On The Mountain Top.

Did not your spirits soar on high . Toward the pure sky above 1 Did ye not drink a deeper draught . From springs of deathless love 1 Did Faith , and Hope , and Charity Speak of their height and and breadth ,

SAvept by no thoughts that bore you past The floods of time and death 1 The sun sinks in the gloAving West , As doAvn the mountain slope , The festive bands UOAV take their way , With words of cheer and hope .

Each bore a scrap of granite rough , A relic of the day , When Nevada sent three hundred sons On her mountain top to pray .

The Sprig Of Acacia.

THE SPRIG OF ACACIA .

BY BRO . EEV . AVILLIAM TEBBS . SADLY , in the growing dusk , do the blossoms of the Acacia fall around me as I stretch forth my hand to pluck the sprig hanging by a mere shred of bark to the branch that gave it birth ; sorrowful ' are

the associations that croAvd through my mind as the snowy petals shower over me , for they speak to me of a life running rapidly to its close . Eagerly did I Avatch in their first shooting forth these beauteous products of

nature's hand ; and many aud many a time did I reckon on enjoying their fragrant loveliness—but a feAV short days and they have done their allotted work , and are now hastening to decay . And here , as 1 stand , beneath the

falling bloom , I muse upon my OAvn career , What a little Avhile it seems to me noAv , that I was only budding into being , and giving sAveet promise of a life , fragrant with good Avotks , to those who gave me existence , and Avho nurtured my tender youth . Where are they 1 Returnedlike

, these blossoms , to their mother-earth ! And TJ Well , hurrying to follow in ' their footsteps ! And Avhere is the fragrance of good that I promised in my early youth 1 Well nigh past and gone ! And whither ? Well ! Avhere is the fragrance of these

tender blossoms gone 1 Only God knoAvs this ! and only He , the other ! But of this I am assured , that each , if it shall have ever had existence , has done its Avork , and shall in no-wise be forgotten .

As thus pensively I muse , the sweet scent of a blossom hanging yet late upon its bough steals over my senses , and Avith it crowd into my mind ' s eye mental visions of a dim and distant past . I seem to behold a mother Avatching by the cradle of

her infant son—the only treasure that is left her now that her husband has been called to his rest—and tenderly she trims the infant ' s couch Avith the self-same boughs aud blossoms that have decked his father ' s tomb , and as the scent of the

dying flowers ascends , so , together Avith it , goes up that mother ' s prayers for the orphan ' s future good to the Father of the Fatherless and the lone vridow ' s Friend . One of these slips , I see , takes root , and as it grows and increases in age and size ,

so groAvs that little one in stature , increasing daily in goodly knoAvledge and fair Avisdom . Time speeds on . The sli p becomes a sapling , the sapilirig a tree ; the child a youth , the youth becomes a man ; and ere the widowed mother dies , none can excel , in all proud Tyre ' s fair cit y , the AvidoAv ' s son .

Swiftly Avmgs my mind on its onward course , and I behold young Hiram idolised by his felloAvs , and rapidly advanced by his monarch to one post of honour after another , until his kingly namesake sends him to exercise his craft in building , for a neighbouring rulera Temple for the Most

, High . The Temple is completed and dedicated , and the youthful architect is just reaping the Avell-merited reivard of his labour , bestoAved by the gracious favour of the brother monarchs , Avhen he revisits the home of his childhood and his father ' s

grave . Before he goes he snatches ' from the tree , which has groAvn with his growth , one little branch as a memento of bygone times , and then he Avends his way halfsorrowing , half-rejoicing , to the triumph of his art . Scarcely has he entered its portals Avhen he is hiddenby certain of

, his envious felloivs , to share Avith them Ins mystic recompense . Faithful to his trust he refuses , and rather gives back , into his Heavenly Father ' s hand , his life , than sully by a traitorous act—his rectitude of soul . Refusal brings death death to his

; coAvardly assailants , the necessity of concealment ; and the Sprig of Acacia , p lucked from the father ' s tomb , marks the unhalloAved grave of the murdered son .