Back to the Farm

A MISSIONARY'S LAST LETTER 783 I am well, and send Aloha to all of you. Write me again soon, and tell me how you feel toward the work of the Lord. There is a song that asks, "Shall the youth of Zion falter?" and the answer is, "No." Joseph, the youth of Zion will, at no distant date, be God's servants in helping to guide the greatest organization under the heavens; and they have got to prepare now, to do it tomorrow will be too late. The Lord bless you, my brother. With much love, (Signed) Lester. Back to the Farm (Selected) "Back to the farm," said the city man, as he sat in his office drear, "Back where the purple violets bloom in the springtime of the year, Where sweeter than perfumes of the East, sweeter than musk and myrrh, Comes the spicy scent of the sassafras, of the spruce and pine and fir." He closed his eyes in ecstasy, and he let his fancy roam ; 'Back to the farm— the dear old farm— back to my boyhood home! Where the days are dreamy and long and sweet, and the nights are cool and still, And over the field at twilight comes the call of a whippoorwill. "The roses twine 'round the rustic gate, and clamber over the wall, And the ground is white with a summer snow when their perfumed petals fall- In an apple tree in the orchard old, a bluebird makes her nest, And her baby birds are lulled to sleep by the breezes from the West. Away — away from these crowded streets — away from the haunts of men I Back to the farm— the dear old farm— to my boyhood home again! My heart still yearns for those gardens quaint— for the deep and placid pool — ..„ For the silv'ry brook, green-banked with moss, in the forest dark and cool ! So he hied him back, did the city man, back to the dear old farm, To walk in the paths of peace profound, in the Land of Lingering Charm. The roses nodded a welcome home, and the bluebird sang with joy, And his mother wept in happiness on the shoulders of her boy, Oh, sweet was the song of the thrush at dawn, ere the sun peeped over the hills, . ... And sweet was the sky, undimmed with smoke from factories and mills ; Sweet was the breeze from the fragrant pines, and sweet was the clovei And swe'e'Twas the call of the glad Bob White, in the evening calm and gloom. They filled his soul with a wondrous joy, increasing day by day; His cold eyes learned to smile again, and his set lips learned to pray. And harshness dropped, like a mask uncouth, from the heart that men had known In his city days and city ways to be hard as flinty stone. He lost his greed for the world's bright gold, and the Thmg that is called But he found,' instead, that coveted possession, Happiness. And far from the strife of city life, on the little, old-fashioned farm, He walks in the paths of peace profound, in the Land of Lingering Charm. — Lydia M. Dunham O Neil.