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HOW SKILLFUL GROWS THE HAND.
Ah! how skillful grows the hand,
He that followeth love's behest,
The future hides in it,
Gladness and sorrow;
We press still thorow,
Daunting us, onward!
And solemn before us,
Veiled the dark portal;
Goal of all mortal :
Graves under us silent.
While earnest thou gazest,
Comes boding of terror,
Come phantasm and error;
With doubt and misgiving.
But heard are the voices,
Heard are the sages,
The worlds, and the ages: “Choose well; your choice is
Brief, and yet endless."
"Here eyes do regard you,
In eternity's stillness;
Here in all fullness,
Work, and despair not!"
Whene'er a noble deed is wrought,
The tidal wave of deeper souls
Honor to those whose words and deeds
CHARITY. Honor to him who freely gives
Of his abundant store; Who shares the gifts that he receives
With those who need them more;
O’er sorrow and distress;
The poor and fatherless.
Honor to him who shuns to do
An action mean or low;
To stranger, friend or foe;
Is merciful and kind;
In body or in mind.
Honor to him who scorns to be
To name or sect a slave;
Free as the ocean wave;
Speaks out in thunder-tones; Who feels that he with truth is strong,
To grapple e'en with thrones.
GENTLENESS. Speak gently! It is better far
To rule by love than fear; Speak gently! Let no harsh word mar
The good we may do here.
Speak gently to the young, for they
Will have enough to bear; Pass through this life as best they may,
'Tis full of anxious care.
Speak gently to the aged one,
Grieve not the care-worn heart; The sands of life are nearly run,
Let them in peace depart.
Speak gently to the erring ones,
They must have toiled in vain; Perchance unkindness made them so;
Oh! win them back again.
Speak gently! 'Tis a little thing
Dropped in the heart's deep well; The good, the joy, that it may bring
Eternity shall tell.
THE GOLDEN CITY.
Have you heard the golden city
Mentioned in the legends old ? Everlasting light shines o'er it,
Wondrous tales of it are told; Only righteous men and women
Dwell within its gleaming wall, Wrong is banished from its borders,
Justice reigns supreme o'er all. Wrong is banished from its borders,
Justice reigns supreme o'er all.
We are builders of that city,
All our joys and all our groans
All our lives are building-stones :
Oft with bleeding hands and tears,
Will not perish with the years,
Will not perish with the years.
It will be, at last made perfect,
In the universal plan,
Of the toiling hosts of man;
In the final reign of right,
Of the City of the Light.
Of the City of the Light.
SAY NOT THEY DIE.
Say not they die, those martyr souls
Whose life is wing'd with purpose fine; Who leave us, pointing to the goals;
Who learn to conquer and resign.
Such cannot die; they ranquish time,
And fill the world with growing light, Making the human life sublime
With memor es of their sacred might.