eary soul abide,
In all changes whatsoever
Sure and steadfast by Thy side.
When temptations fierce assault me,
When my enemies I find,
Sin and guilt, and death and Satan,
All against my soul combined,
Hold me up in mighty waters,
Keep my eyes on things above,
Righteousness, divine Atonement,
Peace, and everlasting Love.

It was a little lame schoolmaster, Tyrtaeus, who aroused the Spartans by
his poetry and led them to victory against the foe.

It was the musicians of the band of the Titanic--poor men, paid a few
dollars a week--who played the music to keep up the courage of the souls
aboard the sinking ship.

"The way the band kept playing was a noble thing," says the wireless
operator. "I heard it first while we were working the wireless, when
there was a rag-time tune for us, and the last I saw of the band, when I
was floating, struggling in the icy water, it was still on deck, playing
'Autumn.' How those brave fellows ever did it I cannot imagine."

Perhaps that music, made in the face of death, would not have satisfied
the exacting critical sense. It may be that the chilled fingers faltered
on the pistons of the cornet or at the valves of the French horn, that
the time was irregular and that by an organ in a church, with a decorous
congregation, the hymns they chose would have been better played and
sung. But surely that music went up to God from the souls of drowning
men, and was not less acceptable than the song of songs no mortal ear
may hear, the harps of the seraphs and the choiring cherubim. Under the
sea the music-makers lie, still in their fingers clutching the broken
and battered means of melody; but over the strident voice of warring
winds and the sound of many waters there rises their chant eternally;
and though the musicians lie hushed and cold at the sea's heart, their
music is heard forevermore.

LAST MOMENTS

That great ship, which started out as proudly, went down to her death
like some grime silent juggernaut, drunk with carnage and anxious to
stop the throbbing of her own heart at the bottom of the sea. Charles H.
Lightoller, second officer of the Titanic, tells the story this way:

"I stuck to the ship until the water came up to my ankles. There had
been no lamentations, no demonstrations either from the men passengers
as they saw the last life-boat go, and there was no wailing or crying,
no outburst from the men who lined the ship's rail as the Titan