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An Ant h o I o gy of 
Modern Verse 







Copyright 193 i by 

Manufactured in The U. S. A. by The Plimpton Frew 
Norwood, Mass.-LaPorte, Ind. 

To My Brother 




The poems in this volume are deliberately placed without 
attempt to classify them either as to subject or author. 
Pages 1-324 contain 560 poems selected for their quotability, 
modern tone, and genuine poetic quality. Readers who de- 
sire to find poems on any particular theme will find ample 
guidance in the very complete indexes beginning on page 
325, including 

(a) Index of Subjects, pp. 325 to 336. 

(b) Index of Authors, pp. 337 to 348. 

(c) Index of Titles, pp. 349 to 358. 

(d) Index of First Lines, pp. 359 to 366. 

Detailed acknowledgment to authors and publishers will 
also be found on p. 367. 




They Went Forth to Battle but They 
Always Fell 

They went forth to battle but they always fell. 
Something they saw above the sullen shields. 
Nobly they fought and bravely, but not well, 
And sank heart-wounded by a subtle spell. 
They knew not fear that to the foeman yields, 
They were not weak, as one who vainly wields 
A faltering weapon; yet the old tales tell 
How on the hard-fought field they always fell. 

It was a secret music that they heard, 

The murmurous voice of pity and of peace, 

And that which pierced the heart was but a word, 

Though the white breast was red-lipped where the sword 

Pressed a fierce cruel kiss and did not cease 

Till its hot thirst was surfeited. Ah these 

By an unwarlike troubling doubt were stirred, 

And died for hearing what no foeman heard. 

They went forth to battle but they always fell. 
Their might was not the might of lifted spears. 
Over the battle-clamor came a spell 
Of troubling music, and they fought not well. 
Their wreaths are willows and their tribute, tears. 
Their names are old sad stories in men's ears. 
Yet they will scatter the red hordes of Hell, 
Who went to battle forth and always fell. 

Shaemas O'Sheel 



In an old city by the storied shores, 

Where the bright summit of Olympus soars, 

A cryptic statue mounted toward the light 

Heel-winged, tip-toed, and poised for instant flight. 

" statue, tell your name," a traveler cried; 

And solemnly the marble lips replied: 

" Men call me Opportunity, I lift 

My wing&d feet from earth to show how swift 

My flight, how short my stay 

How Fate is ever waiting on the way." 

" But why that tossing ringlet on your brow? " 
" That men may seize me any moment: Now, 
Now is my other name; today my date; 
O traveler, tomorrow is too late!" 

Edwin Markham 


God, though this life is but a wraith, 
Although we know not what we use; 

Although we grope with little faith, 
God, give me the heart to fight and lose. 

Ever insurgent let me be, 

Make me more daring than devout; 
From slock contentment keep inc free 

And fill me with a buoyant doubt. 

Open my eyes to visions girt 
With beauty, and with wonder lit, 


But let me always see the dirt, 
And all that spawn and die in it. 

Open my ears to music, let 

Me thrill with Spring's first flutes and drums 
But never let me dare forget 

The bitter ballads of the slums. 

From compromise and things half-done, 
Keep me, with stern and stubborn pride; 

But when at last the fight is won, 
God, keep me still unsatisfied. 

Louis Untermeyer 

For Those Who Fail 

" All honor to him who shall win the prize/' 
The world has cried for a thousand years; 

But to him who tries and who fails and dies, 
I give great honor and glory and tears. 

great is the hero who wins a name, 

But greater many and many a time 
Some pale-faced fellow who dies in shame, 

And lets God finish the thought sublime. 

And great is the man with a sword undrawn, 
And good is the man who refrains from wine; 

But the man who fails and yet fights on, 
Lo, he is the twin-born brother of mine! 

Joaquin Miller 


In Flanders Fields 

In Flanders fields the poppies blow 
Between the crosses, row on row, 
That mark our place; and in the sky 
The larks, still bravely singing, fly 
Scarce heard amid the guns below. 

We are the Dead/ Short days ago 
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, 
Loved and were loved, and now we lie 
In Flanders fields. 

Take up our quarrel with the foe; 
To you from failing hands we throw 
The torch; be yours to hold it high. 
If ye break faith with us who die 
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow 
In Flanders fields. 

John McCrac 

Sealed Orders 

We bear sealed orders o'er Life's weltered sea, 

Our haven dim and far; 
We can but man the helm rigKt cheerily, 

Steer by the brightest star, 

And hope that when at last the Great Command 

Is read, we then may hear 
Our anchor song, and see the longed-for land 

Lie, known and very near. 

Richard Burton 


From Song of the Open Road 

Afoot and lighthearted I take to the open road, 
Healthy, free, the world before me, 

The long brown path before me leading me wherever I 

Henceforth I ask not good fortune, I myself am good for- 

Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need 

Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms, 

Strong and content I travel the open road. 

Walt Whitman 

Joses, the Brother of Jesus 

Joses, the brother of Jesus, plodded from day to day 
With never a vision within him to glorify his clay; 
Joses, the brother of Jesus, was one with the heavy clod, 
But Christ was. the soul of rapture, and soared, like a lark, 

with God. 

Joses, the brother of Jesus, was only a worker in wood, 
And he never could see the glory that Jesus, his brother, 

" Why stays he not in the workshop? " he often used to 


" Sawing the Lebanon cedar, imparting to woods their stain? 
Why must he go thus roaming, forsaking my father's 

While hammers are busily sounding, and there is gain to be 

made? " 


Thus ran the mind of Joses, apt with plummet and rule, 
And deeming whoever surpassed him either a knave or a 

For he never walked with the prophets in God's great garden 

of bliss 
And of all mistakes of the ages, the saddest, methinks, was 

To have such a brother as Jesus, to speak with him day by 

But never to catch the vision which glorified his clay. 

Harry Kemp 

The Judgment 

When before the cloud-white throne 
We are kneeling to be known 
In self's utter nakedness, 
Mercy shall be arbitress. 

Love shall quench the very shame 
That is our tormenting flame; 
Love, the one theology, 
Set the souls in prison free 

Free as sunbeams forth to fare 
Into outer darkness, where 
It shall be our doom to make 
Glory from each earth-mistake. 

Not archangels God elects 
For celestial architects; 
On the stones of hell, the guilt 
Of the world, is Zion built. 

Katharine Lee Bates 


Mountain Air 

Tell me of Progress if you will, 
But give me sunshine on a hill 
The grey rocks spiring to the blue, 
The scent of larches, pinks and dew, 
And summer sighing in the trees, 
And snowy breath on every breeze. 
Take towns and all that you find there, 
And leave me sun and mountain air! 

John Galsworthy 

From Tintern Abbey 

For I have learned 

To look on Nature, not as in the hour 
Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes 
The still, sad music of humanity, 
Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power 
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt 
A presence that disturbs rne with the joy 
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime, 
Of something far more deeply interfused, 
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, 
And the round ocean and the living air, 
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man; 
A motion and a spirit, that impels 
All thinking things, all objects of all thought, 
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still 
A lover of the meadows and the woods, 
And mountains; and of all that we behold 
From this green earth; of all the mighty world 
Of eye and ear both what they half create, 


And what perceive; well pleased to recognize 
In nature and the language of the sense, 
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, 
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul 
Of all my moral being. 

William Wordsworth 

The Ideal City 

O you whom God hath called and set apart 

To build a city after His own heart, 

Be this your task to fitll the city's veins 

With the red blood of friendship; plant her plains 

With seeds of peace: above her portals wreathe 

Greeting and welcome: let the air we breathe 

Be musical with accents of good will 

That leap from lip to lip with joyous thrill; 

So may the stranger find upon the streets 

A kindly look in every face he meets; 

So may the spirit of the city tell 

All her souls within her gates that all is well; 

In all her homes let gentleness be found, 

In every neighborhood let grace abound, 

In every store and shop and forge and mill 

Where men of toil their daily tasks fulfill, 

Where guiding brain and workmen's skill are wise 

To shape the product of our industries, 

Where treasured stores the hands of toil sustain, 

Let friendship speed the work and share the gain, 

And thus, through all the city's teeming life, 

Let helpfulness have room with generous strife 

To serve. 

Washington Gladden 



I walked alone to my Calvary, 

And no man carried the cross for me: 

Carried the cross? Nay, no man knew 

The fearful load I bent unto; 

But each as we met upon the way 

Spake me fair of the journey I walked that day. 

I came alone to my Calvary, 

And high was the hill and bleak to see; 

But lo, as I scaled the flinty side, 

A thousand went up to be crucified 

A thousand kept the way with me, 

But never a cross my eyes could see. 

Author Unknown 

Good Deeds 

How far that little candle throws his beams! 
So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 
Heaven doth with us as we with torches do; 
Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues 
Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike 
As if we had them not. 

William Shakespeare 

Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight 

(In Springfield, Illinois) 
It is portentous, and a thing of state 
That here at midnight, in our little town 
A mourning figure walks, and will not rest, 
Near the old court-house pacing up and down, 

From " Collected Poems " by Vachel Lindsay. By permission of 
The Macmillan Company, publishers. 


Or by his homestead, or in shadowed yards 
He lingers where his children used to play, 
Or through the market, on the well-worn stones 
He stalks until the dawn-stars burn away. 

A bronzed, lank man! His suit of ancient black, 
A famous high top-hat and plain worn shawl 
Make him the quaint great figure that men love, 
The prairie-lawyer, master of us all. 

He cannot sleep upon his hillside now. 

He is among us: as in times before! 

And we who toss and lie awake for long 

Breathe deep, and start, to see him pass the door, 

His head is bowed. He thinks on men and kings. 
Yea, when the sick world cries, how can he sleep? 
Too many peasants fight, they know not why, 
Too many homesteads in black terror weep* 

The sins of all the war-lords burn his heart. 
He sees the dreadnoughts scouring every main. 
He carries on his shawl-wrapped shoulders now 
The bitterness, the folly and the pain. 

He cannot rest until a spirit-dawn 
Shall come; the shining hope of Europe free: 
The league of sober folk, the Workers 7 Earth, 
Bringing long peace to Cornland, Alp and Sea, 

It breaks his heart that kings must murder still 
That all his hours of travail here for men 
Seem yet in vain. And who will bring white peace 
That he may sleep upon his hill again? 

Vachet Undsay 


Where Is God? 

" Oh, where is the sea? " the fishes cried, 
As they swam the crystal clearness through; 

" We've heard from of old of the ocean's tide, 
And we long to look on the water's blue. 

The wise ones speak of the infinite sea. 
Oh, who can tell us if such there be? " 

The lark flew up in the morning bright, 
And sang and balanced on sunny wings; 

And this was its song: " I see the light, 
I look o'er a world of beautiful things; 

But, flying and singing everywhere, 
In vain I have searched to find the air." 

Minot /. Savage 


I know I am deathless; 

I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by the carpenter's 


I know I shall not pass like a child's carlaque cut with a 
burnt stick at night. 

Walt Whitman 
From " Leaves of Grass " 

We Are the Music-Makers 

We are the music-makers, 

And we are the dreamers of dreams, 
Wandering by lone sea-breakers, 

And sitting by desolate streams 


World-losers and world-forsakers, 

On whom the pale moon gleams; 
Yet we are the movers and shakers 

Of the world forever, it seems. 

With wonderful deathless ditties 

We build up the world's great cities, 
And out of a fabulous story 

We fashion an empire's glory: 
One man with a dream, at pleasure, 

Shall go forth and conquer a crown; 
And three with a new song's measure 

Can trample a kingdom down. 

We, in the ages lying 

In the buried past of the earth, 
Built Nineveh with our sighing, 

And Babel itself in our mirth; 
And o'er threw them with prophesying 

To the old of the new world's worth; 
For each age is a dream that is dying, 

Or one that is coming to birth. 

Arthur O'Shaughnessy 

In the Woods 

Oh, when I am safe in my sylvan home 
I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome* 
But when I am stretched beneath the pines, 
When the evening star so lonely shines, 
I laugh at the love and the pride of man, 
At the sophist's schools and the learned clan; 
For what are they all in their high conceit 
When man in the bush with God can meet? 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 
From " Good-bye, Proud World " 


" In No Strange Land " 

WORLD invisible, we view thee, 
world intangible, we touch thee, 
world unknowable, we know thee, 
Inapprehensible, we clutch thee! 

Does the fish soar to find the ocean, 
The eagle plunge to find the air 
That we ask of the stars in motion 
If they have rumor of thee there? 

!Not where the wheeling systems darken, 
And our benumbed conceiving soars 1 
The drift of pinions, would we hearken, 
Beats at our own clay-shuttered doors. 

The angels keep their ancient places; 
Turn but a stone, and start a wing! 
? Tis ye, 'tis your estranged faces, 
That miss the many-splendored thing. 

But (when so sad thou canst not sadder) 
Cry; and upon thy so sore loss 
Shall shine the traffic of Jacob's ladder 
Pitched betwixt Heaven and Charing Cross. 

Yea, in the night, my Soul, my daughter, 
Cry, clinging Heaven by the hems; 
And lo, Christ walking on the water 
Not of Genesareth, but Thames! 

Francis Thompson 


lo Victis 

I sing the hymn of the conquered, who fall in the Battle of 

The hymn of the wounded, the beaten, who died overwhelmed 
in the strife ; 

Not the jubilant song of the victors, for whom the resound- 
ing acclaim 

Of nations was lifted in chorus, whose brows wear the chaplet 
of fame, 

But the hymn of the low and the humble, the weary, the 
broken in heart, 

Who strove and who failed, acting bravely a silent and des- 
perate part; 

Whose youth bore no flower in its branches, whose hopes 
burned in ashes away, 

From whose hands slipped the prize they had grasped at, 
who stood at the dying of day 

With the wreck of their life all around them, unpitied, un- 
heeded, alone, 

With Death swooping down o'er their failure, and all but 
their faith overthrown, 

While the voice of the world shouts its chorus its paean for 
those who have won; 

While the trumpet is sounding triumphant, and high to the 
breeze and the sun 

Glad banners are waving, hands clapping, and hurrying feet 

Thronging after the laurel crowned victors, T stand on the 
field of defeat, 

In the shadow, with those who are fallen, and wounded, and 
dying, and there 

Chant a requiem low, place my hand on their pain-knotted 
brows, breathe a prayer, 

Hold the hand that is helpless, and whisper, " They only the 
victory win, 


Who have fought the good fight, and have vanquished the 

demon that tempts us within; 
Who have held to their faith unseduced by the prize that the 

world holds on high; 
Who have dared for a high cause to suffer, resist, fight if 

need be, to die." 
Speak, History! Who are Life's victors? Unroll thy long 

annals and say, 
Are they those whom the world called the victors, who won 

the success of a day? 

The martyrs, or Nero? The Spartans, who fell at Ther- 
mopylae's tryst, 
Or the Persians and Xerxes? His judges or Socrates, Pilate 

or Christ? 

William Wetmore Story 

The Kings Are Passing Deathward 

The kings are passing deathward in the dark 

Of days that had been splendid where they went; 
Their crowns are captive and their courts are stark 

Of purples that are ruinous, now, and rent. 
For all that they have seen disastrous things: 

The shattered pomp, the split and shaken throne, 
fhey cannot quite forget the way of Kings: 

Gravely they pass, majestic and alone. 

With thunder on their brows, their faces set 
Toward the eternal night of restless shapes, 

They walk in awful splendor, regal yet, 
Wearing their crimes like rich and kingly capes . . . 

Curse them or taunt, they will not hear or see; 

The Kings are passing deathward: let them be. 

David Morton 



They bear no laurels on their sunless brows, 
Nor aught within their pale hands as they go; 
They look as men accustomed to the slow 
And level onward course 'neath drooping boughs. 
Who may these be no trumpet doth arouse, 
These of the dark processionals of woe, 
Unpraised, unblamed, but whom sad Acheron's flow 
Monotonously lulls to leaden drowse? 
These are the Failures. Clutched by Circumstance, 
They were say not, too weak! too ready prey 
To their own fear whose fixed Gorgon glance 
Made them as stone for aught of great essay; 
Or else they nodded when their Master-Chance 
Wound his one signal, and went on his way, 

Arthur W. Upson 

Life Owes Me Nothing 

Life owes me nothing. Let the years 
Bring clouds or azure, joy or tears, 

Already a full cup I've quaffed; 

Already wept and loved and laughed, 
And seen, in ever endless ways, 
New beauties overwhelm the days. 

Life owes me naught. No pain that waits 
Can steal the wealth from memory's gates; 
No aftermath of anguish slow 
Can quench the soul-fire's early glow, 
I breathe, exulting, each new breath, 
Embracing Life, ignoring Death. 


Life owes me nothing. One clear morn 
Is boon enough for being born; 

' And be it ninety years or ten, 

No need for me to question when. 
While Life is mine, I'll find it good, 
And greet each hour with gratitude. 

Author Unknown 

If This Were Enough 

God, if this were enough, 

That I see things bare to the buff 

And up to the buttocks in mire; 

That I ask not hope nor hire, 

Not in the husk, 

Nor dawn beyond the dusk, 

Nor life beyond death: 

God, if this were faith? 

Having felt Thy wind in my face 

Spit sorrow and disgrace, 

Having seen Thine evil doom 

In Golgotha and Khartoum, 

And the brutes, the work of Thine hands, 

Fill with injustice lands 

And stain with blood the sea: 

If still in my veins the glee 

Of the black night and the sun 

And the lost battle, run: 

If, an adept, 

The iniquitous lists I still accept 

With joy, and joy to endure and be withstood, 

And still to battle and perish for a dream of good: 

God, if that were enough? 


If to feel, in the ink of the slough, 

And the sink of the mire, 

Veins of glory and fire 

Run through and transpierce and transpire, 

And a secret purpose of glory in every part, 

And the answering glory of battle fill my heart; 

To thrill with the joy of girded men 

To go on forever and fail and go on again, 

And be mauled to the earth and arise, 

And contend for the shade of a word and a thing not seen 

with the eyes; 

With the half of a broken hope for a pillow at night 
That somehow the right is the right 
And the smooth shall bloom from the rough: 
Lord, if that were enough? 

Robert Louts Stevenson 

A Morning Prayer 

Let me today do something that will take 
A little sadness from the world's vast store, 

And may I be so favored as to make 
Of joy's too scanty sum a little more. 

Let me not hurt, by any selfish deed 

Or thoughtless word, the heart of foe or friend. 
Nor would I pass unseeing worthy need, 

Or sin by silence when I should defend. 

However meager be my worldly wealth, 
Let me give something that shall aid my kind 

A word of courage, or a thought of health 
Dropped as I pass for troubled hearts to find. 


Let me tonight look back across the span 

Twixt dawn and dark, and to my conscience say 

Because of some good act to beast or man 
" The world is better that I lived today." 

Ella Wheeler Wilcox 

From Thanatopsis 

So live that when thy summons comes to join 
The innumerable caravan that moves 
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death, 
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, 
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave 
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. 

William Cullen Bryant 

Count That Day Lost 

If you sit down at set of sun 

And count the acts that you have done, 

And, counting find 
One self-denying deed, one word 
That eased the heart of him who heard; 

One glance most kind, 
That fell like sunshine where it went 
Then you may count that day well spent. 

But if, through all the livelong day, 
YouVe cheered no heart, by yea or nay 

If, through it all 
YouVe nothing done that you can trace 


That brought the sunshine to one face 

No act most small 

That helped some soul and nothing cost 
Then count that day as worse than lost. 

George Eliot 

The Question Whither 

When we have thrown off this old suit 

So much in need of mending, 
To sink among the naked mute, 

Is that, think you, our ending? 
We follow many, more we lead, 

And you who sadly turf us, 
Believe not that all living seed 

Must flower above the surface. 

Sensation is a gracious gift 

But were it cramped to station, 
The prayer to have it cast adrift 

Would spout from all sensation. 
Enough if we have winked to sun, 

Have sped the plough a season, 
There is a soul for labor done, 

Endureth fixed as reason. 

Then let our trust be firm in Good, 

Though we be of the fasting; 
Our questions arc a mortal brood, 

Our work is everlasting. 
We Children of Beneficence 

Are in its being sharers; 
And Whither vainer sounds than Whence 

For word with such wayfarers, 

George Meredith 


To Whom Shall the World Henceforth Belong? 

To whom shall the world henceforth belong, 
And who shall go up and possess it? 

To the Great-Hearts the Strong 

Who will suffer no wrong, 

And where they find evil redress it. 

To the men of Bold Light 

Whose souls seized of Right, 

Found a work to be done and have done it. 

To the Valiant who fought 
For a soul-lifting thought, 
Saw the fight to be won and have won it. 

To the Men of Great Mind 

Set on lifting their kind, 

Who, regardless of danger, will do it. 

To the Men of Good-will, 

Who would cure all Life's ill, 

And whose passion for peace will ensue it. 

To the Men who will bear 

Their full share of Life's care, 

And will rest not till wrongs be all righted. 

To the Stalwarts who toil 
'Mid the seas of turmoil, 
Till the haven of safety be sighted. 

To the Men of Good Fame 

Who everything claim 

This world and the next in their Master's great name 


To these shall the world henceforth belong, 
And they shall go up and possess it; 
Overmuch, o'erlong, has the world suffered wrong, 
We are here by God's help to redress it. 

John Oxenham 


What a piece of work is a man I how noble in reason! how 
infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and 
admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension 
how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of 

William Shakespeare 
From " Hamlet, Prince of Denmark " 

Bring Me Men 

Bring me men to match my mountains, 

Bring me men to match my plains 
Men with empires in their purpose 

And new eras in their brains. 
Bring me men to match my prairies, 

Men to match my inland seas, 
Men whose thought shall prove a highway 

Up to ampler destinies, 
Pioneers to clear thought's marshlands 

And to cleanse old error's pen; 
Bring me men to match my mountains 

Bring me men! 

Bring me men to m^tch my forests, 
Strong to fight the storm and blast, 

Branching toward the skyey future, 
Rooted in the fertile past. 


Bring me men to match my valleys, 

Tolerant of sun and snow, 
Men within whose fruitful purpose 

Time's consummate blooms shall grow, 
Men to tame the tigerish instincts 

Of the lair and cave and den, 
Cleanse the dragon slime of nature 

Bring me men! 

Bring me men to match my rivers, 

Continent cleavers, flowing free, 
Drawn by the eternal madness 

To be mingled with the sea; 
Men of oceanic impulse, 

Men whose moral currents sweep 
Towards the wide-infolding ocean 

Of an undiscovered deep; 
Men who feel the strong pulsation 

Of tr^e central sea and then 
Time their currents to its earth throb 

Bring me men! 

Sam Walter Foss 
From " The Coming American " 

Joy and Sorrow 

Sullen skies today, 

Sunny skies tomorrow; 
November steals from May, 

And May from her doth borrow; 
Griefs Joys in Time's strange dance 
Interchangeably advance; 
The sweetest joys that come to us 

Come sweeter for past sorrow, 

Aubrey De Vere 


Thy Kingdom Come! 

Across the bitter centuries I hear the wail of men: 

" Oh, would that Jesus Lord, the Christ, would come to us 


We decorate our altars with ceremonious pride, 
With all the outward shows of pomp His worship is 


Great churches raise their mighty spires to pierce the sun- 
lit skies, 
While in the shadow of the cross we utter blasphemies. 

We know we do not do His will who lessoned us to pray, 
" Our Father grant within our lives Thy Kingdom rule 


The prayer He taught us, once a week we mouth with half- 
shut eye, 
While in the charnel-house of words immortal meanings 


Above our brothers' frailties we cry " Unclean! Unclean! " 
And with the hands that served her shame still stone the 

We know within our factories that wan-cheeked women 

Among the deft and droning belts that spin from wheel to 

We know that unsexed childhood droops in dull-eyed 


The little children that He blessed in far-off Galilee 
Yet surely, Lord, our hearts would grow more merciful to 

If Thou couldst come again to us as once in Bethlehem. 

Willard Wattles 


The Face of a Friend 

Blessed is the man that beholdeth the face of a friend in a 

far country, 
The darkness of his heart is melted in the dawning of day 

within him, 
It is like the sound of sweet music heard long ago and half 

It is like the coming back of birds to a wood where the 

winter is ended. 

Henry van Dyke 


Not poppies plant not poppies on my grave! 

I want no anodyne to make me sleep ; 
I want that All-Bestowing Power, who gave 
Immortal love to life, and which we crave 

The promise of a larger life, to keep. 

What that may be I know not no one knows; 

But since love's graces I have striven to gain, 
Plant o'er my soon-forgotten dust, a rose 
That flower which in love's garden ever blows 

That thus a fragrant memory may remain. 

For my fond hope has been, that I might leave 

A Flowering even in the wayside grass 
A Touch of Bloom, life's grayness to relieve 
A Beauty, they who follow may perceive, 
That hints the scent of roses as they pass. 

James Terry White 


To My Countrymen 
(A Voice for Peace) 

Heirs of great yesterdays, be proud with me 
Of your most envied treasure of the Past; 
Not wide domain; not doubtful wealth amassed; 
Not ganglia cities rival worlds to be: 
But great souls, servitors of Liberty, 
Who kept the state to star-set Honor fast, 
Not for ourselves alone but that, at last, 
No nation should to Baal bow the knee. 

Are we content to be inheritors? 
Can you not hear the pleading of the sod 
That canopies our heroes? Hasten, then! 
Help the sad earth unlearn the vogue of war. 
Be just and earn the eternal praise of men; 
Be generous and win the smile of God. 

Robert Underwood Johnson 


Faster and more fast, 
O'er night's brim, day boils at last: 
Boils, pure gold, o'er the cloud-cap's brim 
Where spurting and suppressed it lay, 
For not a froth-flake touched the rim 
Of yonder gap in the solid gray 
Of the eastern cloud, an hour away; 
But forth one wavelet, then another, curled, 
Till the whole sunrise, not to be suppressed, 
Rose, reddened, and its seething breast 
Flickered in bounds, grew gold, then overflowed the world. 

Robert Browning 


From Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard 

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, 
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, 

The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, 
And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, 
And all the air a solemn stillness holds, 

Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, 
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds; 

Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, 
The moping owl does to the moon complain 

Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, 
Molest her ancient, solitary reign. 

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, 
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, 

Each in his narrow cell forever laid, 
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, 
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, 

The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, 
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, 
Or busy housewife ply her evening care; 

No children run to lisp their sire's return, 
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. 

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, 
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; 

How jocund did they drive their team afield! 
How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy strokel 


Let not ambition mock their useful toil, 
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; 

Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile 
The short and simple annals of the poor. 

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, 
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, 

Await alike the inevitable hour: 

The paths of glory lead but to the grave, 

Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, 
If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise 

Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault 
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. 

Can stoned urn or animated bust 
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? 

Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust 
Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death? 

Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid 
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; 

Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed, 
Or wak'd to ecstasy the living lyre; 

But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, 
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll; 

Chill Penury repressed their noble rage, 
And froze the genial current of the soul. 

Full many a gem of purest ray serene 
The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear: 

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 

Thomas Gray 


Under the Harvest Moon 

Under the harvest moon, 
When the soft silver 
Drips shimmering 
Over the garden nights, 
Death, the gray mocker 
Comes and whispers to you 
As a beautiful friend 
Who remembers. 
Under the summer roses, 
When the flagrant crimson 
Lurks in the dusk 
Of the wild red leaves, 
Love, with little hands, 
Comes and touches you 
With a thousand memories, 
And asks you 
Beautiful unanswerable questions. 

Carl Sandburg 

The Creedless Love 

A creedless love, that knows no clan, 

No caste, no cult, no church but Man; 
That deems today and now and here, 

Are voice and vision of the seer; 
That through this lifted human clod 

The inflow of the breath of God 
Still sheds its apostolic powers 

Such love, such trust, such faith be ours. 

We deem man climbs an endless slope 

Tow'rd far-seen tablelands of hope; 
That he, through filth and shame of sin, 

Still seeks the God that speaks within; 


That all the years since time began 

Work the eternal Rise of Man ; 
And all the days that time shall see 

Tend tow'rd the Eden yet to be. 

Too long our music-hungering needs 
Have heard the iron clash of creeds. 

The creedless love that knows no clan, 
No caste, no cult, no church but Man, 

Shall drown with mellow music all, 
The dying jangle of their brawl; 

Such love with all its quickening powers, 
Such love to God and Man be ours. 

Sam Walter Foss 

Love Over All 

Time flies, 

Suns rise 

And shadows fall. 

Let time go by. 

Love is forever over all. 

From an English Sun Dial 


Sometimes I wish that I might do 
Just one grand deed and die, 

And by that one grand deed reach up 
To meet God in the sky. 

But such is not Thy way, God, 

Nor such is Thy decree, 
But deed by deed, and tear by tear, 

Our souls must climb to Thee, 


As climbed the only son of God 

From manger unto Cross, 
Who learned, through tears and bloody sweat, 

To count this world but loss; 

Who left the Virgin Mother's arms 

To seek those arms of shame, 
Outstretched upon a lonely hill 

To which the darkness came. 

As deed by deed, and tear by tear, 

He climbed up to the height, 
Each deed a splendid deed, each tear 

A jewel shining bright, 

So grant us, Lord, the patient heart, 

To climb the upward way, 
Until we stand upon the height, 

And see the perfect day. 

G. A. Studdert-Kennedy 

A Leaf of Grass 

I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of 

the stars, 
And the pismire is equally perfect, and a grain of sand, and 

the. egg of the wren, 

And the tree-toad is a chef-d'oeuvre for the highest, 
And the running blackberry would adorn the parlors of 

And the narrowest hinge in my hand puts to scorn all 



And the cow crunching with depressed head surpasses any 


And a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of 

Walt Whitman 
From " Leaves of Grass " 

The Lost Christ 

Your skill has fashioned stately creeds, 
But where is He, we pray 

The friendly Christ of loving deeds? 
He is not here today. 

With sentences that twist and tease, 

Confusing mind and heart, 
You forge your wordy homilies 

And bid us heed your art. 

But where is He or can you tell? 
Who stilled the brothers' strife, 

Who urged the woman at the well 
To live a better life? 

Where is the Saint of Galilee, 
Crude Peter's faithful guide; 

The man who wept at Bethany 
Because His friend had died? 

We weary of your musty lore 

Behind dead walls of gray; 
We want His loving words once more 

By some Emmaus way. 


Give us the Christ who can bestow 

Some comfort-thought of death. 
Give us a Christ our hearts can know 

The Man of Nazareth. 

Thomas Curtis Clark 

Our Known Unknown 

Thou as represented to me here 
In such conception as my soul allows 
Under Thy measureless, my atom-width! 
Man's mind, what is it but a convex-glass 
Wherein are gathered all the scattered points 
Picked out of the immensity of sky, 
To reunite there, be our heaven for earth, 
Our known Unknown, our God revealed to man? 

Robert Browning 
From " The Ring and the Book " 

Today, O Lord 

O Lord, I pray 
That for this day 

I may not swerve 
By foot or hand 
From Thy command 

Not to be served, but to serve. 

This, too, I pray, 
That from this day 

No love of ease 
Nor pride prevent 
My good intent 

Not to be pleased, but to please. 


And if I may 
I'd have this day 

Strength from above 
To set my heart 
In heavenly art 

Not to be loved, but to love. 

Maltbie D. Babcock 

Where is Heaven? 

Where is Heaven? Is it not 

Just a friendly garden plot, 

Walled with stone and roofed with sun, 

Where the days pass one by one 

Not too fast and not too slow, 

Looking backward as they go 

At the beauties left behind 

To transport the pensive mind. 

Does not Heaven begin that day 
When the eager heart can say, 
Surely God is in this place, 
I have seen Him face to face 
In the loveliness of flowers, 
In the service of the showers, 
And His voice has talked to me 
In the sunlit apple tree. 

Bliss Carman 

A Prayer for the New Year 

O year that is going, take with you 
Some evil that dwells in my heart; 
Let selfishness, doubt, 
With the old year go out 
With joy I would see them depart. 


year that is going, take with you 
Impatience and wilfulness pride; 
The sharp word that slips 

From those too hasty lips, 

1 would cast, with the old year aside. 

year that is coming, bring with you 

Some virtue of which I have need; 

More patience to bear 

And more kindness to share, 

And more love that is true love indeed. 

Laura F. Armitage 

The Stirrup-Cup 

Death, thou'rt a cordial old and rare: 
Look how compounded, with what care! 
Time got his wrinkles reaping thee 
Sweet herbs from all antiquity. 

David to thy distillage went, 
Keats, and Gotama excellent, 
Omar Khayyam, and Chaucer bright, 
And Shakespeare for a king-delight. 

Then, Time, let not a drop be spilt: 
Hand me the cup whene'er thou wilt; 
'Tis thy rich stirrup-cup to me; 
I'll drink it down right smilingly. 

Sidney Lanier 


Mothers of Men 

" I hold no cause worth my son's life," one said 

And the two women with her as she spoke 

Joined glances in a hush that neither broke, 

So present was the memory of their dead. 

And through their meeting eyes their souls drew near, 

Linked by their sons, men who had held life dear 

But laid it down for something dearer still. 

One had wrought out with patient iron will 

The riddle of a pestilence, and won, 

Fighting on stricken, till his work was done 

For children of tomorrow. Far away 

In shell-torn soil of France the other lay, 

And in the letter that his mother read 

Over and over, kneeling as to pray 

" I'm thanking God with all my heart today, 

Whatever comes " (that was the day he died) 

" I've done my bit to clear the road ahead." 

In those two mothers, common pain of loss 

Blossomed in starry flowers of holy pride, 

What thoughts were hers who silent stood beside 

Her son the dreamer's cross? A 7 . r 

Amelia /. Burr 


I do not ask a truce 

With life's incessant pain; 
But school my lips, O Lord, 

Not to complain. 

I do not ask for peace 

From life's eternal sorrow; 
But give me courage, Lord, 

To fight tomorrow! Peter Gething 


From If Jesus Came Back Today 

If Jesus came back today 

What would the people say? 

Would they cheer Him and strew the way 

With garlands of myrtle and bay 

As they did on that distant day 

When He came to Jerusalem? 

What would America say 

If Jesus came back today? 

We fashion great churches and creeds 
But the heart of the people still bleeds 
And the poor still rot in their needs. 
We display with pride His cross 
In the midst of our pagan life 
While we hug to our hearts the dross 
Of our selfishness and strife. 
What sacrifice have we made 
To live the love He prayed? 
What willing blood have we shed 
To do the deeds He said? 
To be popular and well-fed 
We forsake the way He led 
And follow a ghost instead! 

Vincent Godfrey Burns 

Life's Evening 

Ah, yet, ere I descend to the grave, 
May I a small house and large garden have, 
And a few friends, and many books, both true, 
Both wise, and both delightful too! 

Abraham Cowley 



" The earth is not the abode of the strong alone; it is also 
the home of the loving." 7. Arthur Thomson. 

The God of things that are 

Is the God of the highest heaven; 
The God of the morning star, 

Of the thrush that sings at even; 
The God of the storm and sunshine, 

Of the wolf, the snail, and the bee, 
Of the Alp's majestic silence, 

Of the boundless depths of the sea; 

The God of the times and the nations, 

Of the planets as they roll, 
Of the numberless constellations, 

Of the limitless human soul. 
For there is nothing small, 

And naught can mighty be; 
Archangels and atoms all 

Embodiments of Thee! 

A single thought divine 

Holds stars and suns in space; 
A dream of man is Thine, 

And history finds its place. 
When the universe was young 

Thine was the perfect thought 
That life should be bound in one 

By the strand of love enwrought 

In the life of the fern and the lily, 

Of the dragon and the dove, 
Still through the stress and struggle 

Waxes the bond of love. 


Out from the ruthless ages 

Rises, like incense mild, 
The love of the man and the woman, 

The love of the mother and child. 

David Starr Jordan 

The Spring of God 

Across the edges of the world there blows a wind 

Mysterious with perfume of a Spring; 

A Spring that is not of the kindling earth, 

That's more than scent of bloom or gleam of bud; 

The Spring of God in flower! 

Down there where neither sun nor air came through, 

I felt it blow dcross my dungeon walls 

The wind before the footsteps of the Lord! 

It bloweth now across the world; 

It strangely stirs the hearts of men; wars cease; 

Rare deeds familiar grow; fastings and prayers, 

Forgiveness, poverty; temples are built 

On visioned impulses, and children march 

On journeys with no end. 

Far off, far off He comes, * 

And we are swept upon our knees 

As meadow grasses kneeling to the wind. 

William A. Percy 
From In April Once " 

From The Vision of Sir Latmfal 

Earth gets its price for what Earth gives us; 

The beggar is taxed for a corner to die in, 
The priest hath his fee who comes and shrives us, 

We bargain for the graves we lie in; 


At the devil's booth are all things sold, 
Each ounce of dross costs its ounce of gold; 
For a cap and bells our lives we pay, 

Bubbles we buy with a whole soul's tasking; 
'Tis heaven alone that is given away, 

Tis only God may be had for the asking; 
No price is set on the lavish Summer; 
June may be had by the poorest comer. 

And what is so rare as a day in June? 

Then, if ever, come perfect days; 
Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune, 

And over it softly her warm ear lays; 
Whether we look, or whether we listen, 
We hear life murmur, or see it glisten; 
Every clod feels a stir of might, 

An instinct within it that reaches and towers, 
And, groping blindly above it for light, 

Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers; 
The flush of life may well be seen 

Thrilling back over hills and valleys; 
The cowslip startles in meadows green, 

The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, 
And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean 

To be some happy creature's palace; 
The little bird sits at his door in the sun, 

Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, 
And lets his illumined being o'errun 

With the deluge of summer it receives; 
His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings, 
And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings; 
He sings to the wide world and she to her nest 
In the nice ear of Nature, which song is the best? 

James Russell Lowell 



Let us keep splendid loyalties, 

For we are falling prey to lesser things. 

What use are breath and strength if we no longer feel 

The thrill of battle for some holy cause 

Or hear high morning bugles calling us away? 

Let brave hearts dare to break the truce with things 

Ere we have lost our ancient heritage. 

Are we to gain a world to lose our souls, 

Souls which can keep faith until death 

And die, triumphant, in some crimson dawn? 

Nay, we must keep faith with the unnumbered brave 

Who pushed aside horizons, that we might reach 

The better things: We cannot rest until 

We have put courage once more on her throne; 

For Honor clamors for her heritage, 

And Right still claims a kingdom of its own. 

Walter A. Cutter 

God Is Here 

God is here! I hear His voice 

While thrushes make the woods rejoice. 

I touch His robe each time I place 
My hand against a pansy's face. 

I breathe His breath if I but pass 
Verbenas trailing through the grass. 

God is here! From every tree 
His leafy fingers beckon me. 

Madeleine Aaron 


I Tramp a Perpetual Journey 

I tramp a perpetual journey, 

My signs are a rain-proof coat, good shoes, and a staff cut 

from the woods, 

No friend of mine takes his ease in my chair, 
I have no chair, no church, no philosophy, 
I lead no man to a dinner-table, library or exchange, 
But each man and each woman of you I lead upon a knoll, 
My left hand hooking you round the waist, 
My right hand pointing to landscapes of continents, and a 

plain public road. 

Not I nor anyone else, can travel that road for you, 
You must travel it for yourself. 

Walt Whitman 
From " Leaves of Grass " 


Work is devout, and service is divine. 

Who stoops to scrub a floor 

May worship more 

Than he who kneels before a holy shrine; 

Who crushes stubborn ore 

More worthily adore 

Than he who crushes sacramental wine. 

Roy Campbell MacFie 

The Seven Ages of Man 

All the world's a stage, 
And all the men and women merely players: 
They have their exits and their entrances; 
And one man in his time plays many parts, 


His acts being seven ages. As, first, the infant, 
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms: 
And then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel 
And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
Unwillingly to school: And then the lover, 
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad 
Made to his mistress' eyebrow: Then the soldier, 
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, 
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, 
Seeking the bubble reputation 
Even in the cannon's mouth: And then the justice, 
In fair round belly with good capon lined, 
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, 
Full of wise saws and modern instances; 
And so he plays his part: The sixth age shifts 
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, 
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side; 
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide 
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, 
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
And whistles in his sound: Last scene of all, 
That ends this strange eventful history, 
Is second childishness and mere oblivion, 
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. 

William Shakespeare 
From " As You Like It " 

From Among the Ferns 

I lay among the ferns, 

Where they lifted their fronds, innumerable, in the green- 
wood wilderness, like wings winnowing the air; 
And their voices went by me continually. 


And I listened, and Lo! softly inaudibly raining I heard not 
the voices of the ferns only, but of all living creatures: 

Voices of mountain and star, 

Of cloud and forest and ocean, 

And of little rills tumbling among the rocks, 

And of the high tops where the moss-beds are and the springs 

As the wind at midday rains whitening over the grass, 

As the night-bird glimmers a moment, fleeting between the 
lonely watcher and the moon, 

So softly inaudibly they rained, 

While I sat silent. 

And in the silence of the greenwood I knew the secret of the 

growth of the ferns; 
I saw their delicate leaflets tremble breathing an unde- 

scribed and unuttered life; 
And, below, the ocean lay sleeping; 
And round them the mountains and the stars dawned in 

glad companionship forever. 

Edward Carpenter 

The Newer Vainglory 

Two men went up to pray; and one gave thanks, 

Not with himself aloud, 
With proclamation, calling on the ranks 

Of an attentive crowd. 

" Thank God, I clap not my own humble breast, 

But other ruffians' backs, 
Imputing crime such is my tolerant haste 

To any man that lacks. 


" For I am tolerant, generous, keep no rules, 

And the age honors me. 
Thank God I am not as these rigid fools, 

Even as this Pharisee." 

Alice Meynell 

The Place of Peace 

At the heart of the cyclone tearing the sky 

And flinging the clouds and the towers by, 

Is a place of central calm; 

So here in the roar of mortal things, 

I have a place where my spirit sings, 

In the hollow of God's palm. 

Edwin Markham 

The Seeker After God 

There was a dreamer once, whose spirit trod 
Unnumbered ways in thwarted search for God: 
He stirred the dust on ancient books; he sought 
For certain light in what the teachers taught; 
He took his staff and went unto the Wise, 
And deeper darkness fell about his eyes; 
He lived a hermit, and forebore his food, 
And God left visitless his solitude; 
He wrapped himself in prayer night after night, 
And mocking demons danced across his sight. 
Resigned at last to Him he could not find, 
He turned again to live among mankind 
And when from man he no more stood apart, 
God, on that instant, visited his heart! 

Harry Kemp 


The Survivor 

When the last day is ended, 

And the nights are through; 
When the last sun is buried 

In its grave of blue; 

When the stars are snuffed like candles, 

And the seas no longer fret; 
When the winds unlearn their cunning, 

And the storms forget; 

When the last lip is palsied, 

And the last prayer said; 
Love shall reign immortal 

While the worlds lie dead! 

Frederic Lawrence Knowles 


Ask and it shall be given. 

Ask ask. 

And if you ask a stone 

Expect not bread; 

And if the stone glitter like a caught star, 

And shine on a warm, soft breast, 

And you have tossed your soul away 

To see it in that nest, 

Yet is it still a stone not bread. 

Seek and you shall find. 
Seek seek. 

And if you go the crowded street 
Look not to find the hills; 


And if the shops sit gay along the way, 
And laughter fills the air, 
Still you have lost the hills. 

Knock and the door shall open. 
Knock knock. 
Two doors are there, beware! 
Think well before you knock; 
Your tapping finger will unlock 
Your heaven or hell. 

Ellen Coit Elliott 

Past Ruined Hion 

Past ruined Hion Helen lives, 

Alcestis rises from the shades; 
Verse calls them forth; 'tis verse that gives 

Immortal youth to mortal maids. 

Soon shall Oblivion's deepening veil 

Hide all the peopled hills you see, 
The gay, the proud, while lovers hail 

These many summers you and me. 

Walter Savage Landor 

Nature and Religion 

Where shall we get religion? Beneath the open sky, 

The sphere of crystal silence surcharged with deity. 

The winds blow from a thousand ways and waft their balms 

The winds blow toward a million goals but all winds 

blow from God. 


The stars the old Chaldeans saw still weave their maze 

on high 

And write a thousand thousand years their bible in the sky. 
The midnight earth sends incense up, sweet with the breath 

of prayer 
Go out beneath the naked night and get religion there. 

Where shall we get religion? Beneath the blooming tree, 
Beside the hill-encircled brooks that loiter to the sea; 
Beside all twilight waters, beneath the noonday shades. 
Beneath the dark cathedral pines, and through the tangled 


Wherever the old urge of life provokes the dumb, dead sod 
To tell its thought in violets, the soul takes hold on God. 
Go smell the growing clover, and scent the blooming pear, 
Go forth to seek religion and find it anywhere. 

Sam Walter Foss 


For all things beautiful, and good, and true; 

For things that seemed not good yet turned to good; 

For all the sweet compulsions of Thy will 

That chastened, tried, and wrought us to Thy shape; 

For things unnumbered that we take of right, 

And value first when they are withheld; 

For light and air; sweet sense of sound and smell; 

For ears to hear the heavenly harmonies; 

For eyes to see the unseen in the seen; 

For vision of the Worker in the work; 

For hearts to apprehend Thee everywhere; 

We thank Thee, Lord. 

John Oxenkam 


Magna Est Veritas 

Here, in this little Bay, 

Full of tumultuous life and great repose, 

Where, twice a day, 

The purposeless, glad ocean comes and goes, 

Under high cliffs, and far from the huge town, 

I sit me down. 

For want of me the world's course will not fail; 

When all its work is done, the lie shall rot; 

The truth is great, and shall prevail, 

When none cares whether it prevail or not. 

Coventry Patmore 


How can you smile when pain is everywhere; 
How flaunt complacently your vulgar wealth? 
" It is my duty to be gay. My health 
And calm delight the eye and banish care 
It would be sad indeed if none were free 
To sanction Beauty and embody Joy. 
Enough of you, who would with gloom destroy 
My grace. I do my share of Charity! " 

Your share of charity! Who tipped the scales 
To Sophistry and weighed a fancy gown 
Against a street rat's need of bread? The nails 
Of Calvary, the cross, the thorned crown, 
The face of sorrow that He wore, reply: 
" Forgive them, God, they know not when they lie! " 

Mary Craig Sinclair 



Around us lies a world invisible, 

With isles of dream and many a continent 

Of Thought, and Isthmus Fancy, where we dwell 

Each as a lonely wanderer intent 

Upon his vision; finding each his fears 

And hopes encompassed by the tide of Tears. 

John B. Tabb 

My Enemy 

An enemy I had, whose mien 

I stoutly strove in vain to know; 
For hard he dogged my steps, unseen, 

Wherever I might go. 

My plans he balked; my aims he foiled; 

He blocked my every onward way. 
When for some lofty goal I toiled, 

He grimly said me nay. 

" Come forth! " I cried, " Lay bare thy guise! 

Thy wretched features I would see." 
Yet always to my straining eyes 

He dwelt in mystery. 

Until one night I held him fast, 

The veil from off his form did draw; 
I gazed upon his face at last 

And, lo! myself I saw. 

Edwin L. Sabin 



My mind lets go a thousand things, 
Like dates of wars and deaths of kings, 
And yet recalls the very hour 
J Twas noon by yonder village tower, 
And on the last blue noon in May 
The wind came briskly up this way, 
Crisping the brook beside the road; 
Then, pausing here, set down its load 
Of pine-scents, and shook listlessly 
Two petals from that wild-rose tree. 

Thomas Bailey Aldrich 

Pass On the Torch 

Pass on the torch, pass on the flame; 
Remember whence the Glory came; 
And eyes are on you as you run, 
Beyond the shining of the sun. 

Lord Christ, we take the torch from Thee; 
We must be true, we must be free, 
And clean of heart and strong of soul, 
To bear the Glory to its goal. 

America, God hear the prayer 
America for God, we dare, 
With Lincoln's heart and Lincoln's hand, 
To fling a flame across the land. 

O Lord of life, to Thee we kneel; 
Maker of men, our purpose seall 
We will, for honor of Thy Name, 
Pass on the Torch, pass on the flame. 

Allen Eastman Cross 


The Miser 

I have wasted nothing. O Lord, I have saved, 

Saved, put by in a goodly hoard. 

What of the prodigals? Judge them, Lord 

Their wanton waste of Thy mercies poured 

Into the sewers! Profligates! 

Judge them, Lord, in Thy righteous wrath. 

I have saved, O Lord, I have scraped and saved, 

With my eyes downbent to my daily path; 

I have counted and carried, checked and stored, 

Nothing too worthless, nothing too small, 

Never a fragment thrown away 

A gainful use I have found for all. 

But what is my store? Do they call this Death, 
This poignant insight? At last I see. 
I have wasted nothing, Lord, but life, 
Time, and the talent Thou gavest me. 

Laura Bell Everett 

Whichever Way the Wind Doth Blow 

Whichever way the wind doth blow 
Some heart is glad to have it so; 
Then blow it east or blow it west, 
The wind that blows, that wind is best. 

My little craft sails not alone; 
A thousand fleets from every zone 
Are out upon a thousand seas; 
And what for me were favouring breeze 


Might dash another, with the shock 
Of doom, upon some hidden rock. 
And so I do not dare to pray 
For winds to waft me on my way, 
But leave it to a Higher Will 
To stay or speed me; trusting still 
That all is well, and sure that He 
Who launched my bark will sail with me 
Through storm and calm, and will not fail 
Whatever breezes may prevail 
To land me, every peril past, 
Within His sheltering Heaven at last. 

Then whatsoever wind doth blow, 
My heart is glad to have it so; 
And blow it east or blow it west, 
The wind that blows, that wind is best, 

Caroline Atherton Mason 

The Tide of Faith 

So faith is strong 

Only when we are strong, shrinks when we shrink. 

It comes when music stirs us, and the chords, 

Moving on some grand climax, shake our souls 

With influx new that makes new energies. 

It comes in swellings of the heart and tears 

That rise at noble and at gentle deeds. 

It comes in moments of heroic love, 

Un jealous joy in joy not made for us; 

In conscious triumph of the good within, 

Making us worship goodness that rebukes. 

Even our failures are a prophecy, 

Even our yearnings and our bitter tears 


After that fair and true we cannot grasp. 
Presentiment of better things on earth 
Sweeps in with every force that stirs our souls 
To admiration, self-renouncing love. 

George Eliot 

Vitse Summa Brevis 

They are not long, the weeping and the laughter, 

Love and desire and hate: 
I think they have no portion in us after 

We pass the gate. 
They are not long, the days of wine and roses: 

Out of a misty dream 
Our path emerges for a while, then closes 

Within a dream. 

Ernest Dowson 

From Ulysses 

There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail: 

There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners, 

Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me 

That ever with a frolic welcome took 

The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed 

Free hearts, free foreheads you and I are old; 

Old age hath yet his honor and his toil; 

Death closes all: but something ere the end, 

Some work of noble note, may yet be done, 

Not unbecoming men that strove with gods. 

The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks: 

The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep 

Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, 

Tis not too late to seek a newer world. 

Push off, and sitting well in order smite 


The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds 

To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths 

Of all the western stars, until I die. 

It may be that the gulfs will wash us down: 

It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, 

And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. 

Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho' 

We are not now that strength which in old days 

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are; 

One equal temper of heroic hearts, 

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will 

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. 

Alfred Tennyson 


The years race by on padded feet 
Unhaltingly, and panther-fleet 
Imprinting marks of drab decay. 

My hair grows ashen; cravings numb; 
Lips pale; and telltale age-lines come 
Life's hoary touch I may not stay. 

Time-scarred . . . yet I shall scorn to weep 
For transient youth if I can keep 
My piquant heart from turning gray! 

Winnie Lynch Rockett 

Rules for the Road 

Stand straight: 

Step firmly, throw your weight: 

The heaven is high above your head, 

The good gray road is faithful to your tread. 


Be strong: 

Sing to your heart a battle song: 
Though hidden f oemen lie in wait, 
Something is in you that can smile at Fate, 

Press through: 

Nothing can harm if you are true. 

And when the night comes, rest: 

The earth is friendly as a mother's breast. 

Edwin Markham 

The White Christs 

The White Christs come from the East, 

And they follow the way of the sun; 
And they smile, as Pale Men ask them to 

At the things Pale Men have done; 
For the White Christs sanction the sum of things 

Faggot and club and gun. 

Whine of the groaning car, 

Caste, which divides like a wall; 
Curse of the raw-sored soul; 

Doom of the great and small; 
The White Christs fashioned by Pale White Men 

Sanction and bless it all. 

Prophets of truth have said 

That Afric and Ind must mourn; 
And the children of Oman weep 

Trampled and slashed and torn, 
Keeping the watch with brown Cathay 

Till the Black Christs shall be born. 

Guy Fitch Phelps 


Prayer for a Little Home 

God send us a little home 
To come back to when we roam 
Low walls and fluted tiles 
Wide windows, a view for miles; 
Red firelight and deep chairs; 
Small white beds upstairs; 
Great talk in little nooks; 
Dim colors, rows of books; 
One picture on each wall; 
Not many things at all. 
God send us a little ground 
Tall trees standing round, 
Homely flowers in brown sod, 
Overhead Thy stars, God! 
God bless when winds blow 
Our home and all we know. 

Author Unknown 

The Silent Voices 

When the dumb Hour, clothed in black, 
Brings the dreams about my bed, 
Call me not so often back, 
Silent voices of the dead, 
Toward the lowland ways behind me, 
And the sunlight that is gonel 
Call me rather, silent voices, 
Forward to the starry track 
Glimmering up the heights beyond me 
On, and always onl 

Alfred Tennyson 


Dreamers of Dreams 

We are all of us dreamers of dreams, 

On visions our childhood is fed; 
And the heart of the child is unhaunted, it seems, 

By the ghosts of dreams that are dead. 

From childhood to youth's but a span, 
And the years of our life are soon sped; 

But the youth is no longer a youth, but a man, 
When the first of his dreams is dead. 

'Tis as a cup of wormwood and gall, 
When the doom of a great dream is said; 

And the best of a man is under the pall, 
When the best of his dreams is dead. 

He may live on by compact and plan, 

When the fine bloom of living is shed; 
But God pity the little that's left of a man 

When the last of his dreams is dead. 

Let him show a brave face if he can, 

Let him woo fame or fortune instead; 
Yet there's not much to do but to bury a man, 

When the last of his dreams is dead. 

William Herbert Carruth 

Three Words of Strength 

There are three lessons I would write, 
Three words, as with a burning pen, 

In tracings of eternal light, 
Upon the hearts of men. 


Have Hope. Though clouds environ round, 
And gladness hides her face in scorn, 

Put off the shadow from thy brow: 
No night but hath its morn. 

Have Faith. Where'er thy bark is driven 
The calm's disport, the tempest's mirth 

Know this: God rules the hosts of heaven, 
The inhabitants of earth. 

Have Love, Not love alone for one, 

But man, as man, thy brother call; 
And scatter, like a circling sun, 

Thy charities on all. 

Friedrkh von Schiller 


Unto my friends I give my thoughts, 

Unto my God my soul, 
Unto my foe I leave my love 

These are of life the whole. 

Nay, there is something a trifle left; 

Who shall receive this dower? 
See, Earth Mother, a handful of dust 

Turn it into a flower. 

Ethdyn Wetherald 

Truth, Crushed to Earth 

Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again 

The eternal years of God are hers; 
But Error, wounded, writhes in pain, 

And dies among his worshippers. 

William Cullen Bryant 


Barter * 

Life has loveliness to sell, 

All beautiful and splendid things, 
Blue waves whitened on a cliff, 

Soaring fire that sways and sings, 
And children's faces looking up 
Holding wonder like a cup. 

Life has loveliness to sell, 

Music like a curve of gold, 
Scent of pine trees in the rain, 

Eyes that love you, arms that hold, 
And for your spirit's still delight, 
Holy thoughts that star the night. 

Spend all you have for loveliness, 

Buy it and never count the cost; 
For one white singing hour of peace 

Count many a year of strife well lost, 
And for a breath of ecstasy 
Give all you have been, or could be. 

Sara Teasdale 

Three Steps 

Three steps there are our human life must climb. 

The first is Force. 
The savage struggled to it from the slime 

And still it is our last, ashamed recourse. 

Above that jagged stretch of red-veined stone 

Is marble Law, 
Carven with long endeavor, monotone 

Of patient hammers, not yet free from flaw. 

* From " Love Poems " by Sara Teasdale. By permission of The 
Macmillan Company, publishers. 


Three steps there are our human life must climb. 

The last is Love, 
Wrought from such starry element sublime 

As touches the White Rose and Mystic Dove. 

Katharine Lee Bates 

Four Things To Do 

Four things a man must learn to do 
If he would keep his record true: 
To think, without confusion, clearly; 
To love his fellow-man sincerely; 
To act from honest motives purely; 
To trust in God and Heaven securely. 

Henry 'van Dyke 

On Entering a Chapel 

Love built this shrine; these hallowed walls uprose 
To give seclusion from the hurrying throng, 
From tumult of the street, complaint and wrong, 
From rivalry and strife, from taunt of foes 
If foes thou hast. On silent feet come in, 
Bow low in penitence. Whoe'er thou art 
Thou, too, hast sinned. Uplift in prayer thy heart. 
Thy Father's Blessing waiteth. Read within 
This holy place, in pictured light portrayed, 
The characters of worthies who, from years 
Long past, still speak the message here displayed 
In universal language not to fade. 
Leave then thy burden, all thy cares and fears; 
Faith, hope, and love are thine, for thou hast prayed. 

John Davidson 


From The Happy Warrior 

Who is the happy Warrior? Who is he 

That every man in arms should wish to be? 

It is the generous Spirit, who, when brought 

Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought 

Upon the plan that pleased his boyish thought: 

Whose high endeavors are an inward light 

That makes the path before him always bright. . . . 

3 Tis he whose law is reason; who depends 

Upon that law as on the best of friends. . . . 

He labors good on good to fix, and owes 

To virtue every triumph that he knows: 

Who, if he rise to station of command, 

Rises by open means; and there will stand 

On honorable terms, or else retire, 

And in himself possess his own desire; 

Who comprehends his trust, and to the same 

Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim; 

And therefore does not stoop, nor lie in wait 

For wealth, or honors, or for worldly state. . . . 

Whose powers shed round him in the common strife, 

Or mild concerns of ordinary life, 

A constant influence, a peculiar grace; 

But who, if he be called upon to face 

Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined 

Great issues, good or bad for human kind, 

Is happy as a Lover; and attired 

With sudden brightness, like a Man inspired; 

And, through the heat of conflict, keeps the law 

In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw; 

Or if an unexpected call succeed, 

Come when it will, is equal to the need. . . . 

'Tis, finally, the Man who lifted high, 


Conspicuous object in a Nation's eye, 
Or left unthought-of in obscurity 
Who, with a toward or untoward lot. 
Prosperous or adverse, to his wish or not 
Plays, in the many games of life, that one 
Where what he most doth value must be won: 
Whom neither shape of danger can dismay, 
Nor thought of tender happiness betray; 
Who, not content that former worth stand fast, 
Looks forward, persevering to the last, 
From well to better, daily self-surpast: 
Who, whether praise of him must walk the earth 
Forever, and to noble deeds give birth, 
Or he must fall, to sleep without his fame, 
And leave a dead unprofitable name 
Finds comfort in himself and in his cause; 
And, while the mortal mist is gathering, draws 
His breath in confidence of Heaven's applause: 
This is the happy Warrior; this is he 
That every Man in arms should wish to be. 

William Wordsworth 

These Times 

Our motors pierce the clouds. They penetrate 
The depth of oceans. Microscopes reveal 
New worlds to conquer, while we dedicate 
Our intellects to strength of stone and steel. 
We are as proud as those who built a tower 
To reach to heaven. Recklessly we rear 
Our lofty Babels, arrogant with power. 
How dare we boast of cities while we hear 
The nations groping through the dark along 
The road of life? What right have we for pride 


Till Truth is steel, and Faith is iron-strong, 
Till God and man are working side by side? 
Then let our prayers and labors never cease; 
We act the prologue of a masterpiece. 

Gertrude Ryder Bennett 

The Wise 

He who sees 

How action may be rest, rest action he 
Is wisest 'mid his kind: he hath the truth I 
He doeth well acting or resting. Freed 
In all his works from prickings of desire, 
Burned clean in act by the white fire of truth, 
The wise call that one wise. 

Translated by Edwin Arnold 
From " The Bhagauad Gita " 


Still we who follow Christ in deed 

Must break the bread and spill the wine: 
Still must a costly Eucharist 

Be for a sacrifice and sign. 

Our bodies broken for the truth 

By mobs or Pharisees of State 
Must be the bread which Liberty 

Feeds on, and lives, and waxes great. 

Our blood, our covenant of love, 
Is the rich wine which we must give 

To a sick world that hates the gift 
So, by our dying, God may live. 


Not by the grape or wheaten bread 

Can we partake the Eucharist: 
Communion is to give to God 

Our blood and bodies, like the Christ. 

E. Merrill Root 

From Songs in Absence 

Where lies the land to which the ship would go? 
Far, far ahead, is all her seamen know. 
And where the land she travels from? Away, 
Far, far behind, is all that they can say. 

On sunny noons upon the deck's smooth face, 
Linked arm in arm, how pleasant here to pace; 
Or, o'er the stern reclining, watch below 
The foaming wake far widening as we go. 

On stormy nights when wild northwesters rave, 
How proud a thing to fight with wind and wave! 
The dripping sailor on the reeling mast 
Exults to bear, and scorns to wish it past. 

Where lies the land to which the ship would go? 
Far, far ahead, is all her seamen know. 
And where the land she travels from? Away, 
Far, far behind, is all that they can say. 

Arthur Hugh Clough 

Three Things Come Not Back 

Remember three things come not back: 
The arrow sent upon its track 
It will not swerve, it will not stay 
Its speed; it flies to wound, or slay. 


The spoken word so soon forgot 

By thee; but it has perished not; 

In other hearts 'tis living still 

And doing work for good or ill. 

And the lost opportunity 

That cometh back no more to thee, 

In vain thou weepest, in vain dost yearn, 

Those three will nevermore return. 

From the Arabic 

The Best Road of All 

I like a road that leads away to prospects white and fair, 
A road that is an ordered road, like a nun's evening prayer; 
But, best of all, I love a road that leads to God knows where. 

You come upon it suddenly you cannot seek it out; 
It's like a secret still unheard and never noised about; 
But when you see it, gone at once is every lurking doubt. 

It winds beside some rushing stream where aspens lightly 


It follows many a broken field by many a shining river; 
It seems to lead you on and on, forever and forever! 

You tramp along its dusty way, beneath its shadowy trees, 
And hear beside you chattering birds or happy booming bees, 
And all around you golden sounds, the green leaves' litanies. 

And here's a hedge, and there's a cot; and then strange, 

sudden turns 

A dip, a rise, a little glimpse where the red sunset burns; 
A bit of sky at evening time, the scent of hidden ferns. 


A winding road, a loitering road, a finger-mark of God 
Traced when the Maker of the world leaned over ways un- 


See! Here He smiled His glowing smile, and lo, the golden- 

I like a road that wanders straight; the King's highway is 

And lovely are the sheltered lanes that take you here and 

But, best of all, I love a road that leads to God knows 


Charles Hanson Towne 

We Shall Attain 

We shall attain yea, though this dust shall fail, 

And though all evil things conspire to bind 

The struggling soul with gyves of sense, and blind 

Our faith with clay, and though all foes assail 

To utterly destroy us: yet from wail, 

From misery and from doubt, from all mankind 

False hopes, and from the dwarfed and prisoned mind, 

We shall attain to life beyond the vail. 

Yea, though 'tis written that all flesh is grass, 
Which springeth up at morn and flourisheth, 
And which at even, when th' inverted glass 
Is emptied of its sands, fades as the breath. 
The dew-lipped rose sighs on the winds that pass 
Yet in our frailty we shall conquer death. 

James B. Kenyan 


What Makes a Nation Great? 

Not serried ranks with flags unfurled, 
Not armored ships that gird the world, 
Not hoarded wealth nor busy mills, 
Not cattle on a thousand hills, 
Not sages wise, nor schools nor laws, 
Not boasted deeds in freedom's cause 
All these may be, and yet the state 
In the eye of God be far from great. 

That land is great which knows the Lord, 
Whose songs are guided by His word; 
Where justice rules 'twixt man and man, 
Where love controls in art and plan; 
Where, breathing in his native air, 
Each soul finds joy in praise and prayer 
Thus may our country, good and great, 
Be God's delight man's best estate. 

Alexander Blackburn 


I shall remember then, 

At twilight time or in the hush of dawn, 

Or yet, mayhap, when on a straying wind 

The scent of lilac comes, or when 

Some strain of music startles and is gone. 

Old dreams, old roses, all so far behind, 
Blossoms and birds and ancient shadow-trees, 
Whispers at sunset, the low hum of bees, 
And sheep that graze beneath a summer sun, 


Will they too come, they who in yester-year 
Walked the same paths and in the first of Spring, 
And shall I hear 
Their distant voices murmuring? 

I shall remember then 

When youth is done, 

With the dim years grown gray; 

And I shall wonder what it is that ends. 

And why they seem so very far away 

Old dreams, old roses . . . and old friends. 

Thomas S. Jones, Jr. 

God Hears Prayer 

If radio's slim fingers can pluck a melody 

From night and toss it over a continent or sea; 

If the petalled white notes of a violin 

Are blown across the mountains or the city's din; 

If songs, like crimson roses, are culled from thin blue air 

Why should mortals wonder if God hears prayer? 

Ethel Romig Fuller 

Prayer in April 

God grant that I may never be 

A scoffer at Eternity 

As long as every April brings 

The sweet rebirth of growing things; 

As long as grass is green anew, 

As long as April's skies are blue, 

I shall believe that God looks down 

Upon His wide earth, cold and brown, 

To bless its unborn mystery 

Of leaf, and bud, and flower to be; 


To smile on it from tender skies 

How could I think it otherwise? 

Had I been dust for many a year, 

I still would know when Spring was near, 

For the good earth that pillowed me 

Would whisper immortality, 

And I, in part, would rise and sing 

Amid the grasses murmuring. 

When looking on the mother sod, 

Can I hold doubt that this be God? 

Or when a primrose smiles at me, 

Can I distrust Eternity? c , rr 
J Sara Henderson Hay 

The Land of Beginning Again 

I wish that there were some wonderful place 

In the Land of Beginning Again: 
Where all our mistakes and all our heartaches 

And all of our poor selfish grief 
Could be dropped like a shabby old coat at the door 

And never put on again. 

I wish we could come on it all unaware, 

Like the hunter who finds a lost trail; 
And I wish that the one whom our blindness had done 

The greatest injustice of all 
Could be there at the gates like an old friend that waits 

For the comrade he's gladdest to hail. 

We would find all the things we intended to do 

But forgot, and remembered too late, 
Little praises unspoken, little promises broken, 

And all of the thousand and one 
Little duties neglected that might have perfected 

The day for one less fortunate. 


It wouldn't be possible not to be kind 

In the Land of Beginning Again, 
And the ones we misjudged and the ones whom we grudged 

Their moments of victory here, 
Would find in the grasp of our loving hand-clasp 

More than penitent lips could explain. 

For what had been hardest we'd know had been best, 

And what had seemed loss would be gain; 
For there isn't a sting that will not take wing 

When we've faced it and laughed it away 
And I think that the laughter is most what we're after 

In the Land of Beginning Again. 

So I wish that there were some wonderful place 

Called the Land of Beginning Again, 
Where all our mistakes and all our heartaches, 

And all of our poor selfish grief 
Could be dropped like a shabby old coat at the door 

And never put on again. 

Louise Fletcher Tarkington 

Life Is Ever Lord of Death 

Alas for him who never sees 
The stars shine through his cypress-trees! 
Who, hopeless, lays his dead away, 
Nor looks to see the breaking day 
Across the mournful marbles play! 
Who hath not learned, in hours of faith, 
The truth to flesh and sense unknown, 
That Life is ever Lord of Death, 
And Love can never lose its own! 

John Greenleaf Whtitier 
From "Snow-Bound" 



Across the fields of yesterday 

He sometimes comes to me, 
A little lad just back from play 

The lad I used to be. 

And yet he smiles so wistfully 

Once he has crept within, 
I wonder if he hopes to see 

The man I might have been. 

Thomas S. Jones, Jr. 

Use Well the Moment 

Use well the moment; what the hour 
Brings for thy use is in thy power; 
And what thou best canst understand 
Is just the thing lies nearest to thy hand. 

J. W. von Goethe 


I live: this much I know; and I defy 
The world to prove that I shall ever die! 
But all men perish? Aye, and even so 
Beneath the grasses lay this body low; 
Forever close these eyes and still this breath; 
All this, yet I shall not have tasted death. 

Where are the lips that prattled infant lays? 
The eyes that shone with light of childhood's days? 
The heart that bubbled o'er with boyhood's glee? 
The limbs that bounded as the chamois free? 
The ears that heard life's music everywhere? 
These, all, where are they now? Declare. 


Forever gone; forever dead! Yet still 
I live. My love, my hate, my fear, my will, 
My all that makes life living firm abides. 
Death is my youth, and so my age must die; 
But I remain Imperishable I. 

Speed day and year! Fleet by the stream of time! 
Wing, birds of passage, to a sunnier clime. 
Come change, come dissolution and decay, 
To kill the very semblance of this clay! 
Yet, know the conscious, the unchanging I 
Through all eternity shall never die. 

Willis Fletcher Johnson 

Beyond Electrons 

They who once probed and doubted now believe 
The Men of Science, for they humbly learn 
There is a Will that guides the atom's course; 
A Power that directs what they discern 
In light and air, in star and wave and sod; 
Beyond electrons they discover God! 

From research they derive a new faith that 
Sustains foundations of our ancient creeds; 
They grope through matter toward an utmost Light 
And find a living God behind His deeds. 

Adelaide P. Love 

If Love Be Ours 

In Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours, 
Faith and unfaith can ne'er be equal powers: 
Unfaith in aught is want of faith in all. 


It is the little rift within the lute, 
That by and by will make the music mute, 
And ever widening slowly silence all. 

The little rift within the lover's lute, 
Or little pitted speck in garnered fruit, 
That rotting inward slowly moulders all. 

It is not worth the keeping: let it go: 
But shall it? answer, darling, answer, no. 
And trust me not at all or all in all. 

Alfred Tennyson 
From " Idylls of the King " 


No show of bolts and bars 
Can keep the f oeman out, 
Or 'scape his secret mine 
Who enter'd with the doubt 
That drew the line. 
No warder at the gate 
Can let the friendly in; 
But, like the sun, o'er all 
He will the castle win, 
And shine along the wall. 

Implacable is Love 
Foes may be bought or teased 
From their hostile intent, 
But he goes unappeased 
Who is on kindness bent. 

Henry David Thoreau 


The Poem I Should Like to Write 

The poem I should like to write was written long ago, 
In vast primeval valleys and on mountains clad in snow; 
It was written where no foot of man or beast had ever trod, 
And where the first wild flower turned its smiling face to 

Where mighty winds swept far and wide o'er dark and sullen 

And where the first earth-mother sat, a child upon her knees. 

The poem I should like to write is written in the stars, 
Where Venus holds her glowing torch behind her gleaming 

Where old Arcturus swings his lamp across the fields of 


And all his brilliant retinue is wheeling into place; 
Where unknown suns must rise and set, as ages onward 


The poem I should like to write is surely written there. 
No human hand can write it, for with a pen divine, 
The Master Poet wrote it each burning word and line. 

Margaret A. Windes 

Life's Finest Things 

Life's finest things, the things that last, 
Are ours, but never fettered fast. 

The exodus of birds and fowls when blasts begin to blow, 
The fuzzy Spring buds peeping forth, at passing of the snow; 
Prolific Summer's teeming life, the omtone of the bee, 
Resplendent Autumn's full-toned leaves ablaze on every tree; 


The sorcery of Winter's moon, frost's leafage on the pane, 

The solemn forest's awful hush, the rhythm of the rain; 

A timid breeze that wakes a lake, the ocean's troubled 

A storm-scourged mountain rearing high its chaste un- 
bending crest; 

Recall the tender words of love or long forgotten lays, 

The bonfire's spicy fragrant smoke on Indian-summer days. 

The flaming death robes of the day, the marvel of its birth, 

The frozen green in the fissures that split the glacier's girth. 

The glint of gorgeous green-blue eyes in peacock's spread of 

A sense of God's omnipotence when thunder rends the vale, 

Proud dreams and schemes of vibrant youth which surely 
must come true, 

That brave exalted purpose of the child that once was you; 

The nursing back a loved one from the verge of voiceless 

The greatest boon to human kind, the great, great gift of 

Life's finest things, the things that last, 

Are ours, but never fettered fast. 

The finest things writ on the scroll 

Are only grappled by the soul. Bangs Burgess 

What of the Darkness? 

What of the darkness? Is it very fair? 

Are there great calms? and find we silence there? 

Like soft-shut lilies, all your faces glow 

With some strange peace our faces never know, 

With some strange faith our faces never dare 

Dwells it in Darkness? Do you find it there? 


Is it a Bosom where tired heads may lie? 
Is it a Mouth to kiss our weeping dry? 
Is it a Hand to still the pulse's leap? 
Is it a Voice that holds the runes of sleep? 
Day shows us not such comfort anywhere 
Dwells it in Darkness? Do you find it there? 

Out of the Day's deceiving light we call 
Day that shows man so great, and God so small, 
That hides the stars, and magnifies the grass 
O is the Darkness too a lying glass! 
Or undistracted, do you find truth there? 
What of the Darkness? Is it very fair? 

Richard le Gallienne 

Christmas Eve 

The door is on the latch tonight, 

The hearth-fire is aglow, 
I seem to hear soft passing feet 

The Christ child in the snow. 

My heart is open wide tonight 

For stranger, kith or kin; 
I would not bar a single door 

Where love might enter in. 

Author Unknown 

The Pathway to Paradise 

" How shall I find it, and which way lies 
The pathway leading to Paradise? " 
For dark and long is the road I tread; 
And its end is lost in the mist ahead. 


I met a man with a heavy load 

Toiling along the dusty road. 

He answered my question in mild surprise: 

" True work is the pathway to Paradise." 

I met a group with laughter and song 
Passing the woodland ways along. 
They sang their answer: " This way it lies, 
And joy is the pathway to Paradise." 

I met a woman and little child. 
I asked my question. The mother smiled 
And looked down into her baby's eyes: 
" Oh, love is the pathway to Paradise." 

Ozora S. Davis 


Be secret, heart; and if your dreams have come 
To nothingness, and if their weight was sweet 
Within you then be silent in def eat, 
Counting your lost imaginings as the sum 
Of destined joy. Lest men should call you dumb 
Sing still the songs that hold within their beat 
The hopes of every man, and the wild, sweet 
Predictions of what earth shall yet become. 
Be secret, heart. The words that you would tell 
Of your own longing, and your keen distress 
Hold them to silence; kill, destroy, suppress 
That melody, although you love it well. 
And sing the songs that men have always sung 
Of love and sorrow, since the world was young. 

Anna Virginia Mitchell 



And Nicodemus came by night 

When none might hear or see 
He came by night to shun men's sight 

And away by night slunk he. 

He dared not come by light of day 

To move where sinners trod: 
He must hold apart from the common heart, 

For he was a man of God. . . . 

But the honest Christ, He walked with men 

Nor held His ways apart 
With publicans talked, with harlots walked, 

And loved them all in His heart. . . . 

Came Nicodemus to Christ by night; 

And long they reasoned, alone, 
Till the old man saw the sham of the law 

That turned his being to stone; 

He tore the formal husks from his life; 

He was born again, though gray. 
And, erect with the youth of a living truth 

He dared the world by dayl 

Harry Kemp 

A New Year 

Here's a clean year, 
A white year. 

Reach your hand and take it. 
You are 
The builder, 
And no one else can make it. 


See what it is 
That waits here, 

Whole and new; 
It's not a year only, 
But a world 
For you! 

Mary Carolyn Dames 


Why, who makes much of a miracle? 

As to me I know of nothing else but miracles, 

Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, 

Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the 

Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of 

the water, 

Or stand under trees in the woods, 
Or talk by day with any one I love, 
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest, 
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car. 
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a Summer 


Or animals feeding in the fields, 
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air, 
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so 

quiet and bright, 
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in 

Spring ; 

These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles, 
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place. 

To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle, 
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle, 


Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with 

the same, 
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same. 

To me the sea is a continual miracle, 

The fishes that swim the rocks the motion of the waves 

the ships with men in them, 
What stranger miracles are there? 

Walt Whitman 


" Must I submissive bow to earth my head? 

Restrain the restless daring of my mind? 
Bound by the palimpsests of men long dead, 

Live in the daylight as a man made blind? " 

" Yea, lowly bend thy stubborn neck and knees, 
And thou shalt win what thy proud ardors seek. 

This pathway leads to kindled mysteries 
That none have ever seen except the meek." 

" Never for me such craven sacrifice! 

Bravely I go upon a lonely quest. 
I will not fold my hands and close my eyes 

To gain an easy and ignoble rest." 

" So thou hast courage? Test it. Thou shalt find 

Precipitous the pathways to be trod. 
Summon the utmost valiance of thy mind. 

Only the audacious ever win to God." 

Theodore Maynard 


The Forgotten Countersign 

Life met me on the threshold young, divine, 

And promised me unutterable things; 

And Love, with fragrant greeting on his wings, 

Looked in my eyes and laid his lips on mine, 

And bade me quaff the magic of his wine 

That deep delight, or disillusion brings. 

Ah! had I kept my fair imaginings, 

I had not lost the heavenly countersign; 

The Shibboleth of soul supremacy ;~ 

The dower from my birth in higher spheres. 

Then might I know the purer ecstasy 

Of conquering Earth's test of alien tears 

And Life, perchance, her promise might redeem, 

And Love be more than a delusive dream! 

Corinne Roosevelt Robinson 

From Ode on Intimations of Immortality 

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, 
The earth, and every common sight, 

To me did seem 
Apparelled in celestial light, 
The glory and the freshness of a dream, 
It is not now as it hath been of yore; 
Turn wheresoe'er I may, 

By night or day, 

The things which I have seen I now can see no more. 
The rainbow comes and goes, 
And lovely is the rose; 
The moon doth with delight 


Look round her when the heavens are bare; 

Waters on a starry night 

Are beautiful and fair; 
The sunshine is a glorious birth; 
But yet I know, where'er I go, 
That there hath past away a glory from the earth. 

O joy! that in our embers 
Is something that doth live, 
That nature yet remembers 
What was so fugitive! 

The thought of our past years in me doth breed 
Perpetual benediction: not indeed 
For that which is most worthy to be blest, 
Delight and liberty, the simple creed 
Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest, 
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in her breast: 
Not for these I raise 
The song of thanks and praise; 
But for those obstinate questionings 
Of sense and outward things, 
Fallings from us, vanishings; 
Blank misgivings of a creature 
Moving about in worlds not realized, 
High instincts, before which our mortal nature 
Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised: 
But for those first affections, 
Those shadowy recollections, 

Which, be they what they may, 
Are yet the fountain-light of all our day, 
Are yet a master-light of all our seeing; 

Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make 
Our noisy years seem moments in the being 


Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake, 

To perish never; 
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour, 

Nor man nor boy 
Nor all that is at enmity with joy, 
Can utterly abolish or destroy! 

Hence in a season of calm weather, 

Though inland far we be, 
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea 

Which brought us hither; 
Can in a moment travel thither, 
And see the children sport upon the shore, 
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore. 

William Wordsworth 

The World Is One 

The world is one; we cannot live apart, 
To earth's remotest races we are kin; 

God made the generations of one blood; 
Man's separation is a sign of sin. 

What though we solve the secret of the stars, 
Or from the vibrant ether pluck a song, 

Can this for all man's tyranny atone 
While Mercy weeps and waits and suffers long? 

Put up the sword, its day of anguish past; 

Disarm the forts, and then, the war-flags furled, 
Forever keep the air without frontiers, 

The great, free, friendly highway of the world. 


So that at last to rapture men may come, 
And hear again the music of the spheres, 

And stand erect, illumined, radiant, free, 
The travail and the triumph of the years. 

Hinton White 


What to a man who loves the air 
Are trinkets, gauds, and jewels rare? 
And what is wealth or fame to one 
Who is a brother to the sun; 
Who drinks the wine that morning spills 
Upon the heaven-kissing hills, 
And sees a ray of hope afar 
In every glimmer of a star? 

What to a man whose god is truth 
Are spoils and stratagems, forsooth 
Who looks beyond the doors of death 
For loftier life, sublimer breath; 
Who can forswear the state of kings 
In knowledge of diviner things, 
The dreams immortal that unroll 
And burst to blossoms in his soul? 

Robert Loveman 

Only the Dream Is Real 

Only the dream is real. There is no plan 
Transcending even a rose's timid glory, 

A cricket's summer song. The ways of man 
Are stupors of the flesh, and transitory. 


There is no truth but dreams; yet man must spend 
His gift of quiet days in storm and stress, 

Unheeding that a single breath will end 
With one swift stroke the hoax of worldliness. 

Only the dream will last. Some distant day 
The wheels will falter, and the silent sun 

Will see the last beam leveled to decay, 
And all man's futile clangor spent and done. 

Yet after brick and steel and stone are gone, 

And flesh and blood are dust, the dream lives on. 

Anderson M. Scruggs 


Expect the best! It lies not in the past. 
God ever keeps the good wine till the last. 
Beyond are nobler work and sweeter rest. 
Expect the best! 

William Pierson Merrill 

I Would Not Always Reason 

I would not always reason. The straight path 
Wearies us with the never-varying lines, 
And we grow melancholy. I would make 
Reason my guide, but she should sometimes sit 
Patiently by the wayside, while I traced 
The mazes of the pleasant wilderness 
Around me. She should be my counsellor, 
But not my tyrant. For the spirit needs 
Impulses from a deeper source than hers; 
And there are notions, in the mind of man, 
That she must look upon with awe. 

William Cullen Bryant 
From " The Conjunction of Jupiter and Venus " 


The Master of My Boat 

I owned a little boat a while ago 
And sailed a Morning Sea without a fear, 

And whither any breeze might fairly blow 
I'd steer the little craft afar or near. 

Mine was the boat, 

And mine the air, 
And mine the sea, 

Not mine a care. 

My boat became my place of nightly toil, 
I sailed at sunset to the fishing ground; 

At morn the boat was freighted with the spoil 
That my all-conquering work and skill had found. 

Mine was the boat, 

And mine the net, 
And mine the skill 

And power to get. 

One day there passed along the silent shore, 
While I my net was casting in the sea, 

A Man, who spoke as never man before; 
I followed Him new life began in me. 

Mine was the boat, 

But His the voice, 
And His the call, 

Yet mine the choice. 

Ah, 'twas a fearful night out on the lake, 
And all my skill availed not at the helm, 

Till Him asleep I waken, crying, " Take, 
Take Thou command, lest waters overwhelm! " 


His was the boat, 

And His the sea, 
And His the peace 

O'er all and me. 

Once from His boat He taught the curious throng, 
Then bade me let down nets out in the sea; 

I murmured, but obeyed, nor was it long 
Before the catch amazed and humbled me. 

His was the boat, 

And His the skill, 
And His the catch, 

And His my will. 

Joseph Addison Richards 


They are slaves who fear to speak, 

For the fallen and the weak; 
They are slaves who will not choose, 

Hatred, scoffing and abuse, 
Rather than in silence shrink, 

From the truth they needs must think; 
They are slaves who dare not be, 

In the right with two or three. 

James Russell Lowell 

On Broadway 

Great jewels glitter like a wizard's rain 
Of pearl and ruby in the women's hair. 
And all the men each drags a golden chain, 
As though he walked in freedom. In the glare, 


Luxurious-cushioned wheels a revel-train 
Where kings of song with weary feet have trod, 
Where Poe, sad priest to Beauty and to Pain, 
Bore through the night the Vision and the God. 

And yet, perhaps, in this assemblage vast, 
In some poor heart sounds the enraptured chord, 
And staggering homeward from a hopeless quest 
The God-anointed touched me, meanly dressed, 
And, like a second Peter, I have passed 
Without salute the vessel of the Lord. 

George Sylvester Viereck 

Do You Fear the Wind? 

Do you fear the force of the wind, 

The slash of the rain? 
Go face them and fight them, 

Be savage again. 
Go hungry and cold like the wolf, 

Go wade like the crane: 
The palms of your hands will thicken, 

The skin of your cheek will tan, 
You'll grow ragged and weary and swarthy, 

But you'll walk like a man! 

Hamlin Garland 

What Is Good? 

" What is the real good? " 
I asked in musing mood. 

Order, said the law court; 
Knowledge, said the school; 


Truth, said the wise man; 
Pleasure, said the fool; 
Love, said a maiden; 
Beauty, said the page; 
Freedom, said the dreamer; 
Home, said the sage; 
Fame, said the soldier; 
Equity, the seer; 

Spake my heart full sadly, 
" The answer is not here." 

Then within my bosom 
Softly this I heard: 
" Each heart holds the secret; 
Kindness is the word." 

John Boyle O'Reilly 


Life is too brief * 

Between the budding and the falling leaf. 
Between the seed time and the golden sheaf, 

For hate and spite. 

We have no time for malice and for greed; 
Therefore, with love make beautiful the deed; 

Fast speeds the night. 

Life is too swift 

Between the blossom and the white snow's drift, 

Between the silence and the lark's uplift, 

For bitter words. 

In kindness and in gentleness our speech 
Must carry messages of hope, and reach 

The sweetest chords. 


Life Is too great 

Between the infant's and the man's estate, 

Between the clashing of earth's strife and fate, 

For petty things. ' 

Lo! we shall yet who creep with cumbered feet 
Walk glorious over heaven's golden street, 

Or soar on wings! 

W. M. Vories 


Beauty growing on a thorn, 

Love victorious on a tree 
Conquer every cynic's scorn, 

Prove life's immortality! 

John B. Thompson 

Life Shall Live For Evermore 

My own dim life should teach me this, 
That life shall live for evermore: 
Else earth is darkness at the core, 

And dust and ashes all that is 

This round of green, this orb of flame, 
Fantastic beauty; such as lurks 
In some wild poet, when he works 

Without a conscience or an aim. 

What then were God to such as I? 
'Twere hardly worth my while to choose 
Of things all mortal; or to use 

A little patience ere I die: 


'Twere best at once to sink to peace 
Like birds the charming serpent draws, 
To drop headforemost in the jaws 

Of vacant darkness, and to cease. 

Alfred Tennyson 
From " In Memoriam " 


Yesterday the twig was brown and bare; 
Today the glint of green is there 
Tomorrow will be leaflets spare; 
I know no thing so wondrous fair 
No miracle so strangely rare. 
I wonder what will next be there! 

L. H. Bailey 


There is a soul above the soul of each, 

A mightier soul, which yet to each belongs 

There is a sound made of all human speech, 

And numerous as the concourse of all songs: 

And in that soul lives each, in each that soul, 

Though all the ages are its lifetime vast; 

Each soul that dies, in its most sacred whole 

Receiveth life that shall for ever last. 

And thus for ever with a wider span 

Humanity o'erarches time and death: 

Man can elect the universal man 

And live in life that ends not with this breath; 

And gather glory that increases still 

Till Time his glass with Death's last dust shall fill 

Richard Watson Dixon 


A Prayer for Today 

Lord, in an age of steel and stone, 
When girders tell the dreamer's plan: 

Give me the grace to stand alone, 
Give me the strength to be a man. 

As mighty trains on shining rails 

Haste onward through the night and day: 

Send me on work that never fails 
Because of indolent delay. 

As planes that plunge into the sky 

To find themselves upborne on air: 
Teach me the life of trust to try, 

And find the soul upheld through prayer. 

From distant places voices speak 

They fill the mind with mystery: 
Then may I now Thy message seek, 

O, let me keep in tune with Thee. 

Amid the motion of machine, 

The whirl of wheel, the rush of wings: 

Help me to live the life serene, 
Because victorious over things. 

May something of the vast designs 

That motivate and move our days, 
Be but inevitable signs 

Which call life into lordlier ways. 

Charles Nelson Pace 


Be Merciful 

Once ran my prayer as runs the brook 
O'er pebbles and through sunny meads; 

No pain my inmost spirit shook, 
Words broke in shallows of small needs. 

But now the shadows on me lie, 

Deep-cut the channel of the years; 
And prayer is but a sobbing cry 

Through whitened lips and falling tears. 

Not glibly, but with broken speech, 

O God, my God, I pray to Thee; 
Enough if now I may beseech, 

Be merciful, God, to me! 

John T. McFarland 

The Undiscovered Country 

Lord, for the erring thought 
Not unto evil wrought: 
Lord, for the wicked will 
Betrayed and baffled still: 
For the heart from itself kept, 
Our thanksgiving accept. 
For ignorant hopes that were 
Broken to our blind prayer: 
For pain, death, sorrow sent 
Unto our chastisement: 
For all loss of seeming good, 
Quicken our gratitude. 

William Dean Howells 


Two Prayers 

Only for these I pray, 

Pray with assurance strong: 
Light to discover the way, 

Power to follow it long. 

Let me have light to see, 

Light to be sure and know; 
When the road is clear to me 

Willingly I go. 

Let me have power to do, 

Power of the brain and nerve, 
Though the task is heavy and new 

Willingly I will serve. 

My prayers are lesser than three, 

Nothing I pray but two 
Let me have light to see, 

Let me have power to do. 

Charlotte Perkins Oilman 

Foreign Missions in Battle Array 

An endless line of splendor, 
These troops with heaven for home, 
With creeds they go from Scotland, 
With incense go from Rome. 
These, in the name of Jesus, 
Against the dark gods stand, 
They gird the earth with valor, 
They heed their King's command. 


Onward the line advances, 
Shaking the hills with power, 
Slaying the hidden demons, 
The lions that devour. 
No bloodshed in the wrestling, 
But souls new-born arise 
The nations growing kinder, 
The child-hearts growing wise. 

What is the final ending? 

The issue, can we know? 

Will Christ outlive Mohammed? 

Will Kali's altar go? 

This is our faith tremendous, 

Our wild hope, who shall scorn, 

That in the name of Jesus 

The world shall be reborn! 

Vachel Lindsay 

Ships That Pass in the Night 

Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, 
Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness; 
So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another, 
Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and silence. 

Henry WadswortA Longfellow 
From " Tales of a Wayside Inn " 


God must have loved the silence, for he laid 
A stillness on the sunset and the dawn; 
Upon the moment when the bird has gone 
Leaving a note, high-hung, within the glade 


More sweet than when he sang it; moons that pass 
Too full of forests' changelessness for sound; 
Creeping of little frosts along the ground; 
Silence of growth among the summer grass. 

God must have deeply loved the silences, 
For is there one of us who has not heard 
Promptings to silence that he speaks not of? 

What of an old remorse; a hope that is 
Too deeply hoped; what of a grief outgrown; 
And silent, old, unconquerable love? 

Mavis C. Barnett 

Love Suffereth Long 

The Writ of Loving Well 

Still makes its old demands: 
A sometime residence in Hell, 

The nailprints in the hands. 

All those who pledge themselves, 

And to its terms agree 
Must chance an unexclusive cross, 

A common Calvary! 

Sara Henderson Hay 

Nameless Saints 

The healing of the world 
Is in its nameless saints. Each separate star 
Means nothing, but a myriad scattered stars 
Break up the night and make it beautiful. 

Bayard Taylor 



How can you live in Goshen? 

Said a friend from afar. 

This is a wretched little place 

Where people talk about tawdry things 

And plant cabbages in the moonlight. . . . 

But I do not live in Goshen, I answered. 

I live in Greece 

Where Plato taught and Phidias carved. 

I live in Rome 

Where Cicero penned immortal lines 

And Michelangelo dreamed things of beauty. 

Do not think my world is small 

Because you find me in a little village. 

I have my books, my pictures, my dreams, 

Enchantments that transcend Time and Space. 

I do not live in Goshen at all, 

I live in an unbounded universe 

With the great souls of all the ages 

For my companions. 

Edgar Frank 


Father, I scarcely dare to pray, 

So clear I see, now it is done, 
That I have wasted half my day, 

And left my work but just begun. 

So clear I see that things I thought 
Were right or harmless were a sin; 

So clear I see that I have sought, 
Unconscious, selfish aims to win. 


So clear I see that I have hurt 

The souls I might have helped to save; 
That I have slothful been, inert, 

Deaf to the calls Thy leaders gave. 

In outskirts of Thy kingdom vast, 

Father, the humblest spot give me; 
Set me the lowliest task Thou hast; 

Let me, repentant, work for Thee! 

Helen Hunt Jackson 

Prayer for Miracle 

God! No more Thy miracle withhold; 
To us in tents give palaces of gold. 
And while we stumble among things that are 
Give us the solace of a guiding-star! 

Anna Wickham 

The Heart Is a Strange Thing 

The heart is a strange thing: 

It has no eyes, 
But it can see through dark earth 

And beyond blue skies. 

The heart has no hands, 
But, knowing Love's touch, 

All the hands of the world 
Cannot do as much. 

The heart has no feet, 

But it may go 
Swiftly to Heaven above 

Or Hell below. 


The heart is a strange thing, 
More strange than the head: 

Sometimes it may live again 
After long dead. 

Minnie Case Hopkins 

The Heart of the Tree 

What does he plant who plants a tree? 
He plants a friend of sun and sky; 

He plants the flag of breezes free; 
The shaft of beauty, towering high; 
He plants a home to heaven anigh 
For song and mother-croon of bird 
In hushed and happy twilight heard 

The treble of heaven's harmony 

These things he plants who plants a tree. 

What does he plant who plants a tree? 

He plants cool shade and tender rain, 
And seed and bud of days to be, 

And years that fade and flush again; 

He plants the glory of the plain; 

He plants the forest's heritage; 

The harvest of a coining age ; 
The joy that unborn eyes shall see 
These things he plants who plants a tree. 

What does he plant who plants a tree? 
He plants, in sap and leaf and wood, 

In love of home and loyalty 
And far-cast thought of civic good 
His blessing on the neighborhood 


Who in the hollow of His hand 
Holds all the growth of all our land 

A nation's growth from sea to sea 

Stirs in his heart who plants a tree. 

Henry C. Bunner 

A Little Work 

A little work, a little play 

To keep us going and so, good-day! 

A little warmth, a little light 

Of love's bestowing and so, good-night! 

A little fun, to match the sorrow 

Of each day's growing and so, good-morrow! 

A little trust that when we die 

We reap our sowing! And so good-bye! 

George du Manner 

I Would Be Great 


I would be great 

But not in some spectacular way 

For world acclaim. 

Beyond my talents 

Lie outstanding deeds, perhaps; 

But, Lord, I would be great 

In faithfulness to each small task 

Thou givest me, 

To do the best I can 

With what I have 

For Thy name's sake. 


And if, some day, Thou sendest me 

Some task that seems too big 

For hands that only little deeds have done, 

I know that what I cannot do, 

Thou canst, through me, if I but will, 

And in Thy strength 

111 do the thing that is too big for me. 

Help me, Lord, to stand approved 

In faithfulness to every task. 

Thus, in Thy sight 

I will be great. Battle B. McCracken 


When we build, let us think that we build forever. Let it 
not be for present delight nor for present use alone. 

Let it be such work as our descendants will thank us for, 
and let us think, as we lay stone on stone, that a time is 
to come when those stones will be held sacred because 
our hands have touched them, and that men will say as 
they look upon the labor and wrought substance of them, 

" See! This our Fathers did for us." 

John Ruskin 

Ave Crux, Spes Unica! 

More than two crosses stand on either side 

The Cross today on more than one dark hill; 
More than three hours a myriad men have cried, 
And they are crying still. 

Before Him now no mocking faces pass; 
Heavy on all who built the cross, it lies; 
Pilate is hanging there, and Caiaphas, 
Judas without his price. 


Men scourge each other with their stinging whips; 
To crosses high they nail, and they are nailed; 
More than one dying man with parched lips, 
" My God ! My God ! " has wailed. 

Enlarged is Golgotha. But One alone 

His healing shadow over all can fling; 
One King Divine has made His Cross a Throne. 
" Remember us, King! " 

Edward Shtilito 

Each and All 

Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown 

Of thee from the hill-top looking down; 

The heifer that lows in the upland farm, 

Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm; 

The sexton, tolling his bell at noon, 

Deems not that great Napoleon 

Stops his horse, and lists with delight, 

Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height; 

Nor knowest thou what argument 

Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent. 

All are needed by each one 

Nothing is fair or good alone. 

I thought the sparrow's note from heaven, 

Singing at dawn on the alder bough; 

I brought him home, in his nest, at even; 

He sings the song, but it cheers not now; 

For I did not bring home the river and sky; 

He sang to my ear they sang to my eye. 

The delicate shells lay on the shore; 
The bubbles of the latest wave 
Fresh pearls to their enamel gave, 


And the bellowing of the savage sea 

Greeted their safe escape to me. 

I wiped away the weeds and foam 

I fetched my sea-born treasures home; 

But the poor, unsightly, noisome things 

Had left their beauty on the shore 

With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar. 

The lover watched his graceful maid, 

As 'mid the virgin train she strayed, 

Nor knew her beauty's best attire 

Was woven still by the snow-white choir. 

At last she came to his hermitage, 

Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage; 

The gay enchantment was undone 

A gentle wife, but fairy none. 

Then I said, " I covet truth; 

Beauty is unripe childhood's cheat; 

I leave it behind with the games of youth." 

As I spoke, beneath my feet 

The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath, 

Running over the club-moss burrs; 

I inhaled the violet's breath; 

Around me stood the oaks and firs; 

Pine cones and acorns lay on the ground; 

Over me soared the eternal sky, 

Full of light and deity; 

Again I saw, again I heard, 

The rolling river, the morning bird; 

Beauty through my senses stole; 

I yielded myself to the perfect whole. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 



Dear God, I stand with empty hands 

To have them filled. 
The other gifts Thou gavest me 

I long have spilled. 
And some I broke upon these stones, 

And some are bled 
Until they died, because my thoughts 

To strangeness wed. 

Dear God, I would have other gifts 

Within my hands. 
Seal them upon me in Thy wrath 

With golden bands; 
That I may never lose again 

A love, but free 
My heart, in deepening loneliness, 

To ecstasy. 

Mary Edgar Comstock 

For Transient Things 

Let us thank God for unfulfilled desire, 
For beauty that escapes our clutch and flies; 
Let us thank God for loveliness that dies, 
For violet leapings of a dying fire, 
For ebbing lives and seas, the fading choir 
Of quiet stars, the momentary guise 
That love assumes within a lover's eyes 
Before it fades with other things that tire. 
Better that beauty wear into the night 
An inky garment of uncandled hours 


Than stay forever robed in festal white, 
And so, familiar grown, like flowers 
One counts as common weeds, begin to pall 
Better that beauty should not be at all. 

James A. 5. McPeek 

Simon and Judas 

How dare we look askance at these two men, 

Toy with unspoken thoughts, " Were I there then " 

Venture to pity, blame, or mildly scoff? 

We, who have struck not once with any sword, 

Who have so many times betrayed our Lord, 

Nor followed even at a great way off! 

Kenneth W. Porter 


I am part of the sea and stars 

And the winds of the South and North, 
Of mountain and moon and Mars, 

And the ages sent me forth! 

Blind Homer, the splendor of Greece, 
Sang the songs I sang ere he fell; 

She whom men call Beatrice 
Saw me in the depths of hell. 

I was hanged at dawn for a crime 
Flesh dies, but the soul knows no death; 

I piped to great Shakespeare's chime 
The witches' song in Macbeth. 


All, all who have suffered and won, 
Who have struggled and failed and died, 

Am I, with work still undone, 
And a spear-mark in my side. 

I am part of the sea and stars 

And the winds of the South and North, 

Of mountain and moon and Mars, 
And the ages sent me forth! 

Edward H. S. Terry 

The Secret 

April whispered this to me 
And I have done with sorrow now: 
" / am death's white mystery/' 
April whispered this to me. 

" Life from death! ecstasy 
Of the first white lifted bough! " 
April whispered this to me 
And I have done with sorrow. 

John Richard Moreland 


I will not doubt, though all my ships at sea 
Come drifting home with broken masts and sails; 
I shall believe the Hand which never fails 

From seeking evil worketh good for me; 
And though I weep because those sails are battered, 
Still will I cry, while my best hopes lie shattered, 
" I trust in Thee." 


I will not doubt, though all my prayers return 
Unanswered from the still, white realm above; 
I shall believe it is an all-wise Love 

Which has refused those things for which I yearn; 
And though at times I cannot keep from grieving, 
Yet the pure ardor of my fixed believing 
Undimmed shall burn. 

I will not doubt, though sorrows fall like rain, 
And troubles swarm like bees about a hive; 
I shall believe the heights for which 1 strive 

Are only reached by anguish and by pain; 

And though I groan and tremble with my crosses, 
I yet shall see, through my severest losses, 
The greater gain. 

I will not doubt; well anchored in the faith, 
Like some stanch ship, my soul braves every gale, 
So strong its courage that it will not fail 
To breast the mighty unknown sea of Death. 
0, may I cry, when body parts with spirit, 
" I do not doubt," so listening worlds may hear it, 
With my last breath. 

Ella Wheeler Wilcox 


There is a tide in the affairs of men, 

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; 

Omitted, all the voyage of their life 

Is bound in shallows and in miseries. 

On such a full sea are we now afloat; 

And we must take the current when it serves, 

Or lose our ventures. 

William Shakespeare 
From " Julius Caesar " 


From The Over-Heart 

Above, below, in sky and sod 
In leaf and spar, in star and man, 
Well might the wise Athenian scan 

The geometric signs of God, 
The measured order of His plan. 

And India's mystics sang aright 
Of the One Life pervading all 
One Being's tidal rise and fall 

In soul and form, in sound and sight - 
Eternal outflow and recall. 

God is: and man in guilt and fear 
This central fact of Nature owns; 
Kneels, trembling, by his altar-stones, 

And darkly dreams the ghastly smear 
Of blood appeases and atones. 

Guilt shapes by Terror: deep within 
The human heart the secret lies 
Of all the hideous deities; 

And, painted on a ground of sin, 
The fabled gods of torment rise! 

And what is He? The ripe grain nods, 
The sweet dews fall, the flowers blow; 
But darker signs His presence show: 

The earthquake and the storm are God's 
And good and evil interflow. 


O hearts of love! O souls that turn 
Like sunflowers to the pure and best! 
To you the truth is manifest: 

For they the mind of Christ discern 
Who lean like John upon his breast! 

John Greenleaf Wkittier 

The Friendly Faces of Old Sorrows 

I love the friendly faces of old Sorrows; 

I have no secrets that they do not know. 
They are so old, I think they have forgotten 

What bitter words were spoken, long ago. 

I hate the cold, stern faces of new Sorrows 
Who stand and watch, and catch me all alone. 

I should be braver if I could remember 
How different the older ones have grown. 

Karle Wilson Baker 


Glory of warrior, glory of orator, glory of song, 
Paid with a voice flying by to be lost on an endless sea! 

Glory of virtue: to fight, to struggle, to right the wrong. 
Nay, but she aimed not at glory, no lover of glory she: 

Give her the glory of going on, and still to be. 

The wages of sin is death: if the wages of Virtue be dust, 
Would she have heart to endure for the life of the worm 

and the fly? 
She desires no isles of the blest, no quiet seats of the just 

To rest in a golden grove, or to bask in a summer sky: 
Give her the wages of going on, and not to die. 

Alfred Tennyson 


The Music of a Friend 

I had a garden where for sunless days 

And many starless nights the dusky ways 

Were weed-o'ergrown and silent. There I heard 

No voice of love low calling to its own, 

And found nor joy nor beauty; but alone 

I lived, till through the silence, like a bird 

Full-throated, came the music of a friend. 

Louis 7. Ledoux 

Peace and Joy 

Peace does not mean the end of all our striving, 
Joy does not mean the drying of our tears; 

Peace is the power that comes to souls arriving 
Up to the light where God Himself appears. 

Joy is the wine that God is ever pouring 
Into the hearts of those who strive with Him, 

Lightening their eyes to vision and adoring, 

Strength'ning their arms to warfare glad and grim. 

G. A. Studdert-Kennedy 


Go thou thy way, and I go mine; 

Apart, yet not afar; 
Only a thin veil hangs between 

The pathways where we are. 
And " God keep watch 'tween thee and me," 

This is my prayer; 
He looks thy way, He looketh mine, 

And keeps us near. 


I know not where thy road may lie, 

Or which way mine may be ; 
If mine shall be through parching sands 

And thine beside the sea. 
Yet " God keep watch 'tween thee and me." 

So never fear. 
He holds thy hand, He daspeth mine, 

And keeps us near. 

Should wealth and fame perchance be thine, 

And my lot lowly be; 
Or you be sad and sorrowful 

And glory be for me, 
Yet " God keep watch 'tween thee and me." 

Both be His care. 
One arm round thee and one round me 

Will keep us near. 

I sigh sometimes to see thy face, 

But since this may not be, 
111 leave thee to the care of Him 

Who cares for thee and me. 
" I'll have you both beneath my wings " 

This comforts, dear, 
One wing o'er thee and one o'er me, 

So we are near. 

And though our paths be separate 

And thy way is not mine, 
Yet, coming to the mercy-seat, 

My soul will meet with thine. 
And " God keep watch 'tween thee and me " 

I'll whisper here; 
He blesseth thee, He blesseth me, 

And we are near. Julia A. Baker 


Live and Love 

Live and love, 

Doing both nobly, because lowly; 
Live and work strongly, because patiently. 
That it be well done, unrepented of, 
And not to loss. 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning 

The Song of the Unsuccessful 

We are the toilers whom God hath barred 
The gifts that are good to hold, 

We meant full well and we tried full hard, 
And our failures were manifold. 

And we are the clan of those whose kin 
Were a millstone dragging them down, 

Yea, we had to sweat for our brother's sin, 
And lose the victor's crown. 

The seeming-able, who all but scored, 
From their teeming tribe we come: 

What was there wrong with us, Lord, 
That our lives were dark and dumb? 

The men, ten-talented, who still 

Strangely, missed the goal, 
Of them we are: it seems Thy will 

To harrow some in soul. 

We are the sinners, too, whose lust 

Conquered the higher claims, 
We sat us prone in the common dust, 

And played at the devil's games. 


We are the hard-luck folk, who strove 

Zealously, but in vain; 
We lost and lost, while our comrades throve, 

And still we are lost again. 

We are the doubles of those whose way 

Was festal with fruits and flowers, 
Body and brain we were sound as they, 

But the prizes were not ours. 

A mighty army our full ranks make, 

We shake the graves as we go; 
The sudden stroke and the slow heart-break, 

They both have brought us low. 

And while we are laying life's sword aside, 

Spent and dishonored and sad, 
Our Epitaph this, when once we have died: 

" The weak lie here, and the bad." 

We wonder if this can be really the close, 

Life's fever cooled by death's trance; 
And we cry, though it seem to our dearest of foes, 

" God, give us another chance! " 

Richard Burton 

Grace for Grace 

Thy gifts without Thy grace are lacking still; 
Imperfect I do turn Thy gifts to ill; 
Therefore would I with all Thy gifts entreat 
These graces three to make Thy gifts complete: 

The grace to see, and wonder at the sight; 

The grace to take, and use Thy gift aright; 

The grace to share with him in poorer plight. 

Mark Guy Pearse 


The Proud 

They are the proudest who have met defeat, 
They are the proudest who must walk alone, 

Cherishing the vanished and the sweet, 
Remembering blossoms broken on a stone. 

Go softly, you who have no loss to weep, 
Who sink at night to deep, untroubled rest, 

And envy the defeated who must keep 
The ghost of beauty in an empty breast. 

Frances M. Frost 

Glory To Them 

Glory to them, the toilers of the earth, 

Who wrought with knotted hands, in wood and stone, 
Dreams their unlettered minds could not give birth 

And symmetries their souls had never known. 
Glory to them, the artisans, who spread 

Cathedrals like brown lace before the sun, 
Who could not build a rhyme, but reared instead 

The Doric grandeur of the Parthenon. 

I never cross a marble portico, 

Or lift my eyes where stained glass windows steal 
From virgin sunlight moods of deeper glow, 

Or walk dream-peopled streets, except to feel 
A hush of reverence for that vast dead 
Who gave us beauty for a crust of bread. 

Anderson M 



How can I tell which days have yielded fruit? 

The days I labored at a task not mine? 

The days I yielded to a wild pursuit? 

The days I cast my pearls before the swine? 

The days I hoarded every golden hour? 

The days I laughed? The days I bore in pain? 

The days when all my honey had turned sour? 

The days I gathered in another's gain? 

The days I studied and the days I wrought? 

The days I loafed and only trusted God? 

The days when whispered dreamings came unsought, 

And I drew wisdom as I turned the sod? 

How shall I know which ones of all the days 

Shall on the last day bring me blame or praise? 

Eliot Kays Stone 

The One Remains 

The One remains, the many change and pass; 
Heaven's light forever shines, Earth's shadows fly; 
Life, like a dome of many-colored glass, 
Stains the white radiance of Eternity. . . . 

John Keats 
From " Adonais " 


They list for me the things I can not know: 

Whence came the world? What Hand flung out the light 

Of yonder stars? How could a God of right 

Ordain for earth an ebbless tide of woe? 


Their word is true ; I would not scorn their doubt 
Who press their questions of the how and why. 
But this I know: that from the star-strewn sky 
There comes to me a peace that puts to rout 
All brooding thoughts of dread, abiding death; 
And too I know, with every fragrant dawn, 
That Life is Lord; that, with the Winter gone, 
There cometh Spring, a great reviving Breath. 
It is enough that life means this to me; 
What death shall mean, some sunny Morn shall see. 

Thomas Curtis Clark 

Quiet Things 

I thqr>Tg the Lord for quiet things 

Whose names are half -asleep; 
Names that were born of quietness 

And laid in peace to steep; 
Such lovely, safe, serene old words 

As dovecotes hills and sheep. 

For silent sober-colored things 

I bless the Lord of dreams 
This Heron standing motionless, 

More shade than bird he seems 
For this grey, ghostly fisherman 

Of lonely pools and streams. 


The Way of Sacrifice 

He who hath watched, not shared, the strife, 

Knows how the day hath gone. 
He only lives with the world's life 

Who hath renounced his own. 

Matthew Arnold 


Three Things 

Three things I beg of Life to let me keep: 

Rare strength, which through dark storm will safely last 

Until my souPs dire need of it is past 

Because its main pilasters reach so deep; 

Initiative, with eager, circling sweep 

Of wings. . . . High courage, of the keen enthusiast 

Who even in his dreams can hear the blast 

Of trumpet calls that urge him up the steep. 

Real strength endures . . . initiative impels, 

And flaming courage molds a dauntless heart. 

Dynamic power these give and self-release. 

With them, the world's great inner citadels 

Are mine . . . gay plumed adventure they impart 

To Life while traveling toward the Sunset Peace. 

Gertrude B. Gunderson 

Whence Cometh War? 

Whence cometh war? 

Bring the foul thing to bar. 

Out of the hatreds of the ages long; 

Out of the greed and blood-lust of the strong; 

Out of the strutting swagger of the proud; 

Out of the mad hysterias of the crowd; 

Out of the lying honor of the State; 

Out of the coward meanness of the great; 

Out of the toll that profit takes from toil, 

Of surplus spoil, piled up on surplus spoil, 

Choking to idleness the workman's wheel, 

Or raping all the earth with ruthless steel; 

Out of a devil's smoke-screen of defense, 

That turns to foolishness the things of sense, 


Makes virtue's garden a vast swamp of vice, 
And sells the Son of Man at Judas 7 price, 
Nor has the grace to cast away the pelf 
But makes of God an infidel himself. 

Whence cometh war? we know the truth too well 
Out of the mouth of hell! 

Robert Whitaker 

The Man-Hunt 

The four brothers are out to kill. 

France, Russia, Britain, America 

The four republics are sworn brothers to kill the kaiser. 

Yes, this is the great man-hunt; 

And the sun has never seen till now 

Such a line of toothed and tusked man -killers., 

In the blue of the upper sky, 

In the green of the undersea, 

In the red of winter dawns. 

Eating to kill, 

Sleeping to kill, 

Asked by their mothers to kill, 

Wished by four-fifths of the world to kill 

To cut the kaiser's throat, 

To hack the kaiser's head, 

To hang the kaiser on a high-horizon gibbet. 

And is it nothing else than this? 

Three times ten million men asking the blood 

Of a half-cracked one-armed child of the German kings? 

Three times ten million men asking the blood 

Of a child with his head wrong-shaped, 


The blood of rotted kings in his veins? 

If this were all, God, 

I would go to the far timbers 

And look on the gray wolves 

Tearing the throats of moose: 

I would ask a wilder drunk of blood. 

Look! It is four brothers in joined hands together. 

The people of bleeding France, 

The people of bleeding Russia, 

The people of Britain, the people of America 
These are the four brothers, these are the four republics. 

Carl Sandburg 

From " The Four Brothers " 

Wage-Slaves to War-Makers 

We have no land for which to fight 
Except where Russia cracks the night. 
This is your land, within your power. 
We break the rock; you pluck the flower. 
We build the roads on which you speed. 
And when we strike for what we need 
We learn at once how well you own 
The press, the courts and every stone 
Of every structure that we rear. 
Say, what invaders shall we fear? 
Why should we care out on the job 
If you or others drive and rob? 

We have no land for which to fight 
Though all the world is ours by right. 
We workers grimed with soot and mud 
Have shed enough and more of blood. 


Each office-building overhead 
Is built on corpses of our dead. 
We have no quarrel across the foam 
But here within our jail, your home! 
We give our pledge we shall not kill. 
For ours the braver, kinder will. 
But if you force us till we do, 
It will be you, it will be you! 

Ralph Cheyney 

Five Souls 


I was a peasant of the Polish plain; 

I left my plough because the message ran: 

Russia, in danger, needed every man 

To save her from the Teuton; and was slain. 

/ gave my life for freedom This I know; 

For those who bade me fight had told me so. 


I was a Tyrolese, a mountaineer; 
I gladly left my mountain home to fight 
Against the brutal treacherous Muscovite; 
And died in Poland on a Cossack spear. 

I gave my life for freedom This I know; 

For those who bade me fight had told me so. 


I worked at Lyons, at my weavers' loom 
When suddenly the Prussian despot hurled 
His felon blow at France and at the world; 
Then went I forth to Belgium and my doom. 

/ gave my life for freedom This I know; 

For those who bade me fight had told me so. 



I owned a vineyard by the wooded Main, 
Until the Fatherland, begirt by foes 
Lusting her downfall, called me, and I rose, 
Swift to the call, and died in fair Lorraine. 

7 gave my life for freedom This I know; 

For those who bade me fight had told me so. 


I worked in a great shipyard by the Clyde. 
There came a sudden word of wars declared, 
Of Belgium peaceful, helpless, unprepared, 
Asking our aid: I joined the ranks, and died. 

7 gave my life for freedom This I know; 

For those who bade me fight had told me so. 

W. N. Ewer 


Did the rose-bush or the oak 

Thrill at Trenton's battle-smoke? 

Did the earthworm in the mould 

Shout when Gettysburg unrolled 

Its tawny thunders over him? 

Did corn-grains buried in the dim 

Terrible creative ground 

Cease growing at the shaken sound 

Of Grant's gaunt thousands marching by? 

Well, pondering their conduct, I 

Think their aloof indifference 

Was most amazing commonsense! 

E. Merrill Root 


Deliver Us From . . . 

Is there no greater good than health and ease? 

Is there no deadlier enemy than death? 

Is God a dream to deal with as we please 

And life only the drawing of our breath? 

Duty a fever-phantom that misleads 

The sick confusion of a wandering brain? 

Let the King's Highroad choke with tangled weeds 

If they but barricade our paths from pain! 

Give us this day our daily bread that prayer 

We all remember! What comes next? The cry 

" Deliver us from sorrow and from loss, 

" Who were not made to suffer and to bear! " 

How strangely beat those words against the sky 

Where stands unchanging a forgotten cross! 

Amelia J. Burr 

Let Us Have Peace 

The earth is weary of our foolish wars. 
Her hills and shores were shaped for lovely things, 
Yet all our years are spent in bickerings 
Beneath the astonished stars. 

April by April laden with beauty comes, 
Autumn by Autumn turns our toil to gain, 
But hand at sword-hilt, still we start and strain 
To catch the beat of drums. 

Knowledge to knowledge adding, skill to skill, 
We strive for others' good as for our own 
And then, like cavemen snarling with a bone, 
We turn and rend and kill. . . . 


With life so fair, and all too short a lease 
Upon our special star! Nay, love and trust, 
Not blood and thunder shall redeem our dust. 
Let us have peace! 

'Nancy Byrd Turner 

An Old Battle-Field 

The softest whisperings of the scented South, 
And rust and roses in the cannon's mouth; 

And where the thunders of the fight were born, 
The wind's sweet tenor in the standing corn; 

With song of larks, low-lingering in the loam, 
And blue skies bending over love and home. 

But still the thought: Somewhere upon the hills, 
Or where the vales ring with the whip-poor-wills, 

Sad wistful eyes and broken hearts that beat 
For the loved sound of unreturning feet, 

And, when the oaks their leafy banners wave, 
Dream of the battle and an unmarked grave! 

Frank L. Stanton 

If War Is Right 

If war is right, then God is might 

And every prayer is vain: 
Go raze your temples from the hills 

Red death is in the plain. 


If war is right, then God is might 

And every prayer is vain: 
Look not for Christ upon the hills 

He lies among the slain. 

Alice Corbin 

Love Comes 

And who will lead the way? 

The good and wise must lead. 

He that loves most is the best and wisest, and he it is that 
leads already. 

Violence will not yield to violence. Tell the great secret to 
the people. 

Love comes! Clear the way, ye institutions, ye laws and 
customs of ages of hate! 

The glance of his eyes would wither you. 

The quiet thrill of his voice would palsy your deepest foun- 

Ye do well to tremble at his name. 

For he is the Revolution at last the true, long-deferred 

Love is the true Revolution, for Love alone strikes at the 
very root of ill. 

Let the people love, and they will lead, 

Let the people love and theirs is the power! 

Ernest Crosby 

Tear Down the Walls! 

Tear down the walls! God made of one 
All men who live upon the earth; 

He is our Father, we his sons, 
Whatever be our human birth. 


Tear down the walls that separate 
And breed estrangement, pride and hate; 

The poor, the oppressed, the rich, the great 
Are brothers in one human state. 

Edgar Cooper Mason 

The Final Armistice 

Christ of the glowing heart and golden speech, 
Drawn by the charm divine of Thy sweet soul, 
The nations tend unto that far-off goal 
Whereof the sages dream, the prophets preach. 
We shall not always fail; we yet shall reach 
Through toil and time that shining tableland 
To which Thou beckonest with wounded hand. 
Forevermore Thy goodness doth beseech 
A warring world to lay its weapons down. 
So shall we rest and songs of plenty drown 
The wail of hunger, and our bitter tears, 
Streaming unstanched through all the dreadful years, 
And freely flowing still, shall yet be dried, 
When Thou art King who once wast crucified. 

Frank B. Cowgill 

The Torch 

" To you the torch we fling "; 

The challenge yet is heard, 
Bequest of fullest sacrifice, 

A life-demanding word. 
Yet this thought with it comes, 

A question tinged with doubt: 
Shall we the torch to others pass 

Whose light we've let go out? 

Arthur B. Dale 


The War at Home 

God of our fathers, with bowed heads we come 

In this glad hour when the unscathed rejoices, 
Strike Thou each little boaster awed and dumb 

Before the flame of Pentecostal voices. 
Our youth has stormed the hosts of hell and won; 

Yet we who pay the price of their oblation 
Know that the greater war is just begun 

Which makes humanity the nations' Nation. 

Willard Wattles 


Heart, that beats with every human heart, 
Heart, that weeps with every human tear, 
O Heart, that sings with every human song, 
Fill our slow hearts with flood-tides of Thy love; 
That they may beat with every human heart, 
That they may weep with every human tear, 
That they may sing with every human song, 
And thus, through Thee, unite with all mankind. 

Maurice Rowntree 

The White Peace 

It lies not on the sunlit hill 

Nor on the sunlit plain: 
Nor ever on any running stream 

Nor on the unclouded main 

But sometimes, through the Soul of Man, 

Slow moving o'er his pain, 
The moonlight of a perfect peace 

Floods heart and brain. Fiona MacLeod 


From The Humanitarian 

Seeing how the world suffered and bled, 

He said: 

"My life shall bring 

Help to that suffering." 

Seeing how the earth had need 

Of sheer joy and beauty 

Above all bitter creed 

Of cruel penitence and duty. 

And how mankind 

Thirsted and cried for joy it could not find, 

His heart made quick reply, 

" Men shall know happiness before I die! " 

He who brings beauty to the lives of men 
Needeth no tribute of recording pen. 
His deeds are graven in a place apart, 
On the enduring tablet of the human heart. 

Angela Morgan 

The Feast 

Those who are not mine 

I will dine and flatter, 
Entertain and strive to please, 

For they do not matter. 

But for friendship's feast 

Compliments demean us; 
Rock for seat and sky for roof 

And the truth between us. 

Nora B. Cunningham 


The Greatest Battle That Ever Was Fought 

The greatest battle that ever was fought 

Shall I tell you where and when? 
On the maps of the world you will find it not: 

It was fought by the Mothers of Men. 

Not with cannon or battle shot. 

With sword or nobler pen; 
Not with eloquent word or thought 

From the wonderful minds of men; 

But deep in a walled up woman's heart; 

A woman that would not yield; 
But bravely and patiently bore her part; 

Lo! there is that battlefield. 

No marshalling troops, no bivouac song, 

No banner to gleam and wave; 
But Oh these battles they last so long 

From babyhood to the grave! 

But faithful still as a bridge of stars 

She fights in her walled up town; 
Fights on, and on, in the endless wars; 

Then silent, unseen goes down! 

Ho! ye with banners and battle shot, 

With soldiers to shout and praise, 
I tell you the kingliest victories fought 

Are fought in these silent ways. 

Joaquin Miller 


Thank God for Fools! 

Thank God for fools! for men who dare to dream 

Beyond the lean horizon of their days; 
Men not too timid to pursue the gleam 

To unguessed lands of wonder and amaze. 

Thank God for fools! The trails that ring the world 
Are dark with blood and sweat where they have passed. 

There are the flags of every crag unfurled; 
Theirs ashes and oblivion at last. 

Thank God for fools! abused, of low estate. 

We rear our temples on the stones they laid; 
Ours is the prize their tired souls might not wait; 

Theirs the requiem of the unafraid. 

Author Unknown 

Via Lucis 

And have the bright immensities 

Received our risen Lord 
Where light-years frame the Pleiades 

And point Orion's sword? 

Do flaming suns His footsteps trace 

Through corridors sublime, 
The Lord of interstellar space 

And Conqueror of time? 

The heaven that hides Him from our sight 

Knows neither near nor far: 
An altar candle sheds its light 

As surely as a star; 


And where His loving people meet 

To share the gift divine, 
There stands He with unhurrying feet, 

There heavenly splendors shine. 

Howard Chandler Robbins 

My Little House 

My house is little, but warm enough 
When the skies of Sorrow are snowing; 

It holds me safe from the tempest rough, 
When the winds of Despair are blowing. 

Its rafters come from the woods of Praise, 
Its walls from the quarry of Prayer, 

And not one echo, on stormy days, 
Can trouble the stillness there. 

The floor is bare, but the joists are strong 

With Faith from the heavenly hill; 
My lamp is Love, and the whole year long 

It burns unquenchable still. 

With sweet Content is my hearth well lit, 

And there, in the darkest weather, 
Hope and I by the fire can sit, 

And sing, and keep house together. 

May Byron 

From The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam 

A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, 
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread and Thou 

Beside me singing in the Wilderness 
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow! 


Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears 
TO-DAY of Past Regrets and Future Fears: 

To-morrow! Why, To-morrow I may be 
Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years. 

Into this Universe, and Why not knowing 
Nor Whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing; 

And out of it, as Wind along the Waste, 
I know not Whither, willy-nilly blowing. 

When You and I behind the Veil are past, 

Oh, hut the long, long while the World shall last, 

Which of our Coming and Departure heeds 
As the Sea's self should heed a pebble-cast. 

Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, 
Before we too into the Dust descend; 

Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie 
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and sans Endl 

Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare, 
And those that after some TO-MOKROW stare, 

A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries, 
" Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There." 

Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd 
Of the Two Worlds so wisely they are thrust 

Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn 
Are scattered, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust. 

Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise! 
One thing at least is certain This Life flies; 

One thing is certain and the rest is Lies; 
The Flower that once has*blown forever dies. 


Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who 
Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through, 

Not one returns to tell us of the Road, 
Which to discover we must travel too. 

The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd 
Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd, 

Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep, 
They told their comrades, and to Sleep returned. 

I sent my Soul through the Invisible, 
Some letter of that After-life to spell: 

And by and by my Soul returned to me, 
And answer'd " I Myself am Heav'n and Hell ": 

Heav'n but the Vision of fulfilTd Desire, 
And Hell the Shadow from a Soul on fire, 

Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves, 
So late emerged from, shall so soon expire. 

We are no other than a moving row 

Of Magic Shadow-shapes that come and go 

Round with the Sun-illumined Lantern held 
In Midnight by the Master of the Show; 

But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays 
Upon this Chequer-board of Nights and Days; 

Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays, 
And one by one back in the Closet lays. 

The Ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes, 
But Here or There as strikes the Player goes; 

And He that toss'd you down into the Field, 
He knows about it all HE knows HE knows! 


The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, 
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit 

Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, 
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it. 

And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky, 
Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die, 
Lift not your hands to It for help for It 
As impotently moves as you or I. 

With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead, 
And there of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed: 

And the first Morning of Creation wrote 
What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read. 

Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare; 
TO-MORROW'S Silence, Triumph, or Despair: 

Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why: 
Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where. 

Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! 
That Youth's sweet-scented manuscript should close! 

The Nightingale that in the branches sang, 
Ah whence, and whither flown again, who knows! 

Would but some winged Angel ere too late 
Arrest the yet unfolded Roll of Fate, 

And make the stern Recorder otherwise 
Enregister, or quite obliterate! 

Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire 
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire, 

Would not we shatter it to bits and then 
Re-mold it nearer to the Heart's Desire! 

Translation by Edward Fitzgerald 


The Lost Key 

The key of yesterday 

I threw away; 

And now, too late, 

Before tomorrow's fast-closed gate 

Helpless I stand in vain to pray! 

In vain to sorrow! 
Only the key of yesterday 

Unlocks tomorrow. 

Priscilla Leonard 

The Knapsack Trail 

I like the wide and common road 

Where all may walk at will, 
The worn and rutted country road 

That runs from hill to hill; 
I like the road through pastures green 

Worn by home-coming feet 
Of lowing kine and barefoot boy 

Where twilight shadows meet. 

But I like best the Knapsack Trail 

Wherein my heart and I 
May walk and talk in quietness 

With angels passing by. 
The lonely Trail through forests dim 

That leads to God-knows-where, 
That winds from tree to spotted tree 

Till sudden we are there! 

Edwin Osgood Graver 


God-Appointed Work 

I am glad to think 

I am not bound to make the world go right, 
But only to discover and to do 
With cheerful heart the work that God appoints. 

Jean Ingelow 


Thank you very much indeed, 
River, for your waving reed; 
Hollyhocks, for budding knobs; 
Foxgloves, for your velvet fobs; 
Pansies, for your silky cheeks; 
Chaffinches, for singing beaks; 
Spring, for wood anemones 
Near the mossy toes of trees; 
Summer, for the fruited pear, 
Yellowing crab, and cherry fare; 
Autumn, for the bearded load, 
Hazelnuts along the road; 
Winter, for the fairy-tale, 
Spitting log and bouncing hail. 

But, blest Father, high above, 
All these joys are from Thy love; 
And Your children everywhere, 
Born in palace, lane, or square, 
Cry with voices all agreed, 
" Thank You very much indeed." 

Norman Gale 


The Pure Heart 

My good blade carves the casques of men, 

My tough lance thrusteth sure, 
My strength is as the strength of ten, 
Because my heart is pure. 

Alfred Tennyson 
From " Sir Galahad " 


Those we love truly never die 
Though year by year the sad memorial wreath, 
A ring and flowers, types of life and death, 
Are laid upon their graves. 

For death the pure life saves, 
And life all pure is love; and love can reach 
From heaven to earth, and nobler lessons teach 
Than those by mortals read. 

Well blest is he who has a dear one dead; 
A friend he has whose face will never change 
A dear communion that will not grow strange; 
The anchor of a love is death. 

John Boyle O'Reilly 

The Street 

They pass me by like shadows, crowds on crowds, 
Dim ghosts of men, that hover to and fro, 
Hugging their bodies around them, like thin shrouds 
Wherein their souls were buried long ago: 


They trampled on their youth, and faith, and love, 
They cast their hope to human-kind away, 
With Heaven's clear messages they madly strove, 
And conquered and their spirits turned to clay: 

Lo ! how they wander round the world, their grave, 
Whose ever-gaping maw by such is fed, 
Gibbering at living men, and idly rave, 
" We, only, truly live, but ye are dead." 
Alas! poor fools, the anointed eye may trace 
A dead soul's epitaph in every face! 

James Russell Lowell 


He placed a prayer wheel where the wild winds dance, 
And some complained his piety was lazy; 
But then his thoughts on prayer were rather hazy. 

Yet God attended to his suppliance. 

He knelt on scarlet plush before his lord, 

And mumbled words of ancient litanies 

But felt uncomfortable on his knees; 
And God, lost in the gloomy nave, was bored. 

Silent, she raised her eyes that burned and glistened 

Like fresh lit tapers in a shadowy crypt; 

No raptured praise, no murmuring, tight lipped, 
But God stopped stars in flight an hour, and listened. 

E. McNeill Poteat, Jr. 

The Silent Places 

I have come back from the mountains, 

And the beauty of forest ways, 
From the pine-trail winding at sunset 

To the crags in the purple haze. 


I have come back from the prairies, 
And the free-born winds of the west, 

Where my soul reached out to heaven, 
And found in the starlight rest. 

I have come back to the city, 
With its clang and its screech and its din; 

Its halls are filled with madness, 
And its eyes are blind with sin. 

I think of the peaks white-crested, 
And the sage on the sweeping plain, 

And the vastness, and the silence, 
And the whisper of God again. 

I will go back to my mountains, 

Back to the prairies I've trod; 
Some day I shall stand in that silence 

And speak once more with my God. 

Harold M. HUdreth 


So nigh is grandeur to our dust, 

So near is God to man, 
When Duty whispers low, Thou musty 

The youth replies, / can. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 


I am in love with high far-seeing places 
That look on plains half-sunlight and half-storm, 
In love with hours when from the circling faces 
Veils pass, and laughing fellowship glows warm. 


You who look on me with grave eyes where rapture 

And April love of living burn confessed 

The Gods are good! the world lies free to capture! 

Life has no walls. Oh, take me to your breast! 

Take me be with me for a moment's span! 

I am in love with all unveiled faces. 

I seek the wonder at the heart of man; 

I would go up to the far-seeing places. 

While youth is ours, turn toward me for a space 

The marvel of your rapture-lighted face! 

Arthur Damson Ficke 

The Vision 

You are the vision, you are the image of the dream, 
The voice among the stars, the silence in the stream; 
A breath of the infinite poise, where space and time are spun, 
And the circling orbits wheel their planets round the sun. 
Beyond the outer margin where nothing calls to God 
Leaps the fiery symbol to bloom where your feet have trod; 
Here is the earth resurgent with color and bloom of Spring, 
Glorying the dream and the vision in the song you bring. 

William Stanley Braithwaite 

I, Too, Have Known 

I, too, have known Gethsemane 

In lonely tryst, 
I have broken bread with Peter . . 

By Judas kissed. 

And grim frustration I have known 

Of cherished plans, 
Met Thomas-doubts instead of trust 

In many lands. 


I, too, have known the rabble throng, 

Their taunts and jeers, 
I, too, have borne the heavy cross 

'Mid scornful sneers. 

But oh, I've reached the heights sublime 

At dawn of day, 
Known glorious triumph when the stone 

Was rolled away. 

Marguerite George 

The Human Touch 

High thoughts and noble in all lands 

Help me; my soul is fed by such. 
But ah, the touch of lips and hands 

The human touch! 

Warm, vital, close, life's symbols dear 
These need I most, and now, and here. 

Richard Burton 


Today, new-born from all my yesterdays, 

Lies in my cupped hand, a fragile, prophetic thing 

Just broken from its chrysalis with wings aflutter. 

What far flight shall it make with buoyant pinions? 

What fateful tomorrows shall it breed 

Before it folds its worn wings 

In the last twitchings of its dreamless sleep? 

I hold today in my hand and watch its unfolding. 

Then in faith I release it and wait the will of God. 

Ozora 5. Davis 



A 'wretched thing it were, to have our heart 

Like a thronged highway or a populous street, 

Where every idle thought has leave to meet, 

Pause, or pass on as in an open mart; 

Or like some road-side pool, which no nice art 

Has guarded that the cattle may not beat 

And foul it with a multitude of feet, 

Till of the heavens it can give back no part. 

But keep thou thine a holy solitude, 

For He who would walk there, would walk alone; 

He who would drink there, must be first endued 

With single right to call that stream his own; 

Keep thou thine heart, close fastened, unrevealed, 

A fenced garden, and a fountain sealed. 

Richard Chenevix Trench 


As the bee through the garden ranges, 
From world to world the godhead changes; 
As the sheep go feeding in the waste, 
From form to form He maketh haste; 
This vault which glows immense with light 
Is the inn where He lodges for a night. 
What recks such Traveller if the bowers 
Which bloom and fade like meadow flowers 
A bunch of fragrant lilies be, 
Or the stars of eternity? 
Alike to Him the better, the worse 
The glowing angel, the outcast corse. 
Thou metest Him by centuries, 
And lo! He passes like the breeze; 


Thou seek'st in glade and galaxy, 

He hides in pure transparency; 

Thou askest in fountains and in fires, 

He is the essence that inquires. 

He is the axis of the star; 

He is the sparkle of the spar; 

He is the heart of every creature; 

He is the meaning of each feature; 

And His mind is the sky, 

Than all it holds more deep, more high. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 
From " Woodnotes " 

That 'Twere Possible 

O that 'twere possible 

After long grief and pain 
To find the arms of my true love 

Round me once again. . . . 

Ah Christ, that it were possible 

For one short hour to see 
The souls we loved, that they might tell us 
What and where they be. 

Alfred Tennyson 
From "Maud" 

From The Builders 

There is an architecture grander far 

Than all the fortresses of war, 

More inextinguishably bright 

Than learning's lonely towers of light. 

Framing its walls of faith and hope and love 

In deathless souls of men, it lifts above 


The frailty of our earthly home 
An everlasting dome; 
The sanctuary of the human host, 
The living temple of the Holy Ghost. 

Henry van Dyke 

A Mother Understands 

Dear Lord, I hold my hand to take 

Thy body broken once for me, 
Accept the sacrifice I make, 

My body, broken, Christ, for Thee. 

His was my body, born of me, 

Born of my bitter travail pain, 
And it lies broken on the field, 

Swept by the wind and the rain. 

Surely a Mother understands Thy thorn-crowned head, 
The mystery of Thy pierced hands the Broken Bread. 

G. A. Studdert-Kennedy 

"From The Eternal Goodness 

I bow my forehead to the dust, 
I veil mine eyes for shame, 

And urge, in trembling self-distrust, 
A prayer without a claim. 

I see the wrong that round me lies, 

I feel the guilt within; 
I hear, with groan and travail-cries, 

Hie world confess its sin. 


Yet, in the maddening maze of things, 

And tossed by storm and flood, 
To one fixed trust my spirit clings; 

I know that God is good! 

John Greenleaf Whittier 

The Rivals 

Freedom and Faith went wooing for a soul; 
And Freedom said: " I love the open ways, 
Who weds with me shall come and go at will." 

" Who weds with me," said Faith, " shall wear a yoke; 

Linked in his consciousness to Cosmic Law, 

Moving between high confidence and awe, 
Knowing himself one with all human folk, 
With all that is, yet shall this thought evoke 

Temple and citadel from dust and straw; 

He shall be builder, and shall find no flaw 
In dreaming dreams, yet measuring his stroke." 

And the soul answered Freedom, " Freer still 
Than he who has no path, is he who stays 
Upon the track that runs from goal to goal." 

Robert Whitaker 

Beyond This, the Infinite 

The space 

Which yields thee knowledge do its bounds embrace 
Well-willing and wise-working, each at height? 
Enough: beyond this lies the infinite! 

Robert Browning 
From " Francis Turin! " 


Thou Must Be True 

Thou must be true thyself, 

If thou the truth wouldst teach! 
Thy soul must overflow, if thou 

Another's soul wouldst reach; 
It needs the overflow of heart 

To give the lips full speech. 

Think truly, and thy thoughts 

Shall the world's famine feed; 
Speak truly, and each word of thine 

Shall be a fruitful seed; 
Live truly, and thy life shall be 

A great and noble creed. 

Horatio Bonar 

Woman and Man 

The woman's cause is man's: they rise or sink 

Together, dwarf 'd or godlike, bond or free: 

If she be small, slight-natured, miserable, 

How shall men grow? but work no more alone! 

The man be more of woman, she of man; 

He gain in sweetness and in moral height, 

Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world; 

She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care, 

Nor lose the childlike in the larger mind; 

Till at the last she set herself to man, 

Like perfect music unto noble words; 

And so these twain, upon the skirts of Time, 

Sit side by side, full-summ'd in all their powers, 

Dispensing harvests, sowing the To-be, 


Self-reverent each and reverencing each, 

Distinct in individualities, 

But like each other, ev'n as those who love. 

Then comes the statelier Eden back to men; 

Then reign the world's great bridals, chaste and calm: 

Then springs the crowning race of human-kind. 

May these things be! 

Alfred Tennyson 
From " The Princess " 

Coral Islands 

Although with lives, submerged and brief, 

Insects will mount above, 
Until they make a coral reef 

They are not dreaming of. 

So from dark waters of our doubt, 

More than we ever meant, 
On our dead selves, we may lift out 

A fertile continent. 

Louis Ginsberg 

The Prayer Perfect 

Dear Lord! kind Lord! 

Gracious Lord! I pray 
Thou wilt look on all I love 

Tenderly today! 
Weed their hearts of weariness; 

Scatter every care 
Down a wake of angel-wings 

Winnowing the air. 


Bring unto the sorrowing 

All release from pain; 
Let the lips of laughter 

Overflow again; 
And with all the needy 

O divine, I pray, 
This vast treasure of content 

That is mine today! 

James Whitcomb Riley 

True Love 

True love is but a humble low-born thing, 
And hath its food served up in earthen ware; 
It is a thing to walk with, hand in hand, 
Through the every-dayness of this work-day world. 

James Russell Lowell 
From "Love" 

At the Lincoln Memorial 

I think he would have hated this white shrine, 
This pomp of marble gleaming in the sun, 
He whom a cabin sheltered from the cold, 
Who knew a cabin's rest when day was done. 
And men who dwelt in cabins were his friends, 
In cabins and in little prairie towns, 
He was of them and they of him, and each 
So trusted other that when peril came 
And threatened all their fathers' toil had wrought 
They gave to him the guiding of the State. 
And though he walked with princes still he knew 
He held his place securely in their hearts. 
What can the marble's splendor mean to him? 


Strange how we litter all the earth with shrines, 
Dark shadowed chapels where no sunlight falls, 
For those who knew the sun, the touch of rain, 
The hope of sowing and the joy of reaping, 
And all the round of simple things in life 
The saints and seers and prophets of the race, 
Who called to farther goals and led the way. 
We carve from dull dead stone their travesties, 
We cover them with incense and great praise 
In any way to keep them from our hearts; 
In any way to keep from following after 
On that stern path that leads at last to peace! 
I think he would have hated this white shrine! 

William E> Brooks 

When One Knows Thee 

Thou hast made me known to friends whom I knew not. 

Thou hast given me seats in homes not my own. Thou 

hast brought the distant near and made a brother of the 

I am uneasy at heart when I have to leave my accustomed 

shelter; I forget that there abides the old in the new, and 

that there also Thou abidest. 
Through birth and death, in this world or in others, wherever 

Thou leadest me it is Thou, the same, the one companion 

of my endless life who ever linkest my heart with bonds 

of joy to the unfamiliar. 
When one knows Thee, then alien there is none, then no door 

is shut. Oh, grant me my prayer that I may never lose 

the bliss of the touch of the one in the play of the many. 

Rabindranath Tagore 

From " Gitanjali," by Rabindranath Tagore. Used by permission 
of the Macmillan Company, publishers. 



Before I brand a brother 

With envy or with shame, 
FU whisper to my heart, " He comes 

The road I came." 

If any sue for pity 

Though friend he be or foe 
I'll whisper to my soul, " He goes 

The road I go." 

Mary Sinton Leitch 

Our Dead 

Let us not think of our departed dead 
As caught and cumbered in these graves of earth; 
But think of death as of another birth, 

As a new freedom for the wings outspread, 

A new adventure waiting on ahead, 
As a new joy of more ethereal mirth, 
As a new world with friends of nobler worth, 

Where all may taste a more immortal bread. 

Edwin Markham 

Sic Vita 

Heart free, hand free, 

Blue above, brown under, 
All the world to me 

Is a place of wonder. 
Sun shine, moon shine, 

Stars, and winds a-blowing, 
All into this heart of mine 

Flowing, flowing, flowing! 


Mind free, step free, 

Days to follow after, 
Joys of life sold to me 

For the price of laughter. 
Girl's love, man's love 

Love of work and duty, 
Just a will of God's to prove 

Beauty, beauty, beauty! 

William Stanley Braithwaite 

In the Vastness, a God 

Deathless, though godheads be dying, 

Surviving the creeds that expire, 
Illogical, reason defying, 

Lives that passionate, primal desire; 
Insistent, persistent, forever 

Man cries to the silence, " Never 
Shall Death reign the lord of the soul, 

Shall the dust be the ultimate goal 
I will storm the black bastions of Night, 

I will tread where my vision has trod, 
I will set in the darkness a light, 

In the vastness, a god/' 

Author Unknown 

Autumn Leaves 

About the chilly, ragged lawns they lie 
In small decaying heaps. And pausing here, 

I can but mark them sadly, crushed, forlorn, 
Mute emblems of the slowly dying year. 


Can they be those I saw so lately swing 
Green-robed and merry on the maple trees, 

And later, clad in flaming, golden gowns, 
Joy-riding on the sweet October breeze? 

Ride high and free, such little time ago 

And now they lie so low! they lie so low I 

And yet why pity them? Full well they lived 
Their God-appointed plan, died joyously, 

And left a golden memory! Pray who 
Could ask a fairer fate for them, or me? 

Minnie Case Hopkins 

Not As I Will 

Blindfolded and alone I stand, 
With unknown thresholds on each hand; 
The darkness deepens as I grope, 
Afraid to fear, afraid to hope; 
Yet this one thing I learn to know 
Each day more surely as I go, 
That doors are opened, ways are made, 
Burdens are lifted or are laid 
By some great law, unseen and still, 
Unfathomed purpose to fulfil, 
"Not as I will." 

Blindfolded and alone I wait; 
Loss seems too bitter, gain too late; 
Too heavy burdens in the load 
And too few helpers on the road, 
And joy is weai and grief is strong, 
And years and days so long, so long; 
Yet this one thing I learn to know 
Each day more surely as I go, 


That I am glad the good and ill 
By changeless law are ordered still, 
"Not as I will." 

" Not as I will "; the sound grows sweet 
Each time my lips the words repeat, 
" Not as I will "; the darkness feels 
More safe than light when this thought steals 
Like whispered voice to calm and bless 
All unrest and all loneliness. 
" Not as I will," because the One 
Who loves us first and best has gone 
Before us on the road, and still 
For us must all His love fulfil, 
" Not as we will." 

Helen Hunt Jackson 

What Our Lord Wrote in the Dust 

We have saved the soul of the man who killed, 

We have turned to shrive the thief; 
We restored the pride of the man who lied 

And we gave him our belief; 
But for her who fell we have fashioned hell 

With a faith all stern and just 
It was so of old; and no man hath told 

What our Lord wrote in the dust. 

We have sighed betimes for our brothers' crimes 

And have bade them be of cheer, 
For the flesh is weak, and the soul grown meek 

May yet read its title clear. 
But we draw away from the one astray 

As the truly righteous must, 
She is cursed indeed and we did not read 

What our Lord wrote in the dust. 


For the men who thieved, and who killed and lied 

Who have slain the woman's soul 
We have worked and prayed, and have seen them made 

All clean and pure and whole, 
But we drive her out with a righteous shout 

In our Pharisaic trust, 
So the man goes free but we do not see 

What our Lord wrote in the dust. . ^ yr , 

Author unknown 

When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer 

When I heard the learn'd astronomer, 

When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns be- 
fore me, 

When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, 
and measure them, 

When I, sitting, heard the astronomer where he lectured with 
much applause in the lecture-room, 

How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick, 

Till rising and gliding out I wandered off by myself, 

In the mystical moist night-air, and, from time to time, 

Looked up in perfect silence at the stars. Trr , Trrr . 

Walt Whitman 

Rest Where You Are 

When spurred by tasks unceasing or undone 

You would seek rest afar 
And cannot, though the rest be fairly won, 

Rest where you are. 
Not in event, restriction, or release, 

In journeys near or far, 
But in the heart lies restlessness or peace, 

Rest where you are. ^ , _ , ^, 

Charles Poole Cleaves 



The heart is cold that has not chilled 
With fear that love could pass away. 

The soul is dry that does not thirst 
For clear refreshment day by day. 

And eyes are dim that in the light, 
Have never seen the need to pray. 

Mary Brennan Clapp 

And the Greatness of These 

I have seen an old faith falter, 
Spent upon some ancient altar, 
Where fires have turned to ashes gray 
For one who lost the narrow way; 
But in spite of wind and rain 
I have seen old love remain. 

I have seen a great house fall, 
Taking with it wealth and all 
Bringing low the proud of name, 
Blotting beauty, slaying fame; 
But I have seen them rise again 
By love that never can be slain. 

Yes, I have seen old love survive, 
Taking the dead to make alive, 
Opening the eyes of one so blind 
That even darkness held the mind; 
I have seen love writhe in pain 
Rise up and smile and love again. 

/. JR. Perkins 


Ye Who Taste That Love Is Sweet 

Oh, ye who taste that love is sweet, 
Set waymarks for all doubtful feet 
That stumble on in search of it. 
Lead life of love, that others who 
Behold your life may kindle too 
With love and cast their lot with you. 

W. M. Rossetti 


Where is my kingdom? I would be a king. 
Yet kingdoms are not made by conquering, 
Nor kings and queens by questioning and wondering. 

Kingdoms are bought by yearning, and by burning 

Of body and bruising of breast. 

This is the test, and this only, 

For kings and queens to be only: 

Have you the substance? Are you free? 

How much can you suffer? How far can you see? 

Charles Oluf Olsen 

From A Death In The Desert 

For life, with all it yields of joy and woe, 
And hope and fear believe the aged friend 
Is just our chance o' the prize of learning love, 
How love might be, hath been indeed, and is; 
And that we hold thenceforth to the uttermost 
Such prize despite the envy of the world, 
And, having gained truth, keep truth: that is all. 

Robert Browning 



I do not fear 
To walk the lonely road 
Which leads far out into 
The sullen night Nor do 
I fear the rebel, wind-tossed 
Sea that stretches onward, far, 
Beyond the might of human hands 
Or human loves. It is the 
Brooding, sharp-thorned discontent 
I fear, the nagging days without 
A sound of song; the sunlit 
Noon of ease; the burden of 
Delight and flattery. It is 
The hate-touched soul I dread, 
The joyless heart; the unhappy 
Faces in the streets; the 
Smouldering fires of unforgiven 
Slights. These do I fear. Not 
Night, nor surging seas, nor 
Rebel winds. But hearts unlovely, 
And unloved. 

James A, Fraser 

The Bridge Builder 

An old man going a lone highway 
Came in the evening cold and gray 
To a chasm vast and deep and wide. 
The old man crossed in the twilight dim, 
The sullen stream had no fears for him, 
But he stopped when safe on the other side 
And built a bridge to span the tide. 


" Old man," said a fellow pilgrim near, 

" You are wasting your strength with building here; 

Your journey will end with the ending day, 

You never again will pass this way, 

You've crossed the chasm deep and wide, 

Why build you this bridge at evening tide? " 

The builder lifted his old gray head, 

" Good friend, in the path I have come," he said, 

" There followeth after me today 

A youth whose feet must pass this way. 

This chasm which has been as naught to me 

To that fair-haired youth might a pitfall be, 

He, too, must cross in the twilight dim, 

Good friend, I am building the bridge for him." 

Will Allen Dromgoole 

Age Is Opportunity 

For age is opportunity no less 
Than youth itself, though in another dress; 
And as the evening twilight fades away, 
The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day. 

Henry Wadswortk Longfellow 
From " Morituri Salutamus " 

Truth Never Dies 

Truth never dies. The ages come and go. 

The mountains wear away, the stars retire. 
Destruction lays earth's mighty cities low; 

And empires, states and dynasties expire; 
But caught and handed onward by the wise, 
Truth never dies. 


Though unreceived and scoffed at through the years; 

Though made the butt of ridicule and jest; 
Though held aloft for mockery and jeers, 

Denied by those of transient power possessed. 
Insulted by the insolence of lies, 
Truth never dies. 

It answers not. It does not take offense, 
But with a mighty silence bides its time; 

As some great cliff that braves the elements 
And lifts through all the storms its head sublime, 

It ever stands, uplifted by the wise; 
And never dies. 

As rests the Sphinx amid Egyptian sands; 

As looms on high the snowy peak and crest; 
As firm and patient as Gibraltar stands, 

So truth, unwearied, waits the era blest 
When men shall turn to it with great surprise. 
Truth never dies. 

Author Unknown 

Whence Cometh My Help 

Here, on these hills, no sense of loneliness 
Touches my soul. When the long days are fine, 
And I can see, for miles on miles, the line 
Of far-off mountains where their summits press 
Against the arching azure of the skies, 
Or when rain blots all objects out from me 
But the dim outline of the nearest tree, 
And little sounds so strangely magnifies, 
I am content. Peace on my soul descends. 
No unfilled longings rise in me to choke 


My will. I smell the fragrance of damp sod 
Whose pungency with forest odors blends, 
And from my shoulders, like an outworn cloak, 
My troubles fall, so close to me seems God. 

P. L. Montgomery 

Look Up 

Look up and not down. 
Look forward and not back. 
Look out and not in. 
Lend a hand. 

Edward Everett Hale 

The Hills of Rest 

Beyond the last horizon's rim, 
Beyond adventure's farthest quest, 

Somewhere they rise, serene and dim, 
The happy, happy, Hills of Rest. 

Upon their sunlit slopes uplift 
The castles we have built in Spain 

While fair amid the summer drift 
Our faded gardens flower again. 

Sweet hours we did not live go by 
To soothing note, on scented wing; 

In golden-lettered volumes lie 
The songs we tried in vain to sing. 

They all are there; the days of dream 

That build the inner lives of men; 
The silent, sacred years we deem 

The might be and the might have been. 


Some evening when the sky is gold 

I'll follow day into the west; 
Nor pause, nor heed, till I behold 

The happy, happy Hills of Rest. 

Albert Bigelow Paine 

For Martha's Kitchen 

Shine in, sun, on this dull place! 
Teach me your ways, lend me your grace, 
Lest I grow trivial, being bound 
To move within a daily round. 

O wind, come in and blow away 
The dust and cobwebs from this day, 
Lest I grow peevish, skirmishing 
With each small unimportant thing! 

Fay Inchjawn 

The Child's Appeal 

I am the Child. 

All the world waits for my coming. 

All the earth watches with interest to see what I shall be- 

Civilization hangs in the balance, 
For what I am, the world of tomorrow will be. 

I am the Child. 

I have come into your world, about which I know nothing. 

Why I came I know not; 

How I came I know not. 

I am curious; I am interested. 


I am the Child. 

You hold in your hand my destiny. 
You determine, largely, whether I shall succeed or fail. 
Give me, I pray you, those things that make for happiness. 
Train me, I beg you, that I may be a blessing to the world. 

Mamie Gene Cole 

A Miracle 

A Miracle? Is it more strange than nature's common way? 

From out the common clay 

A shaft of green is lifted toward the sun, 

And from its heart is spun 

Fair fabrics ere its day is done 

Whorled leaves, an airy stem, 

A crimson, fragile diadem, 

And who can tell 

Whence came the power thus to compel 

A little seed beneath the sod 

To fashion such a wondrous rod? 

A miracle? A thought of God 

Which science scorns 

Is it more strange than flowers and thorns 

That spring these mystic forms to birth 

From out the trodden paths of Earth? 

George Klingle 


Man's life is like a Sparrow, mighty King! 
That while at banquet with your Chiefs you sit 
Housed near a blazing fire is seen to flit 
Safe from the wintry tempest. Fluttering, 
Here did it enter: there, on hasty wing, 


Flies out, and passes on from cold to cold; 
But whence it came we know not, nor behold 
Whither it goes. Even such, that transient Thing, 
The human Soul; not utterly unknown 
While in the Body lodged, her warm abode; 
But from what world She came, what woe or weal 
On her departure waits, no tongue hath shown; 
This mystery if the Stranger can reveal, 
His be a welcome cordially bestowed! 

William Wordsworth 

The Patient Scientists 

How they have learned the secrets of the ether! 

Ships in the clouds, afloat as on a sea; 
Voices through miles of distance singing, captured, 

Brought to our homes to gladden you and me. 

How selflessly they seek prof ounder meanings 
Hid in the dump of moss the iron ore! 

How they have found hi energy the secrets 
God smiled to know a billion years before. 

Counting their lives not dear, so they discover 
Some bit of truth through eons all unguessed, 

Something to make the lives to come the richer, 
Ere they themselves shall shut their eyes and rest. 

Ah, still the Lord God walks with noiseless footfall, 
Visits the workshops of these patient men 

Smiles on the test tubes, the revealing lenses, 
And " It is good," he murmurs once again. 

Bertha Gemeaux Woods 



Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews, 

Were you spitted in vain on the tree of scorn? 

The Pharisees still clamor in the pews. 

Your flesh remembers every Roman bruise; 
Your brow enshrines the scar of Judah's thorn, 
Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews. 

Hearken, Savior, I have brought you news, 
Arise in holy anger Easter morn, 
The Pharisees still clamor in the pews, 

And strut beneath their iridescent hues 
While Satan wears the robe which should adorn 
Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews. 

With solemn guile, the devil spins a ruse 

For vain and rich. Let Gabriel sound his horn, 

The Pharisees still clamor in the pews, 

The Publican afar off wipes his shoes 
Upon the doormat, puzzled and forlorn; 
Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews, 
The Pharisees still clamor in the pews. 

A. M. Sullivan 


A tree is built of many things 
Of soil stuff, slanting rain and hail; 

Of silent snow, and skies of blue 
Or lowering, of frost and gale. 


Into its sinewed might are forged 

No less the robin's song, the grays 
Of morning mist, the sunset gold, 

And rhythms of the marching days. 

And by the Master built into 

Cottage or templed shrine, it sings, 

For him who hears, in soundless strains 
The music of intangible things. 

Franklin Cable 

Eternity In An Hour 

To see the World in a grain of sand, 

And a Heaven in a wild flower, 
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand, 
And Eternity in an hour . . . 

William Blake 
From " Auguries of Innocence " 

Too Late 

Late, late, so late; and dark the night and chilli 
Late, late, so latel but we can enter still. 
Too late, too late, ye cannot enter now. 

No light had we: for that we do repent ; 
And learning this, the bridegroom will relent. 
Too late, too latel ye cannot enter now. 

No light: so latel and dark and chill the nightl 
O let us in, that we may find the light! 
Too late, too late! ye cannot enter now. 


Have we not heard the bridegroom is so sweet? 
O let us in, though late, to kiss his feetl 
No, no, too late! ye cannot enter now. 

From "Idylls of the King" Al ^ Tennyson 


I am yesterday. 

I am gone from you for ever. 

I am the last of a long procession of days, streaming behind 
you, away from you, pouring into mist and obscurity, 
and at last into the ocean of oblivion. 

I depart from you, yet I am ever with you. 

Once I was called Tomorrow, and was virgin pure; then I 
became your bride and was named Today; now I am 
Yesterday, and carry upon me the eternal stain of your 

I am one of the leaves of a growing book. There are many 
pages before me. 

Some day you will turn us all over, and read us, and know 
what you are, 

I am rich, for I have wisdom. 

I bore you a child, and left him with you. His name is Ex- 

I am Yesterday; yet I am the same as Today and Forever; 
for I am you; and you cannot escape from yourself. 

Frank Crane 

Two Trails 

There is room in the halls of pleasure 

For a long and lordly train, 
But one by one we must all file on 

Through the narrow aisles of pain. 

Ella Wheeler Wilcox 


True Rest 

Rest is not quitting 

The busy career; 
Rest is the fitting 

Of self to one's sphere. 

Tis the brook's motion 

Clear without strife, 
Fleeting to ocean, 

After this life. 

J Tis loving and serving, 

The highest and best; 
Tis onward, unswerving, 

And this is true rest. 

/. W. von Goethe 

Greatly Begin! 

Greatly begin! though thou have time 
But for a line, be that sublime 
Not failure, but low aim is crime. 

James Russell Lowell 
From " For an Autograph " 

Building a Temple 

A builder builded a temple, 

He wrought it with grace and skill; 
Pillars and groins and arches 

All fashioned to work his will. 


Men said, as they saw its beauty, 

" It shall never know decay. 
Great is thy skill, O builder: 

Thy fame shall endure for aye." 

A teacher builded a temple 

With loving and infinite care, 
Planning each arch with patience, 

Laying each stone with prayer. 
None praised her unceasing efforts, 

None knew of her wondrous plan; 
For the temple the teacher builded 

Was unseen by the eyes of man. 

Gone is the builder's temple, 

Crumbled into the dust; 
Low lies each stately pillar, 

Food for consuming rust. 
But the temple the teacher builded 

Will last while the ages roll, 
For that beautiful unseen temple 

Is a child's immortal soul. 

Author Unknown 


So here hath been dawning 
Another blue day: 

Think, wilt thou let it 
Slip useless away? 

Out of Eternity 

This new day was born; 
Into Eternity, 

At night, will return. 


Behold it aforetime 

No eye ever did; 
So soon it forever 

From all eyes is hid. 

Here hath been dawning 

Another blue day: 
Think, wilt thou let it 

Slip useless away? 

Thomas Carlyle 

The Hero 

We do not know we can but deem. 
And he is loyalest and best 
Who takes the light full on his breast 

And follows it throughout the dream. 

Ambrose Bierce 

The Hungry 

Whom does He love the most 

The poor, the sick, the blind, 
The rich, the maimed, the host 

Unknowingly unkind? 

The ones who strive, and fail; 

The ones who have, and lose; 
The ones who will not quail 

Nor martyrdom refuse? 

The wind went sobbing low 

To His great Heart and cried; 
" Dear God, they need you so, 

Who die unsatisfied." 

Caroline Gtttinan 


The Ways of The Gods 

In ancient times the hungry gods, 

Imaged in wood or stone, 
Enjoyed a living sacrifice 

Of human flesh or bone. 

Today the gods, more subtle, lurk 

Where wheels and motors roar, 
Though still the living sacrifice 

Is offered as before. 

Stanton A. Coblentz 

Ah, Love, Let Us Be True 

Ah, love, let us be true 

To one another! for the world, which seems 

To lie before us like a land of dreams, 

So various, so beautiful, so new, 

Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, 

Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain; 

And we are here as on a darkling plain 

Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, 

Where ignorant armies clash by night. 

Matthew Arnold 
From " Dover Beach " 

A Question 

Now who will rise 
To purge our eyes, 
Kindle the Spirit's breath; 
And think well borne 
Neglect or scorn 


To give our sons a Faith? 

For pieties 

And dubieties, 
To give them back a Faith? 
Who gives them for a flickering wraith, 
A central, funded, founded Faith? 

P. T. Forsyth 

From The Watchers of the Sky 

This music leads us far 
From all our creeds, except that faith in law. 
Your quest for knowledge how it rests on that! 
How sure the soul is that if truth destroy 
The temple, in three days the truth will build 
A nobler temple; and that order reigns 
In all things. Even your atheist builds his doubt 
On that strange faith; destroys this heaven and God 
In absolute faith that his own thought is true 
To law, God's lanthorn to our stumbling feet; 
And so, despite himself, he worships God, 
For where true souls are, there are God and heaven. 

Alfred Noyes 

The City's Crown 

What makes a city great? Huge piles of stone 
Heaped heavenward? Vast multitudes who dwell 
Within wide circling walls? Palace and throne 
And riches past the count of man to tell, 
And wide domain? Nay, these the empty husk! 
True glory dwells where glorious deeds are done, 
Where great men rise whose names athwart the dusk 


Of misty centuries gleam like the sun! 
In Athens, Sparta, Florence, 'twas the soul 
That was the city's bright immortal part, 
The splendor of the spirit was their goal, 
Their jewel the unconquerable heart! 
So may the city that I love be great 
Till every stone shall be articulate. 

William Dudley Foulke 


Some rainbow shreds of Hope and Joy; 
Faith's golden stripes without alloy; 
Scraps of Ambition bright to see; 
A few white threads of Charity; 
Much of the purple cloth of Pain; 
Love's fabric, like a golden vein 
Between the strands of Hate and Strife; 
Such is the patchwork we call Life. 

Clinton Scollard 


Born in a borrowed cattle shed, 

And buried in another's tomb; 
Small wonder our complacency 

Leaves such a One no room! 

But castles were as poor as sheds 
Until that Prince was born on earth, 

And tombs were mockeries of hope 
Before He changed death into birth! 

Elinor Lennen 



Why be afraid of death, as though your life were breath? 
Death but anoints your eyes with clay. O glad surprise! 

Why should you be forlorn? Death only husks the corn. 
Why should you fear to meet the thresher of the wheat? 

Is sleep a thing to dread? Yet sleeping you are dead 
Till you awake and rise, here, or beyond the skies. 

Why should it be a wrench to leave your wooden bench? 
Why not, with happy shout, run home when school is out? 

The dear ones left behind? Oh, foolish one and blind! 
A day and you will meet a night and you will greet. 

This is the death of death, to breathe away a breath 
And know the end of strife, and taste the deathless life, 

And joy without a fear, and smile without a tear; 
And work, nor care to rest, and find the last the best. 

Maltbie D. Babcock 

The Chariot 

Because I could not stop for Death, 
He kindly stopped for me; 
The carriage held but just ourselves, 
And Immortality. 

We slowly drove, he knew no haste, 
And I had put away 
My labor and my leisure, too, 
For his civility. 


We passed the school where children played, 
At wrestling in a ring; 
We passed the fields of gazing grain, 
We passed the setting sun. 

We paused before a house that seemed 
A swelling of the ground; 
The roof was scarcely visible, 
The cornice but a mound. 

Since then, 'tis centuries; but each 
Feels shorter than the day 
I first surmised the horses' heads 
Were toward eternity. 

Emily Dickinson 


When I consider Life and its few years 
A wisp of fog betwixt us and the sun; 
A call to battle, and the battle done 
Ere the last echo dies within our ears; 
A rose choked in the grass; an hour of fears; 
The gusts that past a darkening shore do beat; 
The burst of music down an unlistening street 
I wonder at the idleness of tears. 

Ye old, old dead, and ye of yesternight, 
Chieftains and bards and keepers of the sheep, 
By every cup of sorrow that you had, 
Loose me from tears, and make me see aright 
How each hath back what once he stayed to weep: 
Homer his sight, David his little lad! 

Lizette Woodworth Reese 


We Cannot Kindle 

We cannot kindle when we will 

The fire which in the heart resides, 

The spirit bloweth and is still, 

In mystery our soul abides: 

But tasks, in hours of insight willed, 

May be through hours of gloom fulfilled. 

Matthew Arnold 

A Prayer for Teachers 

As to the seer in ancient time 

The angel came with coal aflame, 

And touched his lips that he might speak, 

O God, in Thine almighty name, 

So to us in this later day 

Send down a purifying ray. 

Put forth Thy hand and touch our mouths 

Whose holy task it is to teach 

And guide the minds of eager youth, 

That we may have inspiring speech. 

Grant us vast patience, insight wise, 

The open mind and heart and eyes. 

Thus cleansed and quickened may we go 
And teach those in the morn of life 
The beauty and the might of peace 
The sin and ugliness of strife. 
Then shall the angel's voice proclaim, 
" You, too, have spoken in God's name." 

Marguerite EmUio 


If You Have Made Gentler the Churlish World 

If you have spoken something beautiful, 

Or touched the dead canvas to life, 

Or made the cold stone to speak 

You who know the secret heart of beauty; 

If you have done one thing 

That has made gentler the churlish world, 

Though mankind pass you by, 

And feed and clothe you grudgingly 

Though the world starve you, 

And God answer not your nightly prayers, 

And you grow old hungering still at heart, 

And walk friendless in your way, 

And lie down at last forgotten 

If all this befall you who have created beauty, 

You shall still leave a bequest to the world 

Greater than institutions and rules and commerce; 

And by the immutable law of human heart 

The God of the universe is your debtor, 

If you have made gentler the churlish world. 

Max Ehrmann 


What though unmarked the happy workman toil, 
And break unthanked of man the stubborn clod? 

It is enough, for sacred is the soil, 
Dear are the hills of God. 

Far better in its place the lowliest bird 

Should sing aright to Him the lowliest song, 
Than that a seraph strayed should take the word 

And sing His glory wrong. r _ f 

Jean Ingelow 


Your Place 

Is your place a small place? 
Tend it with care; 
He set you there. 

Is your place a large place? 
Guard it with care! 
He set you there. 

Whate'er your place, it is 
Not yours alone, but His 
Who set you there. 

John Oxenham 


When all is written and sung, 

When all is sung and said, 
It isn't the rich alone who feast, 

Nor the poor who cry for bread. 

Colin marries a maid, 

And he gives her a ribbon of keys; 
But if his fancy roams at large, 

What can she do with these? 

Marian knows the trick 

Of making a pastry sweet; 
But if she serve it with bitter words, 

What has her lord to eat? 

The babe like a rose-leaf lies, 

Swaddled and nursed with care; 
Mother, the man in him starves and dies, 

If you teach not his lips a prayerl 


Hunger will make no terms 

With pauper or plutocrat; 
Want besieges the godless gate, 

And life is a proof of that. 

When all is written and sung, 

When all is sung or said, 
It is only God who is really food, 

It is only Love that is bread! 

Ruby Weyburn Tobias 


I shall not tarry over scrolls 

That chart the planets of the night; 
Nor follow paths of endless goals, 

The ordered orbs of Heaven's light; 
Nor shall I halt with sense and mind 

At palace, porch or merchant's mart: 
My caravan shall press to find 

A Savior for my hungry heart. 

Harry Webb Harrington 

Out in the Fields With God 

The little cares that fretted me, 

I lost them yesterday, 
Among the fields, above the sea, 

Among the winds at play; 
Among the lowing of the herds, 

The rustling of the trees; 
Among the singing of the birds, 

The humming of the bees. 


The foolish fears of what may happen, 

I cast them all away 
Among the clover-scented grass, 

Among the new-mown hay; 
Among the rustling of the corn, 

Where drowsy poppies nod, 
Where ill thoughts die and good are born 

Out in the fields with God. 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning 

My House Has Windows 

My house has windows that are wide and high; 

I never keep the curtains drawn 
Lest I should miss some glory of the sky, 

Some splendor of the breaking dawn. 

My soul has windows where God's sun streams in; 

They never, never shuttered are, 
Lest their closed blinds hide in my soul some sin 

And keep some lovely thing afar. 

Anna Blake Mazquida 


" A commonplace life," we say, and we sigh; 
But why should we sigh as we say? 
The commonplace sun in the commonplace sky, 
Makes up the commonplace day; 
The moon and the stars are commonplace things, 
And the flower that blooms, and the bird that sings: 
But dark were the world and sad our lot 
If the flowers failed and the bird sang not; 
And God, who studies each separate soul 
Of our commonplace lives makes His beautiful whole. 

Susan Coolidge 


Friends and Enemies 

He who has a thousand friends 

Has not a friend to spare, 
While he who has one enemy 

Shall meet him everywhere. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 

A Prayer 

Lord, let not my religion be 

A thing of selfish ecstasy; 

But something warm with tender care 

And fellowship which I can share. 

Let me not walk the other side 

Of trouble's highway long and wide; 

Make me a Good Samaritan, 

And neighbor unto every man. 

Clarence J. Burkholder 


Then life is to wake not sleep, 
Rise and not rest, but press 
From earth's level, where blindly creep 
Things perfected, more or less, 
To the heaven's bright, far steep, 
Where, amid what strifes and storms 
May wait the adventurous quest, 
Power is love transports, transforms. 

Robert Browning 
From " Christmas Eve " 



We cannot look beyond 

The spectrum's mystic bar, 
Beyond the violet light; 

Yea, other lights there are, 
And waves that touch us not, 

Voyaging far. 

Vast, ordered forces whirl 

Invisible, unfelt; 
Their language less than sound, 

Their names unspelt. 
Suns cannot brighten them 

Nor white heat melt. 

Here hi the clammy dark 

We dig, as dwarfs for coal; 
Yet One Mind fashioned it 

And us, a luminous whole: 
As lastly thou shalt see, 

Thou, O my soul! 

Grace Wilkinson 

Today and Tomorrow 

Withhold all eulogies when I am dead, 

All noisy sorrow; 
Give me the tender word today instead 

Of tears tomorrow. 

Come not with flowers to strew above my breast, 

And sigh for me there. 
The hawk or crow may haunt the piney crest; 

I shall not be there. 


Speak not my name, when I have passed from earth, 

In tones of sadness; 
At thought of me repress no note of mirth, 

No burst of gladness. 

Delay not, thou whom I have wounded sore, 

Till thou outlive me 
To grant the pardon that I here implore; 

But now forgive me. 

Edward N. Pomeroy 

We Shall Build On! 

We shall build on! 
On through the cynic's scorning. 
On through the coward's warning. 
On through the cheat's suborning. 

We shall build on! 
Firm on the Rock of Ages, 
City of saints and sages. 
Laugh while the tempest rages, 

We shall build on! 

Christ, though my hands be bleeding, 
Fierce though my flesh be pleading, 
Still let me see Thee leading, 
Let me build on! 

Till through death's cruel dealing, 
Brain wrecked and reason reeling, 
I hear Love's trumpets pealing, 
And I pass on. 

G. A. Studdert-Kennedy 



Oldest of friends, the trees! 
Ere fire came, or iron, 
Or the shimmering corn; 
When the earth mist was dank, 
Ere the promise of dawn, 
From the slime, from the muck 
The trees! 

Nearest of friends, the trees! 
They shield us from storm 
And brighten our hearths; 
They bring to our tables 
The autumn's fine gold; 
They carol our joys 
And sing to our griefs. 
They cradle our young 
And coffin our dead 
The trees! 

Truest of friends, the trees! 
Men wander far 
At a word or a nod; 
Life is a grief, 
Love is a chance, 
Faith stumbles oft, 
Joy is soon past. 
Oldest of friends, 
Nearest of friends, 
Truest of friends, 
The trees! 

Thomas Curtis Clark 


The Right Use of Prayer 

Therefore, when thou wouldst pray, or dost thine alms, 
Blow not a trump before thee: Hypocrites 
Do thus, vaingloriously; the common streets 
Boast of their largess, echoing their psalms. 
On such the laud of men, like unctuous balms, 
Falls with sweet savor. Impious Counterfeits! 
Prating of heaven, for earth their bosom beats! 
Grasping at weeds, they lose immortal palms! 

God needs not iteration nor vain cries: 

That man communion with his God might share 

Below, Christ gave the ordinance of prayer: 

Vague ambages, and witless ecstasies, 

Avail not: ere a voice to prayer be given 

The heart should rise on wings of love to heaven. 

Aubrey de Vere 

One Thing 

The man who seeks one thing in life, and but one, 
May hope to achieve it before life is done; 
But he who seeks all things wherever he goes, 
Only reaps from the hopes which around him he sows 
A harvest of barren regrets. 

Owen Meredith 

From Auf Wiedersehen 

It were a double grief, if the true-hearted, 
Who loved us here, should on the farther shore 
Remember us no more. 


Believing, in the midst of our afflictions, 
That death is a beginning, not an end, 

We call to them, and send 
Farewells, that better might be called predictions 
Being foreshadowings of the future, thrown 

Into the vast unknown. 

Faith overleaps the confines of our reason, 
And if by faith, as in old times was said, 

Women received their dead 
Raised up to life, then only for a season 
Our partings are, nor shall we wait in vain 

Until we meet again! 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

" A Man Must Live " 

" A man must live! " We justify 
Low shift and trick, to treason high; 
A little vote for a little gold, 
Or a whole Senate bought and sold, 
With this self-evident reply 
" A man must live! " 

But is it so? Pray tell me why 
Life at such cost you have to buy. 
In what religion were you told 
A man must live? 

There are times when a man must die! 
There are times when a man will die! 
Imagine for a battle-cry 
From soldiers with a sword to hold, 
From soldiers with a flag unfurled, 
This coward's whine, this liar's lie, 
" A man must livel " 


The Saviour did not " live! " 
He died! 

But in his death was life 
Life for himself and all mankind! 
He found his life by losing it! 
And we, being crucified 
Afresh with him, may find 
Life in the cup of death, 
And, drinking it, 
Win life forever more. 

Author Unknown 

A Leafless Tree 

I like to see 

The patience of a leafless tree 

Waiting in quiet dignity, 

Till spring shall set its greenness free. 

I sometimes 
That living just beneath the sky 
Has made it understand and drink 
Deeper wisdom than you and I 

It does not prate 

Of limitation in its sere 

Bare boughs; it does not estimate 

The time for fresh leaves to appear; 

It seems to know, 
Within its great deep-rooted heart, 
That never-ending life shall flow 
And new springs start. 

Ann Louise Thompson 


The Arrow and the Song 

I shot an arrow into the air, 
It fell to earth, I knew not where: 
For so swiftly it flew, the sight, 
Could not follow it in its flight. 

I breathed a song into the air, 
It fell to earth, I knew not where; 
For who has sight, so keen and strong, 
That it can follow the flight of song? 

Long, long afterward, in an oak, 
I found the arrow still unbroke; 
And the song, from beginning to end, 
I found again in the heart of a friend. 

Henry Wadswortk Longfellow 


From low to high doth dissolution climb, 

And sink from high to low, along a scale 

Of awful notes, whose concord shall not fail; 

A musical but melancholy chime, 

Which they can hear who meddle not with crime, 

Nor avarice, nor over-anxious care. 

Truth fails not; but her outward forms that bear 

The longest date, do melt like frosty rime, 

That in the morning whitened hill and plain, 

And is no more; drop like the tower sublime . 

Of yesterday, which royally did wear 

His crown of weeds, but could not even sustain 

Some casual shout that broke the silent air, 

Or the unimaginable touch of Time. 

William Wordsworth 


Children of Tomorrow 

Come, Children of Tomorrow, come! 
New glory dawns upon the world. 
The ancient banners must be furled. 
The earth becomes our common home 
The earth becomes our common home. 
From plain and field and town there sound 
The stirring rumors of the day. 
Old wrongs and burdens must make way 
For men to tread the common ground. 

Look up! The children win to their immortal place. 
March on, march on within the ranks of all the human 


Come, love of people, for the part 
Invest our willing arms with might! 
Mother of Liberty, shed light 
As on the land, so in the heart 
As on the land, so in the heart. 
Divided we have long withstood 
The love that is our common speech* 
The comrade cry of each to each 
Is calling us to humanhood. Zona Gale 


If we should find unfinished, incomplete, 

A single glistening pearly drop of dew, 
A single feather in the daring wings 

That soar exultant in the distant blue; 
A flake of snow upon the mountain's peak, 

A fern within some hidden cool abyss 
Then might we doubt that God's most perfect plan 

In our own lives, perchance, might go amiss. 

Charlotte Newton 



Remember me when I am gone away, 

Gone far away into the silent land; 

When you can no more hold me by the hand, 
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay. 
Remember me when no more day by day 

You tell me of our future that you plann'd: 

Only remember me; you understand 
It will be late to counsel then or pray. 
Yet if you should forget me for a while 

And afterwards remember, do not grieve: 

For if the darkness and corruption leave 
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, 
Better by far you should forget and smile 

Than that you should remember and be sad. 

Christina G. Rossetti 

Thanks for Laughter 


We thank Thee for laughter, 

For the first sweet smile of a babe, 

Which is Thy first glance on the world through his eyes; 

For the glad play of a child, 

Which to see Thou thyself bendest close from Heaven; 

For the gay mirth of home life 

Unto which Thou thyself delightest to harken; 

For the swift flash of gallant humor, 

That suddenly lightens the gloom of disaster; 

For the homeric laughter of heroes going gallantly to death; 

For the last dear smile struggling through weakness and 

Yet radiant with love and faith, 


Which may carry a man safe across the gulf of years and the 

silence of death. 

We thank Thee, Father, for the gift of laughter, 
Which runs through the dark stuff of human tragedy 
Like a thread of gold through a sombre curtain 
That curtain of life which sunders us from Life. 

From " Prayers for Use in an Indian College " 

The Teachers 

I went to school with the tutor, Law, 

A master severe and grim, 
Who taught by the pain of the biting cane 

Yet learned I little of him. 

I go to school with the teacher, Love, 

And my lightened eyes can see 
What the pain and the tears of the driven years 

Could never reveal to me. 

C. V. Pttcher 

The All-Seeing Gods 

No one sees me, 

Save the all-seeing Gods, who, knowing good 
And knowing evil, have created me 
Such as I am, and filled me with desire 
Of knowing good and evil like themselves. 
I hesitate no longer. Weal or woe, 
Or life or death, the moment shall decide. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 
From " The Masque of Pandora " 



Stars lie broken on a lake 
Whenever passing breezes make 

The wavelets leap; 
But when the lake is still, the sky 
Gives moon and stars that they may lie 

On that calm deep. 

If, like the lake that has the boon 
Of cradling the little moon 

Above the hill, 
I want the Infinite to be 
Reflected undisturbed in me, 

I must be still. 

Edna Becker 

The Shepherd Boy Sings 

He that is down needs fear no fall, 

He that is low, no pride; 
He that is humble ever shall 

Have God to be his guide. 

I am content with what I have, 

Little be it or much; 
And, Lord, contentment still I crave, 

Because Thou savest such. 

Fullness to such a burden is 

That go on pilgrimage: 
Here little, and hereafter bliss 

Is best from age to age. 

John Bunyan 


The Shadow on the Loom 

Across my loom of years there fell a shadow, gaunt and gray, 
Through my quiet dreams an echo of marching feet; 

O'er the hum of the flying threads, a voice of gloom: 
" The King's work waits, for His plans make room, 

Come out and help us prepare the way! " 

Impatient I cried: " Through Life's brief day 
I have toiled at this web so near complete; 

Its warp holds the gold of my weary years, 
Shall I spoil it with haste or dim it with tears? 

I must finish this robe for a festal day." 

So I turned again to the brave array 

Of shining threads in my safe retreat, 
And wrought 'till the shimmering gown was done; 

It gleamed like a jewel beneath the sun. 
" Now for the King and His great highway I " 

But my soul was pierced with a great dismay, 

As proudly I turned the King to greet, 
For thorns lay thick in the path He had trod, 

All red from His patient feet was the sod, 
And lo, a world went clad in sober gray! 

Nellie Bur get Miller 

In After Days 

In after days when grasses high 
O'ertop the stone where I shall lie, 
Though ill or well the world adjust 
My slender claim to honored dust, 
I shall not question or reply. 


I shall not see the morning sky; 
I shall not hear the night-wind sigh; 
I shall be mute, as all men must 
In after days! 

But yet, now living, fain were I 

That some one then should testify, 
Saying " He held his pen in trust 
To art, not serving shame or lust." 

Will none? Then let my memory die 

In after days. . ,. - , 

Austin Dobson 

Dirt and Deity 

If gutter-puddles after rain 

Can always look on high; 
And even with a floor of mud, 

Can have a roof of sky, 

I never wonder any more 

How man (a pool of blue) 
Can at the bottom gather mire 

And mirror Heaven, too. 

Louis Ginsberg 


Lord, forgive 

That I have dwelt too long on Golgotha, 

My wracked eyes fixed 

On Thy poor, tortured human form upon the cross, 

And have not seen 

The lilies In Thy dawn-sweet garden bend 

To anoint Thy risen feet; nor known the ways 

Thy radiant spirit walks abroad with men. 

Pauline Schroy 



If a wren can cling 

To a spray a-swing 

In the mad May wind, and sing and sing, 

As if she'd burst for joy; 

Why cannot I 

Contented lie 

In His quiet arms beneath the sky, 

Unmoved by earth's annoy? 

F. B. Meyer 

From Vastness 

Spring and Summer and Autumn and Winter, and all these 

old revolutions of earth; 
All new-old revolutions of empire change of the tide what 

is it all worth? 

What the philosophies, all the sciences, poesy, varying voices 

of prayer? 
All that is noblest, all that is basest, all that is filthy with 

all that is fair? 

What is it all, if we all of us end but in being our own corpse- 
coffins at last, 

Swallowed in Vastness, lost in Silence, drown'd in the deeps 
of a meaningless Past? 

What but a murmur of gnats in the gloom, or a moment's 

anger of bees in their hive? 
Peace, let it be! for I love him, and love him forever the 

dead are not dead but alive. 

Alfred Tennyson 


Various the Roads of Life 

Various the roads of life; in one 

All terminate, one lonely way. 
We go; and " Is lie gone? " 

Is all our best friends say. 

Walter Savage Landor 


A desert does not have to be 

A sandy waste where springs are dry; 

A life can shrink to barrenness 
If love goes by. 

A desert does not have to be 

A place where buzzards wheel at dawn; 
A heart can hold as dreadful things 

When faith is gone. 

Anne Hamilton 


Somewhere there lies the dust 

Of that rough wooden cross which Jesus bore 

Up Calvary. And which, in turn, bore Him; 

Was crimsoned with His blood. Dark stains were left 

Which sunshine could not bleach, 

Nor pelting rains erase. 

Twas cast aside in superstitious fear 

Because tradition said He lived again; 

And so it lay, until the Mother Earth 

Received its crumbling dust back to her breast. 


But on that spot do lilies bloom 
With richer coloring, sweeter fragrance? 

Somewhere there lie the nails 
Which Roman soldiers drove through His 
Extended palms. How cruel was the pain! 
The blows of hammers rested at His word 
" Father, forgive them, for they know 
Not what they do." Stout spikes were they, 
Forged at the smithy in Jerusalem. 
Somewhere they lie, corroding black 

With rust of ages. 

* # * 

Or have they turned to gold 
Through alchemy of Deathless Love? 

7. C. Cochrane 


Thank God, bless God, all ye who suffer not 

More grief than ye can weep for. That is well 

That is light grieving! lighter, none befell 

Since Adam forfeited the primal lot. 

Tears! what are tears? The babe weeps in its cot, 

The mother singing; at her marriage-bell 

The bride weeps, and before the oracle 

Of high-faned hills the poet has forgot 

Such moisture on his cheeks. Thank God for grace, 

Ye who weep only! If, as some have done, 

Ye grope tear-blinded in a desert place 

And touch but tombs, look up! those tears will run 

Soon in long rivers down the lifted face, 

And leave the vision clear for stars and sun. 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning 


From Hour of Death 

Leaves have their time to fall, 

And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, 
And stars to set but all, 

Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death. 

Felicia Dorothea Hemans 

If This Is All 

If this is all one little ball 

Of transitory Earth, 

And we must fall, at Death's last call, 

Like apples no more worth; 

Why do the stars make pathways for my eyes, 

The moon with melody fill all the skies, 

Creation's anthem peal for each sunrise 

If our Earth ball is all? 

If Life is meat and only meat, 

For one swift day then Night, 

And I must eat my morsel sweet, 

E'er fades its fitful light; 

What means this surge within like mystic leaven, 

Why do my hungers reach from hell to heaven, 

My soul range universes seven times seven, 

If Life is only meat? 

Alban Asbury 

In the Garden of the Lord 

The word of God came unto me, 

Sitting alone among the multitudes; 

And my blind eyes were touched with light. 

And there was laid upon my lips a flame of fire. 


I laugh and shout for life is good. 
Though my feet are set in silent ways. 
In merry mood I leave the crowd 
To walk in my garden. Ever as I walk 
I gather fruits and flowers in my hands. 
And with joyful heart I bless the sun 
That kindles all the place with radiant life. 

I run with playful winds that blow the scent 
Of rose and jessamine in eddying whirls. 
At last I come where tall lilies grow, 
Lifting their faces like white saints to God. 
While the lilies pray, I kneel upon the ground; 
I have strayed into the holy temple of the Lord. 

Helen Keller 

Duty Our Ladder 

Be thy duty high as angels flight, 

Fulfill it, and a higher will arise 
Even from its ashes. Duty is infinite, 

Receding as the skies. 
Were it not wisdom, then, to close our eyes 

On duties crowding only to appall? 
No: Duty is our ladder to the skies; 

And, climbing not, we fall. 

Robert Leighton 

Golgotha's Cross 

What is the cross on Golgotha to me 
But the brave young Jesus murdered there? 
Roman justice debased? 
Israel's Messiah lost? 


The tender lips agonized? 
The active mind bewildered? 
The feet, that walked fair Galilee, 
Pierced by nails? 

I have tried to speak 

The words those lips revealed. 

I have tried to think as He thought. 

I have taught my feet to walk 

Humbly as He walked. 

And God prepared me a cross. 

The arms reach out to gather in 
The cripples, the blind, the weak. 
The arms reach out to feed them, 
To give them to drink. 
In these hands the nails are driven. 

But the cross points upward. 

The arms fold me. 

The cross lifts me. 

Golgotha's cross is the road to heaven. 

Raymond Kresensky 

Far Distances 

O wide and shining, miles on miles, 
Yon sea's fair face upon me smiles; 
Yet for some further ocean's isles 
My fevered soul is yearning. 

O daringly yon mountain-spire 
Conquers its giant leap; yet higher 
My spirit's infinite desire 

Speeds eager and unresting. 


amply-arched yon sky's dome swings 
Above me; yet my passion springs 
Wild at its walls with fluttering wings, 

For vaster circles questing. 

1 know not, heart. Yet must not He 
Who made all worlds too strait for thee 
Set thee at last where thou shalt be 

With His own greatness blended? 

Henry W. Clark 

The Anvil of God's Mercy 

I wonder that the metal stands the test; 

The hammering of dogma, and of creed, 
The lifting ferment of a world's unrest, 

The battering of ignorance, and greed! 
The dead-white flame of atheistic scorn, 

The ringing blows of ridicule, and doubt; 
The infidel's rough handling, and the worn 

Deceits and prayers of the half-devout! 
Yet still the anvil of God's mercy stands 

Singing its answer to each heavy blow, 
The stronger for humanity's demands 

And man bends on it, steadily and slow! 

Anna Hamilton Wood 

Remembering Calvary 

Help me to suffer when I most would spare 
My human frame with pain and weakness spent, 

Help me receive with open arms nor dare 
To flinch at pain but count myself content, 

And all that has been and that is to be 
Help me to bear, 

Remembering Calvary. 


Help me to leash the hounds of my desire, 
Taming them to a more submissive will, 
Help me to tune again a broken lyre 

And find that there is music in it still, 
Help me to do these things all cheerfully, 
Nor count the cost, 

Remembering Calvary. 

Ethel Fanning Young 

The Wffl to Serve 

Be thou guardian of the weak, 

Of the unfriended, thou the friend; 
No guerdon for thy valor seek, 

No end beyond the avowed end. 
Wouldst thou thy godlike power preserve, 
Be godlike in the will to serve. 

Jeannette B. Gilder 
From " The Parting of the Ways " 

When I Go Home 

No tears, no sorrowing farewells; 

No drooping eye, no anguished breast; 
I am but quitting scenes where dwells 
The sadness that my soul oppressed: 
Then let my care-worn spirit rest 
When I go home! 

No clasp of hands in last good-bye 

Disturb my weary, waiting soul; 
But, rather love-light fill the eye, 
And waiting Hope point to the goal: 
Let peace, unbroken, o'er me roll 

When I go home! , f . u T 

MUton Lee 



Life, in one semester 

You wear so many masks, 
If you're sage or jester 

My spirit often asks. 

Oft you seem so tragic, 

I fancy you are Woe; 
Then, as if by magic, 

In Laughter's garb you go. 

Now I see you youthful, 

Now limping like a crone. 
Life, for once be truthful 

Which face is all your own? 

Charles G. Blanden 

Man Is His Own Star 

Man is his own star, and the soul that can 
Render an honest and a perfect man, 
Commands all light, all influence, all fate; 
Nothing to him falls early or too late; 
Our acts our angels are, or good or ill, 
Our fatal shadows that walk by us still. 

John Fletcher 
From " Upon an Honest Man's Fortune " 

Nature's Sorrow Cure 

The only thing to cheer me, 

Beneath a heavy load, 
The beauty that is near me, 

The roses in my road. 


A bit of new grass creeping, 

A butterfly of gold, 
The first spring bloodroot peeping 

Through dark and pulpy mold. 

When even God is hidden, 

Because I will not see, 
A swallow's call unbidden 

Will bring Him back to me. 

Catherine Gate Coblentz 

God Behind All 

God is behind all. 

We find great things are made of little things, 
And little things go lessening, till at last 

Comes God behind them. _ , ^ _ 

Robert Browning 

From " Mr. Sludge, the Medium " 


God will not change! The restless years may bring 

Sunlight and shade the glories of the Spring, 

The silent gloom of sunless Winter hours; 

Joy mixed with grief sharp thorns with fragrant flowers. 

Earth's lights may shine a while and then grow dim. 

But God is true! There is no change in Him. 

Rest in the Lord today and all thy days 
Let His unerring hand direct thy ways 
Through the uncertainty, and hope and fear, 
That meet thee on the threshold of the year; 
And find while all life's changing scenes pass by 
Thy refuge in the love that can not die. 

Edith Hickman Divall 


This Is Thy Hour, Soul 

This is thy hour, Soul, thy free flight into the wordless, 
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson 

Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the 

themes thou lovest best. 
Night, sleep, and the stars. 

Walt Whitman 
From " Leaves of Grass " 

My Neighbor's Roses 

The roses red upon my neighbor's vine 

Are owned by him, but they are also mine, 

His was the cost, and his the labor, too, 

But mine as well as his the joy, their loveliness to view. 

They bloom for me, and are for me as fair 
As for the man who gives them all his care. 
Thus I am rich, because a good man grew 
A rose-clad vine for all his neighbors' view. 

I know from this that others plant for me, 
And what they own, my joy may also be; 
So why be selfish, when so much that's fine 
Is grown for you, upon your neighbor's vine? 

Abraham Gruber 

Christmas Today 

How can they honor Him the humble lad 

Whose feet struck paths of beauty through the earth 
With all the drunken revelry, the mad 

Barter of goods that marks His day of birth? 


How can they honor Him with flame and din, 
Whose soul was peaceful as a moon-swept sea, 

Whose thoughts were somber with the world's great sin 
Even while He trod the hill to Calvary? 

I think if Jesus should return and see 
This hollow blasphemy, this day of horror, 

The heart that languished in Gethsemane 
Would know again as great and deep a sorrow, 

And He who charmed the troubled waves to sleep 

With deathless words would kneel again and weep. 

Anderson M. Scruggs 

Sound, Sound the Clarion 

Sound, sound the clarion, 1511 the fife! 

To all the sensual world proclaim, 
One crowded hour of glorious strife 

Is worth an age without a name. 

Sir Walter Scott 

Death at Daybreak 

I shall go out \vhen the light comes in 
There lie my cast-off form and face; 

I shall pass Dawn on her way to earth, 
As I seek for a path through space. 

I shall go out when the light comes in; 

Would I might take one ray with me I 
It is blackest night between the worlds, 

And how is a soul to see? 

Anne Reeve Aldrich 


My Prayer 

I kneel to pray, 
But know not what to say: 

I cannot tell 
What may be ill or well: 

But as I look 
Into Thy Face or Book 

I see a love 
From which I cannot move: 

And learn to rest 
In this Thy will is best: 

Therefore I pray 
Only have Thine own way 

In everything 
My all wise God and King. 

Grant me the grace 
In all to give Thee place: 

This liberty 
Alone I ask of Thee: 

This only gift, 

Have Thy way perfectly. ,- , -, 

3 * J Mark Guy Pearse 

Growing Old 

Let me grow lovely, growing old, 
So many fine things to do; 
Laces, and ivory, and gold, 
And silks, need not be new; 
And there is healing in old trees; 
Old streets, a glamour hold; 
Why may not I, as well as these, 

Grow lovely, growing old? ^ . _ 

Karle Wilson Baker 


Human Life 

Like smoke I vanish though I burn like flame, 
I flicker in the gusts of wrong and right 
A shining frailty in the guise of might; 
Before a nothing and behind a name. 

W. H. Mdloch 

Two at a Fireside 

I built a chimney for a comrade old, 
I did the service not for hope of hire 

And then I travelled on in winter's cold 
Yet all the way I glowed before the fire. 

Edwin Markkam 

She Is Wise, Our Ancient Mother 

She is wise, our Ancient Mother, 

Her ways are not our ways; 
We cannot circumscribe her 

Though we watch her all our days. 

On each of her questioning children 

She presses a different will; 
To one she says, " Keep busy," 

To one she says, " Keep still." 

She said to me, " Wait and listen, 

I have plenty to drive and do; 
Then once in a while when you are sure 

Speak out a word or two." 

Karle Wilson Baker 



? Tis not for man to trifle! Life is brief. 

And sin is here. 
Our age is but the falling of a leaf, 

A dropping tear. 

We have no time to sport away the hours; 
All must be earnest in a world like ours. 

Not many lives, but only one have we 

One, only one; 
How sacred should that one life ever be 

That narrow span! 

Day after day filled up with blessed toil, 
Hour after hour still bringing in new spoil. 

Horatius Bonar 

The Revelation 

God's revelation of Himself may be 
Ofttimes within the pages of a book, 
But all times and forever in a look 
Of hill-tops banked with blue infinity; 
Forever in the branches of a tree 
That leans in whiteness o'er a summer nook; 
In iris plumes where waters turn and crook 
And make slim paths of yellow down the lea! 

God's skies are wide above an earthly throne; 
His stars are candles on the altar there; 
His clouds, an incense drifting into space! 
His love with every dewy rose is shown; 
The violets a kindly message bear; 
And in the dawn we see Him face to face! 

Leslie Clare Manchester 


Love and Life 

Ah me! Why may not love and life be one? 
Why walk we thus alone, when, by our side, 
Love, like a visible God, might be our guide! 
How would the marts grow noble! and the street, 
Worn like a dungeon floor by weary feet, 
Seem then a golden courtway of the sun. 

Henry Timrod 


And if tomorrow shall be sad 
Or never come at all, I've had 

At least today! 
This little strip of light 
'Twixt night and night 
Let me keep bright 


And let no shadow of tomorrow, 
Nor sorrow from the dead yesterday, 
Gainsay my happiness today! 
And if tomorrow shall be sad 
Or never come at all, I've had 
At least today! 

Author Unknown 

For Sleep When Overtired 

Cares and anxieties, 

I roll you all up in a bundle together; 

I carry you across the meadow to the river. 

River, I am throwing in a bundle of cares and anxieties. 

Float it away to the sea! 


Now I come slowly back across the meadow, 

Slowly into the house, 

Slowly up to my room. 

The night is quiet and cool; 

The lights are few and dim; 

The sounds are drowsy and far away and melting into each 


Melting into the night. 

Sleep comes creeping nearer, creeping nearer; 
It goes over my head like a wave. 

I sleep ... I rest ... I sleep. e * * T ~ T * 

* Sarah N. Cleghorn 

December Twenty-Fourth 

Tomorrow You are born again 

Who died so many times. 
Do You like the candle-light, 

Do You like the chimes? 

Do You stop to wonder 
Why men never see 
How very closely Bethlehem 

Approaches Calvary? _. . . 

w J Eleanor Slater 

Old Earthworks 

Within that semi-circle formed by mounds 
Of useless day, unoccupied and drear, 
Loud battle cries once mingled with the sounds 
Of dying men when warring foes met here; 
A conflict raged upon this very spot 
Great cannon belching fire and yet today 
The causes of the conflict are forgot, 
Like pyramids of leaves which mold away. 


The grass again is green which once was red. 
Death's harvest has been changed to one of grain. 
No slightest whisper echoes from the dead, 
To testify that men were ever slain 
And piled in human mounds upon these hills 
Which now ring with the call of whippoorwills. 

Thomas Sweeney 

Life's Evening 

Three score and ten! The tumult of the world 

Grows dull upon my inattentive ear: 
The bugle calls are faint, the flags are furled, 

Gone is the rapture, vanished too the fear; 
The evening's blessed stillness covers all, 

As o'er the fields she folds her cloak of grey; 
Hushed are the winds, the brown leaves slowly fall, 

The russet clouds hang on the fringe of day. 
What fairer hour than this? No stir of morn 

With cries of waking life, nor shafts of noon 
Hot tresses from the flaming sun-god born 

Nor midnight's shivering stars and marble moon; 
But softly twilight falls and toil doth cease, 
While o'er my soul God spreads his mantle peace. 

William Dudley Foulke 

The Undiscovered Country 

The dread of something after death, 

The undiscovered country, from whose bourn 

No traveler returns, puzzles the will, 

And makes us rather bear those ills we have, 

Than fly to others that we know not of. 

From Hamlet WiUiam 


Friends Old and New 

Make new friends, but keep the old; 
Those are silver, these are gold; 
New-made friendships, like new wine, 
Age will mellow and refine. 
Friendships that have stood the test 
Time and change are surely best; 
Brow may wrinkle, hair grow gray, 
Friendship never knows decay, 

For 'mid old friends, tried and true, 
Once more we our youth renew. 
But old friends, alas! may die, 
New friends must their place supply. 
Cherish friendship in your breast; 
New is good, but old is best; 
Make new friends, but keep the old; 
Those are silver, these are gold. 

Author Unknown 


All that we say returns, 

The bitter word or sweet; 

Days, weeks, or years may intervene, 

But soon or late 

The spoken word and speaker meet. 

All that we do returns: 

The deed that's true or base 

We may forget, but all unseen 

And parallel 

The doer and the deed keep pace. 

John Richard Moreland 


All in All 

We know Thee, each in part 

A portion small; 
But love Thee, as Thou art 

The All in all: 

For Reason and the ways thereof 
Are starlight to the noon of Love. 

John B. Tabb 


About the little chambers of my heart 

Friends have been coming going many a year. 

The doors stand open there. 
Some, lightly stepping, enter; some depart. 

Freely they come and freely go, at will. 

The walls give back their laughter; all day long 

They fill the house with song. 
One door alone is shut, one chamber still. 

Mary E. Coleridge 


I swept my house of life and garnished it, 

I looked it through with care, 
For fear my thought might miss some imp of sin 

Crouched low and hiding there. 

But all was clean and clear, as empty as 

A hollow globe of glass. 
I smiled, and turned me to my windows wide 

Watching the weary pass. 


But never once did I desire to shield, 

From sun or wind or rain, 
One soul. Or ask one in to rest, and wash 

All free from travel-stain. 

Time passed. Again I searched my house with care, 

Feeling secure from sin. 
Of spirits worse than all I'd known before, 

Lo! Eight had entered in! ^ , _ 

e Ruth Fargo 


Though love repine, and reason chafe, 
There came a voice without reply 

'Tis man's perdition to be safe, 
When for the truth he ought to die. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 

Our Father's Door 

Truants from love, we dream of wrath; 

Oh, rather let us trust the more! 

Through all the wanderings of the path 

We still can see our Father's door! 

Oliver Wendell Holmes 
From " The Crooked Footpath " 


The creed thy father built, wherein his soul 
Did live and move and find its vital joy, 
May be but small to thee; then, without fear, 
Build o'er again the atrium of the soul 
So broad that all mankind may feast with thee. 

William O. Partridge 


The Aim of Life 

We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; 
In feelings, not in figures on a dial. 
We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives 
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best. 
And he whose heart beats quickest lives the longest. 

Philip James Bailey 
From " Festus " 

The Traitor 

The traitor to Humanity is the traitor most accursed; 
Man is more than Constitutions; better rot beneath the sod 
Than be true to Church and State while we are doubly false 
to God. 

James Russett Lowell 


Threefold the stride of Time, from first to last! 
Loitering slow, the Future creepeth 
Arrow-swift, the Present sweepeth 
And motionless forever stands the Past. 

Friedrich von Schiller 

A Piece of Clay 

I took a piece of plastic clay 
And idly fashioned it one day, 
And, as my fingers pressed it still, 
It moved and yielded to my will. 


I came again when days were past 
The bit of clay was hard at last; 
The form I gave it, it still bore, 
But I could change that form no more. 

I took a piece of living clay 
And gently formed it day by day, 
And moulded with my power and art 
A young child's soft and yielding heart. 

I came again when years were gone 
It was a man I looked upon; 
He still that early impress wore, 
And I could change him nevermore. 

Author Unknown 

The Mystic Borderland 

There is a mystic borderland that lies 
Just past the limits of our work-day world, 
And it is peopled with the friends we met 
And loved a year, a month, a week or day, 
And parted from with aching hearts, yet knew 
That through the distance we must lose the hold 
Of hand with hand, and only clasp the thread 
Of memory. But still so close we feel this land, 
So sure we are that these same hearts are true, 
That when in waking dreams there comes a call 
That sets the thread of memory aglow, 
We know that just by stretching out the hand 
In written word of love, or book, or flower, 
The waiting hand will clasp our own once more 
Across the distance, in the same old way. 

Helen Field Fischer 



I say that I am wise. Yet dead leaves know 
More secrets than my heart can ever guess. 
I stand before a crocus' loveliness, 
A sword of fire thrust upward in the snow, 
And I can never say what embers glow 
Beneath this frozen earth. I must confess 
A child could stand here with but little less 
Of knowledge at the seasons' ebb and flow. 

This barren hill holds fast dark sleeping seeds 
Whose flame and fragrance soon shall still the blood; 
Yet wise in words and ways of men, and creeds, 
I cannot know one purple twilight's plan. 
Unraveling the crimson of one bud, 
I tremble at the ignorance of man! 

Daniel Whitekead Hicky 

The Cross 

So heavy and so fraught with pain, 
But I must bravely trudge along 
The dusty way ... nor dare arraign 
My cross. 

I have no voice to lift in song; 
When sorrow's recompense I feign 
The muffled notes of grief remain. 

And yet He prayed for strength to drain 
The bitter dregs and bear the thong. 
His kingly soul did not disdain 
The cross. 

Shirley Dillon Waite - 


How Shall We Honor Them? 

How shall we honor them, our Deathless Dead? 
With strew of laurel and the stately tread? 
With blaze of banners brightening overhead? 
Nay, not alone these cheaper praises bring: 
They will not have this easy honoring. 

How shall we honor them, our Deathless Dead? 
How keep their mighty memories alive? 
In him who feels their passion, they survive! 
Flatter their souls with deeds, and all is said! 

Author Unknown 

Work Without Hope 

All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair 

The bees are stirring birds are on the wing 

And Winter slumbering in the open air, 

Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring! 

And I the while, the sole unbusy thing, 

Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing. 

Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow, 
Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow. 
Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may, 
For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away! 
With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll: 
And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul? 
Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve, 
And Hope without an object cannot live. 

Samuel Taylor Coleridge 


The King 

How plain soe'er the house or poor the guests, 

The royalest of all sits at thy board, 

Shares thy small space, waits longingly to give 

Full measure of the comfort of His love. 

How great thy dignity! How little need 

That men should power or place or goods bestow! 

Oh, give Him access to thy pent-up heart; 
No longer poor the place where God takes part. 

Mary F. Butts 


You in whose veins runs the fire of loving, 

For people, for plants, for little animals, 

For rocks and earth, stars and the elements, 

You have a secret Voice, always singing. 

It is never still. It runs with your haste 

And idles in your silence. It is everywhere. 

you, for whom this passionate Voice sings 

And will not be silent, think now of those 

For whom no voice sounds. Of those who toil 

Without the singing voice, 

And live in a world which has not yet come through 

Into your world. 

Oh, can you not hear that the song your Voice is singing 

Is the song which is to bring that world of theirs 

Into the light which must light all men? 

Why else do you imagine that this Voice is singing? 
Why else do you imagine that the fire of love 
Runs in your veins? 

Zona Gale 



He prayed for strength that he might achieve; 

He was made weak that he might obey. 

He prayed for wealth that he might do greater things; 

He was given infirmity that he might do better things. 

He prayed for riches that he might be happy; 

He was given poverty that he might be wise. 

He prayed for power that he might have the praise of men; 

He was given infirmity that he might feel the n$ed of God. 

He prayed for all things that he might enjoy life; 

He was given life that he might enjoy all things. 

He had received nothing that he asked for all that he 

hoped for; 
His prayer was answered he was most blessed. 

Author Unknown 

Convinced by Sorrow 

" There is no God," the foolish saith, 

But none, " There is no sorrow." 
And nature oft the cry of faith, 

In bitter need will borrow: 
Eyes which the preacher could not school, 

By wayside graves are raised, 
And lips say, " God be pitiful," 

Who ne'er said, " God be praised." 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning 

Song of the New World 

I sing the song of a new Dawn waking, 
A new wind shaking the children of men. 

I say the hearts that are nigh to breaking 
Shall leap with gladness and live again. 


Over the woe of the world appalling, 

Wild and sweet as a bugle cry, 
Sudden I hear a new voice calling 

" Beauty is nigh! " 

Beauty is nigh! Let the world believe it. 

Love has covered the fields of dead. 
Healing is here! Let the earth receive it, 

Greeting the Dawn with lifted head. 
I sing the song of the sin forgiven, 

The deed forgotten, the wrong undone. 
Lo, in the East, where the dark is riven, 

Shines the rim of the rising sun. 

Healing is here! brother, sing it! 

Laugh, O heart, that has grieved so long. 
Love will gather your woe and fling it 

Over the world in waves of song. 
Hearken, mothers, and hear them coming 

Heralds crying the day at hand. 
Faint and far as the sound of drumming, 

Hear their summons across the land. 

Look, fathers! Your eyes were holden 

Armies throng where the dead have lain. 
Fiery steeds and chariots golden 

Gone is the dream of soldiers slain. 
Sing, oh, sing of a new world waking, 

Sing of creation just begun. 
Glad is the earth when morn is breaking 

Man is facing the rising sun! 

Angela Morgan 


For This Universe 

God, we thank Thee for this universe, our great home; 
for its vastness and its riches, and for the manifoldness 
of the life which teems upon it and of which we are part. 
We praise Thee for the arching sky and the blessed winds, 
for the driving clouds and the constellations on high. 
We praise Thee for the salt sea and the running water, 
for the everlasting hills, for the trees, and for the grass 
under our feet. 

We thank Thee for our senses by which we can see the 
splendor of the morning, and hear the jubilant songs of 
love, and smell the breath of the springtime. 

Grant us, we pray Thee, a heart wide open to all this joy 
and beauty and save our souls from being so steeped in 
care or so darkened by passion that we pass heedless and 
unseeing when even the thornbush by the wayside is 
aflame with the glory of God. 

Walter Rauschenbusch 

The Seekers 

Where men have held the vision dear 
Of Brotherhood before their eyes, 

The holy angels' message still 
Comes singing down the skies. 

Where earnest seekers of the Truth 

Follow her beckoning from afar, 
Forever through their dark and doubt 

Shall shine the guiding star. 

Lucia Tremtt Auryansen 


The Voice of God 

I sought to hear the voice of God, 
And climbed the topmost steeple. 

But God declared: " Go down again, 
I dwell among the people." 

Louis I. Newman 

Be Noble 

Be noble! and the nobleness that lies 
In other men, sleeping, but never dead, 
Will rise in majesty to meet thine own; 
Then wilt thou see it gleam in many eyes, 
Then will pure light around thy path be shed, 
And thou wilt nevermore be sad and lone. 

James Russell Lowell 


I cannot find my way: there is no star 
In all the shrouded heavens anywhere; 
And there is not a whisper in the air 
Of any living voice but one so far 
That I can hear it only as a bar 
Of lost, imperial music, played when fair 
And angel fingers wove, and unaware, 
Dead leaves to garlands where no roses are. 

No, there is not a glimmer, nor a call, 

For one that welcomes, welcomes when he fears, 

The black and awful chaos of the night; 

For through it all, above, beyond it all, 

I know the far-sent message of the years, 

I feel the coming glory of the Light! 

Edwin Arlington Robinson 


My Church 

On me nor Priest nor Presbyter nor Pope, 
Bishop nor Dean may stamp a party name; 

But Jesus, with his largely human scope, 
The service of my human life may claim. 

Let prideful priests do battle about creeds. 

The church is mine that does most Christlike deeds. 

Author Unknown 


If there were dreams to sell, 

What would you buy? 
Some cost a passing bell; 

Some a light sigh, 

That shakes from Life's fresh crown 
Only a rose-leaf down. 
If there were dreams to sell, 
Merry and sad to tell, 
And the crier rang the bell, 

What would you buy? 

A cottage lone and still, 

With bowers nigh, 
Shadowy, my woes to still, 

Until I die. 

Such pearl from Life's fresh crown 
Fain would I shake me down. 
Were dreams to have at will, 
This would best heal my ill, 

This would I buy. 

Thomas Lovell Beddoes 


Purblind Race 

purblind race of miserable men! 
How many among us at this very hour 
Do forge a lifelong trouble for ourselves, 
By taking true for false, or false for true; 
Here, thro' the feeble twilight of this world 
Groping how many until we pass and reach 
That other, where we see as we are seen. 

Alfred Tennyson 
From " Geraint and Enid " 


He made honest doors, 

Did Christ, the Nazarene; 
He laid honest floors 

His work was fair and clean. 

He made crosses, too, 

Did Christ the Crucified; 
Straight and strong and true 

And on a Cross He died! 

William L. Stidger 


I am a part of all that I have met; 
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough 
Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades 
For ever and for ever when I move. 

Alfred Tennyson 
From " Ulysses " 


Faith and Science 

Faith has no quarrel with science: she foreknows 
The truths which science grudgingly bestows. 
Believing David sang that God is one 
Ere science found one law in earth and sun. 
Faith knows no hindering bonds, she leaps to seize 
The truth which science doubts; the harmonies 
That men of science learned from age-long thought 
Were first revealed to hearts untrained, untaught, 
But reverent. Let faith from science learn 
Enduring patience; nor let science spurn 
The gift of faith, a never-failing love; 
Thus, each supporting each, the two shall prove 
The final truth of life, that God the Soul 
Through perfect law seeks perfect Beauty's goal. 

Thomas Curtis Clark 

Talk Faith 

Talk faith. The world is better off without 

Your uttered ignorance and morbid doubt. 

If you have faith in God, or man, or self, 

Say so; if not, push back upon the shelf 

Of silence all your thoughts till faith shall come; 

No one will grieve because your lips are dumb. 

Ella Wheeler Wilcox 

The Heart's Proof 

Do you ask me how I prove 
That our Father, God, is love? 
By this world which He hath made, 
By the songs of grove and blade, 


By the brooks that singing run, 
By the shining of the sun, 
By the breeze that cools my brow, 
By fresh odors from the plow, 
By the daisy's golden head, 
Shining in the fields I tread, 
By the chorus of the bees 
In the flowering willow trees, 
By the gentle dews and rain, 
By the farmer's springing grain, 
By the light of golden eyes, 
By the sheen of forest leaves, 
By the sweets of woodland springs, 
By the joy right-doing brings 
By a thousand, thousand things! 

James Buckham 

My Spirit Will Grow Up 

Some day my spirit will grow up tall and wise, 

And then, stern Life, I shall no longer go 

Cowardly running and crying from your blow. 

Then I will face you with clear, earnest eyes 

Smiling a little at your sharp surprise, 

Unflinching from the threatened stroke, with no 

Soft tremor to lighten your frown when I shall grow 

In spirit, some day, tall and strong and wise. 

Then I will face you, it may be I shall laugh, 

Not to disarm you, not to conclude our strife, 

But joyous in my newly steadied will 

That finds a comfort in thy rod and staff. 

Then I will say: " You may hurt me, hurt me, Life, 

Hurt me your worst, and I will love you still! " 

Ruth Evelyn Henderson 


This Is the Making of Man 

Flame of the spirit and dust of the earth 

This is the making of man; 
This is his problem of birth: 
Born to all holiness, born to all crime, 
Heir to both worlds, on the long slope of time, 

Climbing the path of God's plan. 
Dust of the earth in his error and fear, 

Weakness and malice and lust; 

Yet, quivering up from the dust, 
Flame of the spirit, upleaping and clear, 
Yearning to God, since from God is his birth 

This is man's portion, to shape as he can, 
Flame of the spirit and dust of the earth 

This is the making of man. n . . _ 

& Prtscdla Leonard 

In Men Whom Men Condemn 

In men whom men condemn as ill 
I find so much of goodness still, 
In men whom men pronounce divine 
I find so much of sin and blot, 
I do not dare to draw a line 
Between the two, where God has not. 

Joaquin Miller 


Love is not love 

Which alters when it alteration finds, 
Or bends with the remover to remove; 
Oh, no! it is an ever-fixed mark 
That looks on tempests and is never shaken. 

William Shakespeare 



One man craves a scarf or glove, 

And another man must die, 
For such is the rule of light and love 

That our lives are guided by. 

One man craves a jeweled cross, 

And another hangs thereon. 
And the watching world feels less remorse 

Than the winner feels of scorn. 

One man barters, one man buys 

Spirit and blood and breath. 
And the market groans with new supplies 

Though the stalls be cleared by death. 

One man craves a scarf or glove, 

And another man must die. 
For such is the rule of light and love 

That the ages sanctify. 

Stanton A. Coblentz 

The Way to Power 

Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control, 
These three alone lead life to sovereign power. 
Yet not for power (power of herself 
Would come uncalled for) but to live by law, 
Acting the law we live by without fear; 
And, because right is right, to follow right 
Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence. 

Alfred Tennyson 
From " Idylls of the King " 


A Narrow Window 

A narrow window may let in the light, 
A tiny star dispel the gloom of night, 
A little deed a mighty wrong set right. 

A rose, abloom, may make a desert fair; 
A single cloud may darken all the air; 
A spark may kindle ruin and despair, 

A smile and there may be an end to strife; 

A look of love, and Hate may sheathe the knife; 

A word ah, it may be a word of life! 

Florence Earle Coates 


Boys flying kites haul in their white-winged birds, 
You can't do that when you're flying words. 
Careful with fire is good advice, we know; 
Careful with words is ten times doubly so. 
Thoughts unexpressed sometimes fall back dead, 
But God himself can't kill them once they're said. 

Author Unknown 

In His Sight 

God counts time not by minutes nor by days, 

The years, to Him, are but the markings on a dial, 

'Round which we circle, madly spinning, 

Like futile second hands. Our very haste betrays 

Our fear of time. And all the while, 

His pointing hand moves slowly in an arc 


So vast, its end and its beginning 
Alike are lost in deep impenetrable dark 
Of Past and Future. And our tick-tick-tock 
But marks the silence of God's timeless clock. 

Anna R. Baker 

The Life of Man 

The life of man is a lonely thing, 

A lonely thing, God wot. 
He dreams alone; he dies alone: 

Life is a lonely lot. 

The life of man is a friendly thing, 

And he has a friendly heart. 
He gives his life; he lives till death; 

Life is a friendly art, 

A friendlier thing, a lonelier thing, 

As swift years go and come; 
Perchance that hearts may find their rest 

In Him, the heart's true home. 

Lucius H. Thayer 

Earth's Story 

With primal void and cosmic night 
Love had its way, and there was light. 

A flaming waste, through aeons long 
Took form, and chaos turned to song. 

The sun embraced the virgin earth 
And warmed the leafy plants to birth. 

Slow ages passed, and patient time 
Brought creeping reptiles from the slime. 


Through vasty waters fishes sped, 
In torrid jungles beasts were bred. 

Then Beauty filled the land with flowers, 
And lo! birds thronged the forest bowers. 

Love yearned for answering love the voice 
Of thinking Man made God rejoice. 

Then all the stars began to sing 

As conscious Nature crowned its King. 

Thomas Curtis Clark 

The Sentinel 

The morning is the gate of day, 

But ere you enter there 
See that you set to guard it well, 

The sentinel of prayer. 

So shall God's grace your steps attend, 

But nothing else pass through 
Save what can give the countersign; 

The Father's will for you. 

When you have reached the end of day 

Where night and sleep await, 
Set there the sentinel again 

To bar the evening's gate. 

So shall no fear disturb your rest, 

No danger and no care. 
For only peace and pardon pass 

The watchful guard of prayer. 

Author Unknown 


Leaf After Leaf Drops Off 

Leaf after leaf drops off, flower after flower, 

Some in the chill, some in the warmer hour: 

Alive they flourish, and alive they fall, 

And Earth who nourished them receives them all. 

Should we, her wiser sons, be less content 

To sink into her lap when life is spent? 

Walter Savage Landor 

The Fellowship 

When brambles vex me sore and anguish me, 
Then I remember those pale martyr feet 

That trod on burning shares and drank the heat, 
As it had been God's dew, with ecstasy. 

And when some evanescent sunset glow 

Renews the beauty-sting, I set my pride 

On that great fellowship of those who know 
The artist's yearning, yet are self-denied. 

Feast me no feasts that for the few are spread, 
With holy cup of brotherhood ungraced, 

For though I sicken at my daily bread, 

Bitter and black, I crave the human taste. 

Katharine Lee Bates 

You and Today 

With every rising of the sun, 

Think of your life as just begun. 
The past has shrived and buried deep 

All yesterdays; there let them sleep. 


Concern yourself with but today, 

Woo it, and teach it to obey 
Your will and wish. Since time began 

Today has been the friend of man; 

But in his blindness and his sorrow, 
He looks to yesterday and tomorrow. 

You, and today! a soul sublime, 
And the great pregnant hour of time, 

With God himself to bind the twain! 
Go forth, I say attain, attain! 

With God himself to bind the twain! 

Ella Wheeler Wilcox 

The Thing We Long For 

The thing we long for, that we axe 

For one transcendent moment, 
Before the Present poor and bare 
Can make its sneering comment. 

James Russell Lowell 
From " Longings " 


God, You need not make for me 
Doctrines of Infinity 
Just a sunset in the west, 
Never mind about the rest; 
To my queries You reply 
When You paint the evening sky; 
Seems to me I know You best 
By Your sunsets in the west. 

Florence Boyce Davis 


Because of You 

Because of you I bear aloft the standard 

Of high resolve ideals pure and true; 
And to ignoble thoughts I have not pandered 

Because of You! 

No summer sun but wears an added whiteness 
No fair and cloudless sky but seems more blue 

No midnight star but shines with fuller brightness 
Because of You! 

No darkened day but holds some glint of radiance 

No hour of life that I entirely rue 
No bitter weed but has some touch of fragrance 

Because of You! 

Thoughts of your love within my heart are swelling 
Courage and hope both nerve my heart anew; 

Life has a sweetness far beyond all telling 
Because of You! 

W. Cestrian 

Because of Thy Great Bounty 

Because I have been given much, 

I, too, shall give; 
Because of Thy great bounty, Lord, 

Each day I live 
I shall divide my gifts from Thee 

With every brother that I see 
Who has the need of help from me. 


Because I have been sheltered, fed, 

By Thy good care, 
I cannot see another's lack 

And I not share 
My glowing fire, my loaf of bread, 

My roof's shelter overhead, 
That he, too, may be comforted. 

Because love has been lavished so 

Upon me, Lord, 
A wealth I know that was not meant 

For me to hoard, 
I shall give love to those in need, 

The cold and hungry clothe and feed, 
Thus shall I show my thanks indeed. 

Grace Noll Crowett 


The desire of love, Joy: 
The desire of life, Peace: 
The desire of the soul, Heaven: 
The desire of God ... a flame-white secret forever. 

William Sharp 

Not in Solitude 

Yet not in solitude if Christ anear me 

Waketh him workers for the great employ, 
Oh not in solitude, if souls that hear me 
Catch from my joyance the surprise of joy. 

F. W. H. Myers 
From " St. Paul " 


It Is Not Growing Like a Tree 

It is not growing like a tree 
In bulk, doth make Man better be; 
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, 
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere: 
A lily of a day 
Is fairer far in May, 
Although it fall and die that night 
It was the plant and flower of Light. 
In small proportions we just beauties see; 
And in short measures life may perfect be. 

Ben Jonson 
From " A Pindaric Ode " 

Comrade Christ 

Give us Jesus Christ, the Carpenter. 

What to us is your white-liveried God? 

men of the anvil, of the loom, the sod, 

They have hid our God in a golden sepulcher; 

They have made of our Christ a sniveling, pampered priest, 

A paltry giver of fine bread and wine 

Our Christ is a God of men, as Man divine, 

Holding in brotherhood the lost and least. 

He toils in the desert places by our side; 
He delves with us beneath the granite hill; 
He weeps above our brothers who have died; 
He dreams with us in the darkness hot and still: 
No surpliced shriver of the sins of men 
Christ, the Carpenter, has come again. 

Verne Bright 



Each, in himself, his hour to be and cease 
Endures alone, but who of men shall dare, 
Sole with himself, his single burden bear, 
All the long day until the night's release? 
Yet ere night falls, and the last shadows close, 
This labor of himself is each man's lot; 
All he has gained on earth shall be forgot, 
Himself he leaves behind him when he goes. 
If he has any valiancy within, 
If he has made his life his very own, 
If he has loved, or labored, and has known 
A strenuous virtue or a strenuous sin; 
Then, being dead, his life was not all vain, 
For he has saved what most desire to lose, 
And he has chosen what the few must choose, 
Since life, once lived, shall not return again. 
For of our time we lose so large a part 
In serious trifles, and so oft let slip 
The wine of every moment, at the lip 
Its moment, and the moment of the heart. 
We are awake so little on the earth, 
And we shall sleep so long, and rise so late 
If there is any knocking at that gate 
Which is the gate of death, the gate of birth. 

Arthur Symons 

Great Things 

Great things are done when men and mountains meet; 
These are not done by jostling in the street. 

William Blake 


Making Life Worth While 

May every soul that touches mine 

Be it the slightest contact 

Get therefrom some good; 

Some little grace; one kindly thought; 

One aspiration yet unfelt; 

One bit of courage 

For the darkening sky; 

One gleam of faith 

To brave the thickening ills of life; 

One glimpse of brighter skies' 

Beyond the gathering mists 

To make this life worth while ' 

And heaven a surer heritage. . 

6 George Eliot 


Use all your hidden forces. Do not miss 
The purpose of this life, and do not wait 
For circumstance to mold or change your fate. 
In your own self lies destiny. Let this 
Vast truth cast out all fear, all prejudice, 
All hesitation. Know that you are great, 
Great with divinity. So dominate 
Environment, and enter into bliss. 
Love largely and hate nothing. Hold no aim 
That does not chord with universal good. 

Hear what the voices of the silence say, 
All joys are yours if you put forth your claim, 
Once let the spiritual laws be understood, 
Material things must answer and obey. 

Ella Wheeler Wilcox . 



Each, in himself, his hour to be and cease 
Endures alone, but who of men shall dare, 
Sole with himself, his single burden bear, 
All the long day until the night's release? 
Yet ere night falls, and the last shadows close, 
This labor of himself is each man's lot; 
All he has gained on earth shall be forgot, 
Himself he leaves behind him when he goes. 
If he has any valiancy within, 
If he has made his life his very own, 
If he has loved, or labored, and has known 
A strenuous virtue or a strenuous sin; 
Then, being dead, his life was not all vain, 
For he has saved what most desire to lose, 
And he has chosen what the few must choose, 
Since life, once lived, shall not return again. 
For of our time we lose so large a part 
In serious trifles, and so oft let slip 
The wine of every moment, at the lip 
Its moment, and the moment of the heart. 
We are awake so little on the earth, 
And we shall sleep so long, and rise so late 
If there is any knocking at that gate 
Which is the gate of death, the gate of birth. 

Arthur Symons 

Great Things 

Great things are done when men and mountains meet; 
These are not done by jostling in the street. 

William Blake 


Making Life Worth While 

May every soul that touches mine 

Be it the slightest contact 

Get therefrom some good; 

Some little grace; one kindly thought; 

One aspiration yet unfelt; 

One bit of courage 

For the darkening sky; 

One gleam of faith 

To brave the thickening ills of life; 

One glimpse of brighter skies' 

Beyond the gathering mists 

To make this life worth while ' 

And heaven a surer heritage. _ 

& George Eltot 


Use all your hidden forces. Do not miss 
The purpose of this life, and do not wait 
For circumstance to mold or change your fate. 
In your own self lies destiny. Let this 
Vast truth cast out all fear, all prejudice, 
All hesitation. Know that you are great, 
Great with divinity. So dominate 
Environment, and enter into bliss. 
Love largely and hate nothing. Hold no aim 
That does not chord with universal good. 

Hear what the voices of the silence say, 
All joys are yours if you put forth your claim, 
Once let the spiritual laws be understood, 
Material things must answer and obey. 

Etta Wheeler WUcox . 


As I Grow Old 

God keep my heart attuned to laughter 

When youth is done; 
When all the days are gray days, coming after 

The warmth, the sun. 
Ah! keep me then from bitterness, from grieving, 

When life seems cold; 
God keep me always loving and believing 

As I grow old. 

Author Unknown 


Delve not so deep in the gloomy past 
That life's bright sands cave in and bury thee; 

Better it is to make a ladder fast 
Against a star, and climb eternally. 

Charles G. Blanden 

On Life's Way 

The world is wide, 
In time and tide, 
And God is guide; 
Then do not hurry. 

That man is blest 
Who does his best 
And leaves the rest, 
Then do not worry. 

Charles F. Deems 


From Old to New 

Man must pass from old to new, 

From vain to real, from mistake to fact, 

From what once seemed good, to what now proves best. 

Robert Browning 
From " Death in the Desert " 

New Temples 

I think God loves new temples built to Him 
And watches as each stone is laid on stone, 
And smiles to see them laid so straight and true, 
Lifting the strong wide walls to heaven's blue. 
And when the carpenters have done with them, 
And each new church stands finished and alone, 
When dusk sifts violet shadows through the glass 
Of painted windows, I think that God must pass 
Between the new dim aisles, and stopping where 
The last light falls across His shining hair, 
He kneels and holds the first communion there. 

Lexie Dean Robertson 


The sun lies light on a jade-green hill, 
There's a burst of song from a loosened rill, 
The wind warms the breast of the new-turned sod, 
And the note of a bird links earth with God! 

Anne Elizabeth Maddock 


Unto Each His Handiwork 

Unto each his handiwork, unto each his crown, 

The just Fate gives. 
Whoso takes the world's life on him and his own lays down, 

He, dying so, lives. 

Whoso bears the whole heaviness of the wronged world's 


And puts it by, 
It is well with him suffering, though he face man's fate; 

How should he die? A1 , , -, . , 

Algernon Charles Swinburne 

Stone Walls Do Not a Prison Make 

Stone walls do not a prison make, 

Nor iron bars a cage; 
Minds innocent and quiet take 

That for a hermitage; 
If I have freedom in my love, 

And in my soul am free, 
Angels alone, that soar above, 

Enjoy such liberty. D . , r 

Richard Lovelace 

From " From Prison " 

A Garden Prayer 

That we are mortals and on earth must dwell 
Thou knowest, Allah, and didst give us bread 
And remembering of our souls didst give us food of 

Thy name be hallo w<d. -,, . 7 , 

Thomas Walsh 


God's Book 

God spreads a book before my eyes, 

As I go tramping hill and dell, 
And oh, my heart is made most wise 

By what His wind-blown pages tell. 

Though men declare I am a clown, 

Whose dreams have made him worse than fey, 
The while I wander up and down, 

I give no heed to what they say. 

I turn me from their foolish words 

To read the kindliness of God 
Within His book of singing birds, 

Of trees and brooks and fragrant sod. 

Edgar Daniel Kramer 


Could I but teach man to believe, 

Could I but make small men to grow, 
To break frail spider-webs that weave 

About their thews and bind them low; 
Could I but sing one song and slay 

Grim Doubt; I then could go my way 
In tranquil silence, glad, serene, 

And satisfied from off the scene. 
But ah, this disbelief, this doubt, 

This doubt of God, this doubt of Good 
This damned spot will not out! 

Joaquin Miller 


Who Loves the Rain 

Who loves the rain 

And loves his home, 
And looks on life with quiet eyes, 

Him will I follow through the storm; 

And at his hearth-fire keep me warm; 
Nor hell nor heaven shall that soul surprise, 

Who loves the rain, 

And loves his home, 
And looks on life with quiet eyes. 

Frances Shaw 


Some days my thoughts are just cocoons all cold, and 

dull, and blind, 
They hang from dripping branches in the grey woods of my 


And other days they drift and shine such free and flying 


I find the gold-dust in my hair, left by their brushing wings. 

Karle Wilson Baker 

In This Earth, Perfection 

In this broad earth of ours, 
Amid the measureless grossness and the slag, 
Enclosed and safe within its central heart, 
Nestles the seed perfection. 

Walt Whitman 
From " Birds of Passage " 



When you and I have played this little hour, 

Have seen the tall subaltern Life to Death 

Yield up his sword ; and, smiling, draw the breath, 

The first long breath of freedom; when the flower 

Of Recompense hath fluttered to our feet, 

As to an actor's; and, the curtain down, 

We turn to face each other all alone 

Alone, we two, who never yet did meet, 

Alone, and absolute, and free: then, 

O then, most dear, how shall be told the tale? 

Clasp 'd hands, press'd lips, and so clasp hands again; 

No words. But as the proud wind fills the sail, 

My love to yours shall reach, then one deep moan 

Of joy, and then our infinite Alone. 

Gilbert Parker 


But His lone cross and crown of thorns 
Endure when crowns and empires fall. 

The might of His undying love 
In dying conquered all. 

John Oxenham 

Heaven in My Hand 

I looked for Heaven, high on a hill, 
Heaven where mighty towers stand; 
Then emptied my hands of gold to fill 
The empty hands of others and still 
Had gold, with Heaven in my hand. 

Raymond Kresensky 


Victory in Defeat 

Defeat may serve as well as victory 
To shake the soul and let the glory out. 
When the great oak is straining in the wind, 
The boughs drink in new beauty, and the trunk 
Sends down a deeper root on the windward side. 
Only the soul that knows the mighty grief 
Can know the mighty rapture. Sorrows come 
To stretch our spaces in the heart for joy. 

Edwin Markham 


To keep my health! 
To do my work! 

To live! 

To see to it I grow and gain and give! 
Never to look behind me for an hourl 
To wait in weakness and to walk in power. 
But always fronting onward toward the light 
Always and always facing toward the right, 
Robbed, starved, defeated, fallen, wide astray 
On with what strength I have 
Back to the way! 

Charlotte Perkins Oilman 

A Strip of Blue 

I do not own an inch of land, 

But all I see is mine 
The orchards and the mowing-fields, 

The lawns and gardens fine. 


The winds my tax-collectors are, 

They bring me tithes divine 
Wild scents and subtle essences, 

A tribute rare and free; 
And, more magnificent than all, 

My window keeps for me 
A glimpse of blue immensity, 

A little strip of sea. 

Here sit I, as a little child; 

The threshold of God's door 
Is that clear band of chrysoprase; 

Now the vast temple floor, 
The blinding glory of the dome 

I bow my head before; 
The universe, O God, is home, 

In height or depth, to me; 
Yet here upon Thy footstool green 

Content ami to be; 
Glad, when is opened to my need 

Some sea-like glimpse of Thee. 

Lucy Larcom 

From Nobility 

True worth is in being, not seeming 

In doing, each day that goes by, 
Some little good not in dreaming 

Of great things to do. by and by. 
For whatever men say in their blindness, 

And spite of the fancies of youth, 
There's nothing so kingly as kindness, 

And nothing so royal as truth. 

Alice Gary 


Windows for My Soul 

I will hew great windows for my soul, 

Channels of splendor, portals of release; 

Out of earth's prison walls will I hew them, 

That my thundering soul may push through them; 

Through the strata of human strife and passion 

I will tunnel a way, I will carve and fashion 

With the might of my soul's intensity 

Windows fronting on immensity, 

Towering out of time 

I will breathe the air of another clime 

That my spirit's pain may cease. 

That the being of me may have room to grow, 

That my eyes may meet God's eyes and know; 

I will hew great windows, wonderful windows, 

Measureless windows for my soul. 

Author Unknown 

God Give Me Joy 

God give me joy in the common things: 
In the dawn that lures, the eve that sings, 

In the new grass sparkling after rain, 
In the late wind's wild and weird refrain; 


In the springtime's spacious field of gold, 
In the precious light by winter doled* 

God give me joy in the love of friends, 
In their dear home talk as summer ends; 

In the songs of children, unrestrained; 
In the sober wisdom age has gained. 


'God give me joy in the tasks that press, 
In the memories that burn and bless; 

In the thought that life has love to spend, 
In the faith that God's at journey's end. 

God give me hope for each day that springs, 
God give me joy in the common things! 

Thomas Curtis Clark 

" A Faithless Generation Asked a Sign " 

A faithless generation asked a sign, 

Some fresh and flaming proof of human worth 

Since youth could find no flavor in life's wine 

And there were no more giants in the earth. 

Then out of gray oblivion He came 

To laugh at space and thrust aside its bars, 

To manifest the littleness of fame 

To one who has companioned with the stars. 

The drought of greed is broken, fruitful streams 

Of courage flow through fields long parched and dead, 

Young men see visions now, old men dream dreams, 

A world moves forward with uplifted head: 

A Lad with wings to dare had faith to rise 

And carve proud arcs across uncharted skies. 

Molly Anderson Haley 

From The Things That Endure 

What wish you, immortality? 
Then of frail visions become the wooer. 
Stone cities melt like mist away, 
But footsteps in the sand endure. 

Florence Wilkinson 


The Man of Sorrows 

Christ claims our help in many a strange disguise; 
Now, fever-ridden, on a bed He lies; 
Homeless He wanders now beneath the stars; 
Now counts the number of His prison bars; 
Now bends beside us, crowned with hoary hairs. 
No need have we to climb the heavenly stairs, 
And press our kisses on His feet and hands; 
In every man that suffers, He, the Man of Sorrows, stands! 

Author Unknown 

For a Materialist 

I know your barren belief that a rose will grow 
From what was once the miracle of a man; 
That only in this wise shall we thwart .the grave; 
Believe, my friend, and be satisfied, if you can. 

But I have a mystical hunger, so great and intense 
That only Almighty God with a purpose would fill 
My fragile shell with its poignant immensity 
A hunger to find, emerging from death, that I still 
Am the sum of myself! myself, to aspire and climb 
Some further and undreamed slope of the range of Time* 

I have faith that I shall. Is a rose worth the patience of Him 
Who evolved through the aeons a man and endowed him 

with soul? 

Would He who created the splendor of spirit and mind 
Envisage a sweet-scented waft as its trivial goal? 

Adelaide P. Love 


Love's Strength 

Measure thy life by loss instead of gain; 
Not by the wine drunk, but wine poured forth; 
For love's strength standeth in love's sacrifice; 
And whoso suffers most hath most to give. 

Jff. E. H. King 

Song of the Silent Land 

Into the Silent Land! 

Ah! who shall lead us thither? 

Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather, 

And shattered wrecks lie thicker on the strand. 

Who leads us with a gentle hand 

Thither, Oh, thither, 

Into the Silent Land? 

Into the Silent Land! 

To you, ye boundless regions 

Of all perfection! Tender morning-visions 

Of beauteous souls! The Future's pledge and band! 

Who in Life's battle firm doth stand, 

Shall bear Hope's tender blossoms 

Into the Silent Land! 

Land! Land! 

For all the broken-hearted 

The mildest herald by our fate allotted, 

Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand 

To lead us with a gentle hand 

To the land of the great Departed, 

Into the Silent Land! 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 
From the German 



A hut, and a tree, 

And a hill for me, 
And a piece of a weedy meadow. 

I'll ask no thing, 

Of God or king, 
But to clear away his shadow. 

Max Eastman 

A Knight of Bethlehem 

There was a Knight of Bethlehem whose wealth was tears 

and sorrows; 
His Men-at-arms were little lambs, His Trumpeters were 


His castle was a wooden cross, whereon He hung so high; 
His helmet was a crown of thorns, whose crest did touch 

the sky. 

Henry Neville Maughan 

There Was a Child Went Forth 

There was a child went forth every day; 

And the first object he looked upon, the object he became; 

And that object became part of him for the day, or a certain 

part of the day, or for many years, or stretching cycles 

of years: 
The early lilacs became part of this child; 

And the apple-trees covered with blossoms, and the fruit 
afterward, and wood-berries, and the commonest weeds 
by the road; 


And the old drunkard staggering home from the outhouse of 

the tavern, whence he had lately risen, 
And the schoolmistress that passed on her way to the school; 

The blow, the quick loud word, the tight bargain, the crafty 

The family usages, the language, the company, the furniture 

the yearning and swelling heart; 


The doubts of day-time and the doubts of night-time the 

curious whether and how, 
Whether that which appears so is so, or is it all flashes and 

Men and women crowding fast in the streets if they are 

not flashes and specks, what are they? 

These became part of that child who went forth every day, 
and who now goes, and will always go forth every day. 

Walt Whitman 

Prayer of the Unemployed 

Lord, I do not ask for houses of steel, 

Nor houses built of stone; 
But for the exultation to feel 

The tug on muscle and bone. 

Not for wealth or men at my commands, 

Nor peace when I am through 
I only ask work for these hands, 

Work for these hands to do. 

Raymond Kresensky 


What Shall Endure? 

Great roads the Romans built that men might meet, 
And walls to keep strong men apart secure. 

Now centuries have gone, and in defeat 
The walls are fallen, but the roads endure. 

Ethelyn M. Hartwich 

God Hide the Whole World in Thy Heart 

Behind thee leave thy merchandise, 

Thy churches and thy charities; 

And leave thy peacock wit behind; 

Enough for thee the primal mind 

That flows in streams, that breathes in wind; 

Leave all thy pedant lore apart; 

God hide the whole world in thy heart. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 
From " Woodnotes " 

The Law of Love 

Then was earth made anew where'er He went, 
For all men's hearts were opened to the Light, 
And Christ was King, and Lord Omnipotent. 

And everywhere men's hearts turned unto Him 

As to the very source and fount of Right, 

As flowers turn to the sun, and everywhere 

New Life sprang up to greet Him as He went 

Dispensing grace to all men everywhere. 

And His dispensed grace changed all men's hearts, 

Made His will theirs, and their wills wholly His; 


So that they strove no more each for himself, 
But each for good of all, and all for Him; 
Man's common aim was for the common good; 
The age-old feuds were of the past, 
And all mankind joined hands at last 
In common brotherhood. 

And every man in all the whole wide world 

Had room, and time, and wherewithal to live 

His life at fullest full within the Law 

The Law that has no bounds or bonds for those 

Who live it, for it is His Love, 

The great unchanged, unchanging, and unchangeable 

Law whose beginning and whose end is Love. 

John Oxenham 
From " Chaos, and the Way Out " 

Let All the Earth Keep Silence 

How lovely is the silence of green, growing things 
Orchard blossoms, apple, plum, and pear, 
Branches laden down by fruit they bear, 
Fields of everlasting, creeping vine, 
Mountain-forest, hemlock, balsam, pine, 
Gentian, asters, sweet-fern on the hill, 
All praise Him in their beauty keeping still. 

Lucy A. K. Adee 


He who bends to himself a joy 
Does the winged life destroy: 
But he who kisses the joy as it flies 
Lives in eternity's sunrise. 

William Blake 


The House of the Trees 

Ope your doors and take me in, 

Spirit of the wood, 
Wash me clean of dust and din, 

Clothe me in your mood. 

Take me from the noisy light 

To the sunless peace, 
Where at mid-day standeth Night 

Signing Toil's release. 

All your dusky twilight stores 

To my senses give; 
Take me in and lock the doors, 

Show me how to live. 

Lift your leafy roof for me, 

Part your yielding walls: 
Let me wander lingeringly 

Through your scented halls. 

Ope your doors and take me in, 

Spirit of the wood; 
Take me make me next of kin 

To your leafy brood. 

Ethelyn Wetherald 


Thou canst not wave thy staff in air, 

Or dip thy paddle in the lake, 
But it curves the bow of beauty there, 

And the ripples in rhyme the oar forsake. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 


To Young Dreamers 

Above dark cities build 

Your tall, impossible towers, 

Imperious towers of faith 

Built perilously high, 

And gather your dreams like clusters 

Of strange, bewildering flowers 

From the star-bright ledges 

Of the wide, impossible sky! 

Lucia Trent 

The Indwelling God 

Go not, my soul, in search of Him; 

Thou wilt not find Him there 
Or in the depths of shadow dim, 

Or heights of upper air. 

For not in far-off realms of space 
The spirit hath its throne; 

In every heart it findeth place 
And waiteth to be known. 

Thought answereth alone to thought 
And soul with soul hath kin; 

For outward God he findeth not, 
Who finds not God within. 

And if the visions come to thee 
Revealed by inward sign, 

Earth will be full of Deity 
And with His glory shine. 


Thou shall not want for company, 

Nor pitch thy tent alone; 
The Indwelling God will go with thee, 

And show thee of His own. 

Oh, gift of gifts, Oh, grace of grace, 

That God should condescend 
To make thy heart His dwelling-place, 

And be thy daily friend! 

Then go not thou in search of Him, 

But to thyself repair; 
Wait thou within the silence dim 

And thou shalt find Him there. 

Frederick Lucian Hosmer 

Eternal Good 

Eternal Good which overlies 
The sorrow of the world, Love which outlives 
All sin and wrong, Compassion which forgives 
To the uttermost, and Justice whose clear eyes 
Through lapse and failure look to the intent, 
And judge our failure by the life we meant. 

John Greenle&j Whittier 
From " Eventide " 

The Goal 

What were life, 

Did soul stand still therein, forego her strife 
Through the ambiguous Present to the goal 
Of some all-reconciling Future! 

Robert Browning 
From " Gerard de Lairesse " 


He Who Ascends to Mountain-Tops 

He who ascends to mountain-tops shall find 
The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow; 
He who surpasses or subdues mankind, 
Must look down on the hate of those below. 
Though high above the sun of glory glow, 
And far beneath the earth and ocean spread, 
Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow 
Contending tempests on his naked head. 

And thus reward the toils which to those summits led. 

George Gordon Byron 


Do not fear 

And do not grieve for me, 

I shall not die: 

I am like the forest oak 

That summer suns have seasoned; 

My body will be a little heap of ash 

Upon the hearth, 

But I shall rise in flame, 

In dame that leaps and soars 

And seeks the stars. 

Do not fear 

And do not weep, my dear, 

When Death stoops down to light the fire. 

Jean Grigsby Paxton 


I Accept 

I shall go out as all men go, 
Spent flickers in a mighty wind, 
Then I shall know, as all must know, 
What lies the great gray veil behind. 

There may be nothing but a deep 
And timeless void without a name 
Where no sun hangs, no dead stars sleep, 
And there is neither night nor flame. 

There may be meadows there and hills, 
Mountains and plains and winds that blow, 
And flowers bending over rills 
Springing from an eternal snow. 

There may be oceans white with foam 
And great tall ships for hungry men 
Who called our little salt seas home 
And burn to launch their keels again. 

There may be voices I have known, 
Cool fingers that have touched my hair. 
There may be hearts that were my own, 
Love may abide forever there. 

Who knows? Who needs to understand 
If there be shadows there, or more, 
To live as though a pleasant land 
Lay just beyond an open door? 

Harold Trowbridge Pukifef 


From The Battle of Blenheim 

Now tell us what 'twas all about, 
Young Peterkin, he cries, 

And little Wilhelmine looks up 
With wonder-waiting eyes; 

Now tell us all about the war 

And what they killed each other for. 

It was the English, Kaspar cried, 

That put the French to rout; 
But what they kill'd each other for, 

I could not well make out. 
But everybody said, quoth he, 
That 'twas a famous victory. 

Robert Southey 

The Lament of the Voiceless 

" Wars are to be/' they say, they blindly say, 
Nor strive to end them. Had we eyes to see 
The ghosts that walk across the fields of slain, 
We might behold by each boy soldier's corpse 
An endless line who mourn his fateful doom. 

" Who are you? " asking, we might hear these words: 

" We are the men and women not to be, 

Because the father of our line was slain, 

Cut off untimely. Brave he was and strong; 

His heritage were ours had he not been 

The food of slaughter in a wanton war." 


Boy soldier, sleep, by fireside loved ones mourned; 

By neighbor comrades, half ashamed of life, 

When death claims him who went that they might stay. 

Boy soldier, sleep; if ever these forget, 
You still are mourned by that long line unborn, 
Who might have been but for the waste of war. 
They mourn for you, your sons who never were. 

Laura Bell Everett 


Fear no more the heat o' the sun, 
Nor the furious winter's rages; 

Thou thy worldly task hast done, 
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages: 

Golden lads and girls all must, 

As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. 

Fear no more the frown o* the great, 
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; 

Care no more to clothe and eat; 
To thee the reed is as the oak: 

The sceptre, learning, physic, must 

All follow this, and come to dust. 

Fear no more the lightning-flash, 
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; 

Fear not slander, censure rash; 
Thou hast finish'd joy and moan: 

All lovers young, all lovers must 

Consign to thee, and come to dust. 


No exerciser harm thee! 
Nor no witchcraft charm thee! 
Ghost unlaid forbear thee! 
Nothing ill come near thee! 
Quiet consummation have; 
And renowned be thy grave! 

WttUam Shakespeare 

From " Cymbeline " 

[A favorite poem of Abraham Lincoln] 

As the Sculptor 

As the sculptor devotes himself to wood and stone 

I would devote myself to the living soul. 

But I am solemnized by the thought that the sculptor cannot 


Either on wood, or on stone, or on the living soul, 
Anything better than himself. 
All the lines of my carving 
Will but reveal my own portrait. 
Gazing at my hand, at my chisel, I shudder. 
How long will it take for this human sculpture, 
Which can not be carved by me better, finer than my own 

To escape! To escape from my pitiable and limited 

And to advance to the position of a carving of God? 

Happily, there is a Guide for me. 
It is He who has broken open the door of the Sanctuary 
And made a molten cast of God's Portrait on His own flesh. 

Toyohiko Kagawa 


The Splendor Falls 

The splendor falls on castle walls 

And snowy summits old in story: 
The long light shakes across the lakes, 
And the wild cataract leaps in glory. 
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, 
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 

hark, hear! how thin and clear, 

And thinner, clearer, farther going! 
sweet and far from cliff and scar 

The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! 
Blow, let us hear the purple glens reply: 
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 

love, they die in yon rich sky, 

They faint on hill or field or river: 
Our echoes roll from soul to soul, 

And grow forever and forever. 
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, 
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. 

Alfred Tennyson 

Vitae Lampada 

There's a breathless hush in the Close tonight 

Ten to make and the match to win 
A bumping pitch and a blinding light, 

An hour to play and the last man in. 
And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat, 

Or the selfish hope of a season's fame, 
But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote 

" Play up! play up! and play the game! " 


The sand of the desert is sodden red 

Red with the wreck of a square that broke; 
The Catling's jammed and the Colonel dead, 

And the regiment blind with dust and smoke. 
The river of death has brimmed his banks, 

And England's far, and Honor a name, 
But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks: 

" Play up! play up! and play the game! " 

This is the word that year by year, 

While in her place the school is set, 
Every one of her sons must hear, 

And none that hears it dare forget. 
This they all with joyful mind 

Bear through life like a torch in flame, 
And falling fling to the host behind 

" Play up! play up! and play the game! " 

Sir Henry Newbolt 

Mourn Not the Dead 

Mourn not the dead that in the cool earth lie 

Dust unto dust 
The calm sweet earth that mothers all who die 

As all men must; 

Mourn not your captured comrades who must dwell 

Too strong to strive 
Each in his steel-bound coffin of a cell, 

Buried alive; 

But rather mourn the apathetic throng 

The cowed and the meek 
Who see the world's great anguish and its wrong 

And dare not speak! Rdph Chaplin 


We Are Never Old 

Spring still makes spring in the mind 

When sixty years are told ; 
Love wakes anew this throbbing heart, 

And we are never old; 
Over the winter glaciers 

I see the summer glow, 
And through the wild-piled snowdrift 

The warm rosebuds below. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 

From "The World-Soul" 


I have found 'God on a high hill alone, alone, 

On Lookout Mountain with Chattanooga far beneath me, 

And above the Grand Canyon where waters hide in rock. 

I have seen God as I sat on a park bench 

Watching the flaming colors of the sunset, 

And a red bird sang above me 

In the wideness of Dakota prairies 

At the foot of the lagoon where the Lincoln Memorial 

Puts its feet in heaven at the feet of Lincoln alone. 

I have seen God in the corner of a mountain cabin 

Where a small girl sang ballads 

And her mother wept in loneliness. 

I have seen God when my own mother 

Sat beside the coffin of her son, 

A young man killed by war. 

I saw God in her old hands fumbling a German Bible, 

And Jesus smiling to see two enemies at peace there. 


I have seen God in the fellowship 

All men bear with grief and pain 

The agnostic lifting the weary hands of the pilgrim, 

The Christian binding the blasphemer's wounds. 

I have seen God in beauty unspeakable 

Of hills and sunsets in the works of men 

Beauty like a sharp pain. 

I have seen God with men, humanly alone. 

Raymond Kresensky 

The Back of God 

I prayed to see the face of God, 
Illumined by the central suns 
Turning in their ancient track; 
But what I saw was not His face at all 
I saw His bent figure on a windy hill, 
Carrying a double load upon His back. 

/. R. Perkins 

In Prison 

I know not whether Laws be right, 

Or whether Laws be wrong; 
All that we know who lie in jail 

Is that the wall is strong; 
And that each day is like a year, 

A year whose days are long. 

But this I know, that every Law 

That men have made for Man, 
Since first Man took his brother's life, 

And this sad world began, 
But straws the wheat and saves the chaff 

With a most evil fan. 


This too I know and wise it were 

If each could know the same 
That every prison that men build 

Is built with bricks of shame, 
And bound with bars lest Christ should see 

How men their brothers maim. 

Oscar Wilde 

From " The Ballad of Reading Gaol " 

Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind 

Blow, blow, thou winter wind, 

Thou art not so unkind 

As man's ingratitude; 

Thy tooth is not so keen 

Because thou art not seen, 

Although thy breath be rude. 
Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly: 
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: 

Then, heigh-ho! the holly! 

This life is most jolly. 

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, 

Thou dost not bite so nigh 

As benefits forgot: 

Though thou the waters warp, 

Thy sting is not so sharp 

As friend remembered not. 
Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly: 
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: 

Then, heigh-ho! the holly! 

This life is most jolly! 

William Shakespeare 



Ask of your soul this question, What is strength? 

Is it to slay ten thousand with the sword? 
To steal at midnight Gaza's brazen gates? 

To raze a temple on a heathen horde? 

Or, in a garden drenched with evening dew 
And bloody sweat, to pray beside a stone? 

Defend a sinner from self-righteous priests? 
Bear up to Calvary a cross, alone? 

Jessie Wilmore Murton 

Young Lincoln 

Men saw no portents on that winter night 
A hundred years ago. No omens flared 
Above that trail-built cabin with one door, 
And windowless to all the peering stars. 
They laid him in the hollow of a log, 
Humblest of cradles, save that other one 
The manger in the stall at Bethlehem. 

No portents! Yet with whisper and alarm 
The Evil Powers that dread the nearing feet 
Of heroes, held a council in that hour; 
And sent three fates to darken that low door, 
To baffle and beat back the heaven-sent child. 
Three were the fates gaunt Poverty that chains, 
Gray Drudgery that grinds the hope away, 
And gaping Ignorance that starves the soul. 


They came with secret laughters to destroy. 
Ever they dogged him, counting every step, 
Waylaid his youth and struggled for his life. 
They came to master but he made them serve; 
And from the wrestle with the destinies, 
He rose with all his energies aglow. 
For God upon whose steadfast shoulders rest 
These governments of ours, had not forgot. 
He needed for his purposes a voice, 
A voice to be a clarion on the wind, 
Crying the word of freedom to dead hearts, 
The word that centuries had waited for. 

So hidden in the West, God shaped his man. 
There in the unspoiled solitude he grew, 
Unwarped by culture and uncramped by creed; 
Keeping his course courageous and alone, 
As goes the Mississippi to the sea. 
His daring spirit burst the narrow bounds, 
Rose resolute; and like the sea-called stream, 
He tore new channels where he found no way. 
His tools were his first teachers, sternly kind. 
The plow, the scythe, the maul, the echoing ax 
Taught him their homely wisdom and their peace. 
He had the plain man's genius common sense; 
Yet rage for knowledge drove his mind afar; 
He fed his spirit with the bread of books, 
And slaked his thirst at all the wells of thought. 

But most he read the heart of common man, 
Scanned all its secret pages stained with tears, 
Saw all the guile, saw all the piteous pain ; 
And yet could keep the smile about his lips, 


Love and forgive, see all and pardon all; 
His only fault, the fault that some of old 
Laid even on God that he was ever wont 
To bend the law to let his mercy out. 

Edwin Markham 


Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! 

Bright and yellow, hard and cold, 

Molten, graven, hammered, and rolled; 

Heavy to get, and light to hold; 

Hoarded, bartered, bought and sold, 

Stolen, borrowed, squandered, doled; 

Spurned by the young, but hugged by the old 

To the very verge of the churchyard mould; 

Price of many a crime untold; 

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! 

Good or bad, a thousand- fold! 

How widely its agencies vary! 
To save, to ruin, to curse, to bless, 
As even its minted coins express! 
Now stamped with the image of Good Queen Bess, 

And now of a Bloody Maryl 

Thomas Hood 

My Country 

My country is the world; I count 

No son of man my foe, 
Whether the warm life-currents mount 

And mantle brows like snow 
Or red or yellow, brown or black, 
The face that into mine looks back. 


My native land is Mother Earth, 
And all men are my kin, 

Whether of rude or gentle birth, 
However steeped in sin; 

Or rich, or poor, or great, or small, 

I count them brothers, one and all. 

My birthplace is no spot apart, 
I claim no town nor State; 

Love hath a shrine in every heart, 
And wheresoe'r men mate 

To do the right and say the truth, 

Love evermore renews her youth. 

My flag is the star-spangled sky, 
Woven without a seam, 

Where dawn and sunset colors lie, 
Fair as an angel's dream; 

The flag that still, unstained, untorn, 

Floats over all of mortal born. 

My party is all humankind, 
My platform brotherhood; 

I count all men of honest mind 
Who work for human good, 

And for the hope that gleams afar, 

My comrades in this holy war. 

My heroes are the great and good 
Of every age and clime, 

Too often mocked, misunderstood, 
And murdered in their time, 

But spite of ignorance and hate 

Known and exalted soon or late. 


My country is the world; I scorn 

No lesser love than mine, 
But calmly wait that happy morn 

When all shall own this sign, 
And love of country as of clan, 
Shall yield to worldwide love of man. 

Robert Whitaker 


Once riding in old Baltimore, 
Heart-filled, head-filled with glee, 

I saw a Baltimorean 
Keep looking straight at me. 

Now I was eight and very small > 

And he was no whit bigger, 
And so I smiled, but he poked out 

His tongue, and called me, " Nigger." 

I saw the whole of Baltimore 

From May until December; 
Of all the things that happened there 

That's all that I remember. 

Countee Cullen 

At the Place of the Sea 

Have you come to the Red Sea place in your life, 

Where, in spite of all you can do, 
There is no way out, there is no way back, 

There is no other way but through? 
Then wait on the Lord, with a trust serene, 

Till the night of your fear is gone; 
He will send the winds, He will heap the floods, 

When He says to your soul, " Go on! " 


And His hand shall lead you through, 

Ere the watery walls roll down; 
No wave can touch you, no foe can smite, 

No mightiest sea can drown. 
The tossing billows may rear their crests, 

Their foam at your feet may break, 
But over their bed you shall walk dry-shod 

In the path that your Lord shall make. 

In the morning watch, 'neath the lifted cloud, 

You shall see but the Lord alone. 
When He leads you forth from the place of the sea, 

To a land that you have not known; 
And your fears shall pass as your foes have passed, 

You shall no more be afraid; 
You shall sing His praise in a better place, 

In a place that His hand hath made. 

Annie Johnson Flint 

From King Cotton 

The mills of Lancashire grind very small, 
The mills of Lancashire grind very great, 

And small and great alike are passing poor, 
Too poor to read the writing of their fate. 

It is a kingdom knows an awful rule, 

It is a kingdom of a direful plan, 
Where old and young are thrown to the machine, 

And no man dreams machines were made for man. 

Sir Leo Money 


The Life to Come 

There is a City where God's happy children 
Shall tread forever burnished floors, they say, 

But I shall beg to walk in Oxford meadows 
Where dance the golden flowers of May. 

I cannot dream of walls upbuilt of jasper, 
Nor can the gates of pearl the heart suffice: 

Who once beholds the rainbows in the dewdrop 
Has seen a pearl of greater price. 

And when the harpers in that land are making 
Strange melodies on earth unheard before, 

If I might only hear once more Beethoven, 
Then I should ask of God no more. 

Edward Shillito 

At Last 

When on my day of life the night is falling, 
And, in the winds from unsunned spaces blown, 

I hear far voices out of darkness calling 
My feet to paths unknown, 

Thou who hast made my home of life so pleasant, 
Leave not its tenant when its walls decay; 

O Love Divine, O Helper ever-present, 
Be Thou my strength and stay! 

Be near me when all else is from me drifting; 

Earth, sky, home's pictures, days of shade and shine, 
And kindly faces to my own uplifting 

The love which answers mine. 


I have but Thee, my Father! let Thy spirit 

Be with me then to comfort and uphold; 
No gate of pearl, no branch of palm I merit, 

Nor street of shining gold. 

Suffice it if my good and ill unreckoned, 
And both forgiven through Thy abounding grace 

I find myself by hands familiar beckoned 
Unto my fitting place. 

John Greenleaf Whittier 

Build a Fence of Trust 

Build a little fence of trust 

Around today; 
Fill the space with loving work 

And therein stay. 

Look not through the sheltering bars 

Upon tomorrow; 
God will help thee bear what comes 

Of joy or sorrow. 

Mary F. Butts 

The Flag of Peace 

Men long have fought for their flying flags, 

They have died those flags to save; 
Their long staves rest on the shattered breast, 

They are planted deep in the grave. 
Now the world's new flag is streaming wide, 

Far-flying wide and high. 
It shall cover the earth from side to side 

As the rainbow rings the sky. 


The flag of the day when men shall stand 

For service, not for fight; 
When every race, in every land, 

Shall join for the world's delight; 
When all our flags shall blend in one, 

And all our wars shall cease, 
'Neath the new flag, the true flag, 

The rainbow flag of peace. 

Charlotte Perkins Oilman 


Hast thou named all the birds without a gun? 

Loved the wood-rose, and left it on its stalk? 

At rich men's tables eaten bread and pulse? 

Unarmed, faced danger with a heart of trust? 

And loved so well a high behavior, 

In man or maid, that thou from speech refrained, 

Nobility more nobly to repay? 

0, be my friend, and teach me to be thine! 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 

The Greatest Work 

He built a house; time laid it in the dust; 

He wrote a book, its title now forgot; 

He ruled a city, but his name is not 

On any table graven, or where rust 

Can gather from disuse, or marble bust. 

He took a child from out a wretched cot, 

Who on the state dishonor might have brought, 

And reared him to the Christian's hope and trust. 


The boy, to manhood grown, became a light 
To many souls, and preached for human need 
The wondrous love of the Omnipotent. 
The work has multiplied like stars at night 
When darkness deepens; every noble deed 
Lasts longer than a granite monument. 

Author Unknown 

Love and Life 

Oh, Love and Death go ever hand in hand, 

For poison lurks within the magic cup 

That Love to thirsty lips is lifting up; 

And those who tread the heavenly heights must stand 

Upon a dizzy verge. Love's stern command 

Summons to battle, wounds, and sudden death; 

No languorous whisper borne on perfumed breath, 

But ringing call to dare by sea and land. 

But Love brings every gift of joy and grace, 

Lightens the darkness, gives new life for old, 

And touches all things with her mystic wand, 

Like Midas turning all base things to gold, 

Making a temple every common place. 

For Love and Life go ever hand in hand, 

Winjred Ernest Garrison 

The Cry of the Age? 

What shall I do to be just? 

What shall I do for the gain 

Of the world for its sadness? 

Teach me, O Seers that I trust! 

Chart me the difficult main 

Leading me out of my sorrow and madness; 

Preach me out of the purging of pain. 


Shall I wrench from my finger the ring 
To cast to the tramp at my door? 
Shall I tear off each luminous thing 
To drop in the palm of the poor? 
What shall I do to be just? 
Teach me, O Ye in the light, 
Whom the poor and the rich alike trust: 
My heart is aflame to be right. 

Hamlin Garland 

The Women Toilers 

I saw them from our car today, 
As I was passing by 
The women toilers! 
Mexican, Negro, white, 
Working in the cotton fields 
From dawn of day till night. 
I wonder what the recompense 
Of toil like theirs 
Fulfillment, joy, sweet peace? 
Or just the dull despair 
Of aching weariness, 
That never knows surcease? 

I wonder, oh, I wonder how 
In God's great plan, 
I shall make restitution for 
The joy, the ease, the time 
Spent in such idle ways, 
When these must wilt 
Out in the hot sun's blaze, 
, At night I see them 
When I try to pray; 


God help them to be kind 

When they shall think of me, 

Beloved, rested, gay 

As I was passing by their fields today! 

Grace Bowen Evans 

Men Have Forged 

He wrote in the sand ... the wind-blown sands 

And the woman wept afresh, 
But not a stone from the hundred hands 

Was cast to bruise her flesh. 

Not a deadly missile was sent 
And the mob in twos and fours 

Dispersed and down the street they went 
Or gossiped in the doors. 

The brave Christ blotted out the sign 

Of all her sin and lust; 
Obliterated each thin line 

Traced in the roadside dust. 

Later such mobs used spears to kill: 
Lances and spikes and gall 

A wooden cross on a lonely hill 
With a black sky over all. 

But men have forged these modern days 

New things for bringing pain 
And they are skilled in all the ways 

To grave sins deep and plain. 


They cut their neighbor's faults in flint, 

Never in drifting silt, 
And how they love the tinny glint 

Of scabbard and of hilt. 

Jay G* Sigmund 

That Which Made Us 

Only That which made us, meant us to be mightier by 

and by, 
Set the sphere of all the boundless Heavens within the 

human eye, 

Sent the shadow of Himself, the boundless, through the 

human soul; 
Boundless inward, in the atom, boundless outward, in the 


Alfred Tennyson 

Till We Have Built Jerusalem 

And did those feet in ancient time 
Walk upon England's mountain green? 

And was the holy Lamb of God 
On England's pleasant pastures seen? 

And did the countenance divine 
Shine forth upon our clouded hills? 

And was Jerusalem builded here 
Among these dark Satanic mills? 

Bring me my bow of burning gold! 

Bring me my arrows of desire! 
Bring me my spear! clouds, unfold! 

Bring me my chariot of fire! 


I will not cease from mental fight, 
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand, 

Till we have built Jerusalem 
In England's green and pleasant land. 

William Blake 

From " The Prophetic Book Milton " 

Our Country 

To all who hope for Freedom's gleam 

Across the warring years, 
Who offer life to build a dream 

In laughter or in tears, 
To all who toil, unmarked, unknown, 

By city, field or sea, 
I give my heart, I reach my hand, 
A common hope, a common land 

Is made of you and me. 

For we have loved her summer dawns 

Beyond the misty hill, 
And we have shared her toil, her fruit 

Of farm and shop and mill. 
Our weaknesses have made her shame, 

Our strength has built her powers, 
And we have hoped and we have striven 
That to her children might be given 

A fairer world than ours. 

We dreamed to hold her safe, apart 
From strife; the dream was vain. 

Her heart is now earth's bleeding heart, 
She shares the whole earth's pain. 


To men oppressed in all the lands 

One flashing hope has gone, 
One vision wide as earth appears, 
We seek, across the warring years, 

The gray world's golden dawn. 

Anna Louise Strong 


"Here is my heart; it's clean. 

I give it, Lord, to Thee." 
And then I saw God plainly 

Turn aside from me. 

" I do not want your heart, 

Closed tightly to other men. 
Open it up, my child, 

And return it to me again." 

Raymond Kresensky 

Death in Life 

He always said he would retire 

When he had made a million clear, 

And so he toiled into the dusk 

From day to day, from year to year. 

At last he put his ledgers up 
And laid his stock reports aside 

But when he started out to live 
He found he had already died. 

Author Unknown 



Who harbors Hatred, sees a small 
And closing cincture hold him thrall. 

Who glooming Envy entertains, 

Has narrowing sky-lines for his pains. 

Who makes perpetual friend of Doubt, 
Marks dwarfing vistas round about. 

But he whose bosom Love hath found, 
Is by no cramped horizons bound. 

Clinton Scollard 

The Unknown Soldier 

I They look so solemn and fine. Who are they? 

MYSELF The best known have come to honor the un- 

I Why do they honor him? 

MYSELF He represents the millions to whom they are 
indebted for victory. 

I Do they think so highly of them? 

MYSELF They bow to the majesty of the common man. 

I Then, if another conflict threatens, will they ask the 
common people, the Unknown, whether they want war? 

MYSELF Look at those beautiful flowers. 

I The boys on the farms and in the mills? 

MYSELF Hush. Listen to the oratory. 

I Will they ask the mothers, the unknown mothers? 

MYSELF Ah, the music. 

Arthur B. Rhinow 


Carry On! 

They have not fought in vain, our dead 
Who sleep amid the poppies red: 
Their plea, attested with their blood, 
By all the world is understood. 

They fought for peace, as now do we; 
Their conflict was for liberty, 
For freedom from the blight of war 
And is that still worth fighting for? 

We strive no longer men in arms; 
We fight not, stirred by war's alarms; 
We vow to seal our broken past 
With fellowship and friendship fast. 

By those who faced the battling years 
Let earth forget her warlike fears, 
That Freedom, idol of our sires, 
May pledge to all her sacred fires. 

Thomas Curtis Clark 


I am tired of city sounds, 

And streets of questing faces 
Give me, for a swift, sweet hour, 

Little lonely places! 

Though I want the city ere 

This golden silence passes, 
I have loved and looked upon 

Sky and hills and grasses. 


I have walked with God again 

In little lonely places . . , 
I shall find His face again 

In streets of questing faces! 

Catherine Parmenter 


We dedicate a church today. 

Lord Christ, I pray 

Within the sound of its great bell 

There is no mother who must hold 

Her baby close against the cold 

So only have we served Thee well; 

The wind blows sharp, the snow lies deep. 

If we shall keep 

Thy hungry ones, and sore distressed, 

From pain and hardship, then may we 

Know we have builded unto Thee, 

And that each spire and arch is blest. 

Lord Christ, grant we may consecrate 
To Thee this church we dedicate. 

Ethel Arnold Tilden 

The Sea Gypsy 

I am fevered with the sunset, 
I am fretful with the bay, 

For the wander-thirst is on me 
And my soul is in Cathay. 


There's a schooner in the offing, 
With her topsails shot with fire, 

And my heart has gone aboard her 
For the Islands of Desire. 

I must forth again tomorrow! 

With the sunset I must be 
Hull down on the trail of rapture 

In the wonder of the Sea. 

Richard Hovey 

The Anodyne 

In the late evening, when the house is still, 

For an intense instant, 

I lift my clean soul out of the soiled garments of mortality. 

No sooner is it free to rise than it bends back earthward 

And touches mortal life with hands like the hands that 

troubled the waters of Bethesda. 
So this incorruptible touches the corrupt; 
This immortal cools with a touch 
The beaded forehead of mortality. 

Sarah N. Cleghorn 

The Man From Sangamon, at Gettysburg 

I am a man who knew Abe Lincoln well; 
We logged together on the Sangamon. 
Abe was a thinker then, we noticed that; 
Noticed the way he used to go apart 
And watch the sunset flush the western sky 
Until the river seemed a thing of flame. 
Abe would sit there, a little off from us, 
The soft wind blowing his unruly locks, 


His face alight with deep, unspoken dreams. 
It was as if he visioned the long way 
His great, gaunt frame would one day have to go; 
As if he heard the distant roar of war. 
I have seen tears start in Abe Lincoln's eyes 
And run unheeded down his wind-bronzed cheeks 
Even as long ago as those old days 
When we were logging on the Sangamon. 

After the day's hard work we would sit there, 

Lost in the wild, still beauty of the place; 

(I can recall the smell of early spring 

That settled on the river after dark) ; 

Would sit and watch the stars come slowly out 

And hear the water lap against our boat 

And lose ourselves in quietness and sleep. 

But Lincoln would sit on, deep in his thoughts. 

One day we saw a slave sold on the bank: 

That night Abe Lincoln's heavy brows were knit 

In troubled thought. That night 

He did not close his brooding eyes, 

But sat there thinking till the morning sun 

Turned the pale sky into a flood of light. 

Today, when I stood there at Gettysburg, 

And saw that figure that I knew and loved 

Take its quiet place 

How can I put in words 

The thoughts that surged so swiftly through my heart? 

This was the man I knew so well and long 

This man who spoke such simple, tender words 

Truths that would root and grow and bear much fruit 1 


Somehow, when he had finished, I ran forth 

And caught his great hand close within my own: 

" Abe! " I cried, huskily. " You know me, Abe? " 

There, in the great crowd, he leaned on my arm. 

Tears of delight were on his homely face. 

" It is as if," he told me, brokenly, 

" The years of war and horror were wiped out 

And we were on the Sangamon again. 

My heart has hungered after you, my friend." 

That was Lincoln, the friend of all the world. 

Eleanor G. R. Young 

From Prometheus Unbound 
(Demogorgon speaking) 

This is the day, which down the void abysm 

At the Earth-born's spell yawns for Heaven's despotism, 

And Conquest is dragged captive through the deep: 
Love, from its awful throne of patient power 
In the wise heart, from the last giddy hour 

Of dead endurance, from the slippery, steep, 
And narrow verge of crag-like agony, springs 
And folds over the world its healing wings. 

Gentleness, Virtue, Wisdom, and Endurance, 
These are the seals of that most firm assurance 

Which bars the pit over Destruction's strength; 
And if, with infirm hand, Eternity, 
Mother of many acts and hours, should free 

The serpent that would clasp her with his length; 
These are the spells by which to reassume 
An empire o'er the disentangled doom. 


To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite; 
To forgive wrongs darker than death or night; 

To defy Power, which seems omnipotent; 
To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates 
From its own wreck the thing it contemplates; 

Neither to change, nor falter, nor repent; 
This, like thy glory, Titan, is to be 
Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free; 
This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory. 

Percy Bysshe Shelley 

The Temple 

I dreamed, 

That stone by stone I reared a sacred fane, 
A temple, neither pagod, mosque nor church, 
But simpler, loftier, 

Always open doored to every breath from heaven, 
And truth, and peace, and love and justice came and dwelt 

Alfred Tennyson 

In Defense of Youth 

We call them wrong! God pity us, the blind, 

Imputing evil as our grandsires did, 

When we explored new realms with feet and mind, 

Uncovering what old fogies damned and hid! 

The dreams, the wanton fantasies are there, 

As you and I once knew them, loved them, till 

We came to staleness and to foolish fear 

Lest something change, be different, jolt our will! 


Tis life they seek, not sin, no sordid thing, 
But joy in health and beauty, and in all 
The urge of thrilling bodies that would sing 
And freely dance with laughter at earth's call. 
Let's laugh with them, full knowing that when tried 
By Truth and Duty, Youth is on God's side! 

Robbins Wolcott Bar stow 

The Burden 

To every one on earth 
God gives a burden, to be carried down 
The road that lies between the cross and crown. 

No lot is wholly free: 

He giveth one to thee. 

Some carry it aloft, 
Open and visible to any eyes; 
And all may see its form and weight and size. 

Some hide it in their breast, 

And deem it there unguessed. 

Thy burden is God's gift, 
And it will make the bearer calm and strong; 
Yet, lest it press too heavily and long, 

He says, Cast it on Me, 

And it shall easy be. 

And those who heed His voice, 
And seek to give it back in trustful prayer, 
Have quiet hearts that never can despair; 

And hope lights up the way 

Upon the darkest day. 


Take thou thy burden thus 
Into thy hands, and lay it at His feet; 
And, whether it be sorrow or defeat 

Or pain or sin or care, 

Just leave it calmly there. 

It is the lonely road 

That crushes out the life and light of Heaven; 
But, born with Him, the soul, restored, forgiven, 

Sings out, through all the days, 

Her joy and God's high praise. 

Marianne Farningham Hearn 

From The Angel-Thief 

So as from year to year we count our treasure, 
Our loss seems less, and larger look our gains; 

Time's wrongs repaid in more than even measure 
We lose our jewels, but we break our chains. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes 

Memorial Day 

I heard a cry in the night from a far-flung host, 

From a host that sleeps through the years the last long sleep, 

By the Meuse, by the Marne, in the Argonne's shattered 

" wood, 

In a thousand rose-thronged churchyards through our land. 
Sleeps! Do they sleep! I know I heard their cry, 
Shrilling along the night like a trumpet blast: 


" We died," they cried, " for a dream. Have ye forgot? 
We dreamed of a world reborn whence wars had fled, 
Where swords were broken in pieces and guns were rust, 
Where the poor man dwelt in quiet, the rich in peace, 
And children played in the streets, joyous and free. 
We thought we could sleep content in a task well done; 
But the rumble of guns rolls over us, iron upon iron 
Sounds from the forge where are fashioned guns anew; 

" New fleets spring up in new seas, and under the wave 

Stealthy new terrors swarm, with emboweled death. 

Fresh cries of hate ring out loud from the demagogue's 


While greed reaches out afresh to grasp new lands. 
Have we died in vain? Is our dream denied? 
You men who live on the earth we bought with our woe, 
Will ye stand idly by while they shape new wars, 
Or will ye rise, who are strong, to fulfill our dream, 
To silence the demagogue's voice, to crush the fools 
Who play with blood-stained toys that crowd new graves? 
We call, we call in the night, will ye hear and heed? " 

In the name of our dead will we hear? Will we grant them 

William E. Brooks 

Beyond the Horizon 

When men go down to the sea in ships, 

'Tis not to the sea they go; 

Some isle or pole the mariners' goal, 

And thither they sail through calm and gale, 

When down to the sea they go. 


When souls go down to the sea by ship, 
And the dark ship's name is Death, 
Why mourn and wail at the vanishing sail? 
Though outward bound, God's world is round, 
And only a ship is Death. 

When I go down to the sea by ship, 
And Death unfurls her sail, 
Weep not for me, for there will be 
A living host on another coast 
To beckon and cry, " All hail! " 

Robert Freeman 

Oh! Why Should the Spirit of Mortal 
be Proud? 

Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud? 
Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud, 
A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave, 
He passes from life to his rest in the grave. 

The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade, 

Be scattered around, and together be laid; 

And the young, and the old, and the low, and the high 

Shall moulder to dust, and together shall lie. 

The infant a mother attended and loved, 
The mother that infant's affection who proved, 
The husband that infant and mother who blessed, 
Each, all are away to their dwelling of rest. 

The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye 
Shone beauty and pleasure, her triumphs are by; 
And the memory of those that beloved her and praised 
Are alike from the minds of the living erased. 


The hand of the king that the scepter hath borne, 
The brow of the priest that the miter hath worn, 
The eye of the sage, and the heart of the brave 
Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave. 

The peasant, whose lot was to sow and to reap, 
The herdsman, who climbed with his goats to the steep, 
The beggar, who wandered in search of his bread, 
Have faded away like the grass that we tread. 

The saint, who enjoyed the communion of heaven, 
The sinner, who dared to remain unforgiven, 
The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just, 
Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust. 

So the multitude goes, like the flower and the weed, 
That wither away, to let others succeed; 
So the multitude comes, even those we behold, 
To repeat every tale that hath often been told. 

For we are the same that our fathers have been, 
We see the same sights that our fathers have seen; 
We drink the same stream, and we feel the same sun 
And run the same course that our fathers have run. 

The thoughts we are thinking our fathers would think, 
From the death we are shrinking our fathers would shrink, 
To the life we are clinging our fathers would cling, 
But it speeds from the earth like a bird on the wing. 

They loved, but the story we cannot unfold, 
They scorned, but the heart of the haughty is cold; 
They grieved, but no voice from their slumbers may come; 
They joyed, but the voice of their gladness is dumb. 


They died; aye, they died; and we, things that are now, 
Who walk on the turf that lies over their brow, 
Who make in their dwelling a transient abode, 
Meet the changes they met on their pilgrimage road. 

Yea! hope and despondency, pleasure and pain, 
Are mingled together like sunshine and rain; 
And the smile and the tear, and the song and the dirge 
Still follow each other, like surge upon surge. 

Tis the twink of an eye, 'tis the draught of a breath, 
From the blossom of health to the paleness of death, 
From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud, 
Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud? 

William Knox 
[A favorite poem of Abraham Lincoln] 

Give Me a Gentle Heart 

Give me a gentle heart, that I may do 
Naught but the gentle thing my whole life through. 
Give me a heart as kind as hearts can be, 
That I may give before 'tis asked of me. 
Give me a watchful heart that shall divine 
The need of those whose hearts are dear to mine. 
Give me a heart where joy and sorrow wait 
To know what joy or sorrow is at my gate. 

Give me a song, but not one to be known 
For loveliness, for loveliness alone. 
Give me a humble song whose sweetest strain 
Shall be for those whose hearts are mute in pain. 


Give me a prayer, but save me lest I kneel 
For that which ministers to my own weal. 
Let me forget the highest gift I crave; 
Let me forget the deepest need I have. 
Grant, Lord, that every thought of self may be 
Lost in the selfless light of Calvary. 

Percy Thomas 


Sometimes, when the grind of the city beats on my heart 
Like a brazen hammer with terrible blows, 

I think of a lost garden I knew in my boyhood, 
Filled with the scent of the rose. 

And sometimes, when the clamor of life seems endless, 
And my soul is bowed with its weight of pain, 

I think of an old, still apple tree in blossom 
At the end of a hawthorn lane. 

Oh, do not smile at such simple memories! 

They keep us young, they keep the man-heart right. 
And sometime we will all go back contented, 

To a Garden and a Tree in a place of light. 

Charles Hanson Towne 


Man and the pitiless waters 

Fight man and the cavernous sea. 

The ocean is ready to fight all men 

In its stark immensity. 

Man against man, conspiring well, 

Can make of the sea and the land a hell. 

How long shall the carnage be? 

Laura Bell Everett 


Good Friday 

There was no glory on the hills that day; 

Only dark shame, 

And three stark crosses rearing at the sky. 

Only a whining wind, 

And jeering, 

And an anguished voice 

Crying forgiveness. 

Then darkness fell 

We sit today in cushioned pews 

And for three hours we watch with Him, 

Singing and praying, 

Hearing quiet words. 

There is a gentle rustle as we move in and out, 

Too busy to stay long, 

Or else too tired 

To sit so long a time 

In cushioned pews. 

We see a golden cross 

And pray to God 

That some day, 

In His own good time, 

The world may do His will. 

But we ourselves 

Have little time to help 

Except to say a prayer 

On cushioned pews. 

The golden cross is all aglow 
In candle flame. 


It burns like flame. 

Like flame it burns into my heart 

The golden cross has turned to fire 

The candle glow 

Has set the cross on fire 

The burning cross up on the altar 


Cries out to me. 

The flaming cross is burned into my heart! 

The others have not seen. 
There is the golden cross 
And candle glow. 

There was no glory on the hills that day; 
But one stark cross 
Against a vacant sky. 

Martha Provine Leach Turner 


I will not change my path with you, 

O worshippers of gold! 
My path is rough, but heaven-lit, 

And yours is smooth, but cold. 

In your resplendent halls each night 

The ghost of envy strides, 
While in the castle of my heart 

The living God resides. 

My heart is young, though youth is gone; 

Your hearts in youth are old; 
I will not change one golden dream 

For all your dreams of gold. 

Philip M. Raskin 


The Undying Soul 

Yet howsoever changed or tost, 
Not even a wreath of mist is lost, 
No atom can itself exhaust. 

So shall the soul's superior force 
Live on and run its endless course 
In God's unlimited universe. 

John Greenleaf Whittier 
Written on a Flyleaf of Longfellow's Poems 

The Captains of the Years 

I watched the Captains 

A-riding, riding 

Down the years; 
The men of mystic grip 

Of soul, a-riding 
Between a hedge of spears. 

I saw their banners 

A-floating, floating 

Over all, 
Till each of them had passed, 

And Christ came riding 
A donkey lean and small. 

I watched the Captains 

A-turning, staring, 

Proud and set, 
At Christ a-riding there 

So calmly riding 
The Road men can't forget* 


I watched the Captains 
Dismounting, waiting 

None now led 
The Captains bowing low I 

The Caesars waiting! 
While Christ rode on ahead. 

Arthur Macdougall, Jr. 

The New City 

Have we seen her, The New City, my brothers, where 

she stands, 

The superb, supreme creation of unnumbered human hands: 
The complete and sweet expression of unnumbered human 

Bound by love to work together while their love their work 

Built by brothers for their brothers, kept by sisters for their 


Garlanded by happy children, playing free within the gates, 
Brooded by such mighty mothers as are born to lift us up 
Till we drink in full communion of God's wondrous " loving 

cup " ? 

Clean and sightly are her pavements ringing sound beneath 
men's feet, 

Wide and ample are her forums where her citizens may meet, 

Fair and precious are her gardens where her youths and 
maidens dance 

In the fresh, pure air of Heaven, 'mid the flowers 7 ex- 

And her schools are as the ladders to the Spirit, from the 


Leading, round by round, to labor, strengthened, side by 

side, with play, 
And her teachers are her bravest, and her governors her 

For she loves the little children she has nourished at her 


Never clangor of the trumpet, nor the hiss of bullets 

Breaks the music of her fountains, plashing seaward, flash- 
ing glad, 

For no excess and no squalor mark her fruitful, fair in- 

She has wrought life's final glory in a miracle of peace, 

And her citizens live justly, without gluttony or need, 

And he strives to serve the city who has bread enough to 

All his own, and she must labor, who would hold an honored 

With the women of the city in their dignity and grace. 

Have ye seen her, my brothers, The New City, where 
each hour 

Is a poet's revelation, or a hero's perfect power, 

Or an artist's new creation, or a laborer's new strength, 

Where a world of aspiration clings God by the feet, at 

Have ye seen her, The New City, in her glory? Ah, not 

Gilds the sun with actual splendor chimney top and 

But her site is surely purchased and her pattern is de- 

And her blessed ways are visions for all striving humankind I 


The New City, my brothers, we ourselves shall never 


She will gladden children's children into holy ecstasy 
Let our lives be in the building! We shall lay us in the sod 
Happier, if our human travail builds their avenues to God! 

Marguerite Wilkinson 

A Song of the Road 

I lift my cap to Beauty, 

I lift my cap to Love; 
I bow before my Duty, 

And know that God's above! 
My heart through shining arches 

Of leaf and blossom goes; 
My soul, triumphant, marches 

Through life to life's repose. 
And I, through all this glory, 

Nor know, nor fear my fate 
The great things are so simple, 

The simple are so great! 

Fred G. Bowles 

Which Is Me? 

Within my earthly temple there's a crowd: 
There's one of us that's humble, one that's proud, 
There's one that's broken-hearted for his sins, 
And one that unrepentant sits and grins, 
There's one that loves his neighbor as himself, 
And one that cares for naught but fame and pelf. 
From much perplexing care I would be free 
If I could once determine which is Me! 

Author Unknown 


Prayer Hymn 

Lord of all pots and pans and things, since I've no time to be 
A Saint by doing lovely things, or watching late with Thee, 
Or dreaming in the dawnlight, or storming Heaven's gates, 
Make nie a saint by getting meals, and washing up the 

Although I must have Martha's hands, I have a Mary mind; 
And when I black the boots and shoes, Thy sandals, Lord, 

I find. 
I think of how they trod the earth, what time I scrub the 

Accept this meditation, Lord, I haven't time for more. 

Warm all the kitchen with Thy love, and light it with Thy 


Forgive me all my worrying, and make all grumbling cease. 
Thou Who didst love to give men food, in room, or by the 

Accept this service/that I do I do it unto Thee. 

M. K> H. 

/A Certain Rich Man 

" Sell all thqfu hast and give it to the poor." 

This was not said to all, so we are told. 

But to one young man loaded down with gold, 

Who heard Thee, and went sadly through the door. 

Would it were so! Of this thing I am sure: 

I must let go the riches that I fold 

Against my breast. Lord, cut them from my hold. 

In surgery alone can be my cure. 


Gold I have none, but what I treasure most, 
That is my wealth: the thing that I must give. 
Easier goes camel through the needle's eye 
Than rich man into heaven. Be riches lost 
To me for ever that the poor may live, 
Lost lest the rich man empty-handed die. 

Theodore Maynard 

City Trees 

The trees along our city streets 

Are lovely, gallant things; 
Their roots lie deep in blackened soil, 

And yet they spread their wings 

Of branching green or fretted twigs 

Beneath a sullen sky, 
And when the wind howls banshee-like 

They bow to passers-by. 

In Fall their leaves are bannerets 

Of dusty red and gold 
And fires dim that warm our hearts 

Against the coming cold. 

Then delicate through Winter's snow 

Each silhouette still makes 
Black filigree, with frostings rare 

Of silver powdered flakes. 

But leafed or bare, they bravely rise 

With healing in their wings 
The trees along our city streets 

Are lovely, gallant things. 

Vere Dargan 


Prayer Hymn 

Lord of all pots and pans and things, since I've no time to be 
A Saint by doing lovely things, or watching late with Thee, 
Or dreaming in the dawnlight, or storming Heaven's gates, 
Make me a saint by getting meals, and washing up the 

Although I must have Martha's hands, I have a Mary mind; 
And when I black the boots and shoes, Thy sandals, Lord, 

I find. 
I think of how they trod the earth, what time I scrub the 

Accept this meditation, Lord, I haven't time for more. 

Warm all the kitchen with Thy love, and light it with Thy 


Forgive me all my worrying, and make all grumbling cease. 
Thou Who didst love to give men food, in room, or by the 

Accept this service that I do I do it unto Thee. 

M . K. H. 

Certain Rich Man 

" Sell alL&ou hast and give it to the poor." 

This was not said to all, so we are told, 

But toi one young man loaded down with gold, 

Who heard Thee, and went sadly through the door. 

Would it were so! Of this thing I am sure: 

I must let go the riches that I fold 

Against my breast. Lord, cut them from my hold. 

In surgery alone can be my cure. 


Gold I have none, but what I treasure most, 
That is my wealth: the thing that I must give. 
Easier goes camel through the needle's eye 
Than rich man into heaven. Be riches lost 
To me for ever that the poor may live, 
Lost lest the rich man empty-handed die. 

Theodore Maynard 

City Trees 

The trees along our city streets 

Are lovely, gallant things; 
Their roots lie deep in blackened soil, 

And yet they spread their wings 

Of branching green or fretted twigs 

Beneath a sullen sky, 
And when the wind howls banshee-like 

They bow to passers-by. 

In Fall their leaves are bannerets 

Of dusty red and gold 
And fires dim that warm our hearts 

Against the coming cold. 

Then delicate through Winter's snow 

Each silhouette still makes 
Black filigree, with frostings rare 

Of silver powdered flakes. 

But leafed or bare, they bravely rise 

With healing in their wings 
The trees along our city streets 

Are lovely, gallant things. 

Vere Dargan 


At Carcassonne 

Down the valleys of Languedoc, 

Where the ghosts of knights and troubadours flock, 

Hiding by day and riding by night, 

When the road in the moonlight is silvery white 

So we journeyed on and on 

Up to the Cite of Carcassonne. 

Three score towers against the sky 

Like mailed fists clenched and lifted high; 

Tall battlements; a grim chateau; 

And round and round the gray walls go. 

A drawbridge here, a postern there, 

Loopholes for archers everywhere, 

And moat and scarp and barbicans 

All built in the days of high romance. 

Gaul and Roman, Goth and Moor 

Fought and wrought on this hill, and sure, 

If ever war was glorified 

By chivalry and song beside, 

It must have been when Charles the Great, 

Simon de Montfort and Louis the Saint 

Stormed this town or held its towers, 

And tournaments filled the quieter hours; 

Or when Bernart Alanhan of old Narbonne, 

As a troubadour guest of Carcassonne, 

Sang of the brave knights' feats of war 

And the beautiful ladies they did them for. 

Troubadours, ladies and knights are gone. 

No flags fly over Carcassonne 

Save the banners of sunset aflame in the sky 

As the one-armed watchman passes by. 

Here in the scenes of old romance, 

He lifts a voice for peace in France. 


He told me his story yesterday, 

And now he halts on his round to say: 

" How noble this business of fighting appears 

Through the mist and haze of a thousand years. 

Still they call it right against wrong, 

And deck it with banners and bugles and song. 

But this I pray God and Our Lady for 

In my children's time may there be no war." 

Winfred Ernest Garrison 

A Country Church 

I think God seeks this house, serenely white, 
Upon this hushed, elm-bordered street, as one 

With many mansions seeks, in calm delight, 
A boyhood cottage intimate with sun. 

I think God feels Himself the Owner here, 
Not just rich Host to some self-seeking throng, 

But Friend of village folk who want Him near 
And offer Him simplicity and song. 

No stained-glass windows hide the world from view, 

And it is well. The world is lovely there, 
Beyond clear panes, where branch-scrolled skies look 

And fields and hills, in morning hours of prayer. 

God spent His youth with field and hill and tree, 
And Christ grew up in rural Galilee. 

Violet Alleyn Storey 


The Song of the Dial 

The Dial faced the summer sun, 

The garden blossomed all around; 
If happiness could bless a scene 

I felt that here was holy ground; 
Afar I heard the chime of bells, 

And caught a glimpse of gleaming towers, 
And all the while the Dial sang, 

Until the dell with echoes rang, 
" I only count the shining hours." 

And as the years go fleeting by, 

And locks of brown are flecked with grey, 
And shadows loom across the rim 

Of what was once a perfect day, 
There swings a cadence through my brain, 

A cadence born of sun and flowers, 
When all the dell enchanted rang 

With that dear song the Dial sang: 
" I only count the shining hours." 

Peter Airey 

Star of Bethlehem 

Star that led the Wise Men from the East, 
Shine on our revels sanctify our feast! 

They sought the Prince of Peace: we seek Him, too: 
But not with myrrh and frankincense with rue, 

The Flower of Repentance, meet for those 
Who saw the Light and yet the Darkness chose. 

Though sometimes it may wax and sometimes wane, 
Yet beams that Star yet beckons us again; 


Eternal challenge to the mystic Quest 

For Peace, which, till he find, man may not rest. 

And it shall shine until its task be done, 
With all men Brothers, and all nations One. 

Shine on our revels sanctify our feast, 
Star that led the Wise Men from the East I 

Florence Van Cleve 


We shall do so much in years to come, 
But what have we done today? 

We shall give our gold in a princely sum, 
But what did we give today? 

We shall lift the heart and dry the tear; 

We shall plant a hope in the place of fear; 

We shall speak the words of love and cheer, 
But what did we speak today? 

We shall be so kind in the afterwhile, 
But what have we been today? 

We shall bring to each lonely life a smile, 
But what have we brought today? 

Add to steadfast faith a deeper worth; 

We shall give to truth a grander birth; 

We shall feed the hungering souls of earth, 
But whom have we fed today? 

We shall reap such joys in the by and by, 
But what have we sown today? 

We shall build us mansions in the sky, 
But what have we built today? 


Tis sweet in idle dreams to bask; 
But, here and now do we do our task? 
Yes, this is the thing our souls must ask, 
" What have we done today? " 

Nixon Waterman 

The Words of the Gods 

Ever the words of the gods resound; 

But the porches of man's ear 
Seldom in this low life's round 

Are unsealed, that he may hear. 

Wandering voices in the air 

And murmurs in the wold 
Speak what I cannot declare, 

Yet cannot all withhold. 

But the meanings cleave to the lake, 
Cannot be carried in book or urn; 
Go thy ways now, come later back, 
On waves and hedges still they burn. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 
From " My Garden " 

New Dreams for Old 

God, who through ages past 
Guided our human way 

Out from the realms of night 
Into the fair today, 

No gift wilt Thou withhold 

Give us new dreams for old. 


All nations claim Thy name, 

Yet were they born of hate; 
Kill! was their ancient cry: 

Good will has come, though late. 
Now that war's tale is told, 
Give us new dreams for old. 

Where battles once raged sore 

Lo! Spring is in the air. 
O'er all the lands of earth 

Hope rears her castles fair. 
These days the bards foretold 
Give us new dreams for old. 

All men shall brothers be 

Throughout the earth. 
Love's kingdom dawns at last, 

Joy comes at last to birth. 
Faith sees an age of gold 
Give us new dreams for old! 

Thomas Curtis Clark 

Life Is a Narrow Vale 

Life is a narrow vale between the cold 

And barren peaks of two eternities. 

We strive in vain to look beyond the heights, 

We cry aloud; the only answer. 

Is the echo of our wailing cry. 

From the voiceless lips of the unreplying dead 

There comes no word; but in the night of death 

Hope sees a star, and listening love can hear 

The rustle of a wing. 


These myths were born of hopes, and fears and tears, 

And smiles; and they were touched and colored 

By all there is of joy and grief between 

The rosy dawn of birth and death's sad night; 

They clothed even the stars with passion, 

And gave to gods the faults and frailties 

Of the sons of men. In them the winds 

And waves were music, and all the lakes and streams, 

Springs, mountains, woods, and perfumed dells, 

Were haunted by a thousand fairy forms. 

Robert G. Ingersoll 

[From an address delivered after the death of his 

The Way, the Truth, and the Life 

thou great Friend to all the sons of men, 
Who once appear'dst in humblest guise below, 
Sin to rebuke, to break the captive's chain, 
To call Thy brethren forth from want and woe! 
Thee would I sing. Thy truth is still the light 
Which guides the nations groping on their way, 
Stumbling and falling in disastrous night, 
Yet hoping ever for the perfect day. 

Yes, Thou art still the life; Thou art the way 
The holiest know light, life, and way of heaven; 
And they who dearest hope and deepest pray 
Toil by the truth, life, way that Thou hast given; 
And in Thy name aspiring mortals trust 
To uplift their bleeding brothers rescued from the dust. 

Theodore Parker 



I'm going out! I'm tired of tables, chairs; 

I'm tired of walls that hedge me all about; 
I'm tired of rooms and ceilings, carpets, stairs, 

And so I'm going out! 

Somehow or other what I need today 
Are skies, and birds that carol, 

winds that shout! 
I want Dame Nature's friendship. 

Thus I say, 
" Good-bye I'm going out! " 

It's just house-tiredness. Trivial humdrum strain! 

Monotony! But when I've climbed the hill, 
My heart, refreshed, will laugh and sing again, 

Dear home! I'll love it still! 

Ian Drag 

The Fugitives 

We are they that go, that go, 
Plunging before the hidden blow. 
We run the byways of the earth, 
For we are fugitive from birth, 
Blindfolded, with wide hands abroad 
That sow, that sow the sullen sod. 

We cannot wait, we cannot stop 
For flushing field or quickened crop; 
The orange bow of dusky dawn 
Glimmers our smoking swath upon; 
Blindfolded still we hurry on. 


How do we know the ways we run 
That are blindfolded from the sun? 
We stagger swiftly to the call, 
Our wide hands feeling for the wall 

Oh, ye who climb to some clear heaven, 
By grace of day and leisure given, 
Pity us, fugitive and driven 
The lithe whip curling on our track, 
The headlong haste that looks not back! 

Florence Wilkinson 

New Year's Thoughts 

Let us walk softly, friends; 
For strange paths lie before us all untrod, 
The New Year, spotless from the hand of God, 

Is thine and mine, friend. 

Let us walk straightly, friend; 
Forget the crooked paths behind us now, 
Press on with steadier purpose on our brow, 

To better deeds, friend. 

Let us walk gladly, friend; 
Perchance some greater good than we have known 
Is waiting for us, or some fair hope flown 

Shall yet return, friend. 

Let us walk humbly, friend; 

Slight not the heart ? s-ease blooming round our feet; 

The laurel blossoms are not half so sweet, 
Or lightly gathered, friend. 


Let us walk kindly, friend; 
We cannot tell how long this life shall last, 
How soon these precious years be overpast; 

Let Love walk with us, friend. 

Let us walk quickly, friend; 
Work with our might while lasts our little stay, 
And help some halting comrade on the way; 

And may God guide us, friend. 

Lillian Gray 

The Making of the Soul of Man 

I am grown haggard and forlorn, from dreams 

That haunt me, of the time that is to be, 

When man shall cease from wantonness and strife, 

And lay his law upon the course of things. 

Then shall he live no more on sufferance, 

An accident, the prey of powers blind; 

The untamed giants of nature shall bow down 

The tides, the tempest and the lightning cease 

From mockery and destruction, and be turned 

Unto the making of the soul of man. 

Upton Sinclair 

Witness of God 

If sometimes I must hear good men debate 
Of other witness of Thyself than Thou, 
As if there needed any help of ours 
To nurse Thy flickering life, that else must cease, 
Blown out, as 'twere a candle, by men's breath, 
My soul shall not be taken in their snare, 
To change her inward surety for their doubt 


Muffled from sight in formal robes of proof: 
While she can only feel herself through Thee, 
I fear not Thy withdrawal; more I fear, 
Seeing, to know Thee not, hoodwinked with dreams 
Of signs and wonders, while, unnoticed, Thou, 
Walking Thy garden still, commun'st with men, 
Missed in the commonplace of miracle. 

James Russell Lowell 
From "The Cathedral" 

In the Carpenter Shop 

I wish I had been His apprentice, 

To see Him each morning at seven, 
As he tossed His gray tunic about Him, 

The Master of earth and of heaven; 
When He lifted the lid of His work chest 

And opened His carpenter's kit, 
And looked at His chisels and augers, 

And took the bright tools out of it; 
When He gazed at the rising sun tinting 

The dew on the opening flowers, 
And He smiled at the thought of His Father 

Whose love floods this fair world of ours; 
When he fastened the apron about Him, 

And put on His working man's cap, 
And grasped the smooth haft of His hammer 

To give the bent woodwork a tap, 
Saying, " Lad, let us finish this ox yoke, 

The farmer must finish his crop," 
Oh, I wish I had been His apprentice 

And worked in the Nazareth shop. 

Author Unknown 



I almost never say my prayers, 
With smoothly folded eyes 

So many prayers go blundering 
Each day to paradise. 

I'd think that God would tire so 
Of prayers all neat and trim, 

When rows and rows of them each day 
March stiffly up to Him. 

I wait until some cool, fresh dawn 

When He goes down our walk, 
And then I run and slip my hand 

Within His hand and talk. 

Ellinor L. Norcross 

The Little Stones of Arlington 

Remembering a First Sight of the Arlington National 

I saw them shining in the sun, 
The little stones of Arlington; 
The endless rows of snowy stones, 
As cold as death, as white as bones. 

My eyes went counting, and I said: 
" Here lies a world of early dead; 
A buried world of light and love. 
And who shall count the cost thereof? " 


I saw strange shapes that seemed to pass 
Like ghosts upon the early grass, 
Like spectres marching, one by one, 
The little stones of Arlington. 

I heard a fife; I heard a drum. 
I heard a bugle calling " Come! " 
A thousand thousand soundless feet 
Went tramping down a ghostly street, 

A thousand thousand restless heads 
Were lifted from their earthy beds; 
And blood flowed out; I saw it run 
Upon the stones of Arlington. 

A thousand thousand tortured eyes 
Looked up unto the silent skies; 
And to my ears there came a sound 
Of voices from the silent ground. 

" It is not meet that men should die 
With fire and sword," the dead men cry. 
" The bitter price is paid in vain. 
Peace is not bought with dead men slain." 

I heard the words like clanging bells, 
I saw the battles and the hells, 
The rainy roads, the darkened sun. 
I saw the stones of Arlington. 

Tomorrow bits of silk will wave 
Above the grass on every grave, 
And blossoms plucked and borne with love. 
And who shall count the cost thereof? 


It is enough. Let men no more 
Spill blood of men on any shore; 
Nor smoke of battle cloud the sun; 
And no more stones in Arlington. 

Barbara Young 


When fell Thy dreadful shadow and it seemed 
That all was blackness, yet the silver gleamed 
Beyond the clouds; and, in the vanished years 
That once were darkened with remembered tears, 
I know these came to me at Thy commanding 
Kindness and Love and Understanding. 

Reginald C. Eva 

Profit and Loss 

Profit? Loss? 

Who shall declare this good that ill? 

When good and ill so intertwine 

But to fulfill the vast design 

Of an Omniscient Will? 

When seeming gain but turns to loss 

When earthly treasure proves but dross 

And what seemed loss but turns again 

To high, eternal gain? 

Wisest the man who does his best, 
And leaves the rest 
To Him who counts not deeds. alone, 
But sees the root, the flower, the fruit, 
And calls them one. 

John Oxenham 


The Flight of Youth 

There are gains for all our losses. 

There are balms for all our pain: 
But when youth, the dream, departs 
It takes something from our hearts, 

And it never comes again. 

We are stronger, and are better, 

Under manhood's sterner reign: 
Still we feel that something sweet 
Followed youth, with flying feet, 

And will never come again. 

Something beautiful is vanished, 

And we sigh for it in vain; 
We behold it everywhere, 
On the earth, and in the air, 

But it never comes again! 

Richard Henry Stoddard 

How Do I Love Thee 

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. 
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height 
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight 
For the ends of Being and Ideal Grace. 
I love thee to the level of every day's 
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. 
I love thee freely, as men strive for right; 
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. 
I love thee with the passion put to use 
In my old griefs; and with my childhood's faith. 


I love thee with a love I seemed to lose 
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, 
Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God choose, 
I shall but love thee better after death. 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning 

From Paracelsus 

Progress is 

The law of life, man is not Man as yet. 
Nor shall I deem his object served, his end 
Attained, his genuine strength put fairly forth, 
While only here and there a star dispels 
The darkness, here and there a towering mind 
O'erlooks its prostrate fellows: when the host 
Is out at once to the despair of night, 
When all mankind alike is perfected, 
Equal in full-blown powers then, not till then, 
I say, begins man's general infancy. 
For wherefore make account of feverish starts 
Of restless members of a dormant whole, 
Impatient nerves which quiver while the body 
Slumbers as in a grave? Oh, long ago 
The brow was twitched, the tremulous lids astir, 
The peaceful mouth disturbed; half -uttered speech 
Ruffled the lip, and then the teeth were set, 
The breath drawn sharp, the strong right hand clenched 


As it would pluck a lion by the jaw; 
The glorious creature laughed out, even in sleep! 
But when full roused, each giant-limb awake, 
Each sinew strung, the great heart pulsing fast, 
He shall start up and stand on his own earth, 
Then shall his long triumphant march begin, 


Thence shall his being date thus wholly roused, 

What he achieves shall be set down to him. 

When all the race is perfected alike 

As man, that is; all tended to mankind, 

And, man produced, all has its end thus far; 

But in completed man begins anew 

A tendency to God. Prognostics told 

Man's near approach; so in man's self arise 

August anticipations, symbols, types 

Of a dim splendor ever on before 

In that eternal circle life pursues. 

For men begin to pass their nature's bound, 

And find new hopes and cares which fast supplant 

Their proper joys and griefs; they grow too great 

For narrow creeds of right and wrong, which fade 

Before the unmeasured thirst for good; while peace 

Rises within them ever more and more. 

Such men are even now upon the earth, 

Serene amid the half-formed creatures round 

Who should be saved by them and joined with them. 

Robert Browning 

Soul Growth 

Rebellious heart, in the grip of fate, 

Have patience, waitl 

Calm you and hark to the great wind's blowing, 

Bearing winged seed to your hands for the sowing. 

Drive deep the plow of sorrow and pain, 

Turn up rich soil for the golden grain, 

Spare not the tears: they are needed as rain; 

Too long, too long has the field lain fallow, 

Now well prepared and no longer shallow. 

Please God, a soul is growing! 

Annerika Fries 


Memorial Day 

Strew the fair garlands where slumber the dead, 
Ring out the strains like the swell of the sea; 

Heart-felt the tribute we lay on each bed: 
Sound o'er the brave the refrain of the free, 

Sound the refrain of the loyal and free, 
Visit each sleeper and hallow each bed: 

Waves the starred banner from seacoast to sea; 
Grateful the living and honored the dead. 

Samuel F. Smith 


Life, believe, is not a dream, 

So dark as sages say; 
Oft a little morning rain 

Foretells a pleasant day: 
Sometimes there are clouds of gloom, 

But these are transient all; 
If the shower will make the roses bloom, 

Oh, why lament its fall? 
Rapidly, merrily, 

Life's sunny hours flit by, 
Gratefully, cheerily, 

Enjoy them as they fly. 

What though Death at times steps in, 

And calls our Best away? 
What though Sorrow seems to win, 

O'er Hope a heavy sway? 
Yet Hope again elastic springs, 

Unconquered, though she fell; 
Still buoyant are her golden wings, 

Still strong to bear us well. 


Manfully, fearlessly, 
The day of trial bear, 

For gloriously, victoriously, 
Can courage quell despair! 

Charlotte Bronte 

De Massa ob de SheepfoP 

De massa ob de sheepfoP 
Dat guards de sheepfoP bin 
Look out in de gloomerin 7 meadows, 
Wha'r de long night rain begin 
So he call to de hirelin' shepa'd, 
" Is my sheep, is dey all come in? " 
Oh den, says de hirelin 7 shepa'd: 
" Dey's some, dey's black and thin, 
And some, dey's po' oP wedda's; 
But de res 7 , dey's all brung in." 

Den de massa ob de sheepfoP, 

Dat guards de sheepfoP bin, 

Goes down in de gloomerin 7 meadows, 

Wha'r de long night rain begin 

So he le' down de'ba's ob de sheepfoP, 

Callin ? sof ', " Come in. Come in." 

Callin' sof, " Come in. Come in." 

Den up t'ro' de gloomerin 7 meadows, 
T'ro 7 de coP night rain and win", 
And up t'ro' de gloomerin' rain-paf , 
Wha'r de sleet fa' pie'cin' thin, 
De po' los ? sheep ob de sheepfoP, 
Dey all comes gadderin 7 in. 
De po' los 7 sheep ob de sheepfoP, 
Dey all comes gadderin' in, 

Sarah McClain Greene 



I Tramp a Perpetual Journey, 
Whitman, 42 

Song of the Open Road, Whit- 
man, 5 

The Best Road of All, Towne, 

The Sea Gypsy, Hovey, 286 

Ulysses (extract) , Tennyson, 54 

Age Is Opportunity, Longfel- 
low, 158 

As I Grow Old, Author Un- 
known, 240 

Growing Old, Baker, 206 

Invincible, Rockett, 55 

Life's Evening, Cowley, 37 

Life's Evening, Foulke, 211 

The Angel-Thief, Holmes, 292 

The Flight of Youth, Stod- 
dard, 320 

We Are Never Old, Emerson, 


He Who Ascends to Mountain- 
Tops, Byron, 259 

Old Earthworks, Sweeney , 210 

The Final Armistice, Cowgill, 

The Kings Are Passing Death- 
ward, Morton, 15 

The Torch, Dale, 126 

A Prayer for Today, Pace, 93 

Ascent, Blanden, 240 


Desire, Sharp, 236 

Dirt and Deity, Ginsberg, 193 

Far Distances, Clark, 199 

My House Has Windows, Maz- 
quida, 179 

The Anodyne, Cleghorn, 287 

The Cry of the Age, Garland, 

The Thing We Long For, 
Lowell, 234 

This Is Thy Hour, O Soul, 

Whitman, 204 

A Song of the Road, Bowles, 

Barter, Teasdale, 60 

My Neighbor's Roses, Cruder, 

Prayer, Schroy, 193 

Sic Vita, Braithwaite, 150 

Credo, Robinson, 223 

Credo, Symonds, 238 

Creeds, Partridge, 214 

Humanity, Dixon, 92 

-Kinship, Terry, 106 

My Country, Whitaker, 271 

O Heart, Rowntree, 127 

Slaves, Lowell, 88 

Tear Down the Walls, Mason, 

The Creedless Love, Foss, 29 



The Fellowship, Bates, 233 
The Humanitarian, Morgan, 


The Seekers, Auryansen, 222 
The Temple, Tennyson, 290 
The War at Home, Wattles, 


The White Christs, Phelps, 56 
The World Is One, White, 84 
Thy Kingdom Come! Wattles, 

What Shall Endure? Hartwich, 

When One Knows Thee, 2V 

gore, 149 

Builders, Ruskin, 102 
Building a Temple, Author 

Unknown, 167 
The Bridge-Builder, Drom- 

goole, 157 
We Shall Build Onl Kennedy, 


The Burden, Hearn, 291 
CALVARY, See also EASTER and 


Good Friday, Turner, 298 
Remembering Calvary, Young, 


Strength, Murton, 269 
A Piece of Clay, Author Un- 
known, 215 
A Prayer for Teachers, Emitio, 


The Child's Appeal, Cole, 161 

Bethlehem, Farrington, 178 
Christmas Today, Scruggs, 204 
December Twenty-Fourth, Sla- 
ter, 210 

Evaluation, Lennen, 172 
Star of Bethlehem, Van Cleve, 


A Country Church, Storey, 


Dedication, Tilden, 286 
New Temples, Robertson, 241 
The Life to Come, Shillito, 

Till We Have Built Jerusalem, 

Blake, 281 

Commonplaces, Coolidge, 179 
For Martha's Kitchen, Inch- 
fawn, 161 

God Give Me Joy, Clark, 248 
Prayer Hymn, M. K, H. t 304 
Attainment, Wilcox, 239 
Build a Fence of Trust, Butts, 


Faith, Meyer, 194 
Sealed Orders, Burton, 4 
The Place of Peace, Markham, 


When I Heard the Learn'd As- 
tronomer, Whitman, 154 

and JOY 

Diogenes, Eastman, 252 
Goshen, Frank, 98 
The Prayer Perfect, Riky, 

Who Loves the Rain, Shaw, 


Do You Fear the Wind? (7ar- 

land, 89 
If This Were Enough, Steven- 

$on t 17 



Life, Bronte, 323 

Prayer, Untermeyer, 2 

Rules for the Road, Markham, 


Sonnet, Mitchell, 78 
The Happy Warrior, Words- 
worth, 62 

Three Things, Gunderson, 118 

Ave Crux, Spes Unica! Shil- 

lito, 102 
Golgotha's Cross, Kresensky, 


Somewhere, Cochrane, 195 
The Cross, Watte, 217 

Greatly Begin! Lowell, 167 
Recompense, M or eland, 212 
Resolve, Oilman, 246 
Today, Author Unknown, 209 
A Little Work, du Maurier, 


At Last, Whittier, 275 
Auf Wiedersehen, Longfellow, 


Death, Babcock, 173 
Death at Daybreak, Aldrich, 

Elegy Written in a Country 

Churchyard, Gray, 27 
Fidele, Shakespeare, 262 
Hour of Death, Hemans, 197 
I Accept, Pulsifer, 260 
Leaf After Leaf Drops Off, 

Landor, 233 
Life Is a Narrow Vale, In- 

gersoll, 311 

O That Twere Possible, Ten- 
nyson, 143 
Remember, Rossetti, 189 

Songs in Absence, Clough, 65 
Thanatopsis (extract), Bryant, 


The Rubaiyat of Omar Khay- 
yam (extract) , Fitzgerald, 

The Silent Voices, Tennyson, 


The Stirrup-Cup, Lanier, 35 
The Undiscovered Country, 

Shakespeare, 211 
Under the Harvest Moon, 

Sandburg, 29 
Various the Roads of Life, 

Landor, 195 

When I Go Home, Lee, 201 

and DUTY 

The Aim of Life, Bailey, 215 
The Greatest Work, Author 

Unknown, 277 
Failures, Vpson, 16 
For Those Who Fail, Miller, 


lo Victis, Story, 14 
The Proud, Frost, 115 
The Song of the Unsuccessful, 

Burton, 113 
They Went Forth to Battle, 

but They Always Fell, 

O'Sheel, i 

Apprehension, Fraser, 157 

Adios, Miller, 243 
Ah, Love, Let Us Be True, 

Arnold, 170 

Coral Islands, Ginsberg, 147 
" A Faithless Generation Asked 

a Sign," Haley, 249 
Dream-Pedlary, Beddoes, 224 



Dreamers of Dreams, Carruth, 

Only the Dream Is Real, 

Scruggs, 85 
Thank God for Fools'. Author 

Unknown, 130 
To Young Dreamers, Trent, 

We Are the Music-Makers, 

O'Shaughnessy, n 
DUTY, See also DEEDS and DAILY 

Duty Our Ladder, Leighton, 


Quatrain, Emerson, 214 
Vitae Lampada, Newbolt, 264 
We Cannot Kindle, Arnold, 



Earth's Story, Clark, 231 
EXPERIENCE, See also LIFE and 

Experience, Tennyson, 225 

Sound, Sound the Clarion, 

Scott, 205 


A Question, Forsyth, 170 

Faith, Maynard, 81 

Faith, Wttcox, 107 

Faith and Science, Clark, 

I Would Not Always Reason, 
Bryant, 86 

Talk Faith, Wticox, 226 

The Question Whither, Mere- 
dith, 20 

The Rivals, Whitaker, 145 

The Tide of Faith, Eliot, $3 

The Watchers of the Sky (ex- 
tract), Noyes, 171 

I Would Be Great, Me- 

Cracken, 101 

Fortune, Shakespeare, 108 

Pass On the Torch, Cross, 51 


Friends and Enemies, Emer- 
son, 180 
Friends Old and New, Author 

Unknown, 212 
Gone, Coleridge, 213 
Mizpah, Baker, in 
The Face of a Friend, van 

Dyke, 25 

The Feast, Cunningham, 128 
The Music of a Friend, Le~ 

doux, xix 
Stone Walls Do Not a Prison 

Make, Lovelace, 242 
GARDENS, See also NATURE and 


A Garden Prayer, Walsh, 242 
Where Is Heaven? Carman, 



Gifts, Comstock, 105 
Grace for Grace, Pearse, 114 
Heaven in My Hand, Kresen- 
sky, 245 

Altruism, Jordan, 38 
Beyond Electrons, Love, 73 
Changeless, Divall, 203 
Discovery, Kresensky, 266 
Eternal Good, Whitaker, 258 
God, Emerson, 142 
God Behind All, Browning, 

God Is Here, Aaron, 41 



In the Vastness, a God, Author 
Unknown, 151 

That Which Made Us, Tenny- 
son f 281 

The All-Seeing Gods, Long- 
fellow, 190 

The Anvil of God's Mercy, 
Wood, 200 

The Back of God, Perkins, 

The Heart's Proof, Buckham, 

The Indwelling God, Hosmer, 


The King, Butts, 219 
The Seeker After God, Kemp, 


The Voice of God, Newman, 

Where is God? Savage, n 

Because of Thy Great Bounty, 

Crowell, 235 


Death in Life, Author Un- 
known, 283 

Gold, Hood, 271 

Prayer for Miracle, Wickham, 

HAPPINESS, See also JOY and 

Thanks for Laughter, Prayers 

for an Indian College, 189 
The Song of the Dial, Airey, 

The White Peace, Macleod, 

HEROISM, See also COURAGE and 

Heroism, Emerson, 139 

Thank God for Fools, Author 
Unknown, 130 

The Hero, Bierce, 169 

House- Weary, Drag, 313 

My Little House, Byron, 131 

Prayer for a Little Home, Au- 
thor Unknown, 57 
HOPE, See also FAITH and CON- 

Expect, Merrill, 86 

In This Earth, Perfection, 
Whitman, 244 

The Goal, Browning, 258 

Three Words of Strength, 
Schiller, 58 

Work Without Hope, Cole- 
ridge, 218 

Honors, Ingelow, 176 

Oh, Why Should the Spirit of 
Mortal be Proud? Knox, 

Simon and Judas, Porter, 106 

The Newer Vainglory, Ros~ 
setti, 44 

The Shepherd Boy Sings, 
Bunyan, 191 

Your Place, Oxenham, 177 

At Last, Wkitticr, 275 

Beyond the Horizon, Freeman, 

Beyond This, the Infinite, 
Browning f 145 

Chiaroscuro, Thompson, 91 

Consummation, White, 25 

Deathless, Whitman, n 

Forever, O'Reilly, 137 

I Accept, Pvlsifer, 260 

Immortality, Johnson, 72 

Knowledge, Clark, 116 

Legacies, Wetherald, 59 



Life Is Ever Lord of Death, 
Whittier, fi 

Life Shall Live For Evermore, 
Tennyson, 91 

Ode on Intimations of Immor- 
tality (extract), Words- 
worth, $2 

Our Dead, Markham, 150 

Prayer in April, Hay, 69 

Release, Paxton, 259 

Reunited, Parker, 245 

Song of the Silent Land, Long- 
fellow, 251 

The Chariot, Dickinson, 173 

The Goal, Browning, 258 

The Life to Come, ShUHto, 


The One Remains, Keats, 116 
The Question Whither, Mere- 
dith, 20 

The Secret, Moreland, 107 
The Undying Soul, Whittier, 


Vastness, Tennyson, 194 
Wages, Tennyson, no 
We Shall Attain, Kenyon, 67 
What of the Darkness? Le 

Gallienne f 76 
A Narrow Window, Coates, 

Because of You, Cestrian, 

Making Life Worth While, 

Eliot, 239 

Not in Solitude, Myers, 236 
The Arrow and the Song, 

Longfellow, 187 
The Splendor Falls, Tennyson, 

There Was a Child Went 

Forth, Whitman, 252 
Words, Author Unknown, 230 

Blow, Blow, Thou Winter 

Wind, Shakespeare, 268 
In Prison, Wilde, 267 
Incident, Cutten, 273 
King Cotton, Money, 274 
Men Have Forged, Sigmund, 


The Fugitives, Wilkinson, 313 
The Women Toilers, Evans, 


A Knight of Bethlehem, 

Maughan, 252 
As the Sculptor, Kagawa, 


Comrade Christ, Bright, 237 
De Massa ob de Shcepfol', 

Greene, 324 

Good Friday, Turner, 298 
If Jesus Came Back Today, 

Bums, 37 
"In No Strange Land," 

Thompson , 13 

In the Carpenter Shop, Au- 
thor Unknown, 316 
Integrity, Stidger, 225 
Joses, the Brother of Jesus, 

Kemp, 5 

Nicodemus, Kemp, 79 
Strength, Murtcn, 269 
The Captains of the Years, 

Macdougall, 300 
The Law of Love, Oscenham, 


The Lost Christ, Clark, 32 
The Man of Sorrows, Author 

Unknown, 250 
The Master of My Boat, 

Richards, 87 
The Shadow of the Loom, 

Miller, 192 



The Way, the Truth and the 

Life, Parker, 312 
Via Lucis, Robbins, 130 
Villanelle, Sullivan, 164 
JOY, See also HAPPINESS and 


Joy and Sorrow, De Vere, 23 
Peace and Joy, Kennedy, in 
Unquestioning, Blake, 255 
A Morning Prayer, Wilcox, 


Beauty, Sinclair, 49 
Count That Day Lost, Eliot, 


Give Me a Gentle Heart, 
Thomas, 296 

Nobility, Gary, 247 

What Is Good? O'Reilly, 89 

Glory to Them, Scruggs, 11$ 

God-Appointed Work, Inge- 
low, 136 

Prayer of the Unemployed, 

Kresensky, 253 


Days, Baker, 244 

Days, Stone, 116 

Death in Life, Author Un- 
known, 283 

Four Things to Do, van Dyke, 

Human Life, Mallock, 207 

If This Is AH, Asbury, *97 

It Is Not Growing Like a 
Tree, Jonson, 237 

Life, Bonar, 208 

Life, Bronte, 323 

Life, Browning, 180 

Life, Vories, 90 

Life Is a Narrow Vale, Inget~ 
soil, 311 

Life Owes Me Nothing, Au- 
thor Unknown, 16 
Life's Finest Things, Burgess, 

My Spirit Will Grow Up, 

Henderson, 227 
Patchwork, Scollard, 172 
She Is Wise, Our Ancient 

Mother, Baker, 207 
Ships That Pass in the Night, 

Longfellow, 96 
Song, Blanden, 202 
The Aim of Life, B alley, 215 
The Life of Man, Thayer, 231 
The Miser, Everett, 52 
The Seven Ages of Man, 

Shakespeare, 42 
Three Steps, Bates, 60 
Time, Schiller, 215 
Abraham Lincoln Walks at 

Midnight, Lindsay, 9 
At the Lincoln Memorial, 

Brooks, 148 
The Man from Sangamon, at 

Gettysburg, Young, 287 
Young Lincoln, Markham, 369 

A Death in the Desert (ex- 
tract), Browning, i$6 
All in All, Tabb, 213 
And the Greatness of These , 

Perkins, 155 
Deserts, Hamilton, 195 
Food, Tobias, 177 
Horizons, Scollard, 284 
How Do I Love Thee, Brown~ 

ing, 320 
If Love Be Ours, Tennyson, 


Live and Love, Browning, 113 
Love, Shakespeare, 228 
Love, Thoreau, 74 



Love and Life, Garrison, 278 
Love and Life, Timrod, 209 
Love Comes, Crosby, 125 
Love Over All, From an Eng- 
lish Sun Dial, 30 
Love Suffereth Long, Hay, 97 
Love's Strength, King, 251 
Persuasion, Wordsworth, 162 
Prometheus Unbound (ex- 
tract), Shelley, 289 
Sonnet, Ficke, 139 
The Forgotten Countersign, 

Robinson, 82 
The Heart Is a Strange Thing, 

Hopkins, 99 

The Judgment, Bates, 6 
The Law of Love, Oxenham, 

The Pathway to Paradise, 

Davis, 77 

The Survivor, Knowles, 46 
The Teachers, Pilcher, 190 
The Vision, Braithwaite, 140 
True Love, Lowell, 148 
Ye Who Taste That Love Is 

Sweet, Rossetti, 156 

In After Days, Dob son, 192 
Loyalties, Cutter, 41 
The Traitor, Lowell, 215 
Thou Must Be True, Bonar, 

MAN, See also HUMANITY and 

Bring Me Men, Foss, 22 
From Old to New, Browning, 


Humanity, Dixon, 92 
In Men Whom Men Con- 
demn, Miller, 228 
Man, Shakespeare, 22 
Man Is His Own Star, Fletcher, 


Paracelsus (extract), Brown- 
ing, 321 

The Making of the Soul of 
Man, Sinclair, 315 

This Is the Making of Man, 
Leonard, 228 

Which Is Me? Author Un- 
known, 303 


Civilization, Coblentz, 229 
Dreams, Raskin, 299 
The Ways of the Gods, Co- 
blentz, 170 


Carry On, Clark, 285 
How Shall We Honor Them? 

Scruggs, 218 

In Flanders Fields, McCrae, 4 
Memorial Day, Brooks, 292 
Memorial Day, Smith, 323 
Mothers of Men, Burr, 36 

Memories, Towne, 297 

A Miracle, Klingle, 162 
Miracles, Whitman, 80 

Foreign Missions in Battle Ar- 
ray, Lindsay, 95 

A Mother Understands, Ken- 
nedy, 144 

Mothers of Men, Burr, 36 
The Greatest Battle That Ever 

Was Fought, Miller, 129 

and TREES 

A Leaf of Grass, Whitman, 31 
A Strip of Blue, Larcom, 246 
Among the Ferns, Carpenter, 



Autumn Leaves, Hopkins, i$i 
Discovery, Partnenter, 285 
God Hide the Whole World in 

Thy Heart, Emerson, 254 
God's Book, Kramer, 243 
House-Weary, Drag, 3*3 
In the Woods, Emerson, 12 
Let All the Earth Keep Si- 
lence, Adee, 255 
Life's Finest Things, Burgess, 


Memory, Aldrich, S 1 
Miracle, Bailey, 9 2 
Miracles, Whitman, So 
Mountain Air, Galsworthy, 7 
Nature and Religion, Foss, 47 
Nature's Sorrow Cure, Co- 

blentz, 202 
Out in the Fields With God, 

Browning, 178 
Prayer in April, J5T^, 69 
Riches, Loveman, 85 
Rhythm, Emerson, 256 
Spring, Maddock, 241 
Sunrise, Browning, 26 
The Poem I Should Like to 

Write, Wfades, 75 
The Silent Places, Hildreth, 

The Splendor Falls, Tennyson, 


The Vision of Sir Launfal (ex- 
tract), Lowell, 39 

The Words of the Gods, 
Emerson, 3 IC _ . 

Whence Cometh My Help, 

Montgomery, iS9 
NEW DAY, THE, See also AR- 

Children of Tomorrow, Cafe, 

Our Country, Strong, 282 

Song of the New World, JW or- 
gan, 220 

The City's Crown, Foulke, 171 
The Ideal City, Gladden, 8 
The New City, Wilkinson, 301 
The Spring of God, Percy, 39 
The Temple, Tennyson, 290 
Till We Have Built Jerusalem, 

Blake, 281 

To Whom Shall the World 
Henceforth Belong? Oxen- 
ham, 21 
We Are the Music-Makers, 

O'Shaughnessy, n 
A New Year, Dames, 79 
A Prayer for the New Year, 

Armitage, 34 
New Year's Thoughts, Gray, 


Be Noble, Lowell, 223 
In His Sight, Baker, 230 
One Thing, Meredith, 184 
Opportunity, Markham, 2 
The Lost Key, Leonard, 135 
Three Things Come Not Back, 

from the Arabic, 65 
Today, Davis, 141 
Too Late, Tennyson, 165 
Use Well the Moment, Goethe, 


Yesterday, Crane, 166 
At the Place of the Sea, Flint, 


Patience, Kennedy, 30 
Soul Growth, Fries, 322 
Two Trails, Wilcox, 166 



Our Country, Strong, 282 
To My Countrymen, John- 
son, 26 
What Makes a Nation Great? 

Blackburn, 68 

At Carcassonne, Garrison, 306 
Carry On, Clark, 285 
Let Us Have Peace, Turner, 

The Flag of Peace, Oilman, 

New Dreams for Old, Clark, 



Be Merciful, McFarland, 94 
Blessed, Author Unknown, 220 
Choice, Elliott, 46 
Devotions, Norcross, 317 
Gilead, Clapp, 155 
God Hears Prayer, Fuller, 69 
Orisons, Poteat, 138 
The Prayer Perfect, Riley, 147 
The Right Use of Prayer, 

De Vere, 184 

The Sentinel, Author Un- 
known, 232 

Two Prayers, Oilman, 95 
At the Place of the Sea, Flint, 


Eternal Good, Whittier, 258 
Fulfillment, Newton, 188 
On Life's Way, Deems, 240 
Our Father's Door, Holmes, 214 
Profit and Loss, Oxenham, 319 
The Builders, van Dyke, 143 
The Eternal Goodness, Whit- 
tier, 144 
The Master of My Boat, 

Richards, 87 
The Overheart, Emerson, 109 

Whichever Way the Wind 

Doth Blow, Mason, 52 
The Pure Heart, Tennyson, 

RELIGION, See also BELIEF and 

Nature and Religion, Foss, 


My Prayer, Pearse, 206 

For Sleep When Overtired, 
Cleghorn, 209 

Rest Where You Are, Cleaves, 

The Hills of Rest, Paine, 160 

True Rest, Goethe, 167 
and GOD 

Each and All, Emerson, 103 

Eternity in an Hour, Blake, 

In the Garden of the Lord, 
Keller, 197 

Our Known Unknown, Brown- 
ing, 33 

Sunsets, Davis, 234 

The Revelation, Manchester, 

The Words of the Gods, Em- 
erson, 310 

Witness of God, Lowell, 315 
RICHES, See also GREED, MA- 

A Certain Rich Man, May- 
nard, 304 

Riches, Loveman, 8$ 

A Man Must Live, Author 
Unknown, 18$ 

The Way of Sacrifice, Arnold, 



Unto Each His Handiwork, 

Swinburne, 242 

Nameless Saints, Taylor, 97 

Faith and Science, Clark, 226 

The Patient Scientists, Woods, 



Refusal, Kresensky, 283 

A Prayer, Burkholder, 180 

Because of Thy Great Bounty, 
Crowell, 235 

Eucharist, Root, 64 

Look Up, Hale, 160 

My Church, Author Unknown, 

Perfection, Fargo, 213 

Prayer, Jackson, 98 

The Greatest Work, Author 
Unknown, 277 

The Will to Serve, Gilder, 201 

Today, O Lord, Babcock, 33 

Two at a Fireside, Markham, 


Quiet Things, /. W. f 117 

Reflections, Becker, 191 

Silence, Barnett, 96 

Sonnet, Trench, 142 

Convinced by Sorrow, Brown- 
ing, 220 

Joy and Sorrow, De Vere, 23 

Sorrow, Eva, 319 

Tears, Browning, 196 

Tears, Reese, 174 

The Friendly Faces of Old 
Sorrows, Baker, no 


He Who Ascends to Moun- 
tain-Tops, Byron, 259 
The Way to Power, Tenny- 
son, 229 

Before, Leitch, 150 
Dedication, TMen, 286 
Discovery, Kresensky, 266 
If You Have Made Gentler 
the Churlish World, Ehr- 
mann, 176 

On Broadway, Viereck, 88 
Refusal, Kresensky, 283 
The Cry of the Age, Garland, 


The Human Touch, Burton, 141 
The Women Toilers, Evans, 


For Transient Things, Me- 

Peek, 105 
Thanks, Gale, 136 
Thanksgiving, Qxenham, 48 
The Undiscovered Country, 

Howells, 94 

Today, Author Unknown, 209 
Today, Carlyle, 168 
Today, Waterman, 309 
Today and Tomorrow, Pom- 

eroy, 181 

You and Today, Wflcox, 233 
A Leafless Tree, Thompson, 


City Trees, Dargan, 305 
The Heart of the Tree,. Bun- 

ner, 100 

The House of the Trees, 
Wether old, 256 



Tree-Building, Cable, 164 
Trees, Clark, 183 

Magna Est Veritas, Patmore, 


Mutability, Wordsworth, 187 
O Purblind Race, Tennyson, 225 
Truth, Crushed to Earth, Bry- 
ant, 59 

Truth Never Dies, Author Un- 
known, 158 

I, Too, Have Known, George, 


Io Victis, Story, 14 
Victory in Defeat, Markham, 


Light, Wilkinson, 181 
Lone-Land, Tabb, 50 
The Things That Endure, 

Wilkinson, 249 

An Old Battle-Field, Stanton, 


Death-Grapple, Everett, 297 
Deliver Us From . . . , Burr, 


Five Souls, Ewer, 121 
If War Is Right, Corbin, 124 
Men Have Forged, Sigmund, 

The Battle of Blenheim, 

Southey, 261 

The Lament of the Voiceless, 

Everett, 261 
The Little Stones of Arlington, 

Young, 317 
The Man-Hunt, Sandburg, 

The Unknown Soldier, Rhinow, 

Wage-Slaves to War-Makers, 

Cheyney, 120 
War, Root, 122 
Whence Cometh War? Whit- 

aker, 118 

The Wise, Arnold, 64 
Wisdom, Hicky, 217 
What Our Lord Wrote in the 

Dust, Author Unknown, 


Woman and Man, Tennyson, 


On Entering a Chapel, David- 
son, 6 1 

Worship, MacFie, 42 

In Defense of Youth, Barstow, 

Sometimes, Jones, 72 

The Flight of Youth, Stod- 
dard, 320 

The Land of Beginning Again, 
Tarkington, 70 

Youth, Jones, 68 


Aaron, Madeleine 

God Is Here, 41 
A dee, Lucy A. K. 

Let All the Earth Keep Silence, 

Airey, Peter 

The Song of the Dial, 308 
Aldrich, Anne Reeve 

Death at Daybreak, 205 
Aldrich, Thomas Bailey 

Memory, 51 
Armitage, Laura F. 

A Prayer for the New Year, 34 
Arnold, Edwin 

The Wise (translation), 64 
Arnold, Matthew 

Ah, Love, Let Us Be True, 170 

The Way of Sacrifice, 117 

We Cannot Kindle, 175 
Asbury, Alban 

If This Is All, 197 
Auryansen, Lucia Trevitt 

The Seekers, 222 
Babcock, Maltbie D. 

Death, 173 

Today, O Lord, 33 
Bailey, L. E. 

Miracle, 92 
Bailey, Philip J. 

The Aim of Life, 215 
Baker, Anna JR.. 

In His Sight, 230 
Baker, Julia A,. 

Mizpah, in 
Baker, Karle Wilson 

Days, 244 

Growing Old, 206 

She Is Wise, Our Ancient 
Mother, 207 

The Friendly Faces of Old Sor- 
rows, no 
Barnett, Mavis C. 

Silence, 96 
Barstow, Robbins Wolcott 

In Defense of Youth, 290 
Bates, Katharine Lee 

The Fellowship, 233 

The Judgment, 6 

Three Steps, 60 
Becker, Edna 

Reflections, 191 
Beddoes, Thomas Lovell 

Dream-Pedlary, 224 
Bennett, Gertrude Ryder 

These Times, 63 
Bierce, Ambrose 

The Hero, 169 
Blackburn, Alexander 

What Makes a Nation Great? 

Blake, William 

Eternity in an Hour, 165 

Great Things, 238 

Till We Have Built Jerusalem, 

Unquestioning, 255 
Blanden, Charles G. 

Ascent, 240 

Song, 202 
Bonar 9 Horatius 

Life, 208 

Thou Must Be True, 146 




Bowles, Fred G. 

A Song of the Road, 303 
Braithwaite, William Stanley 

Sic Vita, 150 

The Vision, 140 
Bright, Verne 

Comrade Christ, 237 
Bronte, Charlotte 

Life, 323 
Brooks, William E. 

At the Lincoln Memorial, 148 

Memorial Day, 292 
Browning, Elizabeth Barrett 

Convinced by Sorrow, 220 

How Do I Love Thee, 320 

Live and Love, 113 

Out in the Fields With God, 

Tears, 196 
Browning, Robert 

A Death in the Desert (ex- 
tract), 156 

Beyond This, the Infinite, 14$ 

From Old to New, 241 

God Behind All, 203 

Life, 1 80 

Our Known Unknown, 33 

Paracelsus (extract), 321 

Sunrise, 26 

The Goal, 258 
Bryant, William Cullen 

I Would Not Always Reason, 

Thanatopsis (extract), 19 

Truth, Crushed to Earth, 59 
Buckham, James 

The Heart's Proof, 226 
Bunner, Henry C. 

The Heart of the Tree, 100 
Bunyan, John 

The Shepherd Boy Sings, 191 
Burgess, Bangs 

Life's Finest Things, 75 

Burkholder, Clarence M. 

A Prayer, 180 
Burns, Vincent Godfrey 

If Jesus Came Back Today, 37 
Burr, Amelia J. 

Deliver Us From . . ., 123 

Mothers of Men, 36 
Burton, Richard 

Sealed Orders, 4 

The Human Touch, 141 

The Song of the Unsuccessful, 

Butts, Mary F. 

Build a Fence of Trust, 276 

The King, 219 
Byron, George Gordon 

He Who Ascends to Mountain- 
Tops, 259 
Byron, May 

My Little House, 131 
Cable, Franklin 

Tree-Building, 164 
Carlyle, Thomas 

Today, 168 
Carman, Bliss 

Where Is Heaven? 34 
Carpenter, Edward 

Among the Ferns (extract) , 43 
Carruth, William Herbert 

Dreamers of Dreams, 58 
Cary, Alice 

Nobility (extract), 247 
Cestrian, W. 

Because of You, 235 
Chaplin, Ralph 

Mourn Not the Dead, 265 
Cheyney, Ralph 

Wage-Slaves to War-Makers, 


Clappf Mary Brennan 

Gflead, 155 
Clark, Henry W. 

Far Distances, 199 



Clark, Thomas Curtis 

Carry On, 285 

Earth's Story, 231 

Faith and Science, 226 

God Give Me Joy, 248 

Knowledge, 116 

New Dreams for Old, 310 

The Lost Christ, 32 

Trees, 183 
Cleaves, Charles Poole 

Rest Where You Are, 154 
Cleghorn, Sarah N. 

For Sleep When Overtired, 209 

The Anodyne, 287 
Clough, Arthur Hugh 

Songs in Absence (extract), 65 
Coates, Florence Earle 

A Narrow Window, 230 
Coblentz, Catherine Gate 

Nature's Sorrow Cure, 202 
Coblentz, Stanton A. 

Civilization, 229 

The Ways of the Gods, 170 
Cochrane, /. C. 

Somewhere, 195 
Cole, Mamie Gene 

The Child's Appeal, 161 
Coleridge, Mary E. 

Gone, 213 
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor 

Work Without Hope, 218 
Comstock, Mary Edgar 

Gifts, 105 
Coolidge, Susan 

Commonplaces, 179 
Corbin, Alice 

If War Is Right, 124 
CowgiU, Frank B. 

The Final Armistice, 126 
Cowley, Abraham 

Life's Evening, 37 
Crane, Frank 

Yesterday, 166 

Crosby, Ernest 

Love Comes, 125 
Cross, Allen Eastman 

Pass On the Torch, 51 
Crowell, Grace Noll 

Because of Thy Great Bounty, 

Cullen, Countee 

Incident, 273 
Cunningham, Nora B. 

The Feast, 128 
Cutter, Walter A. 

Loyalties, 41 
Dale, Arthur B. 

The Torch, 126 
Dargan, Vere 

City Trees, 305 
Davidson, John 

On Entering a Chapel, 61 
Dames, Mary Carolyn 

A New Year, 79 
Davis, Florence Boyce 

Sunsets, 234 
Davis, Ozora S. 

The Pathway to Paradise, 77 

Today, 141 
Deems, Charles F. 

On Life's Way, 240 
De Vere, Aubrey 

Joy and Sorrow, 23 

The Right Use of Prayer, 184 
Dickinson, Emily 

The Chariot, 173 
Divall, Edith Hickman 

Changeless, 203 
Dixon, Richard Watson 

Humanity, 92 
Dobson, Austin 

In After Days, 192 
Dowson, Ernest 

Vitae Summa Brevis, 54 
Drag, Ian 

House-Weary, 313 



Dromgoole, Will A. 

The Bridge Builder, 157 
du Maurier, George 

A Little Work, 101 
Eastman, Max 

Diogenes, 252 
Ehrmann, Max 

If You Have Made Gentler the 

Churlish World, 176 
Eliot, George 

Count That Day Lost, 19 

Making Life Worth While, 239 

The Tide of Faith, $3 
Elliott, Ellen Coil 

Choice, 46 
Emerson, Ralph Waldo 

Each and All, 103 

Forbearance, 277 

Friends and Enemies, 180 

God, 142 

God Hide the Whole World in 
Thy Heart, 254 

Heroism, 139 

In the Woods, 12 

Quatrain, 214 

Rhythm, 256 

The Words of the Gods, 310 

We Are Never Old, 266 
Emilio, Marguerite * 

A Prayer for Teachers, 175 
Eva, Reginald C. 

Sorrow, 319 
Evans, Grace Bowen 

The Women Toilers, 279 
Everett, Laura Bell 

Death-Grapple, 297 

The Lament of the Voiceless, 

The Miser, 52 
Ewer, W. N. 

Five Souls, 121 
Fargo, Ruth 

Perfection, 213 

Farrington, Harry Webb 

Bethlehem, 178 
Ficke, Arthur Davison 

Sonnet, 139 
Fischer, Helen Field 

The Mystic Borderland, 216 
Fitzgerald, Edward 

The Rubaiyat of Omar Khay- 
yam (extract), 131 
Fletcher, John 

Man Is His Own Star, 202 
Flint, Annie Johnson 

At the Place of the Sea, 273 
Forsyth, P. T. 

A Question, 170 
Foss, Sam Walter 

Bring Me Men, 22 

Nature and Religion, 47 

The Crcedless Love, 29 
Foulke, William Dudley 

Life's Evening, 211 

The City's Crown, 171 
Frank, Edgar 

Goshen, 98 
Fra$er, James A. 

Apprehension, 157 
Freeman, Robert 

Beyond the Horizon, 293 
Fries, Annerika 

Soul Growth, 322 
Frost, Frances M. 

The Proud, 115 
Fuller, Ethel Romig 

God Hears Prayer, 69 
Gale, Norman 

Thanks, 136 
Gale, Zona 

Children of Tomorrow, 188 

Voice, 219 
Galsworthy, John 

Mountain Air, 7 
Garland, Hamlin 

Do You Fear the Wind? 89 



The Cry of the Age, 278 
Garrison, Winfred Ernest 

At Carcassonne, 306 

Love and Life, 278 
George, Marguerite 

I, Too, Have Known, 140 
Gething, Peter 

Prayer, 36 
Gilder t Jeanette B, 

The Will to Serve, 201 
Gilman, Charlotte Perkins 

Resolve, 246 

The Flag of Peace, 276 

Two Prayers, 95 
Giltinan, Caroline 

The Hungry, 169 
Ginsberg, Louis 

Coral Islands, 147 

Dirt and Deity, 193 
Gladden, Washington 

The Ideal City, 8 
Goethe, /. W. von 

True Rest, 167 

Use Well the Moment, 72 
Gray, Lillian 

New Year's Thoughts, 314 
Gray, Thomas 

Elegy Written in a Country 

Churchyard (extract), 27 
Greene, Sarah McClain 

De Massa ob de SheepfoP, 324 
Grover, Edwin Osgood 

The Knapsack Trail, 135 
Gruber, Abraham 

My Neighbor's Roses, 204 
Gunderson, Gertrude B. 

Three Things, 118 
Hale, Edward Everett 

Look Up, 1 60 
Haley, Motty Anderson 

" A Faithless Generation Asked 

a Sign," 249 
Hamilton, Anne 

Deserts, 195 
Hartwich, Ethelyn R, 

What Shall Endure? 254 
Hay, Sara Henderson 

Love Suffereth Long, 97 

Prayer in April, 69 
Hearn, Marianne F. 

The Burden, 291 
Remans, Felicia Dorothea 

Hour of Death (extract), 197 
Henderson, Ruth Evelyn 

My Spirit Will Grow Up, 227 
Hicky, Daniel Whitehead 

Wisdom, 217 
Hildreth, Harold M. 

The Silent Places, 138 
Holmes, Oliver Wendell 

Our Father's Door, 214 

The Angel-Thief (extract), 292 
Hood, Thomas 

Gold, 271 
Hopkins, Minnie Case 

Autumn Leaves, 151 

The Heart Is a Strange Thing, 

Hosmer, Frederick Ludan 

The Indwelling God, 257 
Hovey t Richard 

The Sea Gypsy, 286 
Howetts, William Dean 

The Undiscovered Country, 94 
I. W. 

Quiet Things, 117 
Inchfawn, Fay 

For Martha's Kitchen, 161 
Ingelow, Jean 

God-Appointed Work, 136 

Honors, 176 
Ingersott, Robert G. 

Life Is a Narrow Vale, 311 
Jackson, Helen Hunt 

Not As I Will, 152 

Prayer, 98 



Johnson, Robert Underwood 

To My Countrymen, 26 
Johnson, Willis Fletcher 

Immortality, 72 
Jones, Thomas 5., Jr. 

Sometimes, 72 

Youth, 68 
Jonson, Ben 

It Is Not Growing Like a Tree, 

Jordan, David Starr 

Altruism, 38 
Kagawa, Toyohiko 

As the Sculptor, 263 
Keats, John 

The One Remains, 116 
Keller, Helen 

In the Garden of the Lord, 197 
Kemp, Harry 

Joses, the Brother of Jesus, 5 

Nicodemus, 79 

The Seeker After God, 45 
Kennedy, G. A. Studdert- 

A Mother Understands, 144 

Patience, 30 

Peace and Joy, in 

We Shall Build Oh! 182 
Kenyon, James B. 

We Shall Attain, 67 
King, H. E. H. 

Love's Strength, 251 
Klingle, George 

A Miracle, 162 
Knowles, Frederick Lawrence 

The Survivor, 46 
Knox, William 

Oh, Why Should the Spirit of 

Mortal Be Proud? 294 
Kramer, Edgar Daniel 

God's Book, 243 
Kresensky, Raymond 

Discovery, 266 

Golgotha's Cross, 198 

Heaven in My Hand, 245 

Prayer of the Unemployed, 253 

Refusal, 283 
Landor, Walter Savage 

Leaf After Leaf Drops Off, 233 

Past Ruined Ilion, 47 

Various the Roads of Life, 195 
Lanier, Sidney 

The Stirrup-Cup, 35 
Larcom, Lucy 

A Strip of Blue, 246 
Ledoux, Louis V. 

The Music of a Friend, in 
Lee, Milton 

When I Go Home, 201 
Le Gallienne, Richard 

What of the Darkness? 76 
Leighton, Robert 

Duty Our Ladder, 198 
Leitch, Mary Sinton 

Before, 150 
Lennen, Elinor 

Evaluation, 172 
Leonard, Priscilla 

The Lost Key, 135 

This Is the Making of Man, 

Lindsay, Vachel 

Abraham Lincoln Walks at 
Midnight, 9 

Foreign Missions in Battle Ar- 
ray, 95 
Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth 

Age Is Opportunity, 158 

Auf Wiedersehen (extract), 184 

Ships That Pass in the Night, 

Song of the Silent Land, 251 

The All-Seeing Gods, 190 

The Arrow and the Song, 187 
Love, Adelaide P. 

Beyond Electrons, 73 

For a Materialist, 250 



Lovelace, Richard 

Stone Walls Do Not a Prison 

Make, 242 
Loveman, Robert 

Riches, 85 
Lowell, James Russell 

Be Noble, 223 

Greatly Begin I 167 

Slaves, 88 

The Street, 137 

The Thing We Long For,. 234 

The Traitor, 215 

The Vision of Sir Launfal (ex- 
tract), 39 

True Love, 148 

Witness of God, 315 
M . K, H. 

Prayer Hymn, 304 
Macdougall, Arthur R., Jr. 

The Captains of the Years, 300 
MacFie, Roy Campbell 

Worship, 42 
Macleod, Fiona 

The White Peace, 127 
Maddock, Anne Elizabeth 

Spring, 241 
Malloch, W. H. 

Human Life, 207 
Manchester, Leslie Clare 

The Revelation, 208 
Markham, Edwin 

Opportunity, 2 

Our Dead, 150 

Rules for the Road, 55 

The Place of Peace, 45 

Two at a Fireside, 207 

Victory in Defeat, 246 

Young Lincoln, 269 
Mason, Caroline Atherton 

Whichever Way the Wind Doth 

Blow, 52 
Mason, Edgar Cooper 

Tear Down the Walls, 125 

Maughan, Henry Neville 

A Knight of Bethlehem, 252 
Maynard, Theodore 

A Certain Rich Man, 304 

Faith, 81 
Mazquida, Anna Blake 

My House Has Windows, 179 
McCracken, ffattie B. 

I Would Be Great, 101 
McCrae, John 

In Flanders Fields, 4 
McFarland, John T. 

Be Merciful, 94 
McPeek, James A. S. 

For Transient Things, 105 
Meredith, George 

The Question Whither, 20 
Meredith, Owen 

One Thing, 184 
Merrill, William Pierson 

Expect! 86 
Meyer, F. B. 

Faith, 194 
Meynell, Alice 

The Newer Vainglory, 44 
Miller, Joaquin 

Adios, 243 

For Those Who Fail, 3 

In Men Whom Men Condemn, 

The Greatest Battle That Ever 

Was Fought, 129 
Miller, Nellie Burget 

The Shadow on the Loom, 192 
Mitchett, Anna Virginia 

Sonnet, 78 
Money, Sir Leo 

King Cotton, 274 
Montgomery, P. L. 

Whence Cometh My Help, 159 
Moreland, John Richard 

Recompense, 212 

The Secret, 107 



Morgan, Angela 

Song of the New World, 220 

The Humanitarian (extract), 

Morton, David 

The Kings Are Passing Death- 
ward, 15 
Murton, Jessie Wilmore 

Strength, 269 
Myers, F. W. H. 

Not in Solitude, 236 
Newbolt, Sir Henry 

Vitae Lampada, 264 
Newman, Lows L 

The Voice of God, 223 
Newton, Charlotte 

Fulfillment, 188 
Norcross, Minor L. 

Devotions, 317 
Noyes, Alfred 

The Watchers of the Sky (ex- 
tract), 171 
Qlsen, Charles Oluf 

Kingdoms, 156 
O'Reilly, John Boyle 

Forever, 137 

What Is Good? 89 
O'Shaughnessy, Arthur 

We Are the Music-Makers, n 
O'Sheel, Shaemas 

They Went Forth to Battle but 

They Always Fell, I 
Oxenham, John 

Easter, 245 

Profit and Loss, 319 

Thanksgiving, 48 

The Law of Love, 254 

To Whom Shall the World 
Henceforth Belong? 21 

Your Place, 177 
Pace, Charles Nelson 

A Prayer for Today, 93 
Paine, Albert Bigelow 

The Hills of Rest, 160 
Parker, Gilbert 

Reunited, 245 
Parker, Theodore 

The Way, the Truth, and the 

Life, 312 
Parmenter, Catherine 

Discovery, 285 
Partridge, William 0. 

Creeds, 214 
Patmore, Coventry 

Magna Est Veritas, 49 
Paxton, Jean Grigsby 

Release, 259 
Pearse, Mark Guy 

Grace for Grace, 114 

My Prayer, 206 
Percy, William A. 

The Spring of God, 39 
Perkins, J. R. 

And the Greatness of These , 

The Back of God, 267 
Phelps, Guy Fitch 

The White Christs, 56 
Pilcher, C. V. 

The Teachers, 190 
Pomeroy, Edward N. 

Today and Tomorrow, 181 
Porter, Kenneth W. 

Simon and Judas, 106 
Poteat, E. McNeitt, Jr. 

Orisons, 138 
Pidsifer, Harold Trowbridge 

I Accept, 260 
Raskin, Philip M. 

Dreams, 299 
Rau$chenbu$ch, Walter 

For This Universe, 222 
Reese, Lizette Woodworth 

Tears, 174 
Rhinow, Arthur B. 

The Unknown Soldier, 284 



Richards, Joseph Addison 

The Master of My Boat, 87 
Riley, James Whitcomb 

The Prayer Perfect, 147 
Robbins, Howard Chandler 

Via Lucis, 130 
Robertson, Leila Dean 

New Temples, 241 
Robinson, Corinne Roosevelt 

The Forgotten Countersign, 82 
Robinson, Edwin Arlington 

Credo, 223 
Rockett, Winnie Lynch 

Invincible, 55 
Root, E. Merrill 

Eucharist, 64 

War, 122 
Rossetti, Christina G. 

Remember, 189 
Rossetti, W. M. 

Ye Who Taste That Love Is 

Sweet, 156 
Rowntree, Maurice 

O Heart, 127 
Ruskin, John 

Builders, 102 
Sabin, Edwin L. 

My Enemy, 50 
Sandburg, Carl 

The Man-Hunt, 119 

Under the Harvest Moon, 29 
Savage, Minot J. 

Where Is God? n 
Schiller, Friedrich von 

Three Words of Strength, 58 

Time, 215 
Schroy, Pauline 

Prayer, 193 
Scottard, Clinton 

Horizons, 284 

Patchwork, 172 
Scott, Sir Walter 

Sound, Sound the Clarion, 205 

Scruggs, Anderson M. 

Christmas Today, 204 

Glory to Them, 115 

Only the Dream Is Real, 85 
Shakespeare, William 

Blow, Blow, Thou Winter 
Wind, 268 

Fidele, 262 

Fortune, 108 

Good Deeds, 9 

Love, 228 

Man, 22 

The Seven Ages of Man, 42 

The Undiscovered Country, 


Sharp, William 

Desire, 236 
Shaw, Frances 

Who Loves the Rain, 244 
Shelley, Percy Bysshe 

Prometheus Unbound (ex- 
tract), ,289 
Shillito, Edward 

Ave Crux, Spes Unica! 102 

The Life to Come, 275 
Sigmund, Jay G. 

Men Have Forged, 280 
Sinclair, Mary Craig 

Beauty, 49 
Sinclair, Upton 

The Making of the Soul of 

Man, 315 
Slater, Eleanor 

December Twenty-Fourth, 210 
Smith, Samuel F. 

Memorial Day, 323 
Southey, Robert 

The Battle of Blenheim (ex- 
tract), 261 
Stanton> Frank L. 

An Old Battle-Field, 124 
Stevenson, Robert Louis 

If This Were Enough, 17 



Stidger, W&Uam L. 

Integrity, 225 
Stoddard, Richard Henry 

The Flight of Youth, 320 
Stone, Eliot Kays 

Days, ii 6 
Storey, Violet Alleyn 

A Country Church, 307 
Story, William Wetmore 

Io Victis, 14 
Strong, Anna Louise 

Our Country, 282 
Sullivan, A. M. 

Villanelle, 164 
Sweeney t Thomas 

Old Earthworks, 210 
Swinburne, Algernon Charles 

Unto Each His Handiwork, 

Symons, Arthur 

Credo, 238 
Tabb, John B. 

All in All, 213 

Lone-Land, 50 
Tagore, Rabindranath 

When One Knows Thee, 149 
Tarkington, Louise Fletcher 

The Land of Beginning Again, 

Taylor, Bayard 

Nameless Saints, 97 
Teasdale, Sara 

Barter, 60 
Tennyson t Alfred 

Experience, 225 

If Love Be Ours, 73 

Life Shall Live For Evermore, 

Purblind Race, 225 

O That 'Twere Possible, 143 

That Which Made Us, 281 

The Pure Heart, 137 

The Silent Voices, 57 

The Splendor Falls, 264 

The Temple, 290 

The Way to Power, 229 

Too Late, 165 

Ulysses (extract), 54 

Vastness (extract), 194 

Wages, no 

Woman and Man, 146 
Terry f Edward If. S. 

Kinship, 106 
Thayer, Lucius H. 

The Life of Man, 231 
Thomas> Percy 

Give Me a Gentle Heart, 

Thompson^ Ann Louise 

A Leafless Tree, 186 
Thompson, Francis 

" In No Strange Land," 13 
Thompson, John B. 

Chiaroscuro, 91 
Thoreau, Henry David 

Love, 74 
Tilden, Ethel Arnold 

Dedication, 286 
Timrod, Henry 

Love and Life, 209 
Tobias, Ruby Weyburn 

Food, 177 
Towne, Charles Hanson 

Memories, 297 

The Best Road of All, (56 
Trench, Richard Trenovix 

Sonnet, 142 
Trent t Luda 

To Young Dreamers, 257 
Turner, Martha P. L. 

Good Friday, 298 
Turner, Nancy Byrd 

Let Us Have Peace, 123 
Untermeyer, Louis 

Prayer, a 
Upson, Arthur W, 



Failures, 16 
Van Cleve, Florence 

Star of Bethlehem, 308 
van Dyke, Henry 

Four Things to Do, 61 

The Builders (extract), 143 

The Face of a Friend, 25 
Viereck, George Sylvester 

On Broadway, 88 
Varies, W. M. 

Life, 90 
Waite, Shirley Dillon 

The Cross, 217 
Walsh, Thomas 

A Garden Prayer, 242 
Waterman, Nixon 

Today, 309 
Wattles, Willard 

The War at Home, 127 

Thy Kingdom Come! 24 
Wetherald, Ethelyn 

Legacies, 59 

The House of the Trees, 256 
Whitaker f Robert 

My Country, 271 

The Rivals, 145 

Whence Cometh War? 118 
White, Hinton 

The World Is One, 84 
White, James Terry 

Consummation, 25 
Whitman, Walt 

A Leaf of Grass, 31 

Deathless, n 

I Tramp a Perpetual Journey, 


In This Earth, Perfection, 

Miracles, 80 

Song of the Open Road (ex- 
tract), 5 

There Was a Child Went Forth, 

This Is Thy Hour, Soul, 

When I Heard the Learn'd As- 
tronomer, 154 
Whittier, John Greenleaf 

At Last, 275 

Eternal Good, 258 

Life Is Ever Lord of Death, 


The Eternal Goodness (ex- 
tract), 144 

The Over-Heart (extract), 

The Undying Soul, 300 
Wickham, Anna 

Prayer for Miracle, 99 
Wilcox, Ella Wheeler 

A Morning Prayer, 18 

Attainment, 239 

Faith, 107 

Talk Faith, 226 

Two Trails, 166 

You and Today, 233 
Wilde, Oscar 

In Prison, 267 
Wilkinson, Florence 

The Fugitives, 313 

The Things That Endure (ex- 
tract), 249 
Wilkinson, Grace 

Light, 181 
Wilkinson, Marguerite 

The New City, 301 
Windes, Margaret A. 

The Poem I Should Like to 

Write, 75 
Wood, Anne Hamilton 

The Anvil of God's Mercy, 

Woods, Bertha Gerneaux 

The Patient Scientists, 163 
Wordsworth, William 

Mutability, 187 



Ode on Intimations of Immor- 
tality (extract), 82 
Persuasion, 162 
The Happy Warrior (extract), 


Tintern Abbey (extract), 7 
Young) Barbara 

The Little Stones of Arlington, 


Young, Eleanor G. R. 
The Man from Sangamon, at 

Gettysburg, 287 
Young, Ethel Fanning 
Remembering Calvary, 200 


Abraham Lincoln Walks at Mid- 
night, Lindsay, 9 
Adios, Miller, 243 
Age Is Opportunity, Longfellow, 


Ah, Love, Let Us Be True, Ar~ 
nold, 170 

Aim of Life, The, Bailey, 215 

All in All, Tabb f 213 

All-Seeing Gods, The, Longfel- 
low, 190 

Altruism, Jordan, 38 

Among the Ferns (extract), Car- 
penter, 43 

And the Greatness of These, Per- 
kins, i$> 

Angel-Thief, The (extract), 
Holmes, 292 

Anodyne, The, Cleghorn, 287 

Anvil of God's Mercy, The, 
Wood, 200 

Apprehension, Fraser t 157 

Arrow and the Song, The, Long- 
fellow, 187 

As I Grow Old, Author Un- 
known* 240 

As the Sculptor, KQgawa t 26 3 

Ascent, Blandcn, 240 

At Carcassonne, Garrison, 306 

At Last, Whittier, 275 

At the Lincoln Memorial, 
Brooks, 148 

At the Place of the Sea, Flint, 273 

Attainment, Wilcox, 239 

Auf Wiedersehen (extract), 
Longfellow, 184 


Autumn Leaves, Hopkins, 151 
Ave Crux, Spes Unica! Shillito, 


Back of God, The, Perkins, 267 
Barter, Teasdale, 60 
Battle of Blenheim, The (ex- 
tract), Southey, 261 
Be Merciful, McFarland, 94 
Be Noble! Lowell, 223 
Beauty, Sinclair, 49 
Because of Thy Great Bounty, 

Crowell, 235 

Because of You, Cestrian, 235 
Before, Leitcb, 150 
Best Road of All, The, Towne, 


Bethlehem, Farrington, 178 
Beyond Electrons, Love, 73 
Beyond the Horizon, Freeman, 

Beyond This, the Infinite, 

Browning, 145 

Blessed, Author Unknown, 220 
Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind, 

Shakespeare, 268 
Bridge Builder, The, Dromgoole, 


Bring Me Men, Foss t 22 

Build a Fence of Trust, Butts, 

Builders, Ruskin, 102 

Builders, The (extract), van 
Dyke, 143 

Building a Temple, Author Un- 
known, 167 

Burden, The, Hearn, 291 



Calvary, Author Unknown, g 
Captains of the Years, The, M ac- 

dougall, 300 
Carry Or, Clark, 285 
Certain Rich Man, A, Maynard, 


Changeless, Divall, 203 
Chariot, The, Dickinson, 173 
Chiaroscuro, Thompson, 91 
Child's Appeal, The, Cole, 161 
Children of Tomorrow, Gale, 188 
Choice, Elliott, 46 
Christmas Eve, Author Un- 
known, 77 

Christmas Today, Scruggs, 204 
City Trees, Dargan, 305 
City's Crown, The, Foulke, 171 
Civilization, Ccblentz, 229 
Commonplaces, Coolidge, 179 
Comrade Christ, Bright, 237 
Consummation, White, 25 
Convinced by Sorrow, Brown- 
ing, 220 

Coral Islands, Ginsberg, 147 
Count That Day Lost, Eliot, 19 
Country Church, A, Storey, 307 
Credo, Robinson, 223 
Credo, Symons, 238 
Creedless Love, The, Foss, 29 
Creeds, Partridge, 214 
Cross, The, Write, 217 
Cry of the Age, The, Garland, 


Days, Baker, 244 
Days, Stone, 116 
De Massa ob de Sheepfol', 

Greene, 324 
Death, Babcock, 173 
Death at Daybreak, Aldrich, 205 
Death in Life, Author Unknown, 


Death in the Desert, A (extract) , 
Browning, 156 

Death-Grapple, Everett, 297 
Deathless, Whitman, n 
December Twenty-Fourth, Slater, 


Dedication, Tilden, 286 
Deliver Us From . . ., Burr t 


Deserts, Hamilton, 195 
Desire, Sharp, 236 
Devotions, Nor cross, 317 
Diogenes, Eastman 9 252 
Dirt and Deity, Ginsberg, 193 
Discovery, Kresensky, 266 
Discovery, Parmenter, 285 
Do You Fear the Wind? Gar- 
land, 89 

Dream-Pedlary, Beddoes, 224 
Dreamers of Dreams, Carruth, 


Dreams, Raskin, 299 
Duty Our > Ladder, Leighton, 


Each and All, Emerson, 103 
Earth's Story, Clark, 231 
Easter, Oxenham, 24$ 
Elegy Written in a Country 

Churchyard (extract), Gray, 


Eternal Good, Whittier, 258 
Eternal Goodness, The (extract), 

Whittier, 144 

Eternity in an Hour, Blake, 165 
Eucharist, Root, 64 
Evaluation, Lennen, 172 
Expect 1 &fratf, 86 
Experience, Tennyson, 225 
Face of a Friend, The, van Dyke, 


Failures, Upson, 16 
Faith, Maynard, 81 
Faith, Jlfeyen 194 
Faith, Wilcox, 107 
Faith and Science, Clark, 226 



" Faithless Generation Asked a 
Sign, A," Haley, 249 

Far Distances, Clark, 199 

Feast, The, Cunningham, 128 

Fellowship, The, Bates, 233 

Fidele, Shakespeare*, 262 

Final Armistice, The, Cowgill, 

Five Souls, Ewer, 121 

Flag of Peace, The, Oilman, 276 

Flight of Youth, The, Stoddard, 

Food, Tobias, 177 

For a Materialist, Love, 250 

For Martha's Kitchen, Inchfawn, 

For Sleep When Overtired, Cleg- 
horn, 209 

For This Universe, Rauschen- 
busch, 222 

For Those Who Fail, Miller, 3 

For Transient Things, McPeek, 

Forbearance, Emerson, 277 

Foreign Missions in Battle Ar- 
ray, Lindsay, 95 

Forever, O'Reilly, 137 

Forgotten Countersign, The, 
Robinson, 82 

Fortune, Shakespeare, 108 

Four Things to Do, van Dyke, 

Friendly Faces of Old Sorrows, 
The, Baker, no 

Friends and Enemies, Emerson, 

Friends Old and New, Author 
Unknown, 212 

From Old to New, Browning, 

Fugitives, The, Wilkinson, 313 

Fulfillment, Newton, 188 

Garden Prayer, A, Wakh, 242 

Gifts, Comstock, 105 

Gilead, Clapp, 155 

Give Me a Gentle Heart, 
Thomas, 296 

Glory to Them, Scruggs, 115 

Goal, The, Browning, 258 

God, Emerson, 142 

God Behind All, Browning, 203 

God Give Me Joy, Clark, 248 

God Hears Prayer, Fuller, 69 

God Hide the Whole World in 
Thy Heart, Emerson, 254 

God Is Here, Aaron, 41 

God-Appointed Work, Ingelow, 

God's Book, Kramer, 243 

Gold, Hood, 271 

Golgotha's Cross, Kresensky, 198 

Gone, Coleridge, 213 

Good Deeds, Shakespeare, 9 

Good Friday, Turner, 298 

Goshen, FrawA, 98 

Grace for Grace, Pearse, 114 

Great Things, Blake, 238 

Greatest Battle That Ever Was 
Fought, The, Miller, 129 

Greatest Work, The, Author Un- 
known, 277 

Greatly Begin 1 Lowell, 167 

Growing Old, Baker, 206 

Happy Warrior, The (extract), 
Wordsworth, 62 

He Who Ascends to Mountain- 
Tops, Byron, 259 

Heart Is a Strange Thing, The, 
Hopkins, 99 

Heart of the Tree, The, Bunner, 

Heart's Proof, The, Bvckham, 

Heaven in My Hand, Kresensky, 

Hero, The, Bierce, 169 



Heroism, Emerson, 139 
Hills of Rest, The, Paine, 160 
Honors, Ingelow, 176 
Horizons, Scollard, 284 
Hour of Death (extract), He- 

mans, 197 

House of the Trees, The, Weth- 
er aid, 256 

House-Weary, Drag, 313 
How Do I Love Thee, Brown" 

ing, 320 
How Shall We Honor Them? 

Author Unknown) 218 
Human Life, Mattock, 207 
Human Touch, The, Burton, 141 
Humanitarian, The (extract) , 

Morgan, 128 
Humanity, Dixon, 92 
Hungry, The, GUtinan, 169 
I Accept, Pulsifer, 260 
I, Too, Have Known, George, 

I Tramp a Perpetual Journey, 

Whitman, 42 
I Would Be Great, McCracken, 

I Would Not Always Reason, 

Bryant, 86 

Ideal City, The, Gladden, 8 
If Jesus Came Back Today (ex- 
tract), Burns, 37 
If Love Be Ours, Tennyson, 73 
If This Is All, Asbury, 197 
If This Were 'Enough, Stevenson, 

If You Have Made Gentler the 

Churlish World, Ehrmann, 


If War Is Right, Corbin, 124 
Immortality, Johnson, 72 
In After Days, Dobson, 192 
In Defense of Youth, Barstow, 


In Flanders Fields, McCrae, 4 

In His Sight, Baker, 230 

In Men Whom Men Condemn, 
Miller, 228 

" In No Strange Land," Thomp~ 
son, 13 

In Prison, Wilde, 267 

In the Carpenter Shop, Author 
Unknown, 316 

In the Garden of the Lord, Kel- 
ler, 197 

In the Vastness, a God, Author 
Unknown, 151 

In the Woods, Emerson, 12 

In This Earth, Perfection, Whit- 
man, 244 

Incident, Cullen, 273 

Indwelling God, Hosmer, 257 

Integrity, Stidger, 225 

Invincible, Rockett, 55 

lo Victis, Story, 14 

It Is Not Growing Like a Tree, 
Jonson, 237 

Joses, the Brother of Jesus, 
Kemp, 5 

Joy and Sorrow, De Vere, 23 

Judgment, The, Bates, 6 

King, The, Butts, 219 

King Cotton, Money, 274 

Kingdoms, Olsen, 156 

Kings Arc Passing Dcathward, 
The, Morton, 15 

Kinship, Terry, xo6 

Knapsack Trail, The, Grover, 

Knight of Bethlehem, A, 

Maughan, 252 
Knowledge, Clark, 116 
Lament of the Voiceless, The, 

Everett, 261 
Land of Beginning Again, The, 

Tarkington, 70 
Law of Love, Oxcnham, 354 



Leaf After Leaf Drops Off, Lan- 

dor, 233 

Leaf of Grass, A, Whitman, 31 
Leafless Tree, A, Thompson, 186 
Legacies, Wetherald, 59 
Let Ail the Earth Keep Silence, 

Adee, 255 

Let Us Have Peace, Turner, 123 
Life, Bonar, 208 
Life, Bronte, 323 
Life, Browning, 180 
Life, Vories, go 
Life Is a Narrow Vale, Ingersoll, 


Life Is Ever Lord of Death, Whit- 
tier, 71 

Life of Man, The, Thayer, 231 
Life Owes Me Nothing, Author 

Unknown, 16 
Life Shall Live For Evermore, 

Tennyson, 91 

Life to Come, The, Shillito, 275 
Life's Evening, Cowley, 37 
Life's Evening, Foulke, 211 
Life's Finest Things, Burgess, 


Light, Wilkinson, 181 
Little Stones of Arlington, The, 

Young, 317 
Little Work, A, du Maurier, 


Live and Love, Browning, 113 
Lone-Land, Tabb> 50 
Look Up, Hale, 160 
Lost Christ, The, Clark, 32 
Lost Key, The, Leonard, 135 
Love, Shakespeare, 228 
Love, Thoreau, 74 
Love and Life, Garrison, 278 
Love and Life, Timrod, 209 
Love Comes, Crosby, 125 
Love Over All, From an English 

Sun Dial, 30 

Love Suffereth Long, Hay, 97 
Love's Strength, King, 251 
Loyalties, Cutter, 41 
Magna Est Veritas, Patmore, 49 
Making Life Worth While, Eliot, 


Making of the Soul of Man, The, 
Sinclair, 315 

Man, Shakespeare, 22 

Man from Sangamon, at Gettys- 
burg, The, Young, 287 

Man Is His Own Star, Fletcher, 


Man Must Live, A, Author Un- 
known, 185 

Man of Sorrows, The, Author 
Unknown, 250 

Man-Hunt, The, Sandburg, 119 

Master of My Boat, The, Rich- 
ards, 87 

Memorial Day, Smith, 323 

Memorial Day, The, Brooks, 292 

Memories, Towne, 297 

Memory, Aldrich, 51 

Men Have Forged, Sigmund, 280 

Miracle, Bailey, 92 

Miracle, A, Klingle, 162 

Miracles, Whitman, 80 

Miser, The, Everett, 52 

Mizpah, Baker } in 

Morning Prayer, A, Wilcox, 18 

Mother Understands, A, Ken- 
nedy, 144 

Mothers of Men, Burr, 36 

Mountain Air, Galsworthy, 7 

Mourn Not the Dead, Chaplin, 

Music of a Friend, The, Ledoux, 

Mutability, Wordsworth, 187 

My Church, Author Unknown, 

My Country, Whitaker, 271 



My Enemy, Sabin, 50 

My House Has Windows, Maz- 

quida, 179 

My Little House, Byron, 131 
My Neighbor's Roses, Gruber, 


My Prayer, Pearse, 206 
My Spirit Will Grow Up, Hen- 
derson, 227 
Mystic Borderland, The, Fischer, 


Nameless Saints, Taylor, 97 
Narrow Window, A, Coates, 230 
Nature and Religion, Foss, 47 
Nature's Sorrow Cure, Coblentz, 


New City, The, Wilkinson, 301 
New Dreams for Old, Clark, 310 
New Temples, Robertson, 241 
New Year, A, Dames, 79 
New Year's Thoughts, Gray, 314 
Newer Vainglory, The, Meynell, 


Nicodemus, Kemp, 79 
Nobility (extract), Cary, 247 
Not As I Will, Jackson, 152 
Not in Solitude, Myers, 236 
Heart, Rowntree, 127 
Purblind Race, Tennyson, 22$ 
That Twere Possible, Tenny- 
son, 143 

Ode on Intimations of Immor- 
tality (extract), Words- 
worth, 82 

Oh, Why Should the Spirit of 

Mortal Be Proud? Knox, 294 

Old Battle-Field, An, Stanton, 


Old Earthworks, Sweeney, 210 
On Broadway, Viereck, 8$ 
On Entering & Chapel, Davidson, 

On Life's Way, Deems, 240 

One Remains, The, Keats, 116 
One Thing, Meredith, 184 
Only the Dream Is Real, Scruggs, 


Opportunity, Markham, 2 
Orisons, Poteat, 138 
Our Country, Strong, 282 
Our Dead, Markham*, 150 
Our Father's Door, Holmes, 214 
Our Known Unknown, 'Brown- 

ing, 33 
Out in the Fields With God, 

Browning, 178 
Over-Heart, The (extract) , Whit- 

tier t 109 
Paracelsus (extract), Browning, 


Pass On the Torch, Cross, 51 
Past Ruined Ilion, Landor, 47 
Patchwork, Scollard, 172 
Pathway to Paradise, The, Davis, 


Patience, Kennedy, 30 

Patient Scientists, The, Woods, 

Peace and Joy, Kennedy, in 

Perfection, Fargo, 213 

Persuasion, Wordsworth, 162 

Piece of Clay, A, Author Un- 
known, 215 

Place of Peace, Markham, 45 

Poem I Should Like to Write, 
The, Windes, 75 

Prayer, Getting, 36 

Prayer, Jackson, 9$ 

Prayer, Schroy, 193 

Prayer, Untermeyer, 2 

Prayer, A, Burkholder, 180 

Prayer for a Little Home, Au- 
thor Unknown, 57 

Prayer for Miracle, Wickham, 99 

Prayer for Teachers, A, 



Prayer for the New Year, A, Ar- 

mitage, 34 

Prayer for Today, A, Pace, 93 
Prayer Hymn, M. K. #., 304 
Prayer in April, Hay, 69 
Prayer of the Unemployed, Kre- 

sensky, 253 

Prayer Perfect, The, Riley, 147 
Profit and Loss, Oxenham, 319 
Prometheus Unbound (extract), 

Shelley, 289 
Proud, The, Frost, 115 
Pure Heart, The, Tennyson, 


Quatrain, Emerson, 214 
Question, A, Forsyth, 170 
Question Whither, The, Mere- 
dith, 20 

Quiet Things, /. W., 117 
Recompense, M or eland, 212 
Reflections, Becker, 191 
Refusal, Kresensky, 283 
Release, Paxton, 259 
Remember, Rossetti, 189 
Remembering Calvary, Young, 


Resolve, Oilman, 246 
Rest Where You Are, Cleaves, 


Reunited, Parker, 245 
Revelation, The, Manchester, 208 
Rhythm, Emerson, 256 
Riches, Loveman, 85 
Right Use of Prayer, The, De 

Vere, 184 

Rivals, The, Whitaker, 145 
Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, 

The (extract), Fitzgerald 

(trans.), 131 
Rules for the Road, Markham, 


Sea Gypsy, The, Hovey, 286 
Sealed Orders, Burton, 4 

Secret, The, Moreland, 107 
Seeker After God, The, Kemp, 


Seekers, The, Auryansen, 222 

Sentinel, The, Author Unknown, 

Seven Ages of Man, The, Shake- 
speare, 42 

Shadow on the Loom, The, 
Miller, 192 

She Is Wise, Our Ancient Mother, 
Baker, 207 

Shepherd Boy Sings, The, Bun- 
yan, 191 

Ships That Pass in the Night, 
Longfellow, 96 

Sic Vita, Braithwaite, 150 

Silence, Barnett f 96 

Silent Places, The, Hildreth, 138 

Silent Voices, The, Tennyson, 57 

Simon and Judas, Porter, 106 

Slaves, Lowell, 88 

Sometimes, Jones, 72 

Somewhere, Cochrane, 195 

Song, Blanden, 202 

Song of the Dial, The, Airey, 308 

Song of the New World, Morgan, 

Song of the Open Road (ex- 
tract), Whitman, $ 

Song of the Road, A, Bowles, 

Song of the Silent Land, Long- 
fellow, 251 

Song of the Unsuccessful, The, 
Burton, 113 

Songs in Absence (extract), 
dough, 65 

Sonnet, Ficke, 139 

Sonnet, Mitchell, 78 

Sonnet, Trench, 142 

Sorrow, Eva, 319 

Soul Growth, Fries, 322 



Sound, Sound the Clarion, Scott, 

Splendor Falls, The, Tennyson, 


Spring, Haddock, 241 
Spring of God, The, Percy, 39 
Star of Bethlehem, The, Van 

Cleve, 308 

Stirrup-Cup, The, Lanier, 35 
Stone Walls Do Not a Prison 

Make, Lovelace, 242 
Street, The, Lowell, 13? 
Strength, Murton, 269 
Strip of Blue, A, Larcom, 246 
Sunrise, Browning, 26 
Sunsets, Davis, 234 
Survivor, The, Knowles, 46 
Talk Faith, Wilcox, 226 
Teachers, The, Pftcher, 190 
Tear Down the Walls, Mason, 125 
Tears, Browning, 196 
Tears, Reese, 174 
Temple, The, Tennyson, 290 
Thanatopsis (extract), Bryant, 

Thank God for Fools! Author 

Unknown, 130 
Thanks, Gale, 136 
Thanks for Laughter, From 

Prayers for Use in an Indian 

College, 189 

Thanksgiving, Oxenham, 48 
That Which Made Us, Tennyson, 

There Was a Child Went Forth, 

Whitman, 252 
These Times, Bennett, 63 
They Went Forth to Battle but 

They Always Fell, O'Sheel, i 
Things That Endure, The (ex- 
tract), Wilkinson, 249 
Thing We Long For, The, 

Lowell, 234 

This Is the Making of Man, 
Leonard, 228 

This Is Thy Hour, Soul, Whit- 
man, 204 

Thou Must Be True, Bonar, 146 

Three Steps, Bates, 60 

Three Things, Gunderson, 118 

Three Things Come Not Back, 
From the Arabic, 65 

Three Words of Strength, Schil- 
ler, $B 

Thy Kingdom Come! Wattles, 

Tide of Faith, The, Eliot, 53 

Till We Have Built Jerusalem, 
Blake, 281 

Time, Schiller, 215 

Tintern Abbey (extract), Words- 
worth, 7 

To My Countrymen, Johnson, 26 

To Whom Shall the World 
Henceforth Belong? Oxen- 
ham, 21 

To Young Dreamers, Trent, 257 

Today, Author Unknown t 209 

Today, Carlyle, 168 

Today, Davis, 141 

Today, Waterman, 309 

Today and Tomorrow, Pomeroy, 

Today, Lord, Babcock, 33 

Too Late, Tennyson, 16$ 

Torch, The, Dale, 126 

Traitor, The, Lowell, 215 

Tree-Building, Cable, 164 

Trees, Clark, 183 

True Love, Lowett, 148 

True Rest, Goethe, 167 

Truth, Crushed to Earth, Bryant, 


Truth Never Dies, Author Un- 
known, 158 

Two at a Fireside, Markham, 207 



Two Prayers, Oilman, 95 

Two Trails, Wflcox, 166 

Ulysses (extract), Tennyson, 54 

Under the Harvest Moon, Sand- 
burg, 29 

Undiscovered Country, The, 
Howells, 94 

Undiscovered Country, The, 
Shakespeare, 211 

Undying Soul, The, Whittier, 300 

Unknown Soldier, The, Rhinow, 

Unquestioning, Blake, 255 

Unto Each His Handiwork, Swin- 
burne, 242 

Use Well the Moment, Goethe, 

Various the Roads of Life, Lan- 
dor, 195 

Vastness (extract), Tennyson, 

Via Lucis, Robbins, 130 

Victory in Defeat, Markham f 

Villanelle, Sullivan, 164 

Vision, The, Bratihwaite, 140 

Vision of Sir Launfal, The (ex- 
tract), Lowell, 39 

Vitae Lampada, Newbolt, 264 

Vitae Summa Brevis, Dowson, 


Voice, Gale, 219 

Voice of God, The, Newman, 

Wage-Slaves to War-Makers, 
Cheyney, 120 

Wages, Tennyson, no 

War, Root, 122 

War at Home, The, Wattles, 127 

Watchers of the Sky, The (ex- 
tract), Noyes, 171 

Way of Sacrifice, The, Arnold, 

Way, the Truth and the Life, 

The, Parker, 312 
Way to Power, The, Tennyson, 

Ways of the Gods, The, Coblentz, 


We Are Never Old, Emerson, 266 
We Are the Music-Makers, 

O'Shaughnessy, u 
We Cannot Kindle, Arnold, 175 
We Shall Attain, Kenyan, 67 
We Shall Build On I Kennedy, 


What Is Good? O'Reilly, 89 
What Makes a Nation Great? 

Blackburn, 68 
What of the Darkness? Le Gal- 

lienne, 76 
What Our Lord Wrote in the 

Dust, Author Unknown, 153 
What Shall Endure? Hartwich, 


When I Go Home, Lee, 201 
When I Heard the Learn'd As- 
tronomer, Whitman, 154 
When One Knows Thee, Tagore, 


Whence Cometh My Help, Mont- 
gomery, 159 
Whence Cometh War, Whitaker, 


Where Is God? Savage, it 
Where Is Heaven? Carman, 34 
Which Is Me? Author Unknown, 

Whichever Way the Wind Doth 

Blow, Mason, 52 
White Christs, The, f helps, 56 
White Peace, The, Macleod, 127 
Who Loves the Rain, Shaw, 244 
Will to Serve, The, Gilder, 201 
Windows for My Soul, Author 

Unknown, 248 



Wisdom, Hicky, 217 

Wise, The, Arnold (trans.), 


Witness of God, Lowell, 315 
Woman and Man, Tennyson, 

Women Toilers, The, Evans, 


Words, Author Unknown, 230 
Words of the Gods, The, Emer- 

$o n> 3 10 

Work Without Hope, Coleridge, 


World Is One, The, White, 84 
Worship, MacFie, 42 
Ye Who Taste That Love Is 

Sweet, Rossetti, 156 
Yesterday, Crane, 166 
You and Today, Wilcox, 233 
Young Lincoln, Markham, 269 
Your Place, Oxcnham, 177 
Youth, Jones, 68 


A Book of Verses, 131 

A builder builded, 167 

A commonplace life, 179 

A creedless love, 29 

A desert does not have, 195 

A faithless generation, 249 

A hut, and a tree, 252 

A little work, 101 

A man must live, 185 

A Miracle? Is it more strange, 


A narrow window, 230 
A tree is built, 164 
A wretched thing it were, 142 
About the chilly, ragged, 151 
About the little chambers, 213 
Above, below, in sky, 109 
Above dark cities, 257 
Across my loom of years, 192 
Across the bitter centuries, 24 
Across the edges of the world, 39 
Across the fields, 72 
Afoot and lighthearted I take, 5 
Ah, love, let us be true, 170 
Ah me! Why may not love, 209 
Ah, yet, ere I descend, 37 
Alas for him who never, 71 
All honor to him who shall win, 


All Nature seems at work, 218 
All that we say returns, 212 
AH the world's a stage, 42 
Although with lives submerged, 


An endless line of splendor, 95 
An enemy I had, 50 

An old man going, 157 
And did those feet, 281 
And have the bright immensities, 

And if tomorrow shall be sad, 

And Nicodemus came by night, 


And who will lead the way, 125 
April whispered this, 107 
Around us lies a world, 50 
As the bee through the garden, 


As the sculptor, 263 
As to the seer, 175 
Ask and it shall be given, 46 
Ask of your soul, 269 
At the heart of the cyclone, 45 
Be noble! and the nobleness, 223 
Be secret, heart, 78 
Be thou guardian of the weak, 

Be thy duty high as angels, 


Beauty growing on a thorn, 91 
Because I could not stop, 173 
Because I have been given, 


Because of you, 235 
Before I brand a brother, 150 
Behind thee leave, 254 
Beyond the last horizon's rim, 


Blessed is the man, 25 
Blindfolded and alone, 152 
Blow, blow, thou winter, 268 




Born in a borrowed cattle shed, 


Boys flying kites, 230 
Bring me men, 22 
Build a little fence of trust, 276 
But His lone cross, 24$ 
Cares and anxieties, 209 
Christ claims our help, 250 
Christ of the glowing heart, 126 
Come, Children of Tomorrow, 


Could I but teach man, 243 
Day! Faster and more fast, 26 
Be massa ob de sheepfol', 324 
Dear God, I stand, 105 
Dear Lord, I hold, 144 
Dear Lord! Kind Lord! 147 
Death, thou'rt a cordial, 35 
Deathless, though godheads, i$i 
Defeat may serve as well, 246 
Delve not so deep, 240 
Did the rose-bush or the oak, 122 
Do not fear, 259 
Do you ask me how I prove, 226 
Do you fear the force, 89 
Down the valleys of Languedoc, 


Each, in himself, 238 
Earth gets its price, 39 
Eternal Good which overlies, 258 
Ever the words of the gods, 310 
Expect the best, 86 
Faith has no quarrel, 226 
Father, I scarcely dare, 98 
Father, we thank Thee, 189 
Fear no more, 262 
Flame of the spirit, 228 
For age is opportunity, 158 
For all things beautiful, 48 
For I have learned to look, 7 
For life, with all it yields, 156 
Four things a man must learn, 61 
Freedom and Faith, 145 

From low to high, 187 

Give me a gentle heart, 296 

Give us Jesus Christ, 237 

Glory of warrior, no 

Glory to them, 115 

Go not, my soul, 257 

Go thou thy way, in 

God counts time, 230 

God give me joy, 248 

God grant that I may never, 69 

God, if this were enough, 17 

God is behind all, 203 

God is here, 41 

God keep my heart attuned, 240 

God must have loved the silence, 


God of our fathers, 127 
God send us a little home, 57 
God spreads a book, 243 
God, though this life, 2 
God, who through ages past, 310 
God will not change, 203 
God, You need not make, 234 
God's revelation of Himself, 208 
Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold, 271 
Great jewels glitter, 88 
Great roads the Romans built, 


Great things are done, 238 
Greatly begin! though thou, 167 
Hast thou named, 277 
Have we seen her, 301 
Have you come to the Red Sea, 


He always said, 283 
He built a house, 277 
He made honest doors, 225 
He placed a prayer wheel, 138 
He prayed for strength, 220 
He that is down, 191 
He who ascends, 259 
He who bends to himself, 255 
He who has a thousand, x8o 



He who hath watched, 117 
He who sees how action, 64 
He wrote in the sand, 280 
Heart free, hand free, 150 
Heirs of great yesterdays, 26 
Help me to suffer, 200 
Here, in this little Bay, 49 
Here is my heart, 283 
Here, on these hills, 159 
Here's a clean year, 79 
High thoughts and noble, 141 
How can I tell which days, 116 
How can they honor Him, 204 
How can you live in Goshen, 98 
How can you smile when pain, 


How dare we look, 106 
How do I love thee, 320 
How far that little candle, 9 
How lovely is the silence, 255 
How plain soe'er the house, 219 
How shall I find it, 77 
How shall we honor them, 218 
How they have learned, 163 
I almost never say, 317 
I am a man who knew Abe Lin- 
coln, 287 

I am a part of all, 225 
I am fevered with the sunset, 286 
I am glad to think, 136 
I am grown haggard, 315 
I am in love with high, 139 
I am part of the sea, 106 
I am the child, 161 
I am tired of city sounds, 285 
I am yesterday, 166 
I believe a leaf of grass, 31 
I bow my forehead, 144 
I built a chimney, 207 
I cannot find my way, 223 
I do not ask a truce, 36 
I do not fear, 157 
I do not own an inch of land, 246 

I dreamed, that stone by stone, 


I had a garden, in 
I have come back, 138 
I have found God, 266 
I have seen an old faith, 155 
I have wasted nothing, 52 
I heard a cry, 292 
I hold no cause worth, 36 
I kneel to pray, 206 
I know I am deathless, n 
I know not whether Laws, 267 
I know your barren belief, 250 
I lay among the ferns, 43 
I lift my cup to Beauty, 303 
I like a road, 66 

I like the wide and common, 135 
I like to see, 186 
I live: this much I know, 72 
I looked for Heaven, 245 
I love the friendly faces, no 
I owned a little boat, 87 
I prayed to see the face, 267 
I saw them from our car today, 


I saw them shining, 317 
I say that I am wise, 217 
I shall go out as all men, 260 
I shall go out when the light, 205 
I shall not tarry over scrolls, 178 
I shall remember then, 68 
I shot an arrow, 187 
I sing the hymn, 14 
I sing the song, 220 
I sought to hear the voice, 223 
I swept my house of life, 213 
I thank the Lord for quiet, 117 
I think God loves new temples, 


I think God seeks this house, 307 
I think he would have hated, 148 
I too, have known, 140 
I took a piece of plastic, 215 



I tramp a perpetual journey, 42 

I walked alone to my Calvary, 9 

I was a peasant, 121 

I watched the Captains, 300 

I went to school, 190 

I will hew great windows, 248 

I will not change, 299 

I will not doubt, 107 

I wish I had been, 316 

I wish that there were, 70 

I wonder that the metal, 200 

I would not always reason, 86 

If a wren can cling, 194 

If gutter-puddles after rain, 193 

If Jesus came back today, 37 

If radio's slim fingers, 69 

If sometimes I must hear, 315 

If there were dreams, 224 

If this is all, 197 

If war is right, 124 

If we should find unfinished, 188 

If you have spoken, 176 

If you sit down, 19 

I'm going out, 313 

In after days, 192 

In ancient times, 170 

In an old city, 2 

In Flanders Fields, 4 

In Love, if Love be Love, 73 

In men whom men condemn, 228 

In the late evening, 287 

In this broad earth, 244 

Into the Silent Land, 251 

Is there no greater good, 123 

Is your place a. small, 177 

It is not growing, 237 

It is portentous, 9 

It lies not on the sunlit, 127 

It were a double grief, 184 

Jesus of Na2areth, 164 

Joses, the brother of Jesus, 5 

Late, late, so late, 16$ 

Leaf after leaf drops, 233 

Leaves have their time, 197 
Let me grow lovely, 206 
Let me today do something, 18 
Let us keep splendid loyalties, 41 
Let us not think of our departed, 


Let us thank God, 105 
Let us walk softly, 314 
Life, believe, is not a dream, 323 
Life has loveliness to sell, 60 
Life, in one semester, 202 
Life is a narrow vale, 311 
Life is too brief, 90 
Life met me on the threshold, 82 
Life owes me nothing, 16 
Life's finest things, 75 
Like smoke I vanish, 207 
Little things, in the field, 103 
Live and love, 113 
Look up and not down, 160 
Lord, for the erring thought, 94 
Lord, forgive, 193 
Lord, I do not ask, 253 
Lord, in an age of steel, 93 
Lord of all pots and pans, 304 
Lord, let not my religion, 180 
Love built this shrine, 61 
Love is not love, 228 
Make new friends, but keep, 212 
Man and the pitiless waters, 297 
Man is his own star, 202 
Man must pass from old, 241 
Man's life is like, 162 
May every soul that touches, 239 
Measure thy life by loss, 251 
Men long have fought, 276 
Men saw no portents, 269 
More than two crosses, 102 
Mourn not the dead, 265 
Must I submissive bow, 81 
My country is the world, 271 
My good blade carves, 137 
My house has windows, 179 



My house is little, 131 

My mind lets go a thousand, 51 

My own dim life should teach, 91 

No one sees me, 190 

No show of bolts, 74 

No tears, no sorrowing, 201 

Not poppies plant not poppies, 


Not serried ranks, 68 
Now tell us what, 261 
Now who will rise, 170 
God! No more, 99 
O God, we thank Thee, 222 
Heart that beats, 127 
O Lord, I pray, 33 
O Lord, I would be great, 101 
O purblind race, 225 
Star that led the Wise Men, 


that 'twere possible, 143 
That which made us, 281 
Thou as represented, 33 
O Thou great friend, 312 
O wide and shining, 199 
O world invisible, 13 
O year that is going, 34 
you whom God hath called, 8 
Oh, Love and Death, 278 
Oh, when I am safe, 12 
Oh, where is the sea, ij 
Oh! why should the spirit, 294 
Oh, ye who taste, 156 
Oldest of friends, 183 
On me nor Priest, 224 
One man craves a scarf, 229 
Once riding in old Baltimore, 


Once ran my prayer, 94 
Only for these I pray, 95 
Only That which made us, 281 
Only the dream is real, 8$ 
Ope your doors, 256 
Our motors pierce the clouds, 63 

Past ruined Ilion, 47 

Pass on the torch, 51 

Peace does not mean, in 

Profit? Loss? 319 

Progress is the law of life, 321 

Rebellious heart, 322 

Remember me when I am gone, 


Remember three things, 65 
Rest is not quitting. 167 
Seeing how the world suffered, 

Self-reverence, self-knowledge, 


Sell all thou hast, 304 
She is wise, our Ancient Mother, 


Shine in, O sun, 161 
Ships that pass in the night, 96 
So as from year to year, 292 
So faith is strong, 53 
So heavy and so fraught with, 


So here hath been dawning, 168 
So live that when thy summons, 


So nigh is grandeur, 139 
Some day my spirit, 227 
Some days my thoughts, 244 
Some rainbow shreds of Hope, 


Sometimes I wish, 30 
Sometimes, when the grind, 297 
Somewhere there lies, 195 
Sound, sound the clarion, 205 
Spring and Summer, 194 
Spring still makes spring, 266 
Stand straight, 55 
Stars lie broken on a lake, 191 
Still we who follow, 64 
Stone walls do not a prison, 242 
Strew the fair garlands, 323 
Sullen skies today, 23 



Talk faith, 226 
Tear down the walls, 125 
Tell me of Progress, 7 
Thank God, bless God, 196 
Thank God for fools, 130 
Thank you very much indeed, 136 
That we are mortals, 242 
The creed thy father built, 214 
The curfew tolls the knell, 27 
The desire of love, Joy, 236 
The Dial faced the Summer, 308 
The door is on the latch, 77 
The dread of something, 211 
The earth is weary, 123 
The four brothers, 119 
The God of things that are, 38 
The greatest battle, 129 
The healing of the world, 97 
The heart is a strange, 99 
The heart is cold, 155 
The key of yesterday, 135 
The kings are passing deathward, 


The life of man, 231 
The little cares that fretted, 178 
The man who seeks one thing, 


The mills of Lancashire, 374 
The morning is the gate, 232 
The One remains, 116 
The only thing to cheer, 202 
The poem I should like, 75 
The roses red upon my neigh- 
bor's, 304 

The softest whisperings, 124 
The space which yields thee, 145 
The splendor falls, 264 
The sun lies light, 241 
The thing we long for, 234 
The traitor to Humanity, 21$ 
The trees along our city, 305 
The White Christs, 56 
The woman's cause, 146 

The word of God came, 197 

The world is one, 84 

The world is wide, 240 

The Writ of Loving Well, 97 

The years race by, 55 

Then life is to wake, 180 

Then was earth made anew, 254 

There are gains, 320 

There are three lessons, 58 

There is a City, 275 

There is a mystic borderland, 


There is a soul, 92 
There is a tide, 108 
There is an architecture, 143 
There is no God, 220 
There is room, 166 
There lies the port, 54 
There was a child, 252 
There was a dreamer once, 45 
There was a Knight, 253 
There was a time when meadow, 

There was no glory on the hills, 


There's a breathless hush, 264 
Therefore, when thou wouidat, 

They are not long, the weeping, 


They are slaves who fear, 88 
They are the proudest, xi$ 
They bear no laurels, 16 
They have not fought, 285 
They list for me, xi6 
They look so solemn and fine, 

They pass mo by like shadows, 


They went forth to battle, i 
They who once probed, 73 
This is the day, 289 
This is thy hour, 304 



This music leads us far, 171 
Those we love truly, 137 
Those who are not mine, 128 
Thou canst not wave, 256 
Thou hast made me known, 149 
Thou must be true, 146 
Though love repine, 214 
Threefold the stride of Time, 215 
Three score and ten, 211 
Three steps there are, 60 
Three things I beg of Life, 118 
Thy gifts without Thy grace, 114 
Time flies, 30 

Tis not for man to trifle, 208 
To all who hope, 282 
To every one on earth, 291 
To keep my health, 246 
To see the World, 165 
To whom shall the world, 21 
To you the torch we fling, 126 
Today, new-born from all, 141 
Tomorrow you are born anew, 


Truants from love, 214 
True love is but a humble, 148 
True worth is in being, 247 
Truth, crushed to earth, 59 
Truth never dies, 158 
Two men went up to pray, 44 
Under the harvest moon, 29 
Unto each his handiwork, 242 
Unto my friends, 59 
Use all your hidden forces, 239 
Use well the moment, 72 
Various the roads of life, 195 
Wars are to be, they cry, 261 
We are all of us dreamers, 58 
We are the music-makers, n 
We are the toilers, 113 
We are they that go, 313 
We bear sealed orders, 4 
We call them wrong, 290 
We cannot kindle, 175 

We cannot look beyond, 181 
We dedicate a church, 286 
We do not know, 169 
We have no land, 120 
We have saved the soul, 153 
We know Thee, each in part, 213 
We live in deeds, 215 
We shall attain, 67 
We shall build on, 182 
We shall do so much, 309 
What a piece of work, 22 
What does he plant, 100 
What is the cross, 198 
What is the real good, 89 
What makes a city great, 171 
What of the darkness, 76 
What shall I do to be just, 278 
What though unmarked, 176 
What to a man, 85 
What were life, 258 
What wish you, immortality, 249 
When all is written and sung, 177 
When before the cloud-white, 6 
When brambles vex, 233 
When fell Thy dreadful shadow, 


When I consider Life, 174 
When I heard the learn'd, 154 
When men go down to the sea, 


When on my day of life, 275 
When spurred by tasks, 154 
When the dumb Hour, 57 
When the last day is ended, 46 
When we build, 102 
When we have thrown off, 20 
When you and I have played, 245 
Whence cometh war, 118 
Where is Heaven, 34 
Where is my kingdom, 156 
Whence lies the land, 6$ 
Where men have held, 222 
Where shall we get religion, 47 



Whichever way the wind, S 3 
Who harbors Hatred, 284 
Who is the happy Warrior, 62 
Who loves the rain, 244 
Whom does He love, 169 
Why be afraid of death, 173 
Why, who makes much, 80 
With every rising of the sun, 

With primal void, 231 

Withhold all eulogies, 181 
Within my earthly temple, 303 
Within that semi-circle, 210 
Work is devout, 42 
Yesterday the twig, 92 
Yet howsoever changed, 300 
Yet not in solitude, 236 
You arc the vision, 140 
You in whose veins, 219 
Your skill has fashioned, 32 


Acknowledgment is here made of the generous cooperation of both 
contributing poets and of publishers in the bringing together of this 
anthology of " quotable poems.'* The compiler has made every effort 
to trace the ownership of all copyrighted poems. To the best of his 
knowledge he has secured all necessary permissions from authors or 
their authorized agents, or from both. Should there be any question 
regarding the use of any poem, regret is here acknowledged for such 
unconscious error. The compiler will be pleased, upon notification of 
such oversight, to make proper acknowledgment in future editions 
of this book. 

Sincere thanks are due the following publishers for cooperation in 
allowing the use of poems selected from their publications: 

The Macmillan Company: " Barter " by Sara Teasdale from " Love 
Songs " ; " Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight " and " Foreign 
Missions in Battle Array " by Vachel Lindsay from " Collected 
Poems " ; " When One Knows Thee " by Rabindranath Tagore from 
" Gitanjali." By permission of the Macmillan Company, publishers. 
Charles Scribner's Sons: Poems by Henry van Dyke, Maltbie D. 
Babcock, John Galsworthy, R. L. Stevenson, Alice Meynell, Edwin 
Arlington Robinson, Sidney Lanier, Corinne Roosevelt Robinson and 
H. C. Bunner. 

Houghton, Mifflin Company: Poems by Whittier, Longfellow, 
Holmes, Emerson, Lowell, Howells, Aldrich, Katharine Lee Bates and 
W. W. Story. "Used by permission of and by arrangement with 
Houghton Mifflin Company, 

Doubleday, Doran & Company: Poems of Walt Whitman, from 
" Leaves of Grass," copyright 1924 by Doubleday, Doran & Company, 
Inc. Poem " Tears " from the " Selected Poems " of Lizette Wood- 
worth Reese, copyright 1926 by Doubleday, Doran & Company. 

Harcourt, Brace & Company: Poem "Prayer" from the volume 
" Challenge " by Louis Untermeyer, by permission of Harcourt, Brace 
& Company, Inc., holders of the copyright. 

Bobbs, Merrill Company: Poem " The Prayer Perfect '* from 
" Rhymes of Childhood " by James Whitcomb Riley, copyright 1890- 
1918. Used by special permission of the publishers. 

Horace Liveright, Inc.: Poem. "They Went Forth to Battle, but 
They Always Fell " from the volume " Jealous of Dead Leaves " by 
Shaemas O'Sheel. 

W. B. Conkey & Company: Poems by Ella Wheeler Wilcox: " At- 
tainment," " You and Today " and " Morning Prayer " from '* Poems 



of Power '; " Faith " from " Picked Poems "; also the poems " Talk 
Faith " and " Two Trails." Used by special permission. 

L. C. Page & Company: Poem "The Survivor" by Frederic 
Lawrence Knowles. 

Dodd, Mead & Company: "What of the Darkness?" by Richard 
Le Gallienne; "Where Is Heaven? " by Bliss Carman; excerpt from 
" The Humanitarian " and the poem " Song of the New World " by 
Angela Morgan, and " In No Strange Land " by Francis Thompson. 
Copyright by Dodd, Mead & Company, 

Frederick A. Stokes Company: Excerpt from "The Watchers of 
the Sky " by Alfred Noyes. Copyright 1922 by Frederick A. Stokes 

E. P. Button & Company: "Vitae Lampada" by Sir Henry New- 
bolt, from his poetical works, copyright by E. P. Button & Company, 
and used by special permission. 

Lothrop, Lee & Shepard: Poems by Sam Walter Foss: " The Creed- 
less Love " from " Songs of the Average Man "; " Bring Me Men to 
Match My Mountains " from " Whiffs from Wild Meadows "; " Where 
Shall We Get Religion? " from "The Higher Catechism" from the 
volume "Songs of the Average Man." Poems by Richard Burton 
from " Poems of Brotherhood." 

Harr Wagner Publishing Company: Poems by Joaquin Miller from 
" Selected Poems." 

Thomas Bird Mosher: Poems by Thomas S. Jones, Jr. from "The 

Henry Holt & Company: Poems by Carl Sandburg: " The Man- 
Hunt " selected from " The Four Brothers " from the volume " Corn- 
huskers "; " Under the Harvest Moon " from " Chicago Poems." 

The Pilgrim Press: Poem by Allen Eastman Cross from " Pass On 
the Torch." Prayer by Walter Rauschenbusch from " Prayers of the 
Social Awakening." 

James T. White & Company: Poems by James Terry White and 
James B. Kenyon. 

Methodist Book Concern: Poem by John T. McFarland. 

Little, Brown & Company: Poem " The Chariot " by Emily Dickin- 
son from the Centenary Edition of " The Poems of Emily Dickinson." 
Also poems by Helen Hunt Jackson, Edward Everett Hale and Susan 

Yale University Press: Poem by W. A. Percy from "In April 
Once "; poems by Karle Wilson Baker. 

Bruce Humphries, Inc.: Poem by Molly Anderson Haley from 
" The Window Cleaner and Other Poems." 

Evangelical Publishers: Poem by Annie Johnson Flint, 

Richard R. Smith, Inc.: Poems by G. A. Studdert-Kenncdy- 

Acknowledgment is made also to the following magazines and news- 
papers for permission to use the poems indicated; 

Good Housekeeping: Poem by Grace Noll Crowell. 

The Golden Book: Poem " Glory to Them " by Anderson M* 


Boston Evening Transcript: Poems by Bangs Burgess and Hinton 

Unity: Poems by Jay G. Sigmund, Louis I. Newman, Louis Gins- 
berg, Francis M. Frost, Robert Whitaker, Leslie C. Manchester, Ruth 
Fargo and A. M. Sullivan. 

The Congregationalist: Poems by Bertha Gerneaux Woods, Robbins 
W. Barstow and Lucia T. Auryansen. 

Poetry: A Magazine of Verse: Poem by Alice Corbin. 

The Christian Advocate: Poems by William L. Stidger, Charles 
Nelson Pace and Adelaide P. Love. 

The Christian Herald: Poem by Catherine Parmenter. 

Scribner's Magazine: Poem by Mary E. Comstock. 

Atlanta Constitution: Poem by Frank L. Stanton. 

The Living Church: Poems by Ethel F. Young, Lucy A. K. Adee 
and Howard Chandler Robbins. 

Holland's Magazine: Poem " Christmas Today " by Anderson M. 

The Watchman-Examiner: Poem by George Klingle. 

The Christian World: Poems by Henry N. Maughn, Reginald C. 
Eva and Percy Thomas. 

New York Times: Poems " For a Materialist " by Adelaide P. Love, 
" Wisdom " by Daniel W. Hicky and " Soul Growth " by Annerika 

The Ep worth Herald: Poem " Evaluation " by Eleanor Lennen. 

The British Weekly: Poems by Fay Inchfawn, Roy C. MacFie and 
Henry W. Clark. 

The Chicago Tribune: Poem by J. R. Perkins. 

The American Federationist: Poems by Mary Brennan Clapp, 
Charles 0'. Olsen, P. L. Montgomery, Shirley D. Waite and I. W. 

The World Tomorrow: Poems by Ethel M. Hartwich and Guy 
Fitch Phelps. 

America: Poem by Theodore Maynard. 

The New Outlook: Poem by J. C. Cochrane. 

Palms: Poem " Dirt and Deity " by Louis Ginsberg. 

The Classmate: "New Dreams for Old" by Thomas C. Clark. 

The Churchman: Poems by Anna H. Wood and Edgar D. Kramer. 

The Presbyterian Advance: " Refusal " by Raymond Kresensky, 
Life " by W, M. Vories and " Apprehension " by James A. Fraser, 

The Commonweal: Poem by Nora B. Cunningham. 

London Punch: Poem by John McCrae. 

The Christian: Poem by Edna Becker. 

The Christian Century: Poems by Ellen Coit Elliott, Kenneth W. 
Porter, Sara Henderson Hay, Charles G. Blanden, Ethel Romig Fuller, 
Eliot Kays Stone, Ellinor L. Norcross, John R. Moreland, Gertrude R. 
Bennett, Edward Shillito, Margaret A. Windes, Edgar Frank, W. A. 
Cutter, J. A. S. McPeek, Minnie C. Hopkins, Raymond Kresensky, 
E. McNeill Poteat, Jr., Marguerite George, Thomas C. Clark, Made- 
leine Aaron, F. B. Cowgill, Arthur B, Dale, Mary Sinton Leitch, 


Winnie L. Rockelt, Ruby W. Tobias, Elinor Lennen, Thomas 
Sweeney, Eleanor Slater, Catherine C. Coblentz, Pauline Schroy, 
Charlotte Newton, Robert Freeman, Jessie W. Murton, Jean G. 
Paxton, Ethel A. Tilden, William E. Brooks. 

Special acknowledgment is due the following poets who gave per- 
sonal permission that poems selected from their work be used in 
this anthology: Harry Kemp, Charles Hanson Towne, Ethclyn 
Wetherald, David Morton, Harold T. Pulsifcr, E. O. Grover, Grace N. 
Crowell, Louis Ginsberg, Charles P. Cleaves, Charles N. Pace, William 
L. Stidger, Frances Shaw, Helen Keller, Clinton Scollard, Thomas S. 
Jones, Jr., Richard Burton (selections from *' Lyrics of Brother- 
hood"), Robert Underwood Johnson (selection from "Poems of 
Fifty Years "), Edwin Markham (selections from *' Collected Poems" 
now in preparation), Robert Whitaker, Albert Bigelow Paine, Ralph 
Cheyney, Lucia Trent, Louis V. Ledoux (selection from " Songs from 
the Silent Land ") , Arthur D. Ficke (selection from " Sonnets of a 
Portrait Painter"), Alice Corbin, David Starr Jordan, Charlotte 
Perkins Gilman, Catherine Parmenter, Anderson M. Scruggs, John 
Oxenham, Mary E. Comstock, Shaemas O'Shecl, Carl Sandburg, 
Vachel Lindsay, Willard Wattles, William Stanley Braithwaite, Robert 
JFreeman, Nancy Byrd Turner, William E. Brooks, Kathcrine M. 
Carruth (for use of poem by William Herbert Carruth), William 
A. Percy, Allen Eastman Cross, Theodore Maynard, Hamlin Garland, 
George Klingle, Bertha Gerneaux Woods, Charles G. Blandcn, Sarah 
N. Cleghorn, Zona Gale, Will Allen Dromgoole, Winfred Ernest 
Garrison, Eleanor G. R. Young, Upton Sinclair, Barbara Young and 
Howard Chandler Robbins.