The Project Gutenberg eBook of Songs for All Seasons, and Other Poems This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. Title: Songs for All Seasons, and Other Poems Author: Cora C. Bass Release date: May 21, 2016 [eBook #52115] Most recently updated: October 23, 2024 Language: English Credits: Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive) *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS FOR ALL SEASONS, AND OTHER POEMS *** Songs for All Seasons and Other Poems. Best wishes of the season to each and every one; May the fairest gifts attend thee till the day of time is done. Flow thy lives as smoothly as the tide of Heavenly love, And sweetest songs be given to the King of Kings above. By Cora C. Bass. LOWELL, MASS. THE LAWLER PRINTING COMPANY. 1901. COPYRIGHT BY CORA C. BASS, 1901. _PREFACE._ _Thanks are due to The New York Observer, Zion’s Herald, The Standard, Boston Transcript, Portland Transcript, New England Home Magazine and others._ _I would also take this opportunity of expressing my gratitude to the many friends who gave so kindly a welcome to my first book of poems._ _CORA C. BASS._ CONTENTS Songs For All Seasons 1 Bravely Do and Bravely Bear 1 The Waves of Chance 2 Precious Seed 3 Ours Is The Choice 3 The Sum of Life 4 Build 4 The Perfect Song 5 Sunshine 5 “It Is God’s Way” 6 Time 6 May 7 Man and The Mist 8 The Flowers 9 Recompense 9 The Way 10 A Song 10 The Missing Ship 11 Tranquility 12 No Duty Is Too Difficult To Do 12 “Old Year, Adieu” 13 Washington 14 Comrades 15 Character 16 What Is There To Be Thankful For? 17 Life’s Temple 18 What Do We Owe Our Friends? 19 Memorial Day 20 Our City 23 Night 24 Little Wide-Awake 25 Try To Help Another 26 Independence 27 Contrasted Lives 29 The Way Will Open 29 Spring 30 Victoria 31 Freedom’s Son 31 Our River 33 Sunset 33 Memorial Poem 34 Blessed Was The Name She Bore 37 Content 38 Violet 39 “Longest Lanes Must Have a Turning” 39 Is There Not Something We Can Do? 40 Sunny Days 41 Bunker Hill 42 Doing 43 For Feeble Hands 43 Little Can’t-Wait 44 Make It a Pleasure 46 If We Had Lived When First The Pilgrims Came 47 Mumma, ’Ang Me ’Tocking Up 47 Our Joy Is Measured By What We Do 48 Thanksgiving 49 Transmuted 49 Christmas Gifts 49 What He Wanted 50 A Hero 51 Baby’s Christmas 52 Lovely May 53 The Chimes 53 Well May I Laugh 54 Santa ’s Coming 55 To-day and To-morrow 55 Commendation 55 Tried and True 57 Sunny Skies 58 Not a Day 59 Things Done 60 The Word 60 Fear Not 61 The Law Of The Present, Obey 61 Christmas Eve 62 In The Mirror 63 Living For Others 63 The Book of Time 63 Who Is This So Loved Of Yore? 64 Christmas Thoughts 65 Beauty Of The Soul 66 Brighter Hours 66 Willing To Serve 67 Banners Waving 67 Can You See a Little Face? 68 The Baby’s Palm 69 No Blessing Ever Comes By Chance 69 The Mayflower 70 The Best We Can 71 Something To Look Forward To 72 Christmas 72 The Brightness We Have Learned To Share 73 Ring Busy Bells 74 The River-Of-Life 76 Singing Songs For Jesus 77 Anchor Me Safe 78 Shine Out 78 Whatever Changes Time May Bring 79 Looking To Jesus 80 I Neither Faint Nor Fear 80 Easter-Tide 82 However High The Aim 82 He Giveth His Beloved Sleep 83 As We Are 83 Can The Willing Hands Be Weary? 84 The Message So Sweet 85 Service 85 Risen To-day 86 Another’s Place 86 The Window Of Life 88 Thou Art Mine 89 The Merry Bells 90 Follow Jesus 90 The Bright Side 91 We Shall Meet Again 92 The Empty Life 92 A Living Lord 93 “Have Fellowship One With Another” 94 Following Jesus 94 The Christian’s Hope 95 Coming Once More 95 The Present 97 Be Faithful 97 Why Will Ye Die 98 The Testing Time 99 Light 99 If a Work is Worth the Doing 100 Take Thy Stand 102 Father, Accept Our Thanks 102 Songs for All Seasons. SONGS FOR ALL SEASONS. Songs for all seasons, thrice welcome, And grateful they are to the ear; The rhythmical ring of each measure As the voice of the wood-thrush is clear. We hear the first note of the springtime, And quickly our hearts are attune With melodies pulsing around us, Till Winter, himself, is as June. Songs for all seasons, we love them, The harmonies borne on the breeze. We love the deep tones of the billows, The brisk, busy, hum of the bees. The harvesting songs they are pleasant, The scent of the harvest, how sweet! Yet never a song of the seasons With winter’s own song can compete. BRAVELY DO AND BRAVELY BEAR. I will bravely do and bravely bear Whatever God may send, Well knowing He will ease my care And His true child defend. I will bravely do and bravely bear, Yea, strive to do my best, Whether the way be dark or fair, And leave to Him the rest. THE WAVES OF CHANCE. Buffeted by the waves of chance, Uncertain what to do, We sail the sea of circumstance A voyage ever new. The beacon light too often hid, On which we could rely, Can Hope betray us? God forbid! The haven still is nigh. Buffeted by the waves of chance, Without the compass--choice, Neglecting when we should advance The one directing voice; Bewildered by the blinding spray We fail to count the cost, And court the dangers of delay When reckonings are lost. Buffeted by the waves of chance, Rejecting what is best, We scan the billows’ wild expanse An eager, ceaseless quest. The faithful pilot we have missed, No fault of his, our own; It means destruction to desist,-- We battle on alone. Buffeted by the waves of chance, Not knowing where to land, We need a keen, unerring glance, A firm, a steadfast hand. The ship of life triumphant glides Past doubt’s delusive reef, And joyfully at anchor rides In yon fair bay--Belief. PRECIOUS SEED. If no one planted precious seed How barren all the land would be, North and south and east and west, Never plenty, never rest; For a harvest rich and free, Vain to plead. Be ready, all along the way, To seek the motive power of life; Free to sow, to garner in, Love its sure reward will win. Undismayed by doubt or strife, Work away. If each man did the best he could In winter as in summer time; By pleasure’s side, on sorrow’s brink, His life chain forging link by link; Easy it would be to climb, Doing good. OURS IS THE CHOICE. Most gracious choice! What is a soul without a voice? A noble thought develops noble deeds, Words give thought freedom, words are wings, Deft carriers of mysterious things Too glorious to behold; They bear swift witness to our needs And make the true heart bold, To mirror forth in language quaint, The image fancy cannot paint. THE SUM OF LIFE. Day by day the weeks go by, Month by month the swift years fly, Hour by hour we work, we live, Love and labor, gain and give. Taking blessings as they come, In the total find life’s sum; Bind as in a volume vast, Read the future by the past. Only reaching heights sublime, Willing step by step to climb; Wealth to which a soul succeeds Is to what the present leads. BUILD. How much can we hope to win, while we merely sit and plan? It is better far to build, just building the best we can. And pleasant it is to build though the building itself is small, Though many a builder fail and many a building fall. It is ever the willing hands are sure to accomplish most; It is ever the truthful lips are least inclined to boast; It is ever the loving heart, is the safest heart to trust; Let us build because we may, and not because we must. THE PERFECT SONG. Shall we not gladly sing the song A fainting heart to cheer? Although the path is dark and long Some saving help is near. There is no hill so hard to climb We may not reach the top; It were a needless waste of time To stop. Shall we not gladly sing the song To speed men on their way, And swell the throng, the happy throng, Swift pressing on to-day? Which would we choose, to bravely sing The while we do our best, Or to an idle fancy cling And rest? In the refrain of one sweet song Each silent voice we miss, A song to make the feeble strong, A song to breathe of bliss. The song which white robed seraphs hold All other songs above; The perfect song, the new, the old, Of Love. SUNSHINE. There is plenty of sunshine in the world To brighten the darkest days; Are we sailing on with our colors furled, Or spread to the cheering rays? Are we sailing on with downcast eyes, Or eyes on the gleaming goal? Safe is the trip of the ship of the skies Though the waves of the clouds rough roll. “IT IS GOD’S WAY.” Rest, kindly heart, content to say “It is God’s way, His will be done.” Thrice blessed thought, With bliss enwrought, For Freedom’s son. Rest, kingly soul, inspired to say “It is God’s way, His will be done.” While nations weep And vigil keep, Thy course is run. Rest, martyr, lo! we hear thee say:-- “It is God’s way, His will be done.” “Nearer to Thee,” Oh, tender plea, The crown is won. TIME. When there is urgent need for haste Can we move slow? Let precious moments run to waste A chance forego? Achievement’s dizzy heights alone Stand forth sublime; There is no penance to atone For loss of time. MAY. From southern climes, O swiftly wing thy way And pour thy symphonies in cadence sweet Upon the air. ’Tis done, and at thy feet Forget-me-nots soft nestle in the spray Fresh scattered by the dew-drops in their play: Ay, even over echo’s proud retreat, Monadnoc, lies thy handiwork complete; All hail thee, gentle queen,--benignant May! May, brilliant May, with arbutus adorned; Fairer than life itself when hope prevails; Thy minstrels pipe in peace from yon blue pond, Where water-lilies spread their airy sails, And feathered songsters wake the wood beyond With notes more ringing sweet than nightingale’s. For what is England’s silver-throated bird The heart of free America to thrill; When robin’s merry strain, the lark’s wild trill, Fall on the fainting faith like some fond word From lips beloved, that other days have heard,-- Which spurred the lagging feet to climb the hill, That ere the “sweet note” fell forgot their will And marveled--what the feeble steps deterred. Then, as on zephyr wing the summons came, It cheered the soul triumphant on its way; It fanned the “spark celestial” to a flame Which shimmered through the night’s bewildered gray To glow about the One All-Blessed Name, And write in lines of gold: “Hail! Bonny May!” MAN AND THE MIST. He cannot sweep away the mist However he may toil, Content to weary years persist It would his efforts foil. There is a place of vision clear Where earth and sky are blending, Impelling him to persevere, From height to height ascending. How good it is when man can rise Above the mist-hung valley, He must, who on his worth relies, To his own rescue rally. He murmurs not at rocks ahead But vaulting lightly o’er them, Will triumph over foemen dread Or better yet ignore them. Not seeking to the mist dispel Thus precious moments wasting, He marvels not that others fell While upward, onward, hasting. He hears the sound on ev’ry hand Of people vainly shouting, But knowing where he soon may stand Gives not a thought to doubting. He pushes on with heart athrill; Though weaker souls may taunt him, Succeed he must, succeed he will, No obstacle can daunt him. There is a place for all who climb He cannot fail to find it, The mist must veil a truth sublime For there’s the sun behind it. THE FLOWERS. Weary and ill, Fair messengers and sweet They healthful thoughts and gracious hopes entreat, Fragrant out breathings from some balmy hill, Fresh from their sky-domed, leafy bowers, Thrice blessed flowers! Oppressive walls Instinctively expand, And sunny fields unfold on either hand, As singing rills repeat the blithe bird calls. We walk in breezy woodland bowers, Seeing the flowers. The burdened brain Submissive to their spell Is quick to heed the gentle tale they tell: No baby blossom ever blooms in vain. Borne from their dreamy, dewy bowers; Cherish the flowers. RECOMPENSE. After the shadows, sunshine; Quiet after the pain; Light for the mountain passes And for the desert rain. After the shadows, sunshine, After the failure, success; Never a pleasure is taken But something is given to bless. THE WAY. The way may be rough, And our footsteps may falter, Though foeman rebuff, The right cannot alter; As upward we climb Each trouble outbraving, More sweet and sublime Is the boon we are craving. The way may be long, And the day may be dreary; The world is not wrong Because we are weary. A cloud may annoy, But soon shall we read it By light of the joy And the peace that succeed it. A SONG. A song makes merry music ’mid the hills, Like laughing rills. On heaven’s bright sea its echo lingers long, Love is a song. A quenchless melody given to inspire The fainting heart with bold, ambitious fire; Springing from out the life, As pain is born of strife. A sweet conception of the joy to be, Delightful, free. Gladly our lips take up the winsome strain And make the meaning of its birthright plain. THE MISSING SHIP. Any news yet of the missing ship? Any news yet? we say; A household word on every lip, The name of that ship to-day: The name of the ship who left her dock In the blush of the early morn, Has she struck, unknown, on some cruel rock With never a voice to warn? Any news yet of the missing ship? Any news yet? we cry; We speak her name with a trembling lip, To her aid we fain would fly. Adrift at mercy of wind and wave; Storm spent on a desolate shore:-- May there be one guardian hand to save, ’Mid the billows rush and roar. Any news yet of the missing ship? Any news yet? we sigh; We speak her name with a timid lip, And pray for a kind reply. For life and death in a moment blend, Who ever the captain may be; We never can tell how a trip will end, When a ship puts out to sea. TRANQUILITY. We well may keep a tranquil mind Whatever changes meeting, The world is happier we find For ev’ry pleasant greeting. How easy then to work away At each new problem set us, For even on the darkest day Some gleam of hope has met us. There is no hill so hard to climb, We may not reach the summit; There is no task, but patience, time, Will grandly overcome it. We cannot look for light in vain, Behold it all around us; Perplexing paths shall be made plain, When victory has crowned us. NO DUTY IS TOO DIFFICULT TO DO. Attentive to the work the will requires The hand achieves the task the heart desires; No duty is too difficult to do, The end in view. The end in view, if hope, or love, it be; Content, when it can set a brother free; Or bid him move rejoicing on his way The while ’tis day. Attentive to the work the will requires, The hand perfects the task the heart desires, No duty is too difficult to do, The end in view. “OLD YEAR, ADIEU.” A happy measure smites the ear. It pealeth full, it pealeth clear; And at the “witching hour” of night, Awakes a rapture of delight. Across the land, across the sea, The merry strain is borne along; While even seraphs bend the knee Before the majesty of song. Old Year--alas, we cannot stay Thy eager footsteps for a day; Thy work is done, and thou shalt go, A rival is at hand we know. Across the land, across the sea, The merry strain is borne along; Ah! surely it is bliss to flee Upon the pinions of a song. Hark!--clear and strong and full and free, I hear the bells saluting thee; They seem to say “Old Year, adieu”-- And “halleluiah” to the New. Across the land, across the sea, The merry peal is borne along, And all the world must happy be To hear the oft-repeated song. WASHINGTON. ’Twas Christmas eve, the enemy his vigilance for once relaxed; Well might such gusts of angry sleet the keenest zeal have overtaxed. The ice thronged Delaware ran bleak, but friendly, to the distant bay, While to and fro upon his beat the sentry took his patient way. A gallant force full often tried was swiftly plying mattock, spade, While those who first should stem the tide, moved calmly forth as on parade. They met in silence, halted, marched, the merest motion a command, A raging river rolled before; the “Lion” hungered near at hand. The watchfires gleaming through the mist seemed saying:--Courage! men, good cheer. None may suppose while bright we burn, that not a soldier lingers near. The hero faced a bank of gloom, it spoke security, success. He saw the country free and felt a glow of holy happiness. Within the measure of a breath he saw the revolution o’er, He saw Mount Vernon smile in peace above the blue Potomac’s shore. But happy times were yet to come, a grim invader walked the land, Oh that he might by one dread blow bid yonder Hessian horde disband. The frost lay white upon his brow, the blizzard raved, he heeded not, No hand but God’s should stand between his army and the goal it sought. And so he crossed the Delaware, a lesser man had quailed to view, He crossed it, for full well he knew how brave his men although how few. The boat was faithful to its trust, it bore him slowly, surely, o’er; And scorned to heed the groaning mass that pressed upon it more and more. So victor crowned, at early morn, through Trenton’s smoke hung streets he passed, Like one, who after weary days, has caught a glimpse of home at last. He passed in triumph, passed to find, though other battles loomed before, That monarchy, could not again, in this free land her loss restore. COMRADES. Comrades, yea comrades in war and comrades in peace, Comrades when bugles were sounding a blessed release; Comrades when bullets were whistling and death rode in sight, Comrades ’mid battle and conquest and comrades to-night. Comrades when many a river ran red with blood, Comrades when war swept us on with the force of a flood; Comrades when charging the fortress each fain would be first; Comrades where thickest and fiercest the hissing shells burst. Comrades, even as in the great conflicts of yore, Comrades with danger behind us and danger before; Comrades when tempests of sorrow were shrouding the sky, Comrades to suffer and conquer, or suffer and die. CHARACTER. Armed with reason, braced by knowledge, Surely such a one is king; Ready in his honest manhood For whatever fate may bring. Public spirited, courageous, Gauging chances at their best; Let his character commend him, Time will gladly do the rest. WHAT IS THERE TO BE THANKFUL FOR? “What is there to be thankful for?” I think I hear you say: Hope is a happy counsellor When clouds hang dull and gray; The sky is dark, the way is long, The hours move sad and slow; A fitting time for one sweet song To set the heart aglow. A fitting time for one sweet song To echo far and wide, The sky is dark, the way is long, My strength is sorely tried. Though dark the sky and long the way, I’ll keep love’s armor bright. Still singing, through the night, the day, I know God’s will is right. How oft the eager pulse must thrill To robin’s liquid note; A merry tune, the May-buds trill ’Neath winter’s shielding coat. There sounds a gracious hymn of praise From ev’ry living thing; Because the sun refuse its rays Can I refuse to sing? Can I refuse to sing when some Might find the timid strain More powerful than trump or drum, And swell the glad refrain? Lo, Christ has made me free to rise From man’s forlorn estate, To look beyond the stormy skies And see the pearly gate. What is there to be thankful for? A will that would obey; A soul that stands as conqueror, And this, that I may pray. Lo, Christ has made me free to rise From man’s forlorn estate, I look beyond the stormy skies And see the pearly gate. LIFE’S TEMPLE. How shall we plan life’s temple? With a height divine, Wherein rare workmanship and worth combine; Or low and rambling, that the prisoned soul May trace no semblance of the wondrous whole, To which its hopes so eagerly aspire? We can but fashion what we most admire. How shall we plan life’s temple? By design complete, Which on the world’s highway we fain would meet; Then ere Night dons her star-encrusted veil To silent journey over hill and dale, The dream of youth, at least, may proudly stand-- An ideal structure in an ideal land. How shall we build life’s temple? Build it stone on stone And ever build, no part abides alone. We labor vainly if we fail to know A firm foundation though ’tis builded slow, Is built to stand, when hearts are bold to dare And bound to conquer as to do and bear. WHAT DO WE OWE OUR FRIENDS? What do we owe our friends? We owe them love, not fear, Love that the closer clings when storms are near; Love that shall speak in eye, in voice, in hand, And steadfast stand. What do we owe our friends but loyalty and trust? Forever faithful, sympathetic, just; A peerless comforter, and shield and guide, Whate’er betide. What do we owe our friends? The kinship of good deeds, A soul responsive to their deepest needs, To share life’s burdens all the weary way, And watch, and pray. What do we owe our friends? The patience which forbears; And fond communion ’mid their joys, their cares; A gracious spirit firm to do its best, Nor doubt, nor rest. What do we owe our friends? Kind thoughts and pleasant cheer Born of affection tender and sincere, And ready service, the efficient seal Of earnest zeal. What do we owe our friends? We owe them love, not fear, Love that the closer clings when storms are near, Love that shall speak in eye, in voice, in hand, And steadfast stand. MEMORIAL DAY. [Dedicated to the G. A. R. Read at Huntington Hall.] With muffled drum, with banners furled, with martial step and slow, Oh, gather by the sacred dust, the dust that lies below; Oh, gather by the sacred dust of comrades loyal, true, Wave over them thy benison, the red, the white, the blue. May this fair Union stand complete, a monument divine To those who sacrificed their lives at freedom’s holy shrine; Upon each thirtieth of May with solemn tread we come, And pay them tender tribute to the throbbing of the drum. We marched with them, we fought with them, our bed the sullen sod, With not a star above us and without a hope, save God; ’Mid cannon’s roar, the halt, the dash, the victory, retreat, We saw them falling ’round us as the sickle fells the wheat. Oh, dark the days that followed fast on Baltimore, Bull Run, Beneath the torrid fierceness of a blazing southern sun; With Butler in his bold campaigns, with Sherman by the sea, We shoulder stood to shoulder in the battle of the free. And ever through the living past there flows a tender vein, To stir the heart and open wounds that bleed and bleed again, As tearful eyes and empty arms to death itself appealed, Alas for those who sadly knelt on Desolation’s field! Oh, there are many lonely lie beneath the rev’rent blue, But they will not be missing from the final grand review; Let wives and mothers gather near, and little children weep Above the dreary pillows where the martyred heroes sleep. The martyred heroes; yonder shaft of granite guards a spot, The sepulchre of comrades that can never be forgot; While pride endures, and nations thrive, and patriots survive Must Lowell keep the mem’ry of her own great loss alive. She scatters garlands o’er her dead and softly tolls the bells, But for her martyred heroes are the precious immortelles. Oh, Ladd and Whitney, side by side, in peaceful silence rest, Among the fairest jewels that adorn Columbia’s breast. We cannot think of them as lost, for moving on and on The soul shall rise triumphant on the resurrection morn; Upon the angel wings of prayer let thought sublime ascend Until we feel the grandeur that the dying comprehend. With muffled drum, with banners furled, with martial step and slow, Oh, gather by the sacred dust, the dust that lies below; And mingle with the breath of flowers that sigh above the brave, The note of lamentation, like an echo from the grave. The laurel wreath, the tearful eye and Honor’s fairest crown Are drops in life’s great ocean to the price that they laid down. Hush! listen to the sacred dirge, it swells,--it sobs,--it dies: Until we see them marching, marching home beyond the skies. OUR CITY. Turn backward the close written pages, Close written with deeds breathing praise, A secret attracting the sages, The fruitful reward of our gaze. Yes, turn back the close written pages, in gratitude seeking the clue; Be thankful to find it and wonder to such a fair record review. Her history daily unfolding, Through life of the daughter, the son, From models the moments are molding The fame of our city is won. Her rapid development shows us, the Merrimack’s run to the sea Has not been more true to its mission than she to her promise will be. How patiently Labor has striven, Bespeaking the boon of success; The loom and the spindle once given Have proven as guerdons to bless. The fields boldly trodden by red men, in league with each meadow and hill, Where lingered the good Wannalancit, now answer to Industry’s will. While yet a mere village came duly Determined and far seeing men, So skillfully wrought they, so truly, The present was plain to them, then. They planned with a clear sighted vision, their eyes on futurity bent, Ambitious to build to their utmost, that none might have cause to lament. The hand-maiden Knowledge beside them Led Genius, twin-brother of Art; A blessing could not be denied them, Each steadfastly doing his part. The summons of Lincoln stood honored as soon as the summons was heard, And later when Cuba was calling how many went forth at the word. Adversity’s forces defying The County, the Country, the State On Lowell are wise in relying Till tempests of trouble abate. Rejoice in the marvellous brightness illuming the glorious past, Prosperity’s presence will grandly the scope of the future forecast. NIGHT. The mellow moonbeams glint along the waves, Beyond the inky blur yon frowning height Full oft impresses on the tranquil deep. What eagle glances pierce the veil of gloom! Each galaxy of light proclaims a town, Instinct with life, as childhood is with joy. Afar, like some dim phantom of the hour, A liner speeds majestic on her way; While beaconward a schooner lies at ease, A graceful shadow on a silvered sea. LITTLE WIDE-AWAKE. Would you see a winsome fairy with her baby eyes alight, As she wrestles with the problem: “Oh, will Santy come to-night?” Mischief beaming in the glances where the dainty dimples hide, ’Mid a wealth of wiles bewitching at the merry Christmas tide. Twice her eager ears have heard, Sounds as if the yule log stirred; Thrice the reindeer bells have rung Since the twilight hour was young. From her rosy lips and fingers honey-sweet caresses fall, Like a tender benediction on the loving hearts of all; And with each exultant jingle from the busy street below Hark the joyful proclamation:--“He is coming now, I know.” Singing blithely as a wren:-- “Peace on earth, good will to men.” Wafted on the strain so sweet, Surely earth and heaven meet. How she warms and glows and sparkles, like a precious human gem, Till she kneels beside the chimney at the setting of P.M. With her gentle face uplifted and the drooping lashes wet, Whispering the fond petition which she never can forget:-- For the lonely and the sad That the morrow may be glad, And that Kris herself will bless With just one benign caress. Hurry, darling, let us go to the magic realm of sleep, It is over there, you know, we may hear a love-bird peep; Hang the stocking up in state where Saint Nicholas must see, Then away to fair dreamland on the fast express with me. Happy Little Wide-Awake, Santy comes and no mistake; But she misses half the bliss Of his pleasant smile and kiss. TRY TO HELP ANOTHER. Try to help another whether friend or foe, And the sweet soul-sunshine shall the brighter glow; Try to help another fainting by the way, Lo! the night of sorrow turneth into day. Try to help another, be he small or great, Try to help him onward ere it is too late; Try to help him onward, try to help him up, Add a heav’nly flavor to his bitter cup. INDEPENDENCE. Dimly was the magnitude of the vast result foreseen When England smote America on Lexington’s fair green. A just retaliation of the most unrighteous blow, The hand of the oppressor set the nation’s heart aglow. There was burning indignation, it swept the outraged land, The blood of murdered brothers grew too urgent to withstand. Responsive to the message men were quickened by the news, Confronting vital issues little need to stop and choose. The spirit of the people sympathized with those who bore The burden of the battle and the sword was sheathed no more. For how could those who suffered be content to bend the knee To tyranny? ’Twere “better far to die or to be free.” A noble deed is eloquent to noble deeds inspire, With broken ranks or columns massed we meet the foeman’s fire. ’Twere better far to perish than to linger here a slave, God favored independence in the leader, true, he gave. In that dread hour both sad and sweet which hallowed Bunker Hill, The bud of freedom flourished in an atmosphere of will, As Prescott faltered step by step down yonder rugged slope, His being conquered sorrow in a sudden rush of hope. While valiantly contending for the long defended field, He felt Columbia’s future to her noble sons appealed. The effort was successful in the impulse many gained, To consecrate their powers to a cause so well maintained. As Prescott faltered step by step down yonder rugged slope, His being conquered sorrow in a sudden rush of hope. In place of troops and smoking spires a peaceful city stood; No foreign forces fettered her, she wrought for human good. The vessels raining shot and shell, gave way to ships of trade; No horde, with hostile purpose, dared the busy streets invade. A whisper of its presence would united wrath awake, Beware of idle sophistries, a nation’s life at stake. The nation’s life at stake, one word will rouse us from our rest, The patriot stands ready to submit to sternest test. What sacrifice is too severe when danger is at hand? The hero’s arm is strong to strike for home and native land. CONTRASTED LIVES. Successful men, Woo the diffusive fire And yet feel cold. What of the homeless, then, In pitiful attire, Poor, feeble, old? Affluence weeps, A bird the weather kills, Great souls despair. Love willing vigil keeps, Till want all feeling chills, Frozen by care. Think not to choose, Or mere convenience seek, Some faint heart cheer. Who comfort could refuse, To weary ones and weak Perishing near? THE WAY WILL OPEN. The way will open it is true If I but do my best, I’ll do the things I find to do And leave to God the rest. Although the clouds are hanging low And all the way seems dark, I’ll do the very best I know:-- The dove was in the ark. The way will open; Soul, be strong, And rise to do thy best. The shadows cannot last for long, There’s roses in the west. What matter is the tempest’s rage? I’ve but to do my part, ’Tis love alone that can assuage The tempest of the heart. The way will open it is true I’ve but to do my best, I’ll do the things I find to do And leave to God the rest. SPRING. Bright-eyed goddess,--witching spring,--as thy amber tresses glow, Kindled to immortal flame Is the breath of honor,--fame. Well may poets hymn thy praise,--fancy flutter to and fro,-- To a measure full and fleet, to a measure stately, slow; Thence with heaven for an aim, Rushing on with glad acclaim: Hearken to the strain and know, blessed Beulah here below, Wake! The living notes prolong in a symphony of song, Floating on the perfumed air In the angel arms of prayer; Welcome goddess, spring divine; beauty visions ’round thee twine; Violets and blossoms sweet Nestle fondly at thy feet. VICTORIA. When have men or nations seen A life, to rival England’s queen? What vital interests compressed Within its span, what truths confessed, A long, a useful, noble reign. Maidenhood and age attain A broader meaning as we view, Her record, glorious as true. Each subject, brave to do his part, Found ready welcome to her heart. She, the soldier’s work well done, Proclaimed the wounded hero “Son”; A royal soul alone reveres, Worth, where ever it appears, As light must all the brighter shine. Springing from a source divine; Benevolence, when simply shown, Will gracefully adorn a throne: The righteous wisdom of her aim, Glorifies Victoria’s name. FREEDOM’S SON. Do you love him, Freedom’s son, Great, Immortal Washington? Is your raptured soul athrill, At his majesty of will? Unsubdued by doubts and fears, Proudest of all proud careers, It was his to boldly climb Till his deeds stood forth sublime. Can you see him, Freedom’s son, Great, immortal, Washington? See the armies he has led Up and on where heroes bled? Battle’s brunt, the foeman’s fire, Seem but given to inspire, Well his spirit might prevail For he could not, would not fail. Can you see him, Freedom’s son, Great, immortal, Washington? Face the ice-thronged Delaware Knowing death itself is there? Hark! the rasping, sharp as steel, How it throbs along the keel; Fog-enwrapped but firm he stands With the future in his hands. Can you see him, Freedom’s son, Great, immortal, Washington? Called to crown a record fair In the Presidential chair. First of many bound to own This brave people’s heart a throne, On the honor roll of fame Men must ever read his name. Can you see him, Freedom’s son, Great, immortal, Washington? Surely we are wreathing now, Fadeless laurel for his brow. When we meet to speak his praise, Speak the wisdom of his ways, In a nation’s life we view * * * Washington, the tried, the true. OUR RIVER. Our river, thine and mine; With what intrepid haste it leaps the falls Glancing, dancing, whirling, purling, on Over the gleaming rocks, whose falchions keen Would rend for aye the glinting canopy Which spans the flood in rainbow-tinted folds. Anon the waters lift impulsive arms Toward yonder sun through bridal veils of mist. Never is man more moved than when he stands Gauging the force Omnipotence creates. SUNSET. See the cloudlets float to rest, At the portals of the west; How they glimmer, how they glance In a merry sunset dance. Beautiful and sweet and fair, As the spirit of a prayer; With what confidence they lie On the bosom of the sky. How they crown the brow of night With a wreath of ruddy light; Fair as any flower that blows In the twilight, pink and rose. Even so our earthly way, It will not be always gray; Soon we, too, shall float to rest-- Past the portals of the west. MEMORIAL POEM. [Dedicated to the G. A. R. and read at Huntington Hall.] Oh, peaceful are the humble graves of fallen comrades far and near, In sweet communion with the gift we gladly offer year by year To those who knelt at Freedom’s shrine in all the beauteous bloom of youth, And fell, a living sacrifice, upon the altar stone of truth. Though many of our brave marines are resting in the boundless deep, No band of brothers bending near, the stars eternal vigil keep; If we can never kneel and say “A noble comrade lies below,” Upon the honor roll of fame his record shall the brighter glow. Where legions of the “great unknown” beneath the dainty lilies sleep, Let little children softly come above the sacred dust to weep; A solemn sweetness fills the hours when thus devoted to the dead Who fearless faced the cannon’s mouth and for Columbia fought and bled. Oh, how we love to gather here upon each thirtieth of May, And dedicate our choicest thoughts to glorify the Soldiers’ Day; Beyond the worth of worldly store, or empty plaudits of renown, The broken shackles of the slave are jewels in the heavenly crown. To follow Butler’s bold campaigns must every loyal heart inspire, As when he woke the gallant Sixth to kindle treason’s funeral pyre, While Ladd and Whitney doomed to fall that dismal day at Baltimore Were eager with their dying breath to hail the stars and stripes once more. * * * * * Athwart the face of Memory’s page we watch the busy brush of Time Indorsing each heroic deed with one decisive word--“Sublime!” The voice of victory arose amid the ardor of the strife, And the patriots--these before me, had preserved a nation’s life. Consult the dreary prison pen--the wounded heroes side by side, Who in the weary march of months were sadly wishing they had died; And marvel not that some are bowed as with a heavy weight of years, But give to them a gracious meed, of love and gratitude, and tears. Behold the spires of Gettysburg, the waving wheat, the orchard fair, How calm it was until the strength of hostile forces entered there, And then the awful rush and roar of surging armies, day by day, Of Sickles in the grim retreat, and Sedgwick as he stood at bay. Oh, how the waiting North rejoiced when Hancock’s sturdy arm prevailed, Defeated in that last dread charge the flower of the South had failed; And we have welcomed here tonight the comrades who as conquerors stood, Whose hands thenceforth were closely linked in one eternal brotherhood. And while they mourned the tender ties which lay unheeded mid the slain, Yet not a man would dare proclaim that such as these had died in vain. Oh, beautiful, and bright, and fair, the glorious banner of the free, A peerless synonym of right, of hope, of love, of liberty. And never shall a fold be rent, a color fade, a star be lost, For freedom sees its azure field with gems of precious blood embossed; We well may hush our hearts to hear the thrilling dirges sob and die, Until they almost seem to us like angel whispers floating by. BLESSED WAS THE NAME SHE BORE. Wake! oh, nation; wake, and sing! Bid the “arch of heaven” ring; Praise, in sweet accord, our pride-- Thirty summers Neptune’s bride. Kearsarge, a hymn to thee Floateth over land and sea; Hark, the chorus! hear it soar-- “Blessed was the name she bore.” Volumes of heroic verse Shall thy victories rehearse; Well may rhythm swiftly chime To a measure full--sublime Kearsarge, a hymn to thee Floateth over land and sea; Hark, the chorus! hear it soar-- “Blessed was the name she bore.” Though Roncador--reef of woe-- Like a traitor laid thee low; As Aurora cleaves the sky, Rise! the “god of storms” defy. Kearsarge, a hymn to thee Floateth over land and sea; Hark, the chorus! hear it soar-- “Blessed was the name she bore.” Swift, as light along the hill, Fly! Columbia’s bosom thrill; Crucified by flood, by fire-- Come, Futurity, inspire. Kearsarge, a hymn to thee Floateth over land and sea; Hark, the chorus! hear it soar-- “Blessed was the name she bore.” Lo! thy ashes softly lie ’Neath a tender southern sky; Yet on honor’s tide ye sail, Like a ship before the gale. Kearsarge, a hymn to thee Floateth over land and sea; Hark, the chorus! hear it soar-- “Blessed was the name she bore.” CONTENT. Is there a place in the whole, wide, world Like the beautiful vale content; The fair, white, banner of peace unfurled As our hopes in one are blent By mutual glad consent. Is there a place the foe cannot reach, Stands the dark featured King subdued? Is each prayer the Spirit would teach With gracious power imbued Are the thought rifts rainbow hued? Is there a place where the weary rest Knowing how well the past was meant? In sharing the birthright of the blest, Bliss of heaven to thee is lent Beautiful vale of content. VIOLET. Violet tender and sweet clasped to the bosom of earth, Lift up thy bonny blue eye, happy the day of thy birth. Thine is a glorious lot, bearing the word of the king, Calling the world to rejoice breathing of beauty and spring; Violet, tender and sweet. Violet tender and sweet plucked from the bosom of earth Lift up thy bonny blue eye, happy the day of thy birth. Close in thy petals of pearl, of beautiful amethyst cling, Fresh with the balm of the wood the odorous essence of spring; Violet, tender and sweet. “LONGEST LANES MUST HAVE A TURNING.” Shall we dare to be despondent, though the way is rough and cold? “Longest lanes must have a turning,” is a saying never old. Who would feebly faint or falter on life’s journey? Day by day Grateful sunbeams softly greet us, through the heavy mists of gray; Blessed gifts the Great All-Father sends to cheer our earthly lot, And to whisper, sweetly, fondly, that we never are forgot. Ay, ’tis hard when dreary trouble comes to pierce the faithful heart, And hope spreads her airy pinions as if eager to depart; Sickness, with its hand of iron--Justice, with a frowning face, Wilfully conspire to crush us in a cruel, stern embrace: Shall we bow beneath the burden, though it is so hard to bear, Or arise and do our utmost, boldly breaking from despair? Brothers, sisters, little children,--weak with hunger, bleeding feet,-- Bravely meet the dusky foemen, make the victory complete. Many weep o’er thy misfortunes,--courage! yet will come a friend; Do not sink upon the highway, surely this is not the end. Let us use our best endeavor, ever seeking out the light,-- “Longest lanes must have a turning,”--one is even now in sight. IS THERE NOT SOMETHING WE CAN DO? Is there not something we can do, To smooth the rugged road? Men struggle onward, death in view, Each with his own great load. Men struggle onward, weak of arm, But chivalrous of soul; Where is the hand to do them harm, Or keep them from the goal. What joy to honest worth assist, To move the stumbling stone; Good vantage ground is often missed When pressing on alone. To bring a burdened brother ease, Though long the way and rough; Or bid the storm of trouble cease, We cannot do enough. SUNNY DAYS. Of course we value sunny days And all of nature’s pleasant ways, The merry birds, the balmy sky, The happy brooklet laughing by, With the clouds come darker hours, Good for us as for the flowers. How bright the meadow after rain; How calm the heart is after pain. We owe indeed a wondrous debt To ev’ry trouble bravely met; A debt that no one ever pays, Our thanks are for the sunny days. BUNKER HILL. From Cambridge, through the solemn moving night, With firm determination to be free, Our fathers came, that this proud shaft might be Synonymous of liberty and right. Pale moonbeams strove to cast a languid light, Upon the patriot band and that true sea, Which once was bold to brew good English tea. Scarce hidden by a mask too frail for flight, Across “The Neck” their fearless footsteps sped, Ere morning could the sullen east assail To mingle with her coming joy and dread, The fierce redoubt and breastwork marked a trail Of glory, up the path where Honor led, Those master spirits eager to prevail. A gallant sight and noble, did it quell, The squadron swan-like sweeping to and fro, Upon the Mystic and the Charles? oh, no! The Britons captive to the subtle spell Yet read the meaning of its signal well. When from the “Lively” came a sudden glow, Then swift the leaden hail fell blow on blow, Gage, governor, commander, heard the knell Of that first warning boom and wounded pride Spoke in his wrathful face, his hurried gait, As gazing o’er the smoothly flowing tide He felt his own wise plan had come too late; But on an easy conquest still relied To claim those frowning heights, the town, the state. DOING. Keep doing, always doing, Wishing, dreaming, what are they? Tempters idle steps pursuing, Foemen ambushing the way. Keep doing, bravely doing, Never falter, never fail, Day by day your strength renewing, Gird your armor on, prevail! Keep doing, wisely doing, Working upward as you may; Human interest accruing Will a high percentage pay. Keep doing, boldly doing, Use the talents time may lend; Right upholding, self reviewing, The down-trodden truth defend. Keep doing, ever doing, Trusting, when you cannot see; Fearing not, a tempest brewing, Knowing what the end will be. FOR FEEBLE HANDS. It is not so much what we wish that counts, As the little we really achieve; The duty we do to-day amounts To more than we ever perceive. There are tasks just fitted for feeble hands, For the feeble as well as the strong; Be bold to stand where the right demands And bound to vanquish wrong. LITTLE CAN’T-WAIT. Have you met her? Little Can’t-Wait, she is sweet and bright and fair, With her sunny, floating, ringlets and bewitching baby air; Just a pretty bit of mischief all impatient now to know If St. Nicholas, dear fellow, by her tiny socks will go. Quite alone on Christmas evening, she has planned it out to hide And is bound to capture Santy, brisk and jolly from his ride. Little Can’t-Wait is so winsome as she lays this clever plot, That I toss her to the ceiling and caress her on the spot. But the darling, I’ve a notion, like a bird upon its nest In the cosy chimney corner will glide softly off to rest; And her brown eyes will not open till the rosy morning light, When she’ll wake to find Kris Cringle caught her napping in the night. Have you met her? Little Can’t-Wait: met the witchery of eyes Where the halo of affection in its angel beauty lies? While I toss her to the ceiling and caress her sunny hair, She is deep in speculation, seeing Santy ev’ry where. Hearing of his sturdy reindeer, rapidly they speed along, We can barely catch the echo of his merry jest and song; Of the bountiful attractions, of the season and the night, Of the pleasures and the pastimes such as give a child delight. Little Can’t-Wait as I chatter hangs enraptured on the tale, With an interest in Santy that was never known to fail. Whereupon I whisper gaily and receive a roguish glance, Here’s the story Kris will tell you if you give him half a chance. “Have you heard how little Can’t-Wait, just a year ago to-day, Formed a clever plan, the mischief, and when twilight softly lay Over this fair scene around us, crept into a dainty nest, In the cosy chimney corner where the evening shadows rest. There, upon the faintest jingle of my sleigh bells drawing nigh To triumphant watch my fingers pile the tiny stockings high; And so certain was the conquest that the elf was bound to make, I was downright sorry, darling, to the pretty picture break. It was pleasant to be welcomed by a most enticing view, Of a dainty bit of muslin and a golden lock or two. As I crept up close and closer to the crimson curtained chair, Well, a secret’s none in telling, _some one_, slyly kissed her there. When those baby eyes were blinking in the rosy morning light, They were just too late to see me as I bounded out of sight.” Little Can’t-Wait shyly dimples, firm this Christmas eve to keep, And to not be caught “_a-napping_,” even though she is asleep. MAKE IT A PLEASURE. Make it a pleasure, the task you would shun, Joy beyond measure will follow “well done!” There is no trouble that cannot be eased, Bliss will redouble when others are pleased. Make it a pleasure to work while you may, Time is a treasure, the crown of to-day; Hard is the waiting with nothing to do, Stand not debating but carry things through. Make it a pleasure to help people thrive, Man may not measure, he only may strive; There is no trouble that cannot be eased, Bliss will redouble when others are pleased. IF WE HAD LIVED WHEN FIRST THE PILGRIMS CAME. If we had lived, when first the Pilgrims came, Founding on a rock their future fame; Humbly would we celebrate the day Love alone can make care free and gay. If we had lived when Freedom’s cause was young, Often would the heart be sorrow wrung; Yet when war and famine thinned our ranks Find its sweetest joy in giving thanks. If we had lived, no light on either hand, Trusting, when we could not understand; Pressed by want and danger all the way Thankful would we then have been to-day. MUMMA ’ANG ME ’TOCKING UP. Mumma ’ang me ’tocking up, Want a yamb, a tilver tup, ’Orse, a tart, a dum, a s’ed An a nighty, nithe and wed. Me dus awsul want a dun Bang-a-banging, dus for fun; An a ’teamer dat will say Toot-a-toot, toot, duss iss way. Wite a ’etter, mumma dear, Wite it bid so he can hear ’Tanty Taws, be thure an ’top. Div me a whole baby s’op. All de doodies, oo ull know Yarf an kie, an soot, an blow; Want an ’oop, a joll, a s’ate, ’Ots and ’ote of sings to ate; Tanny, ’ugar, feenuts, jum Tell him dat he mustest tum. Weed it mumma, so to see If oo said it dus like me. It ull do iss time I dess, Ceps me want a pwetty dwess, Thure the ’tocking don’t forget Thign with love, from ’Ittle Pet. OUR JOY IS MEASURED BY WHAT WE DO. We bring to the Lord and we call it giving, It is merely paying a debt we owe. The life we from day to day are living Is broader, deeper, than man may know. While striving to walk in the path of duty, The way may be rugged and yet be plain. A thought may be true, conceal its beauty, We bury a bliss and sigh in vain, We work for the Lord, nor faint, nor falter, However perplexing the task may be; The promise is sure, it cannot alter, There’s strength and enough for you and me. Consider the song the angels were singing That first glad Christmas the world ever knew. God needs the offering men are bringing Our joy is measured by what we do. THANKSGIVING. Be grateful, oh my soul, while blessings I recount, Although I may not hope to tell the full amount; Encompassed oftentimes by pain, and fear, and doubt, Whence, daily, comes the strength, I could not do without? Be grateful, oh my soul, give thanks and be at peace, The night of grief shall pass, the din of strife shall cease. As there is not one heart its secret thoughts can hide, So I am not alone whatever may betide. Be grateful, oh my soul, for gratitude is sweet, One sympathizing friend can make my joy complete. For gifts of life and love shall I not offer praise? Knowing every week has seven thanksgiving days. TRANSMUTED. Bright bloom the roses of the eventide, Roses whose parted petals never fall; Transmuted, they in living light, Vibrate responsive to the heart of man, And man to God. CHRISTMAS GIFTS. I like to watch the Christmas gifts, so gaily they go by, To win sweet words from sweeter lips, the love light to the eye. The mother’s face will beam with joy, the children dance with glee, When, as the evening closes in, we gather round the tree. I like to watch the Christmas gifts, a father’s willing hands Are bearing swiftly homeward for he always understands Just what will give most pleasure to the hearts he longs to please, Although he may not bring them, either wealth, or power, or ease. I like to watch the Christmas gifts, they gladly troop along, The plain, the proud, the practical, a merry, motley throng. It matters not how much they cost in money, none may miss, Giving at least one person some share of Christmas bliss. WHAT HE WANTED. “Mamma dear, I am so sleepy; will good Santy truly come With a bang-er-bang, a ’teamer, and a ball, a kite, a drum? I just awesul want a rainbow for whenever papa’s late, We could wave it from the window and he would not miss the gate. It is snowing, now I wonder if I ask Kris Kringle nice, Would he carve a baby city from a tiny bit of ice? Have a lot of ’tores, and turches, and a sun, and moon, and ’tars, With the dearest, sweetest station, for my toot-er-tooting cars? Hang a ’tocking over yonder; clear the corner for the toys, Then just write a line to tell him I’m the very best of boys; And, oh mamma, when you write it, write it bid so he can hear, For he didn’t see our chimney as he hurried by last year; Oh, I should be dreadful sorry if to-night he passed again, So be careful, mamma darling, and be sure and write it plain. Pin it close beside the mantle where he cannot fail to see, Tissmas is so long in coming to a little chap like me.” A HERO. Every man’s a hero who dares And forbears. Every man’s a hero who will stand Faithful to the interests at hand. Where so e’er its starry folds we see Ours shall be the banner of the free; Gladly, boldly, battle for the right Day follows night. BABY’S CHRISTMAS. Baby’s face is in a glow, Baby’s eyes are bright Oh, would you the reason know? Santa comes to-night. Santa Claus of whom she’s heard, Heard but never met; Santa Claus--a magic word, With what joy beset. Baby’s heart is beating fast, Beating with delight; “Here is Santa; come at last!” Is the darling right? Papa’s feet are at the door Papa’s arms are wide, Precious kisses, gems galore, Sweetest gifts provide. Baby journeys off to rest, Cuddled close and warm In the arms she loves the best, Safe from every storm. And she has the strangest dream Seeing Santa stand, Chirping to his reindeer team, Trophies in his hand. But the wondrous part is this:-- Santa’s face appears Just like one she loves to kiss, Wreathed in smiles and tears. Brightest visions come to bless Baby’s waking eyes, And her very looks confess All her glad surprise. LOVELY MAY. A RONDEAU. O lovely May, throw thy soft spell On mountain proud and smiling dell, The world is kneeling at thy shrine-- Fond captive of thy moods divine,-- And nations rise thy charms to tell. Where could we meet thy parallel? Who would thy witching arts repel? Who dares thy choicest gifts define, O lovely May? And Nature?--Ah, she loves thee well, For Hope and Youth beside thee dwell. Thy sister months with thee combine As lesser streamlets swell the Rhine. ’Twere sin against thee to rebel, O lovely May. THE CHIMES. Hark to the voice of the joyful chimes Echoing on to fairer climes, Echoing on from hill to hill; “Peace on earth, good will, good will!” Hark to the song of prayer, of praise, Speeding along the world’s highways, Echoing on from hill to hill: “Peace on earth, good will, good will!” Hark to the melody sweet and clear Swiftly borne to the eager ear; Echoing on from hill to hill: “Peace on earth, good will, good will!” Hark to the carol of life, of love, Wafted down from the realms above. Echoing on from hill to hill: “Peace on earth, good will, good will!” WELL MAY I LAUGH. Well may I laugh when the earth is aglow With bountiful gifts love alone can bestow; The manifold works from the Father’s own hand, But image the wealth of Immanuel’s land. Well may I laugh when the sun is so bright, The mountains and valleys are bathing in light; The breezes of summer and winter’s shrill blast, All telling of greatness and glory at last. Well may I laugh from pure gladness of heart, For in this fair world even I have a part; There is not a day but what something is done, Some good is accomplished, some victory won. Well may I laugh, it is pleasant to live, To love and to labor, to gain and to give; While never a pleasure in life can compare, With pleasures eternal that all men may share. SANTA’S COMING. Listen darling, Santa’s coming, Hark the reindeer at the door Hear the carol he is humming, Sweeter, clearer, than before. Look what treasures he is bringing Dainty trifles, works of art, While the music of his singing Is as nectar to the heart. Listen, darling, Santa’s coming! Hush! his feet are at the door; Hear the carol he is humming Now the busy day is o’er. Hurry, dearest, run to meet him, He must never wait outside When your merry face can greet him, Rosy cheeked and eager eyed. Listen, darling, Santa’s coming! He is with us, at the door; Hear the carol he is humming, Bid him welcome home once more. Throw your loving arms around him, Call him by his own true name For a daughter’s love has found him Prince of Santas just the same. TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. Let us be brave, to-day, to-day, And ne’er content to borrow, From lovely things that blithely stray Adown a fair to-morrow. To-day is ours for what we will And victory is waiting, If we but press from hill to hill No jot of strength abating. What though these willing hands are weak, And brightest paths are dreary; The heights will not be always bleak, The feet not always weary. Let us be glad, to-day, to-day, And ne’er content to borrow, From lovely things that blithely stray Adown a fair to-morrow. COMMENDATION. Shall we stand blindly commending person or place? Wide is the margin that lies between feeling and face, Life is steadily tending to joy or despair, What for the bliss of the future, will not a soul dare? Daily we seek to move forward fast as we can Giving kind thought to the welfare of each brother man, Though the bright sunshine is hidden, clouds will uproll Bidding the glory of heaven transfigure the soul. TRIED AND TRUE. Loyal freemen, tried and true, Gallantly they stand, With the sacrifice in view Battling for our land. Battling for her highest good, Battling for her life; Even as their fathers stood Ready for the strife. Where the smoke of conflict clung Like a dreary pall, There was work for old and young Work for one and all. Work that stirred the nation’s heart For the cannon’s boom Heralded the hero’s part In rebellion’s doom. At the front ’mid shot and shell, Marching side by side; How the dead and wounded fell, Soldiers true and tried. Fathers, brothers, husbands, sons, Harkened to one voice, Freedom, speaking through her guns, Bidding men rejoice. Listen to the widow’s moan, Children, too, must weep; What to them can e’er atone For the watch they keep? Far away by lonely graves Fragrant lilies bloom; There our starry banner waves O’er the soldier’s tomb. * * * * * But the living, down the years Steadily they come, Listen to the ringing cheers, To the throbbing drum. To the dirges wailing by On the willing breeze, How they swell and sob and die, Over such as these. Clear above that martial tread, Sounds a bugle sweet, Telling how they fought and bled; Praising work complete. Hail! ye comrades, honor crowned, Moving on abreast, To the final camping ground And eternal rest. SUNNY SKIES. Who would have them always so? Clouds must come and tempests blow. We would sing a doleful tune Were there not a rose in June, See the willing drops come down Chatter! patter! till the brown Barren hill tops are as bright As the stars that gem the night. NOT A DAY. There is not a day, There is not an hour, But carries away Or offers us power. Which is the better The winner or loser? To fortune a debtor, Or fortune’s wise user? To other men’s view, Though steadily striving, How little we do Unless we are thriving. The quaint artist Time Close student of Duty, Is a master sublime In painting soul beauty. We may not improve On what he has shown us, But forward must move Or he will disown us. The higher we stand For prizes contending, The more rigid demand For delicate blending. THINGS DONE. Thing’s done, Behind us are cast, Find one To no purpose made fast. What we cannot undo May occasion regret; Traitor or true We never forget. Things done Belong to the past, Out run By a momentum vast. It is well to recall The importance of each, Knowing they all Had lessons to teach. Things done Are easily classed, May none Ever hold us aghast. Let us blessings impart As upward we press; Where beats the heart A foe to success? THE WORD. A lamp unto my feet Illuming life’s dull way, Though sternest tempests beat A lamp unto my feet, It makes my joy complete As sunbeams crown the day:-- A lamp unto my feet Illuming life’s dull way. The light of this great world And of the world to come; With rays of glory pearled, The light of this great world, Love’s banner fair unfurled Mid labor’s busy hum, The light of this great world And of the world to come. FEAR NOT. Fear not though dangers dread assail thee Stand ever as a hero mid the fray; Well may the skill of eye and arm avail thee To keep the foe at bay. Fear not, though dark the way and dreary, The legions of the enemy shall flee; When thou art sore oppressed and worn and weary, Thy Lord takes thought of thee. THE LAW OF THE PRESENT, OBEY. The law of the present obey, To-morrow every one knows Before we can catch it goes; Nothing compares with to-day, Strive as we may. Be hopeful, and happy and brave, Whatever the moments may bring; When given to sighing, sing, Wait not for life boat to save, Walk on the wave. CHRISTMAS EVE. Only a tiny stocking hung in the fire light warm, Only a weary pilgrim breasting the tide of the storm; Only an anxious watcher piercing the heart of the gloom; Only a prayerful whisper breaking the calm of the room. Time creeps slowly forward while the swirling snow flakes fall Upon field, and hill, and highway, and night enfolds them all; But hark! a voice is shouting, then a welcome step draws near, And the angel:--Joy, has banished the ghosts of doubt, of fear. Only a sleepy fairy who trembles to behold A host of precious trophies with a wonderment untold, But the treasure highest valued, the pure, the perfect prize Is love, the true love beaming from her own dear father’s eyes. IN THE MIRROR. In the mirror what do I see? Velvety brown eyes peeping at me. Long silken tresses glinting like gold, Cheeks like the roses ere they unfold. Hush! but a moment, do not say no; Look at the elf that is charming me so. Just a wee darling who to me flies Saying: “Oh, tate me! tate or me ties.” LIVING FOR OTHERS. Living for others, living for self, Good of the few or worldly pelf, Giving to all with lavish hand Of the humble gifts at our command; Which is the best to save or share Whether the day be dark or fair:-- To save or share the little we get, Though storms prevail and foes beset? Though kingdoms fall and wars increase, The heart is filled with joy and peace, Willing to strive with word and deed To help some fainting soul succeed. THE BOOK OF TIME. The Book-of-Time, each page a year, With every word a hope or fear, Thereon impressed in lines of light Would bid us read its truths aright, The Book-of-Time a volume vast, The royal record of a past Wherein a century ’s a day, Before eternity’s broad sway. The Book-of-Time ’tis bound in gold, This mammoth book no man can hold; And angel fingers wield the pen That writeth of the deeds of men. The Book-of-Time transcribed shall lie As open as the fair blue sky; Many a loving heart shall find How wise it was in being kind. WHO IS THIS SO LOVED OF YORE? Who is this so loved of yore Shyly tapping at the door? Striking off the icy chain That the earth may thrive again. Wooing violets in the dale To their faces fair unveil; Bidding all the world rejoice In the music of her voice. See the farmer grasp the plough, ’Tis the day of sowing now; Hark the robin’s happy call Keeping house by yon gray wall; Hear the brooklet’s note of glee Dancing to the eager sea Read the message of the King In the hand of Lovely Spring. CHRISTMAS THOUGHTS. Christmas thoughts how pure and sweet, Christmas joys how fair! Oh, the mysteries, we meet, Smiles are everywhere. Gifts are found in cosy nooks Never sought before, Precious gems in toys and books Hide behind the door. Pleasant wishes finely wrought In the simplest way, Into trophies Santa brought In his magic sleigh; Bid the tender heart expand At a treasure found, Fashioned by affection’s hand And by mercy crowned. Christmas thoughts they give delight While with care we cope, Brightening the darkest night With the star of hope. Oh, when earth friends are so dear, Earthly joys so sweet, Then indeed is heaven near, Life itself complete. Christmas thoughts what jewels rare, On the soul’s white shrine; Beautiful beyond compare, Sent by Love Divine. But the greatest gift of all Comes that happy day When we hear the Saviour call:-- “Trust me and obey.” BEAUTY OF THE SOUL. Beauty offers every day, Gifts to cheer us on our way; Blessed treasures from above Free as heaven, fair as love. Cast in beauty’s purest mold All things great and good behold, Which eternally will bide, Earthly stay, Jehovah’s pride. Watch the wise bird, mark the nest, Builded slow, and sure and best; Builded low or builded high, Winds will vainly whistle by. See the wayward without care How they fickle fortune dare, Shattered homes and blighted hopes Hurl them down life’s rugged slopes. Seek the promise of the hour, Nurture to its fullest flower; As we train the vine of youth So will bloom the bud of truth. Note the lily in the shade Pining for the sunny glade; What in all hereafter years Will avail the too late tears? BRIGHTER HOURS. Heavy though the rain drops fall And the claps ring long and loud. Brighter hours will come to all As the sunlight gilds the cloud. WILLING TO SERVE. Willing to serve if serve I may, Willing to serve mid twilight gray; Willing to serve with heart and hand Obeying the Divine command. Willing to serve with weary feet, Willing to serve, to serve is sweet, Willing to serve for well I know The prize my Master will bestow. BANNERS WAVING. Flags a-waving, trumpets blowing Tides of feeling, ebbing, flowing. “On to battle! on to glory!” Tell again the wondrous story. Patriotism brightly burning, Tempered by a wise discerning. Town and State together crying:-- “On to Richmond! time is flying!” Fateful summons, who could falter? Laying all on Freedom’s altar, “Forward! March!” proclaimed the nation, Why, the words were an ovation. Bugles tarnished, banners tattered, Bullet scarred and bruised and battered. Home they came with martial bearing, Home to cheer the hearts despairing; Home to children, wives and mothers, Home the living. (But the others.) On they came and eyes were tearful, Many eager, many fearful; Banners waving, drums a-beating, Happy hearts, a happy meeting. And hearts “too sad to be alive;” Oh, thus it was in sixty-five. Flags a-waving, bugles blowing, Honor’s meed to worth bestowing. Laurel wreathes and roses blending, With the lily’s breath ascending; Offer tribute true and tender, Tribute to each brave defender For his country’s future caring, Firm! heroic! noble! daring! Soldiers, sailors, freemen listen Till thy cheeks with feeling glisten; By the banner waving o’er thee, Must Columbia adore thee. CAN YOU SEE A LITTLE FACE? Can you see a little face, Just the type of witching grace, As a darling clasps your knee With a gesture honey sweet, Lisping love in dimpled glee Till the sum of life’s complete? Is she happy as a lark From the rosy dawn till dark? And when twilight folds the world Close within her calm embrace, Is the night with gladness pearled By the light of that dear face? Does she whisper, as her eyes Bid the drowsy curtains rise: “Wake me sure, to Santa see” And; [a shy aside is this,] “I’ll be truly dood, if he, Lets me give him just a kiss.” Do the dimpled fingers cling, Close and closer while you sing Praises to the Savior’s name? Telling of the happy hour When a precious gift he came, Prince of love, and peace and power. THE BABY’S PALM. A work of art is the baby’s arm And fairer yet is the shell-pink palm; But beautiful truth no honest toil, Can ever that dainty surface soil: Each cross it carries, each blow for right, Will serve to make it, and keep it, white. NO BLESSING EVER COMES BY CHANCE. No blessing ever comes by chance, No work is ever quite in vain; The keenest effort must enhance The value of the prize we gain. A kindly act more than we think May serve to brighten trouble’s brink; A gentle word in sorrow’s ear, Is strong the fainting heart to cheer. THE MAYFLOWER. [1620.] Happy, thrice happy, the Puritan maid Leaving the fort and the grim palisade; Leaving the bay where the good ship was fast To find, her head bending low to the blast, Just a pink and white hood In the wind-driven wood. Then smiling and blushing With eagerness flushing, So swiftly she hurried Young Robin was flurried And as he his pinions to Boreas tossed, The dear little pink-hooded stranger was lost. Sadder but wiser our Puritan maid Quickly her footsteps, impetuous, staid Scarce had she lost it, another was seen Looking its best in a garment of green, With a pink and white hood; For a moment she stood With heart lighter beating, At such a sweet meeting. As kneeling she found it Where Nature had gowned it What visions of promise marched up the bleak slope, To crown that May blossom, the blossom of hope. THE BEST WE CAN. When things don’t go to please us Is it wisdom to despair? With a friend at hand who sees us, And will make the shadows fair? Shall we let our courage falter, Fail to sympathize with man? Fortune’s ways are bound to alter If we do the best we can. The light is often hidden Yet our feet are safely shod, While we do as we are bidden Putting perfect trust in God. He will lead His children ever, As he has since time began, And will strengthen each endeavor, When we do the best we can. The rugged way, but certain, Is a blissful way to tread; Care is ready like a curtain, To obstruct the path ahead. Clouds will come, no use repining, Yonder trial, joy outran, Brightly still the sun is shining, We must do the best we can. If things don’t go to please us There is little need to fret, Shall a trifle more to tease us, Make us gratitude forget? Needless then to stand debating; Love will any chasm span; Winning is a way of stating:-- “We have done the best we can.” SOMETHING TO LOOK FORWARD TO. Something to look forward to, the healthful soul demands, The world stands ready to provide good work for willing hands, Not only is there room for those most competent to climb, But ev’ry man to-day may claim some gift from busy Time. Something to look forward to, some duty nobly done, Some little helpful deed to mark the path from sun to sun; We cannot fear to freely face each mile stone that we meet, When loving actions daily tend to make our lives complete. Something to look forward to, our dearest claims allowed, Though trouble frowns upon the way, we look beyond the cloud; As rainbow brightness has the power to darker shades subdue, The light shall surely shine for those who will the right pursue. CHRISTMAS. Christmas is here and joy is ours, Christmas, the time of songs and flowers, Flowers of kindness, songs of cheer, The gala season of all the year. Christmas is here and eyes are bright. Homes are happy, and hearts are light, Hands are open and man is blest, This golden season of sweet unrest. Christmas is here and “peace--good will!” Echoes along from hill to hill; Gifts are ready and hope is strong, This grateful season of joy and song. THE BRIGHTNESS WE HAVE LEARNED TO SHARE. Divide a blessing and behold Its worth increased a hundred fold. A kindly deed, a word of cheer, Will scatter sunshine far and near. By telling only what is good, Truth cannot be misunderstood; The brightness we have learned to share May make the darkest pathway fair. Glad tidings of whatever kind The closer human friendships bind; An echo of a joyful song A hundred eager lips prolong. Intent to honor’s rights maintain, No upward effort is in vain; It is not sacrifice to give The happiness that helps men live. RING BUSY BELLS. Ring busy bells, across the night, Ring in the tender morning light; Let merry measures wake the noon And sunset echo back the tune. Ambitious who shall lead the van Of quick rejoicing, boy and man, And maid and matron mingle tears With joyful chimes and ringing cheers. Remember Concord, Bunker Hill, They bid the pulses leap and thrill And still athwart the storied past The present has new meaning cast. ’Tis midnight and the solemn hush Is shattered by a sudden gush, A swaying turbulence of sound That on the startled ear rebounds. Ring, happy bells, for as you ring Sweet memories about you cling; Again we independent stand, Deliverers of this dear land. The signal boom triumphant comes ’Mid clashing bells and throbbing drums, As eager bon-fires flaming high Imprint their glory on the sky. We hear the words of Washington, We praise his work and cry “Well done!” And when we closer look we see Our pride, the father of the free. While briefly glancing down the years Behold a host of grand careers. They gave us knowledge, virtue, land And arts which every year expand. We honor Lincoln, steadfast, true, Type of what one good man can do; He loosed the shackels of the slave: Preserve the liberty he gave. The grim destruction of the Maine Was not a source of grief in vain, The sadness of her loss was meant To bring to Cuba’s heart content. O’er restless miles of ocean vast Columbia’s brave sons have passed, Till other nations love to view Our flag, the red, the white, the blue. Philippines, to patriot eyes, A trust, but never more a prize; McKinley’s noble work shall live: We fight, we conquer, we forgive. To crown a stricken race’s release, Welcome the blessed boon of peace. Whatever gifts our homes may bless, May we no distant homes oppress. THE RIVER-OF-LIFE. The river-of-life must smoothly flow, By the hills of hope, its breast aglow With the cheering light that softly streams, From golden heights in the land of dreams. The river-of-life will gently glide On its ceaseless mission far and wide, Its forceful current so true and deep It will not pause at the vale-of-sleep. The river-of-life runs gaily down By the shining gates of pleasure-town And carries our truant thoughts away On the moment-freighted boat:--To-day. The river-of-life, how fair it lies, On the soul’s white map before our eyes; It ripples on from the land we see Into the beautiful land To-Be. Singing Songs for Jesus. Singing songs for Jesus, singing while we may; Singing in the darkness, singing in the day. Singing songs for Jesus, singing with delight; Never yet was singing, could His love requite. ANCHOR ME SAFE. Anchor me safe, though by danger oppressed; Safe in the haven where motion is rest. Safe with the waves rushing up on the shore, Leaving my heart undisturbed by their roar. Anchor me yonder, the beacon in sight, Never to wander away from its light; Type of security, brighten my way, Turning the darkness of evening to day. Anchor me safe, lest the surges resound With the death note of a vessel aground. Straight is the course the Good Pilot must take, I may be weary but he is awake. Worried and weary the tempest unchecked, No one who trusted Him ever was wrecked! Breasting the waters, wind driven and high Perfect the power on which I rely. Mortal may waver, with Him is the skill Vanquishing evil; Omnipotent will. Saviour from trouble, a shelter in storm, Bidding the world to His wisdom conform. SHINE OUT. Shine out, happy soul, let the spiritual brightness be seen, How much that clear shining is needed when clouds intervene; Ever the light of the Master illumeth the way, Changing the gloom of the valley to beautiful day. WHATEVER CHANGES TIME MAY BRING. Whatever changes time may bring The promise cannot fail, The closer to the Word we cling We struggle, we prevail. The Rock-of-Ages cleft for us We cannot yield to care, We cannot stop to fret or fuss, Nor stoop to court despair. We live, to patiently fulfill, God’s purposes, and find That what was once against our will Was meant to be most kind. The Christ who claims us for His own Now listens while we pray:-- “Dear Lord, we seek to make Thee known, Be near us day by day. Give kindly heed the while we plead, We hunger, hear our cry, Give us the living bread we need; Yea, manna from on high. Deliver us from evil, bless And keep us, make us wise, Give us more perfect happiness For every hope that dies. Oh, leave us not to walk alone, Our failing strength renew, Make each believing heart a throne And sinful thoughts subdue. Though earthly troubles oft betide To self-blind eyes give sight; A little cloud will surely hide A thousand rays of light. A thousand rays of light divine Are streaming from above, Oh, teach us as the stars to shine With light of Heav’nly Love.” LOOKING TO JESUS. Looking to Jesus is my joy, Looking to Him when foes annoy; Looking to Him, the Father sent, Looking to Him, I am content. Looking to Jesus, courage, soul! He will the troubled waves control; Looking to Him to ease my care, Looking to Him, my cross I bear. Looking to Jesus, peace is mine; Looking to Jesus, friend divine, Looking to Jesus, all is bright, Looking to Him, my life, my light. I NEITHER FAINT NOR FEAR. I neither faint nor fear, Whatever is, is best; The page of conscience clear, My feet have onward pressed, I neither faint nor fear When in the tempest’s track, A storm cloud’s brief career Can never turn me back. I neither faint nor fear, Nor would my steps retrace; The way indeed were drear, Could I desert my place. I neither faint nor fear, But trust Omnipotence; The Master I revere, My shield and sure defence. I neither faint nor fear, With Him am I content; To Christ would I adhere, For Him would I be spent. I neither faint nor fear For He sustains my soul; He bids me persevere; He leads me to the goal. I neither faint nor fear, Although these hands are weak; Although the night is drear, A gracious dawn I seek. I neither faint nor fear, Whatever is, is best; May I one heart but cheer, To God I leave the rest. EASTER-TIDE. Brightest sunshine, sweetest flowers, Welcome in the Easter-tide; What a blessed work is ours Lifting up The Crucified: Pointing to the rock fresh riven, To the grave-clothes cast aside, Grand the proof that Christ has given, He is living though He died. Brightest sunshine, sweetest flowers, Gracious gifts of Easter-tide What a joyful work is ours Lifting up The Crucified; Showing Him as in a vision, Stand triumphant o’er the grave: From the sepulchre’s cold prison He is risen, He will save. HOWEVER HIGH THE AIM. I cannot do the half that I desire However high the aim the hands will tire; However long the journey, do my best, Though eager still to climb, the feet must rest. Perhaps when hope is baffled it is meant To teach the fuller meaning of content; Countless are the blessings I must miss Unless I keep the path to endless bliss. HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP. He giveth his beloved sleep And sweetly shall they rest. Oh, we must ceaseless vigil keep If we would bear the test. To-day is ours for good or ill And if we now obey, His promises he will fulfill And wipe our tears away. AS WE ARE. God knows us as we are, and as we fain would be; How great, how grand our work, if we the end could see; We feel within the soul the strength to rise above The pressing cares of earth, upborne, upheld by love. God knows us as we are, whatever we may do The strivings of the heart lie open to His view; He sees our present place, the height we may attain, He bids us persevere, nor hope, nor live in vain. God knows us as we are, He listens when we speak And blesses ev’ry plan to help the poor, the weak; Is quick to cheer the faint, the willing feet direct, Goes with us all the way to comfort, to protect. God knows us as we are; His loving kindness gave A conqueror to snatch sweet victory from the grave. In Him alone we stand triumphant, evermore, For He will lead us home, through Christ, the Living Door. CAN THE WILLING HANDS BE WEARY? Can the willing hands be weary? When they carry sweetest cheer, Into lives too dark and dreary Lives too oft beset by fear; Lives whose only glimpse of pleasure It is blessed to bestow. There are gifts we may not measure, Gifts that only love may know. Can our hurried footsteps falter When we do a kindly deed? Can a trifle serve to alter What would save a soul in need? Can we pause to weigh the chances, Or refuse to heed each call? Lo, a pleasant word enhances Just the treasure gift of all. In the gift, behold the giver Deeds perpetuate a thought, Let us hasten to deliver What can never be forgot. Offer “oil of joy” for sadness, Speed a brother on his way, Fill some fainting heart with gladness; Scatter sunshine while we may. Hear the songs of praise ascending! Breathe the music laden air! Grateful melodies are blending, With the heav’nward winging prayer; Deaf the ear that will not harken To the tale they sweetly tell, “What though earthly skies may darken, God is doing all things well.” THE MESSAGE SO SWEET. There is nothing can be half so precious to me, When my spirit by care is oppressed; As the message so sweet, it is bliss to repeat:-- “Come, come unto me, and rest.” Jesus leads me aright, turneth darkness to light, Sheds the halo of peace o’er my breast Oh, the message so sweet, it is bliss to repeat;-- “Come, come unto me, and rest.” He is calling to me, His salvation is free, Shall I linger, weak, sinful, distressed? Oh, the message so sweet, it is bliss to repeat:-- “Come, come unto me, and rest.” He is calling me now, in His presence I bow, All His love and His goodness confessed Oh, the message so sweet, it is bliss to repeat:-- “Come, come unto me, and rest.” I will work, I will sing, for my Saviour, my King; And of gifts I will bring Him the best; Oh, the message so sweet, it is bliss to repeat:-- “Come, come unto me, and rest.” SERVICE. The smallest service we can do, With seal of Love-Divine, Will oft the fainting faith renew, The heart to God incline. We are not left to work alone, We stand as servants true; Each little kindly action known, By Him we may not view. RISEN TO-DAY. The sepulchre stone, fit emblem of pride, Light as the thistle-down wafted aside Send the glad tidings as far as you may, Jesus, The Master, is risen to-day. Happy the Marys, obeying His voice, Bidding His weeping disciples rejoice. Lost on the mountains, or rocked by the deep, Jesus will find us and wake us from sleep. Hail Him, oh, Christians, the Hope of the world, Over all nations His banner unfurled Pure as the lilies, more tender than prayer, Jesus is willing our burdens to bear. Willing our burdens to bear, may His love Keep us and lead us to mansions above. Send the glad tidings as far as you may. Jesus, The Master, is risen to-day. ANOTHER’S PLACE. As none can fill another’s place We must be faithful as we can, And magnify the work of grace The wisdom of the wondrous plan. We must be kind as kind can be, Or some poor pilgrim fails of bliss; And who would wilfully decree That others should a blessing miss? We must be true, for eager eyes Are gazing on us day by day, They gladly honest worth apprize, We must be true and watch and pray. Be true, and good, and strong, and brave, However difficult the case; For there are countless souls to save And none can fill another’s place. A thousand people come and go And thousands follow as they may, But none another’s grief may know And none his debt of love repay. Although the throng is moving fast, We quickly scan it for a face That smiled upon us in the past; Oh, who can fill another’s place? The smallest talents rightly use; A word in season joy to speak; ’Mid want and sorrow, swift to choose The upward path, however bleak. Beyond the clouds the light is clear Whose cheering presence we would trace, In humble sphere, in proud career, Oh, who can fill another’s place? In humble sphere, in proud career, The vital verdict is the same, And those who nobly persevere This great eternal truth proclaim:-- The true, the good, the strong, the brave, With patience run life’s little race For there are countless souls to save And none can fill another’s place. THE WINDOW OF LIFE. I looked from the window of life where I stood, I looked on the world and I saw it was good; I looked at myself and was sorely aggrieved, Could this be the being in whom I believed? I looked from the window of life, and behold A record of deeds many centuries old; Such pleasures as once would have given delight No longer the heart of the nation’s invite. I look from the window of life where I stand. The prospect unfolding before me is grand; Determined to follow where loyalty leads Must meet the reward that all others exceeds. I look from the window of life and I find The years have been wasted because I was blind, For surely no clear sighted soul could reject Those paths which the glories of heaven reflect. I look from the window of life and I see The sweep of the future, how broad it may be; The hills and the valleys alike will be fair, If only the leader who loves me is there. I look from the window of life and I know Sweet joy will be with me where ever I go; How pleasant to follow where Jesus will guide, Content if I may in His shadow abide. THOU ART MINE. “Thou art mine!” Blessed word from the Father above, It speaks to my heart of His infinite love; When I faint ’neath my load, the message divine, Brings peace to my soul:--“Thou art mine! Thou art mine.” “Thou art mine!” Though the tempest is raging around, In Him, and Him only, a refuge is found, No force can subdue Him, no fetters confine, And has He not said:--“Thou art mine! Thou art mine.” “Thou art mine!” When temptations my pathway beset, His merciful kindness I cannot forget. The sun may be hidden, but soon it will shine, He calls me by name:--“Thou art mine! Thou art mine.” “Thou art mine!” With afflictions confronting the soul, The billows of trouble are His, to control. Beside the still waters He bids me recline And lovingly says:--“Thou art mine! Thou art mine.” “Thou art mine!” I am happy obeying His voice, I trust Him and serve Him, His glory my choice; His power, eternal, can never decline And does He not say:--“Thou art mine! Thou art mine.” THE MERRY BELLS. The merry bells are ringing, Good will is in the air; Our hearts are singing, singing, And joy is everywhere. There is pleasure for the lowly, There is pleasure for the high, The day so holy, holy, Now lingers in the sky. FOLLOW JESUS. If we try to follow Jesus He will lead our steps aright, He will lead us out of darkness into fields of living light. Little hands can work for Jesus, little feet love-errands run; Little voices speak His praises; little ears can hear “well done.” Sweet the voice that sings for Jesus, kind the eye content to see, All the beauties of a service that will keep us pure and free. Little forms can lean on Jesus, little lives He will enfold, Little arms shall draw Him nearer and in His dear cause be bold. Little hearts are wise in trusting, they delight in being true, Bring the little ones to Jesus and He will their strength renew. Let us aim to find Him early in the life as in the day, Never soul in seeking Jesus, ever yet was turned away. Never prayer the Christian uttered though ’t was whispered word by word, Asking Him for help or guidance but the Ear Divine has heard. When He hears expect an answer; God’s own promise cannot fail, We must ask in faith, believing, and by faith alone prevail. THE BRIGHT SIDE. The bright side Is the right side, The side we seek to see. The wrong way, Is a long way, And will not make us free. The right side, Is the light side, The side that mirror’s bliss; The wrong way, Is a long way, And one we cannot miss. The right side Is the white side, Where nothing dark can tread; The wrong way Is a long way, Beset by foes we dread. The bright side, Not the night side Will cheer the weary eye; By fair ways, There are stair ways To homes beyond the sky. WE SHALL MEET AGAIN. Blest be the tie, As we say good-bye That unites our hearts in love; With the past made plain We shall meet again, We shall meet again above. We look away To the happy day, When we all shall walk by sight; With the past made plain, We shall meet again, In the land of life and light. THE EMPTY LIFE. Empty is a life without Christ. It lacks motive power. In the press of worldly matters the soul loses its assurance. It is like a locomotive when the steam is shut off. It stops. Assurance in the love of God, keeps a man in motion. It sends him hither and thither. Makes him a profitable servant. He works. To work he must have strength. To work he must eat. He feeds on the bread of life. He drinks of the water of life. He has enough and to spare. Happy is he. Doubt creeps in. Losing his hold on Christ, he loses all. Suppose death should find him now. A LIVING LORD. “The Lord liveth,” in Him will I trust. God is my strength. He hath given me the shield of salvation. His gentleness hath made me great. Compassed about by troubles and temptations He delivers me. The last enemy of man has been conquered by Him. Death is vanquished by the Son of God. He makes with us an everlasting covenant. David says: “He delivered me from my strong enemy.” How many of us have a strong enemy? An enemy difficult to subdue? One we cannot subdue without help from on high? “Come and let us return unto the Lord. He will revive us and raise us up. We shall live in His sight.” “The wise shall understand these things. The ways of the Lord are right and the just shall walk in them.” “Seek good and not evil that ye may live.” Here we have a warning and a command, a threat and a promise. Godliness is profitable unto all, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come. To-day, if ye will hear His voice, harden not your hearts.” “HAVE FELLOWSHIP ONE WITH ANOTHER.” When our souls are at one with the Lord Jesus, we come into fellowship with His people. Spiritually renewed, we give ourselves to Him and are baptized. Through the church-visible opens our grandest opportunity of making Him manifest to mankind. We can all be “pillars in the temple of our God.” We can all pray, They that dwell in the secret place of the Most High, abide under the shadow of the Almighty. We can all speak of the living bread which came down from Heaven. If we eat of that bread we shall live forever. There is no true happiness apart from Christ. May we be, as lights, shining for Him, in many a darkened home. FOLLOWING JESUS. We have a work to do. We are Christ’s representatives. We must partake of the Christly character. We are His witnesses. Witnesses of His power and of His saving grace. It is ours to tell of His wonderful goodness to the children of men. We tremble when we recognize the magnitude of the responsibility which rests upon us. As our day, so shall our strength be. If we fail to show Him forth in our daily lives, we break the covenant into which we joyfully entered such a little while ago. It is ours to be zealous in His service. Faithful unto death, we shall receive a crown of life. We are trusting in The Word, may we lead others to see, that The Word is truth. We are leaning on the promises. May we encourage others to do the same. Steadfast followers of the Lord Jesus; if we work with Him and walk with Him, we shall also reign with Him. THE CHRISTIAN’S HOPE. We as Christians, have much to gain, from faith, obedience, patience, mercy, love. We suffer, that we may attain eternal bliss. No trusting soul shall fail of its reward. Friends who were with us yesterday are gone to-day. We pray. We weep. At the feet of Jesus comfort comes to us. We remember what our Saviour has done for us and look beyond the present, rejoicing in the glory which shall be revealed. When things temporal have passed away, we go home to God, to abide forever. COMING ONCE MORE. The moments we give to Our Brother, Must ever be moments well spent, The riches bestowed on another Are riches the Father has lent, Be ready to tell the Old Story So potent new life to infuse, In seeking to live to His glory Go on in the paths He would choose. The words we are leaving unspoken Might welcome a soul to the light, The bondage of Satan once broken How all the dark places grow bright. The fruitage of prayer is a blessing, It never is offered in vain, The truth we are gladly confessing Will grandly Love’s purpose maintain. The talents devoted to Jesus Are talents the wisest improve. Imprisoned, believing, He frees us: While sin runs along in a groove. Our standard no foeman can alter, Lo, faith bears us up as on wings. None born of The Spirit may falter, For fair is the promise He brings. Be instant in trusting and giving. Man cannot in justice withhold, Those tithes that belong to right living; Be earnest, and steadfast, and bold. In fullness of time of His kindness The Saviour is coming once more, He pities the world in its blindness And enters each wide open door. On hearts that delight in obeying His wishes, ’tis safe to repose, The tribute we daily are paying No hand but our Lord’s shall disclose, By service He joys in expecting A blessed approval is won. The Christian succeeds when electing To strive for the final “Well done!” THE PRESENT. The present, only, is ours; We cannot recall the past Song’s and sunshine and flowers, Are pleasant, but do they last? The dollar we earn to-day, Is more than a million spent; The one has vanished away, The other may bring content. A loving word, like the dew To the rose, revives the heart. A blessing awaits the true; Feeling is higher than art. The present improved is bliss, The bliss that fore’er abides; In a fairer world than this, Where never an ill betides. BE FAITHFUL. Be faithful soldiers, fearing not, What traitors may disclose; There is a purpose in our lot More powerful than foes. If we could once peruse life’s page, [A blurred and blotted scroll,] The failures would our thought engage Though fled beyond control. If we could once life’s page peruse, Each loss returned, a gain, Would give such wisdom as accrues From knowledge, bought of pain. We never know what we can do; The problems none attempt Now lying open to our view, Have meanings little dreamt. We gird our armor on to meet The enemy’s advance; But in the frenzy of retreat, Too often yield to chance, Stand ready; boldly face the front; Press on and on: prevail. Be brave to bear the battle’s brunt; The hero cannot fail. WHY WILL YE DIE? Why will ye die? Why will ye die? With sin the world is rife, But there is one who draweth nigh: He brings eternal life. Eternal life! Eternal life! How gentle is the voice, That calls thee from the toil and strife:-- “My child, repent! Rejoice!” Repent! Rejoice! Repent! Rejoice! Oh, bid Him enter in. By making Jesus Christ our choice, Love’s fair reward we win. THE TESTING TIME. When Trouble frowns upon our way And still we bravely overcome, The griefs besieging us each day; Desirous as best we may, To bear the duties burdensome. When clouds obscure the sunny sky, When Sorrow surges o’er the heart; When Pain’s dread presence hovers nigh, Faith must triumph then, or die, She conquers when we do our part! The slowest feet were meant to climb; The humblest life can honor God. The present is the testing time Forward Soul to heights sublime! Thy work is here and not abroad. LIGHT. How could we work if once we knew Just what for us in store, The future holds; would we be true And better than before? Could we go forward fearing not, To life’s results disclose? Or would we tremble at a lot, Where rue displaced the rose? Courageous to the present meet, Or woe or bliss it brings; Confront its joys, its pleasures sweet, Its hopes, its sufferings. A soul, improving moments well, Need never dread the days; The space is small wherein we dwell, But broader than our gaze. The space is small but if we list, Its limits will expand. Each enemy of right resist And gauge the hour’s demand. To-morrow’s page we cannot read, To-day alone is bright; Each point to conscience we concede Returns to us, as light. IF A WORK IS WORTH THE DOING. If a work is worth the doing It is worth the doing well. When a noble aim pursuing Never have an idle spell. There is danger in delaying And a man may win his case, By attention he is paying To the language of a face. There are records fate impresses In the lines upon a brow. Silence often times confesses More than wisdom would allow. Could we read the future’s pages We would hope’s incentive lose; The experience of ages Should ambition’s fire infuse. Could we see the path before us See the forces we must lead, See the tempests hanging o’er us [How the willing feet must bleed.] See the trials daily coming, Coming to the patience try; In the knowledge, vast, benumbing, Happiness would pass us by. Quick to reckon up the losses; Ready to forget our gains. It is ever little crosses, That the greatest love constrains. We who baffle mighty issues, Measure moments by their length: There are hosts of tiny tissues Most amazing in their strength. TAKE THY STAND. God’s voice is saying:--“Find thy place, Make haste to take thy stand. I am thy shield; My saving grace Sustains thee. Take My hand. In times of trial find thy strength, In Me. Build on the rock, Christ Jesus. Thou shalt know at length, My mercy, only knock!” FATHER, ACCEPT OUR THANKS. Father, accept our thanks For blessings, heaven-lent. We march with broken ranks, When joy and woe are blent. We march, as march we must, Subject to Thy command. Can we forsake our trust Upheld by Thy right hand? Father, we turn to Thee ’Mid shadows drear and dark; Thy breath alone is free To fan the vital spark, Until its light illumes The vast arcade of years; And some fair lily blooms Where men saw only tears. We cannot walk alone, However bright the way. A seed of kindness sown Shall gracious largess pay. Our sight is poor and weak, Apart from Sight-Divine; Direct us, for we seek No other will than Thine. Attentive is Thy ear; Encourage when we call; The clouds shall disappear, We conquer as did Paul. Eternal rest is won, Where nothing ill betides; His race is nobly run, Who in the Lord confides. We know we cannot do The simplest duty well; Our failing strength renew, Sweet bliss from pain compel. Be with us as we meet To study Thy desire; Come and Thy work complete, Our feeble hearts inspire. Inspire our feeble hearts, To carry out Thy will. The fear of man departs. When we, Thy laws, fulfill. Help us, dear Lord, intent, To glorify Thy name; The Son Himself was sent, To emphasize Thy claim. *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS FOR ALL SEASONS, AND OTHER POEMS *** Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. START: FULL LICENSE THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license. Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country other than the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works provided that: • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works. • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS. The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate. While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us with offers to donate. International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate. Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. Most people start at our website which has the main PG search facility: www.gutenberg.org. This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.