A PRAYER

Garibaldi, the Italian patriot, said to his men: "I do not promise you ease; I do not promise you comfort. I promise you hardship, weariness, suffering; but I promise you victory."

I

Do not pray for peace,

Nor ask that on my path

The sounds of war shall shrill no more,

The way be clear of wrath.

But this I beg thee, Lord,

Steel Thou my heart with might,
And in the strife that men call life,
Grant me the strength to fight.

I do not pray for arms,

Nor shield to cover me.

What though I stand with empty hand,
So it be valiantly!

Spare me the coward's fear

Questioning wrong or right:
Lord, among these mine enemies,
Grant me the strength to fight.

I do not pray that Thou

Keep me from any wound,

Though I fall low from thrust and blow,
Forced fighting to the ground;

But give me wit to hide

My hurt from all men's sight,
And for my need the while I bleed,
Lord, grant me strength to fight.

I do not pray that Thou
Shouldst grant me victory;
Enough to know that from my foe
I have no will to flee.

Beaten and bruised and banned,
Flung like a broken sword,
Grant me this thing for conquering-
Let me die fighting, Lord!

From "The Earth Cry,"
Mitchell Kennerley.

Theodosia Garrison.

STABILITY

Whom do we wish for our friends and allies? On whom would we wish to depend in a time of need? Those who are not the slaves of fortune, but have made the most of both her buffets and her rewards. Those who control their fears and rash impulses, and do not give way to sudden emotion. Amid confusion and disaster men like these will stand, as Jackson did at Bull Run, like a veritable stone wall.

INCE my dear soul was mistress of her choice

SINCE

And could of men distinguish, her election
Hath sealed thee for herself; for thou hast been
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing,
A man that fortune's buffets and rewards
Hast ta'en with equal thanks; and bless'd are those
Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled
That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger
To sound what stop she please. Give me that man
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
In my heart's core, ay, in my
heart of heart,
As I do thee,

William Shakespeare.

THE BARS OF FATE

"There ain't no such beast," ejaculated a farmer as he gazed at the rhinoceros at a circus. His incredulity did not of course do away with the existence of the creature. But our incredulity about many of our difficulties will do away with them. They exist chiefly in our imaginations.

I

STOOD before the bars of Fate

And bowed my head disconsolate;

So high they seemed, sc fierce their frown,
I thought no hand could break them down.

Beyond them I could hear the songs
Of valiant men who marched in throngs;
And joyful women, fair and free,
Looked back and waved their hands to me.

I did not cry "Too late! too late!”
Or strive to rise, or rail at Fate,
Or pray to God. My coward heart,
Contented, played its foolish part.

So still I sat, the tireless bee

Sped o'er my head, with scorn for me,
And birds who build their nests in air
Beheld me, as I were not there.

From twig to twig, before my face,
The spiders wove their curious lace,
As they a curtain fine would see
Between the hindering bars and me.

Then, sudden change! I heard the call
Of wind and wave and waterfall;
From heaven above and earth below
A clear command-"ARISE AND GO!"

I upward sprang in all my strength,
And stretched my eager hands at length
To break the bars-no bars were there;
My fingers fell through empty air!

Ellen M. H. Gates.

From "To the Unborn Peoples,"
Baker & Taylor Co.

ULTIMATE ACT

It is well to have purposes we can carry out. It is also well to have purposes so lofty that we cannot carry them out; for these latter are the mighty inner fires which warm our being at its core and without which our impulse to do even the lesser things would be feeble.

I

HAD rather cut man's purpose deeper than

Achieving it be crowned as conqueror;

To will divinely is to accomplish more
Than a mere deed: it fills anew the wan
Aspect of life with blood; it draws upon
Sources beyond the common reach and lore
Of mortals, to replenish at its core

The God-impassioned energy of man.

And herewith all the worlds of deed and thought
Quicken again with meaning-pulse and thrill
With Deity that had forgot His touch.

There is not any act avails so much

As this invisible wedding of the will

With Life-yea, though it seem to accomplish naught.

From "The Free Spirit,"

B. W. Huebsch.

Henry Bryan Binns.

HE WHOM A DREAM HATH POSSESSED

The man possessed by a vision is not perplexed, troubled, restricted, as the rest of us are. He wanders yet is not lost from home, sees a million dawns yet never night descending, faces death and destruction and in them finds triumph.

HE whom a dream hath possessed knoweth no more of

doubting,

For mist and the blowing of winds and the mouthing of words he scorns;

Not the sinuous speech of schools he hears, but a knightly shouting,

And never comes darkness down, yet he greeteth a million morns.

He whom a dream hath possessed knoweth no more of roaming;

All roads and the flowing of waves and the speediest flight he knows,

But wherever his feet are set, his soul is forever homing, And going, he comes, and coming he heareth a call and

goes.

He whom a dream hath possessed knoweth no more of

sorrow,

At death and the dropping of leaves and the fading of suns he smiles,

For a dream remembers no past and scorns the desire of a morrow,

And a dream in a sea of doom sets surely the ultimate isles.

He whom a dream hath possessed treads the impalpable

marches,

From the dust of the day's long road he leaps to a laughing star,