But where are the sisters who hastened to greet
The lowly Redeemer, and sit at his feet?

I tread where the Twelve in their wayfaring trod;

I stand where they stood with the Chosen of God,
Where His blessing was heard and His lessons were taught,
Where the blind were restored and the healing was
wrought.

Oh, here with his flock the sad Wanderer came;
These hills he toiled over in grief are the same;

The founts where he drank by the wayside still flow;
And the same airs are blowing which breathed on his
brow!

And throned on her hills sits Jerusalem yet,

But with dust on her forehead, and chains on her feet; For the crown of her pride to the mocker hath gone, And the holy Shechinah is dark where it shone.

But wherefore this dream of the earthly abode
Of Humanity clothed in the brightness of God?
Were my spirit but turned from the outward and dim,
It could gaze, even now, on the presence of Him!

Not in clouds and in terrors, but gentle as when,
In love and in meekness, He moved among men;
And the voice which breathed peace to the waves of the

sea

In the hush of my spirit would whisper to me.

And what if my feet may not tread where He stood,
Nor my ears hear the dashing of Galilee's flood,
Nor my eyes see the cross which He bowed Him to bear,
Nor my knees press Gethsemane's garden of prayer!

Yet, Loved of the Father, Thy Spirit is near,
To the meek and the lowly and peninent here,
And the voice of Thy love is the same even now
As at Bethany's tomb or on Olivet's brow.

Oh, the outward hath gone! but in glory and power
The Spirit surviveth the things of an hour;
Unchanged, undecaying, Its Pentecost flame

On the heart's secret altar is burning the same!

-John Greenleaf Whittier

PATIENCE

Let Be

W Let it be.

HEN the sky starts in a-rainin',

There is no use of complainin',
Don't you see?

It will keep on perseverin'

Till at last it's time for clearin'

An' the days are bright and cheerin';
Let it be.

When a friend gits sour an' surly,

Let 'im be.

He'll come 'round perhaps, with waitin';
Though plain facts you might be statin',
What's the good of irritatin'?
Let 'im be.

PATRIOTISM

America

M Sweet land of liberty,

Y COUNTRY, 'tis of thee,

Of thee I sing;

Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims' pride,
From every mountain-side
Let freedom ring!

My native country, thee—
Land of the noble free-
Thy name I love;

I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills;
My heart with rapture thrills
Like that above.

Let music swell the breeze,
And ring from all the trees
Sweet freedom's song!

-Anon.

Let mortal tongues awake;
Let all that breathe partake;
Let rocks their silence break-
The sound prolong!

Our fathers' God! to Thee,

Author of liberty,

To Thee we sing;

Long may our land be bright
With freedom's holy light;
Protect us by thy might,

Great God, our King!

-Samuel Francis Smith

The Star-Spangled Banner

H, SAY, can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last
gleaming,

Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,

O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?

And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof thro' the night that our flag was still there.
Oh, say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave!

On the shore, dimly seen thro' the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence repose

What is that which the breeze o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream.
"Tis the star-spangled banner; oh, long may it wave
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave!

Oh, thus be it ever when freemen shall stand

Between their loved homes and the war's desolation; Blest with victory and peace, may the heaven rescued land

Praise the power that hath made and preserved us a nation!

Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: "In God is our trust!"
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave,
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave!

-Francis Scott Key

The Battle Hymn of the Republic

MIN

INE eyes have seen the Glory of the Coming of the
Lord;

He is treading out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;

He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword;

His Truth is marching on.

I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling

camps;