hts its shining folds,
The cross, on which the Saviour died.

It was written in 1848 in response to a request from the young women of
St. Mary's Hall for a hymn to be used at a flag-raising. The third stanza
is one of rare beauty:

Fling out the banner! heathen lands
Shall see from far the glorious sight,
And nations, crowding to be born,
Baptize their spirits in its light.

The hymn, as may be surmised, is based on the passage from the Psaltery:
"Thou hast given a banner to them that fear thee, that it may be
displayed because of the truth."

Bishop Doane was a zealous advocate of missions. It was during his
childhood that the modern missionary movement had its inception and swept
like a tidal wave over the Christian world. "Fling out the banner" is a
reflection of the remarkable enthusiasm that filled his own soul and that
revealed itself in his aggressive missionary leadership. Indeed, he
became known in his own Church as "the missionary bishop of America."

A son, William C. Doane, also became one of the most distinguished
bishops of the Episcopal Church. Writing of his father's rare gifts as a
hymnist, he declares that his heart was "full of song. It oozed out in
his conversation, in his sermons, in everything that he did. Sometimes in
a steamboat, often when the back of a letter was his only paper, the
sweetest things came."

The Quaker Poet's Prayer

Dear Lord and Father of mankind,
Forgive our feverish ways;
Reclothe us in our rightful mind,
In purer lives Thy service find,
In deeper reverence, praise.

In simple trust like theirs who heard,
Beside the Syrian sea,
The gracious calling of the Lord,
Let us, like them, without a word
Rise up and follow Thee.

O Sabbath rest by Galilee!
O calm of hills above,
Where Jesus knelt to share with Thee
The silence of eternity
Interpreted by love.

Drop Thy still dews of quietness,
Till all our strivings cease;
Take from our souls the strain and stress,
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace.

Breathe through the heat of our desire
Thy coolness and Thy balm;
Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire,
Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,
O still, small voice of calm.

John Greenleaf Whittier, 1872.

THE QU