NEEFE

217

W. C. GANNETT

Nuremburg, 39.

Heirship. Noyes, 38.

HEIR of all the ages, I,-
Heir of all that they have wrought!
All their store of emprise high,
All their wealth of precious thought!
Every golden deed of theirs
Sheds its lustre on my way;
All their labors, all their prayers,
Sanctify this present day.

Heir of all that they have earnea
By their passion and their tears;
Heir of all that they have learned
Through the weary, toiling years;
Heir of all the faith sublime

On whose wings they soared to heaven;
Heir of every hope that Time

To earth's fainting sons hath given;
Aspirations pure and high;
Strength to do and to endure;
Heir of all the ages, I,-
Lo, I am no longer poor!

JULIA C. R. DORR.

see,

Pause now; exchange with cheer the word,

The unchanging watchword, Liberty!

Look backward, how much has been won!
Look round, how much is yet to win!
The watches of the night are done;
The watches of the day begin.

O Thou, whose mighty patience holds
The night and day alike in view,
Thy will our dearest hope enfolds:
O keep us steadfast, patient, true!

219.

S. LONGFELLOW.

Old and new. Hamburg, 12,

O, SOMETIMES gleams upon our sight,
Through present wrong, the Eternal
Right!

And step by step, since time began,
We see the steady gain of man ;—

That all of good the past hath had
Remains to make our own time glad,
Our common daily life divine,
And every land a Palestine.

Through the harsh noises of our day
A low, sweet prelude finds its way;
Through clouds of doubt and creeds of
fear

A light is breaking, calm and clear.

REICHARDT.

Henceforth my heart shall sigh no more
For olden time and holier shore;
God's love and blessing, then and there,
Are now, and here, and everywhere.

J.G. WHITTIER.

220. A song of faith. Arlington, 19. WE pray no more, made lowly wise, For miracle and sign;

Anoint our eyes to see within

The common, the divine.
We turn from seeking thee afar
And in unwonted ways,
To build from out our daily lives
The temples of thy praise.
And if thy casual comings, Lord,
To hearts of old were dear,
What joy shall dwell within the faith
That feels thee ever near!

And nobler yet shall duty grow,
And more shall worship be,

When thou art found in all our life,
And all our life in thee.

By each saving word unspoken,
By thy truth, as yet half won,
By each idol yet unbroken,
By thy will, yet poorly done,
Hear us, help us,

Thou Almighty, help us on!

Nearer to thee would we venture,

Of thy truth more largely take, Upon life diviner enter,

Into day more glorious break;
To the ages

Some bequest of victory make!

223.

T. H. Gill.

For the new earth. Laban, 33.

SEND down thy truth, O God!
Too long the shadows frown,

Too long the darkened way we've trod:
Thy truth, O Lord, send down!

Send down thy Spirit free,
Till wilderness and town
One temple for thy worship be:
Thy Spirit, O send down!

Send down thy love, thy life,
Our lesser lives to crown,

And cleanse them of their hate and strife:
Thy living love send down!

Send down thy peace, O Lord!
Earth's bitter voices drown

In one deep ocean of accord:
Thy peace, O God, send down:

Our outward lips confess the Name
All other names above;

But love alone knows whence it came,
And comprehendeth Love.
The letter fails, the systems fall,
And every symbol wanes;-
The Spirit over-brooding all,
Eternal Love, remains.

J.G WHITTIER.

Credo, 45

I BELIEVE in Human Kindness
Large amid the sons of men,
Nobler far in willing blindness
Than in censure's keenest ken.
I believe in Self-Denial,

And its secret throb of joy;
In the Love that lives through trial,
Dying not, though death destroy.
I believe in dreams of Duty,
Warning us to self-control,-
Foregleams of the glorious beauty
That shall yet transform the soul;
In the godlike wreck of nature
Sin doth in the sinner leave,
That he may regain the stature
He hath lost,-I do believe.
I believe in Love renewing

All that sin hath swept away, Leaven-like its work pursuing Night by night and day by day: In the power of its remoulding, In the grace of its reprieve, In the glory of beholding Its perfection,-I believe. I believe in Love Eternal, Fixed in God's unchanging will, That, beneath the deep infernal, Hath a depth that's deeper still! In its patience, its endurance To forbear and to retrieve, In the large and full assurance Of its triumph,-I believe.

"Good Words."

18.

229.

All seasons.

Nuremburg, 39. Noyes, 38.

PRAISE to God, immortal praise,
For the love that crowns our days!
Bounteous Source of every joy,
Let thy praise our tongues employ;-
For the blessings of the field,
For the stores the gardens yield,
Flocks that whiten all the plain,
Yellow sheaves of ripened grain;
All that Spring with bounteous hand
Scatters o'er the smiling land;
All that liberal Autumn pours
From her rich o'erflowing stores:
These to thee, our God, we owe,
Source whence all our blessings flow!
And for these our souls shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.

THE Softened mould is brown and warm,

The early blossoms break,

And loosened streams along their banks
A mossy verdure make.

A dewy light broods o'er the earth,
A sweetness new and rare,
And tumults of brook, bird and breeze
With music wake the air.
Awake, O Heart, awake and learn
The secret of the Spring!
From winter-sleep it comes like light,
Or as a bird on wing.

And if I shall be winter-locked,
As sometime I may be;

If bitter storms and freezing snows
Come whirling down on me-

We

reap it on mountain and moorland; We glean it from meadow and lea; We garner it in from the cloudland;

We bind it in sheaves from the sea. But now we sing deeper and higher,— Of harvests that eye cannot see; They ripen on mountains of Duty,

Are reaped by the brave and the free: And these have been gathered and garnered,

Some golden with honor and gain, And some as with heart's-blood are ruddy, The harvests of Sorrow and Pain.

O thou, who art Lord of the Harvest, The Giver who gladdens our days, Our hearts are forever repeating Thanksgiving and honor and praise!

235.

J. W. CHADWICK.

Balerma, 21.
Under the leaves. St. Agnes, 31.

OFT have I walked the woodland paths
With heart unblest to know
That underneath the withered leaves
The sweet flowers wait to blow.
But when the south winds sweep away
The wrecks of Autumn's gold,
And fresh and fair the flowers of Spring
Their starry hosts unfold,-

O prophet-souls with lips of bloom!
Your silence, more than speech,
Fills all the woody aisles, like songs
That faith and duty teach.

Walk life's dark ways, ye seem to say,
And ever this foreknow,-

That, where man sees but withered leaves,
God sees the sweet flowers grow!
A. Leighton.