There's such a bright light round the cross;
And over the dark, stormy sea,
The friends who before me have gone
Are angels now waiting for me.

"Among the long ranks that they form
In Glory, my Savior there stands
With multitudes grand, who are saved,
And marking in beautiful bands;
"They're coming in thousands' with Him-
Those bright ones o'er there can you see,
Whose luster illumines that throng?
Those 'angels are calling for me.'

"Those mansions and cities so fair

Are teeming with armies in white, The courts will be empty of them"They're coming to me' in their flight; 'More coming!' Now 'Glory to God!' "They stand by my bed.' 'Can you see?' I'm waiting; yes, 'waiting'; because Those 'angels are coming for me.'

ROSES AND LILIES.

The ruddy rose, amid the thorns
And leaflets green which she adorns;
Sustains her charm, preserves her grace,
And heavenward lifts her lovely face.

Although her rough companions pierce,
With lances keen and daggers fierce,
The rose unsullied lives and dies
As do the brave, the true, the wise.

And though in life one oft receives
A pang that sorely, sadly grieves,
'Tis sweet to know that roses bloom

Midst winds and rain and thorns and gloom.

UNIV. OF CALIFORNIA

From out their bosoms pure as snow,
The lilies of the valley grow;

Their leaves are still; their heads they bow,
As if to heaven they make a vow.

Since from the heart the actions grow,
A duty to ourselves we owe,

To do the right, and that in love,
Though fading here to bloom above.

The rose adds beauty to her thorns;
The lily pastures green adorns;

The world conceals its faults to please,
While innocence and lilies abound in the leas.

Aromas from these flowers unite,

And lure our prayers to yonder height,
Where mingling in sweet bliss and praise-
Enriching heaven through endless days.

Bloom on, bloom on, thou lily pale,
In meadow green and fertile vale;
Thine own soft colors give to thee
A tender look of modesty.

Blush on, blush on, thou ruddy rose;
Thy crimson face with beauty glows;
Pure symbol thou of a sinless breast,
Where truth and peace, like angels rest.

E. B. MCELROY.

Professor E. B. McElroy, who served three terms as State Superintendent of Public Instruction of Oregon, and held the chair of English in the Oregon Agricultural College, also in the University of Oregon, died at his home in Eugene, May 4, 1901, and was buried in the Odd Fellow's Cemetery near Corvallis on the following Sunday. On the ensuing Decoration Day a eulogy was

delivered before Ellsworth Post, G. A. R., of Corvallis, from which the following extract was taken:

THE MCELROY EULOGY.

Near the home of Professor McElroy in the City of Eugene, there is a neat church, built on a stone foundation thickly studded with marks of pebbly white. Upon approaching the building, however, the stones prove to be ancient cemeteries, filled with shells of animals which lived long ago upon the shore of some forgotten sea; and here and there you may observe the traces left by the waves, the tracks of birds that walked along the sand one day, and the print of the leaf that fell and lay there. Within a million years or more the shore hardened into rock, and the rock like storied urn has held every trace throughout succeeding centuries. In like manner will be preserved the work of Professor McElroy, who has been so active in the promotion of Oregon public schools, doing those things and exerting those influences that thousands of children now living and thousands of children belonging to generations yet unborn will take permanently into their lives.

ever.

What is taken into men's lives leaves its lasting impressions—more enduring than time, more precious than shell or leaf or templed stone; for a useful life with its hallowed influences goes forth in a thousand unseen meanderings to the winds of the earth, forever and forYet the man is even greater than his influence or his handiwork. The Bible reveals it, science teaches it, experience proclaims it, the learned and unlearned believe it. Therefore, if the shell of an animal from the palaces of the deep exist a thousand or a million years to adorn a temple for a man to worship in that his life may expand into a nobler, purer and more exalted character, how much longer will survive that man of worth and influence for whom the silent shell was created?

When the superstructure of the temple has decayed, time and storm have worn away the historic foundation, the shells have been exposed to view, have crumbled and vanished forever, and man has forgotten even the edifice