OCTOBER

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Oct 23, 1879

Upon the brown and far-off hills The haze lies soft and blue, While nuts are dropping thick and fast Where summer wild flowers grew.

The maple's gold and crimson leaves Like blood-stained banners gleam— And purple asters ope their bloom Beside each forest stream.

The woods like some grand temple stand Beneath the glowing skies, While down the long dim aisles the haze Like slumbering incense lies.

No organ's deep majestic notes Come pealing on the air— No choral strain triumphant floats Along these arches fair—

No voice is heard—no sound, save but The brooklets rippling flow, Or whistling quail in covert thick, Where scarlet berries grow.

Perchance some frightened rabbit's tread May wake an echo there, Or drowsy hum of honey bee Fall on the dreamy air.

The sunflower and the golden rod Their gaudy hues unfold, And seem as if some midas-touch Had changed them into gold.

The grapes in purple clusters hang Upon the clinging vine, And in the orchard, 'mid the leaves, The ruby apples shine.

But through the forest, o'er the hills A voice comes whispering low— It murmurs of the wintry winds And of the falling snow.

The crimsoned leaves to earth must fall, And breezes o'er them sigh— O! sad it seems that aught so fair Should ever fade or die.

We read on every falling leaf This lesson most sublime, That resurrection's holy power Shall triumph over time.

For though the summer flower may fade, The spring with sun and rain Shall call them from the hill and vale To bud and bloom again. —Selected.