f we had rulers instead of a spine,
And it's scary to cough, and it a'n't safe to grin,
When the teacher gets cross, and the dimples goes in.

When the teacher gets cross, the tables get mixed,
The ones and the twos begins to play tricks.
The pluses and minuses is just little smears,
When the cry babies cry their slates full of tears,
And the figgers won't add,--but just act up like sin,
When the teacher gets cross, and the dimples goes in.

When the teacher gets cross, the reading gets bad.
The lines jingle round till the' chillen is sad.
And Billy boy puffs and gets red in the face,
As if he and the lesson were running a race,
Until she hollers out, "Next!" as sharp as a pin,
When the teacher gets cross, and the dimples goes in.

When the teacher gets good, her smile is so bright,
That the tables gets straight, and the reading gets right.
The pluses and minuses comes trooping along,
And the figgers add up and stop being wrong,
And we chillen would like, but we dassent, to shout,
When the teacher gets good, and the dimples comes out.

Recessional

God of our fathers, known of old,
Lord of our far-flung battle line,
Beneath whose awful Hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine--
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget--lest we forget!

The tumult and the shouting dies;
The captains and the kings depart:
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget--lest we forget!

Far-called, our navies melt away;
On dune and headland sinks the fire:
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget--lest we forget!

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe--
Such boasting as the Gentiles use,
Or lesser breeds without the Law--
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget--lest we forget!

For heathen heart that puts her trust
In reeking tube and iron shard,
All valiant dust that builds on dust,
And guarding, calls not Thee to guard,
For frantic boast and foolish word,
Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord!

Amen.

_Rudyard Kipling._

The Eternal Goodness

O Friends! with whom my feet have trod
The quiet aisles of prayer,
Glad witness to your zeal for God
And love of man I bear.

I trace your lines of argument;
Your logic linked and strong
I weig