strong 
as the oaks. 
ZECHARIAH. 
III, 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. 
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. 
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 citj', 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. 
1 AM 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 promise 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. 
