A THOUGHT FROM THE ARBUTUS.
By Augusta W. Heald
IN the hillside garden there is a small plot of trailing arbutus, which, transplanted from its native wildwood, has taken root and is flourishing in its new surroundings. Last autumn great clusters of thrifty buds could be seen hiding beneath the rough, green leaves. There, warmly covered by deep snows, the closely folded buds slumber, unharmed by chilling, wintry winds. When soon the warm breath of Spring breaks cold Winter's icy reign, the delicate petals will unfold their fragrant beauty. They will not fail to appear, for the buds of promise are already there. Their hiding-place is well known to me, for I have tended them with constant care. Thoughts of these sleeping flowerets awaiting the call of spring, appeal to me—they whisper of the resurrection morn. The dear ones of our heart and home have one by one passed from earthly sight. In lowly beds9they slumber beneath the wintry snows, on hillside or plain, or in sheltered valley. Life was not all sunshine for them; many a weary one longed for rest. Yet in the stern conflict, precious characters were developed which mark them as the beloved of God. Jesus and guardian angels know where lies the sacred dust. More sure than the breath of Spring, and dearer than its bloom will be that supreme moment when the dear ones "that are fallen asleep in Jesus," shall hear "the voice of the Archangel," and come forth from their dusty beds of earth. Then will the buds of holiness, planted and nourished in adversity, unfold in the unfading beauty of an endless life in the Paradise of God. "For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we that are alive, that are left unto the coming of the Lord, shall in no wise precede them that are fallen asleep. For . . . the dead in Christ shall rise first; then we that are alive, that are left, shall together with them be caught up in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air; and so shall we ever be with the Lord. Wherefore comfort one another with these words." 1 Thess. 4:15-18.