omplished. Already we knock at
the door of a new century, which promises to be infinitely brighter and
more enlightened and happier than this.

We know that we are more fortunate than our fathers. We believe that our
children shall be happier than we. We know that this century is more
enlightened than the past. We believe that the time to come will be
better and more glorious than this. We think, we believe, we hope, but
we do not know. Across that threshold we may not pass; behind that veil
we may not penetrate. It may be vouchsafed us to behold it, wonderingly,
from afar, but never to enter in. It matters not. The age in which we
live is but a link in the endless and eternal chain. Our lives are like
sands upon the shore; our voices, like the breath of this summer breeze
that stirs the leaf for a moment, and is forgotten. The last survivor of
this mighty multitude shall stay but a little while. The endless
generations are advancing to take our places as we fall. For them, as
for us, shall the years march by in the sublime procession of the ages.

And here, in this place of sacrifice, in this vale of humiliation, in
this valley of the shadow of death, out of which the life of America
rose regenerate and free, let us believe, with an abiding faith, that to
them union will seem as dear, and liberty as sweet, and progress as
glorious, as they were to our fathers and are to you and me, and that
the institutions which have made us happy, preserved by the virtue of
our children, shall bless the remotest generation of the time to come.
And unto Him who holds in the hollow of His hand the fate of nations,
and yet marks the sparrow's fall, let us lift up our hearts this day,
and unto His eternal care commend ourselves, our children, and our
country.

* * * * *

WASHINGTON AT VALLEY FORGE

BY CANON R.G. SUTHERLAND

With his lean, ragged levies, undismayed,
He crouched among the vigilant hills; a show
To the disdainful, heaven-blinded foe.
Unlauded, unsupported, disobeyed,
Thwarted, maligned, conspired against, betrayed--
Yet nothing could unheart him. Wouldst thou know
His secret? There, in that thicket on the snow,
Washington knelt before his God, and prayed.

Close in their lair for perilous months and days
He held in leash his wolves, grim, shelterless,
Gaunt, hunger-bitten, stanch to the uttermost;
Then, when the hour was come for hardiness