Waiting

588 IMPROVEMENT ERA.

but at the present writing, very little is known to the public of the schemes and doings of the little band of country-loving men who worked and planned, and kept their secret plots so well to themselves. Harald Einersen might, if he would, tell it all; but it is very doubtful if more than is simply hinted at in this narrative will ever be given to the world, at least by the one man who was the chief worker, the life and spirit of the movement, and whose withdrawal from it marked the ruins of its progress. There can be no doubt that on some future day, the Norwe- gians will form a republic, patterned after the great republic of America. That will come when the time is fully ripe for it.

Then, perhaps, the seed sown by Harald Einersen and his associates will bring returns. What he and his friends accomplished, in and around the city of Akerby, no man can yet say. Time alone will tell; but to this day certain intimate friends of Harald Einersen sadly bewail their loss, and have only anathemas for the fate that broke into their ranks and took him away —their leading spirit.

WAITING.

FOR THE ERA, BY LYDIA D. ALDER.

'They also serve, who only stand and wait."

Lord Jesus, here I stand and wait, Close by the entrance — at the gate; 0, am I not forever thine? Some little task to me assign! My brothers pass with pomp and show, Apparelled grandly as they go; But here I am who wait for thee, Lord praying that thou'lt think of me.

See! servants come and servants go, Who wait thy word, though whispered low; But I am waiting, waiting too, For something thou would'st have me do. I do not speak, I only wait, Till evening's shadows prove 'tis late;

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Long since, my friends who wait on thee, Have passed me by, nor could they see

Why so I trembled as I stood "Must be, he is not very good;" Yet 0, my Savior, thou dost know, I love thee well and listen so,

To hear thy voice but say to me, "Come now," how joyous would I be, Leave all behind and follow thee; So longs my soul thy face to see.

And still I wait thy gracious call, My God, Redeemer, and my all. I have no fear, though night winds blow, Thy voice I'm sure I'd quickly know. And then my heart so glad would be, To near thee be continually. Lo! strangers pass me by in scorn, And wonder I was ever born.

I heed them not, I wait for thee; When weary, often bend the knee; I know with thee is warmth and light, All radiance there, all things are bright. And so I wait thy faintest call, To serve thee, though 'twere something small; I do not mind the thoughtless tone

That pierces me, e'en from my own.

I long to hear thy gentle voice, So here I wait and much rejoice; Though not to me, the words are said, I know thou liv'st, thou art not dead.

Some day, while passing by this way, I feel thou'lt see me and will say: "Beloved, I have need of thee; Go feed my lambs, they cry for me. I know thy patience waiting long;

Now sing thy great Redeemer's song, And know, they serve who only wait, Close standing by the entrance gate."