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Thankfully we will rejoice in

All the beauty God has given; But beware it does not win us

From the work ordained of Heaven. Following every voice of mercy

With a trusting, loving heart, Let us in life's earnest labor

Still be sure to do our part. Now, to-day, and not to-morrow,

Let us work with all our might,
Lest the wretched faint and perish

In the coming stormy night.
Now, to-day, and not to-morrow,-

Lest, before to-morrow's sun,
We too, mournfully departing,

Shall have left our work undone.


Stockwell, 49. 63. Psalm of life.

Benneson, 44. Tell me not in mournful numbers,

Life is but an empty dream;
For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal: Dust thou art, to dust returnest,

Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end and way; But to act, that each to-morrow

Find us further than to-day. Let us, then, be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labor, and to wait.

Thou seemest human and divine,
The highest, holiest art thou:
Our wills are ours, we know not how;
Our wills are ours to make them thine.
O Living Will that shalt endure
When aïl that seems shall suffer shock,
Rise in the spiritual rock,
Flow through our deeds, and make them

Let knowledge grow from more to more,
But more of reverence in us dwell,
Till mind and soul, according well,
Make music vaster than before !

A. Tennyson.

Stockwell, 49. 61.

Our prayer. Benneson, 44. FATHER, hear the prayer we offer!

Not for ease that prayer shall be, But for strength that we may ever

Live our lives courageously.
Not forever in green pastures

Do we ask our way to be;
But the steep and rugged pathway

May we tread rejoicingly.
Not forever by still waters

Would we idly quiet stay; But would smite the living fountains

From the rocks along our way. Be our strength in hours of weakness,

In our wanderings, be our guide; Through endeavor, failure, danger,

Father, be thou at our side!


Stockwell, 49. Beauty and duty. Benneson, 44.


All around us, fair with flowers,

Fields of beauty sleeping lie; All around us clarion voices

Call to duty stern and high.


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Earnest toil and strong endeavor

Of a spirit which, within,
Wrestles with familiar evil

And besetting sin;
And, without, with tireless vigor,

Steady heart, and purpose strong,
In the power of Truth assaileth
Every form of wrong.

F. G. Whittier.

The vow.

Boylston, 32. 64.

Laban, 33.
God of the earnest heart,

The trust assured and still,
Thou who our strength forever art, -

We come to do thy will!
Upon that painful road

By saints serenely trod,
Whereon their hallowing influence

Would we go forth, O God!
'Gainst doubt and shame and fear

In human hearts to strive,
That all may learn to love and bear,

To conquer self, and live;
To draw thy blessing down,

And bring the wronged redress,
And give this glorious world its crown,-

The spirit's God-likeness.
No dreams from toil to charm,

No trembling on the tongue,
Lord, in thy rest may we be calm,

Through thy completeness, strong!

66. Servants of Freedom, Ward, 18.
O Freedom! on the bitter blast
The ventures of thy seed we cast,
And trust to warmer sun and rain
To swell the germ, and fill the grain.
It may not be our lot to wield
The sickle in the ripened field,
Nor ours to hear on summer eves
The reaper's song among the sheaves;
Yet where our duty's task is wrought
In unison with God's great thought,
The near and future blend in one,
And whatsoe'er is willed is done!
Who calls the glorious labor hard ?
Who deems it not its own reward ?
Who, for its trials, counts it less
A cause of praise and thankfulness?
Be ours the grateful service whence
Comes day by day the recompense,
The hope, the trust, the purpose stayed,
The fountain and the noon-day shade!

7. G. Whittier.


65. Servants of Truth. Joy, 66. Hast thou, 'midst life's empty noises,

Heard the solemn steps of Time,
And the low, mysterious voices

Of another clime?
Early hath life's mighty question

Thrilled within thy heart of youth
With a deep and strong beseeching,-

What, and where, is Truth? Not to ease and aimless quiet

Doth the inward answer tend;
But to works of love and duty,

As our being's end:
Not to idle dreams and trances,

Folded hands, and solemn tone;
But to faith, in daily striving

And performance shown:

Stockwell, 49. 67. Onward, upward.

Benneson, 44. ONWARD, onward, though the region

Where thou art be drear and lone: God hath set a guardian legion

Very near thee,-press thou on!



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By the thorn-road, and none other,

Is the mount of vision won: Tread it without shrinking, brother!

Jesus trod it,-press thou on! By thy trustful, calm endeavor,

Guiding, cheering, like the sun, Earth-bound hearts thou shalt deliver:

O, for their sake, press thou on! Be this world the wiser, stronger,

For thy life of pain and peace: While it needs thee, O, no longer

Pray thou for thy quick release;
Pray thou, undisheartened, rather,

That thou be a faithful son;
By the prayer of Jesus,—“Father,
Not my will, but thine, be done!”

Yet that scaffold sways the future,

And, behind the dim unknown, Standeth God within the Shadow, Keeping watch above his own!

7. R. Lowell. 69.

Enlisted. Telemann, 41. HONORED they who firmly stand, While the conflict presses round; God's own banner in their hand, In his service faithful found. What our foes? Each thought impure; Passions fierce, that tear the soul; Every ill that we can cure; Every crime we can control;Every suffering which our hand Can with soothing care assuage; Every evil of our land; Every error of our age. On, then, to the glorious field! He who dies his life shall save; God himself shall be our shield, He shall bless and crown the brave.


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ONCE to every man and nation

Comes the moment to decide, In the strife of Truth with Falsehood,

For the good or evil side; Some great cause, God's new Messiah,

Offers each the bloom or blight,And the choice goes by forever

'Twixt that darkness and that light. Then to side with Truth is noble

When we share her wretched crust, Ere her cause bring fame and profit

And 'tis prosperous to be just; Then it is the brave man chooses,

While the coward stands aside. Till the multitude make virtue

Of the faith they had denied. Though the cause of Evil prosper,

Yet 'tis Truth alone is strong; Though her portion be the scaffold,

And upon the throne be Wrong,


Ready. Missy Chant, 16. Our spirits lay their noblest powers, As offerings, on thy holy shrine: Thine was the strength that nourished

ours, The soldiers of the Cross are thine. While watching on our arms at night, We saw thine angels round us move; We heard thy call, we felt thy light, And followed, trusting to thy love. Send us where'er thou wilt, O Lord ! Through rugged toil and wearying fight; Thy conquering love shall be our sword, And faith in thee our truest might. Send down thy constant aid, we pray ; Be thy pure angels with us still; Thy Truth, be that our firmest stay; Our only rest, to do thy will.




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O, BLEST is he to whom is given

The instinct that can tell
That God is on the field, when kn

Is most invisible!
And blest is he who can divine

Where real right doth lie,
And dares to take the side that seems

Wrong to man's blindfold eye!
0, learn to scorn the praise of men!

O, learn to lose—with God!
For Jesus won the world through shame,

And beckons thee his road.
And right is right, since God is God;

And right the day must win:
To doubt would be disloyalty,

To falter would be sin !

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He always wins who sides with God,

To him no chance is lost; God's will is sweetest to him when

It triumphs at his cost. Workman of God! O lose not heart,

But learn what God is like; And in the darkest battle-field

Thou shalt know where to strike, Muse on his justice, downcast soul.

Muse, and take better heart; Back with thine angel to the field,

And bravely do thy part. For right is right, since God is God;

And right the day must win; To doubt would be disloyalty,

To falter would be sin !

73. The battle-field. Miss'y Chant, 16.
O, NERVE thy spirit to the proof,
And blench not at thy chosen lot!
The timid good may stand aloof,
The sage may frown,-yet faint thou not.
Heed not the shaft too surely cast,
The foul and hissing bolt of scorn;
For with thy side shall dwell, at last,
The victory of endurance born.
Old Error, wounded, writhes in pain,
And dies amid her worshippers;
Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again;
Th' eternal years of God are hers!



Victory. Telemann, 41. Stainless soldier on the walls ! Knowing this, he knows no more, Whoso fights, and whoso falls, Justice conquers evermore! He who battles on her side, God, though he were ten times slain, Crowns him victor glorified, Victor over death and pain. And forever! But his foe, Self-assured that he prevails, Sees aloft the red right Arm Straight redress the eternal scales.

R. W. Emerson.


The hero. Pleyel, 40.
GIVE, O earth, a hero's grave!
Flush it with thy fairest bloom, -
Bluest of forget-me-nots
For a stainless soldier's tomb!
He was fellow with them all,
Wearers of the blue and gray,
Men who, told that they must die,
Only asked to know the way.


Ever first in freedom's van,
Took his breast the sheaf of spears:
Here is loss too deep for words,
Here is grief too proud for tears.
Onward, where he led the way!
Many more will have to fall
Ere the glorious banner waves
Peace and triumph over all.


I would not have the restless will

That hurries to and fro,
Seeking for some great thing to do,

Or secret thing to know;
I would be dealt with as a child,

And guided where I go.
I ask thee for the daily strength

To none that ask denied;
A mind to blend with outward life

While keeping at thy side; Content to fill a little space,

If thou be glorified. Briers beset my every path,

That call for patient care; There is a cross in every lot,

An earnest need for prayer: But lowly hearts that lean on thee

Are happy anywhere.


76. The bravest. Nuremburg, 39.
One low grave, yon trees beneath,
Bears no roses, wears no wreath;
Yet no heart more high and warm
Ever dared the battle-storm.
Never gleamed a prouder eye
In the front of victory;
Never foot had firmer tread
On the field where hope lay dead,
Than are hid within this tomb
Where the untended grasses bloom;
Where no colors wrapt the breast
As a hero sank to rest.
Heart of duty, dauntless will,
Dreams that life could ne'er fulfil,
Here lie buried,-here in peace
Tireless service found release.
Kneeling where a woman lies,
Spent in willing sacrifice,
I strew lilies on the grave
Of the bravest of the brave.

T. W. Higginson.


One by one. Stockwell, 49. One by one the sands are flowing,

One by one the moments fall: Some are coming, some are going;

Do not strive to grasp them all. One by one thy duties wait thee,

Let thy whole strength go to each: Let no future dreams elate thee;

Learn thou first what these can teach. One by one, bright gifts from heaven,

Joys are lent thee here below: Take them readily when given;

Ready, too, to let them go.
One by one thy griefs shall meet thee,--

Do not fear an armed band :
One will fade as others greet thee,

Shadows passing through the land.
Every hour that fleets so slowly

Hath its task to do or bear: Luminous the crown and holy,

If thou set each gem with care.


Lowly service. Simeon, 30. FATHER, I know that all my life

Is portioned out for me;
The changes that must surely come

I do not fear to see;
I ask thee for a present mind,

Intent on pleasing thee.


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