et,
In the purple mists of evening,
To the regions of the home-wind,
Of the Northwest wind Keewaydin,
To the islands of the Blessed,
To the kingdom of Ponemah,
To the land of the Hereafter!
* * * * *
=_William D. Gallagher, 1808-._= (Manual, p. 523.)
=_371._= THE LABORER.
Stand up--erect! Thou hast the form,
And likeness of thy God!--who more?
A soul as dauntless mid the storm
Of daily life, a heart as warm
And pure, as breast e'er bore.
What then?--Thou art as true a Man
As moves the human mass among;
As much a part of the Great plan
That with creation's dawn began,
As any of the throng.
Who is thine enemy? the high
In station, or in wealth the chief?
The great, who coldly pass thee by,
With proud step and averted eye?
Nay! nurse not such belief.
* * * * *
No:--uncurbed passions--low desires--
Absence of noble self-respect--
Death, in the breast's consuming fires,
To that high Nature which aspires
For ever, till thus checked:
* * * * *
True, wealth thou hast not: 'tis but dust!
Nor place; uncertain as the wind!
But that thou hast, which, with thy crust
And water, may despise the lust
Of both--a noble mind.
With this and passions under ban,
True faith, and holy trust in God,
Thou art the peer of any man.
Look up, then--that thy little span
Of life, may be well trod!
* * * * *
=_John G. Whittier, 1808-._= (Manual, pp. 490, 522.)
=_372._= WHAT THE VOICE SAID.
Maddened by Earth's wrong and evil,
"Lord," I cried in sudden ire,
"From thy right hand, clothed with thunder,
Shake the bolted fire!
"Love is lost, and Faith is dying;
With the brute, the man is sold;
And the dropping blood of labor
Hardens into gold."
* * * * *
"Thou, the patient Heaven upbraiding,"
Spake a solemn Voice within;
"Weary of our Lord's forbearance,
Art thou free from sin?"
* * * * *
"Earnest words must needs be spoken
When the warm heart bleeds or burns
With its scorn of wrong, or pity
For the wronged, by turns.
"But, by all thy nature's weakness,
Hidden faults and follies known,
Be thou, in rebuking evil,
Conscious of thine own.
"Not the
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