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Booming heavily on the ear
Flash upon flash!
The line fails not;
Through thick grape shot;
On the hated foes ;
Over the field a sulphurous cloud
Hushed is the cannon's heavy roar,
Embattled legions, with thundering tread, Shall rouse no more the grim hosts dead;
But ere the set of another sun
HUMAN lives are silent teaching,
Be they earnest, mild, and true;
From the consecrated Few.
When Truth's banner is unfurled;
Till their preaching stirs the world.
Hero-hand, or poet-soul;
This weird world of sin and dole.
To the throne of Heaven's King;
What another can but sing.
Pure and meek-eyed as an angel,
We must strive, must agonize;
Ere we claim the saintly prize;
When, like Heaven's arch above, Blend our souls in one emblazon, And the social diapason
Sounds the perfect chord of love.
Life is combat, life is striving,
Such our destiny below,
Through an onward-pressing foe.
Like the Alchemists of old,
To be God's refinèd gold.
We are struggling in the Morning
With the Spirit of the Night, But we trample on it scorning,
Lol the eastern sky is bright.
With the sunrise into sound,
Seize the palm nor heed the wound.
We must bend our thoughts to earnest,
Would we strike the Idols down; With the purpose of the sternest,
Take the Cross and leave the Crown. Sufferinys human life can hallow, Sufferings lead to God's Valhalla
Meekly bear, but humbly try; Like a man, with soft tears flowing, Like a God, with conquest glowing,
So to live, and work, and die!
WHEN the lessons and tasks are all ended,
And the school for the day is dismissed, The little ones gather around me
To bid me “Good-night” and be kissed.
My neck in their tender embrace ;
Shedding sunshine of love on my face.
Of my childhood—too lovely to lastOf joy that my heart will remember
While it wakes to the pulse of the Past;
A partner of Sorrow and Sin,
And the glory of gladness within.
My heart grows as weak as a woman's,
And the fount of my feelings will flow, When I think of the paths, steep and stony,
Where the feet of the dear ones must go; Of the mountains of sin hanging o'er them,
Of the tempest of Fate blowing wild, Oh, there's nothing on earth half so holy
As the innocent heart of a child !
They are idols of hearts and of households,
They are angels of God in disguise ;
His glory still gleams in their eyes.
They have made me more manly and mild,
The kingdom of God to a child.
I ask not a life for the dear ones,
All radiant, as others have done ;
To temper the glare of the sun.
I would pray God to guard them from evil
But my prayer would bound back to myself:
But a sinner must pray for himself.
The twig is so easily bended,
I have banished the rule and the rod;
They have taught me the goodness of God.
Where I shut them for breaking a rule;
My love is the law of the school.
I shall leave the old house in the autumn,
To traverse its threshold no more;
That meet me each morn at the door;
And the gush of their innocent glee;
That are brought every morning for me.
Their song in the school and the street;
And the tramp of their delicate feet.
And Death says: “The school is dismissed I".
To bid me good-night and be kissed.
EXTRACTS FROM WHITTIER'S BALLAD, “THE RANGER."
ROBERT RAWLIN -Frosts were falling
Through the woods to Canada.