164. HOW SKILLFUL GROWS THE HAND. Ah! how skillful grows the hand, He that followeth love's behest, 165. THE FUTURE. The future hides in it, And solemn before us, Stars silent o'er us, Graves under us silent. While earnest thou gazest, With doubt and misgiving. But heard are the voices, The worlds, and the ages: "Here eyes do regard you, Ye brave, to reward you; 166. MORAL INFLUENCE. Whene'er a noble deed is wrought, Whene'er is spoken a noble thought, Our hearts, in glad surprise, To higher levels rise. The tidal wave of deeper souls Into our inmost being rolls, And lifts us unawares Out of all deeper cares. Honor to those whose words and deeds Thus help us in our daily needs, And by their overflow Raise us from what is low. 167. CHARITY. Honor to him who freely gives Of his abundant store; Who shares the gifts that he receives Of all his friends who mostly loves Honor to him who shuns to do Is merciful and kind; Who will not cause a needless pain Honor to him who scorns to be To name or sect a slave; Whose soul is like the sunshine, free, Who, when he sees oppression, wrong, Who feels that he with truth is strong, To grapple e'en with thrones. 168. 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 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 169. 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, Will not perish with the years, It will be, at last made perfect, It will help to crown the labors It will merge into the splendors 170. SAY NOT THEY DIE. Say not they die, those martyr souls Such cannot die; they anquish time, With memories of their sacred might. F. A. |