subject, in his vain endeavor,
With deep philosophy so clever,
To prove you what you knew before,
That matter's matter, and no more.
Well, this much then, we know at least,
That matter's substance, and the beast
And bird and fish and creeping thing
That moves on foot, with fin or wing,
Is matter, just like you and me.
Are they our kindred? Must it be
That all the fools in all creation,
And knaves and thieves of every station
In life, can call me their relation?
But that's not all--the horse I ride,
The ox I yoke, the dog I chide,
The flesh and fish and fowl we feed on
Are kindred, too; is that agreed on?
Then kindred blood I quite disown,
Though it descended from a throne,
For it connects us down, also,
With everything that's mean and low--
Insects and reptiles, foul and clean,
And men a thousand times more mean.
Let's hear no more of noble blood,
For noble brains, or actions good,
Are only marks of true nobility.

The kindred which I claim with you,
Connects us with the just and true,
And great in purpose, heart and soul,
And makes us parts of that great whole
Whose bonds of all embracing love
A golden chain will ever prove
To bind us to the good above.
Then strive to elevate mankind
By operating on the mind;
The empire of good will extend,
A helping hand in trouble lend,
Go to thy brother in distress,
One kindly word may make it less,
A single word, when fitly spoken,
May heal a heart with sorrow broken,
A smile may overcome your foe,
And make his heart with friendship glow,
A frown might turn his heart to steel.
And all its tendencies congeal,
Be it our constant aim to cure
The woes our fellow men endure,
Teach them to act toward each other
As they would act toward a brother.
Thus may our circle wider grow,
The golden chain still brighter glow;
And may our kindred souls, in love
United live, here and above,
With all the good and wise and pure,
While endless ages shall endure.

ANNIVERSARY HYMN.

Written for the anniversary of the Jackson Sabbath School, Aug.
23rd, 1870.

The ever rolling flood of years,
Is bearing us, our hopes and fears,
With all we are or crave,
Into that fathomless abyss--
A world of endless woe or bliss,
Beyond the darksome grave.

One year of priceless time has passed,
Since we in Sabbath school were class'd,
To read and sing and pray;
To hear the counsels of the good;
Have we improved them as we should?
How stands the case to-day?