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GOD'S MEAL
An Old Dutch Custom.

All the long day swift busy feet
Had traversed homely household ways,
Where lowliest duties, wrought through love,
Gave added wings to prayer and praise.
Fair in the fields the maytime bloom
Fringed hedges green with tips of snow;
And bits of heaven's own blue smiled out
From sedgy bank, and beckside low.

Far in the West the clouds had wrapped
Their curtains round the setting sun;
While home-bound steps, and restful smiles.
Proclaimed the week's long labours done.
Saturday night, and pious souls
Saw "God's meal" spread with loving care,
Counted "God's wages,"—giving thanks
If gain or loss had been their share.

Good Vrow Van Stralan, at whose touch
Life's roughnesses seemed smoothed to calm,
So learned was she in His sweet ways,
Whose helping hand is soft with balm;
Had made the week a robe of grace,
And fringed it round with loving deeds,—
With 'broidered pictures, blue and gold,
Of self forgot for other's needs.

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