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XLbe Buole of IRiobt 
 
 Mbat tbe ©lb fflao SatD 
 
 ant) otber 
 
 poems ot tbe IRew patriotism 
 
THE 
 
 BUGLE OF RIGHT 
 
 WHAT THE OLD FLAG SAID 
 
 AND OTHER 
 
 POEMS OF THE NEW PATRIOTISM 
 
 By 
 ALPHONSO ALVA HOPKINS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY 
 1913 
 

 CopyrighU 1913. b^ 
 
 E. S. HOPKINS 
 
 (Printed in the United States of America) 
 
 ©ci.A346068 
 1M/ 
 
In Dedication 
 
 AT THREE SCORE AND TEN 
 
 To each good friend who cares this hook to own. 
 
 Its pages here I gladly dedicate. 
 As if to him or her it went alone, 
 A message true, with helpful purpose flown 
 
 From life to life, fci; heart still ]^oung, elate. 
 And ever, while the patient world must wait, 
 Ma^ Right's clear Bugle sound its ringing tone. 
 As if by lips divine divinely blown. 
 
 To reach the listening ear of small and great. 
 With hope of coming f^inder, nobler fate; 
 Till through the land, in every clime and zone. 
 The love of Man shall evermore be k^own. 
 As love of God in human hearts has grown. 
 And Manhood comes to its divine estate, 
 
 Nen) Yorii:, March 2/, 1913. 
 
 VI 1 
 
Contente 
 
 THE BUGLE OF RIGHT 
 
 Page 
 
 A Birthday Wish 7 
 
 The Bugle of Right 13 
 
 What the Old Flag Said 16 
 
 Their Call to Their Canaan 19 
 
 On the World's Highway 23 
 
 For Human Brotherhood 25 
 
 The American Temple 28 
 
 On Independence Day 31 
 
 Manhood and Mammon 34 
 
 Life Unto Life 36 
 
 On Golden Sands 38 
 
 Labor and Wealth 40 
 
 The Patriot at the Polls . . . , 41 
 
 To Preachers and Teachers 43 
 
 A Thanksgiving Shrine 44 
 
 The Sunrise of a Century 46 
 
 The Saloon Door Swings 47 
 
 Collar or Crown 49 
 
 Magdalene Row 50 
 
 The Pulpit and the Pew 52 
 
 Boy and Bar 54 
 
 Forgotten Graves 56 
 
 The Jericho Road 58 
 
 The Coroner's Welcome 60 
 
 The Legions of God 64 
 
 Liquor of Death 66 
 
 Dawn and Promise 67 
 
 ix 
 
Contents 
 
 Page 
 
 Risen, Yet Crucified 67 
 
 A Thanksgiving Prayer 68 
 
 "Money Talks" 70 
 
 *'Here to Do Business" 72 
 
 Painting the Brewery 75 
 
 The Brewery's Partners 77 
 
 Waste at the Bung 79 
 
 Said THE Brewer 81 
 
 The Road to Topersville 84 
 
 The Cry of the Tempted 86 
 
 The Human Cry 88 
 
 God's Yeomen 90 
 
 Our Creed 92 
 
 My Ballot 93 
 
 MEMORIAL AND PERSONAL 
 
 The Silent 97 
 
 Abraham Lincoln 105 
 
 Neal Dow 107 
 
 General A. W. Riley 109 
 
 General Clinton B. Fisk 110 
 
 "I Have Crept in With Mother" Ill 
 
 John B. Finch 113 
 
 George W. Bain 114 
 
 James G. Clark 115 
 
 The Pilgrim and the Knight 117 
 
 Charles Henry Mead • .119 
 
 The Fountain of Youth . . . . 122 
 
 A Song of Hope and Faith 125 
 
 Living and Dead 127 
 
 In Benediction 129 
 
 '*Now I Lay Me" 131 
 
 X 
 
Zhc Bugle of IRiQbt 
 
Zhc Bugle of IRiobt 
 
 O Men of the North and the South! 
 O Men of the East and the West! 
 
 There's a foe to be faced 
 
 That is laying in waste, 
 Thro' our land, many fairest and best. 
 Were the call to the fierce cannon's mouth 
 Ye would answer with rallying cheers; 
 
 When the test is of life 
 
 And of soul, in the strife. 
 Will ye falter from cowardly fears? 
 
 These are days when the sabres may rust 
 
 In their scabbards where long they have hung, 
 
 When the cannon are mute 
 
 As the strains of a lute 
 After songs of the singer are sung; 
 But the war of the Good and the Just, 
 Against arrogant Evil and Might, 
 
 Is demanding of Men 
 
 That they rally again 
 To the call of the Bugle of Right. 
 
 13 
 
Ubc JBugle ot IRigbt 
 
 By the breath of our God it is blown; 
 It is calling from sea unto sea 
 To the leal of our land, 
 In appeal and command — 
 Hear it sounding for you and for me. 
 Shall we answer in love for our own? 
 Shall we hasten our homes to defend? 
 Must our Flag of the Brave 
 Be a sign of the slave 
 Till our nation in folly shall end? 
 
 When the minions of Drink are enrolled 
 Under banners of lust and of greed, 
 
 With a purpose to win 
 
 For the succor of sin 
 And the glory of Wrong and its creed. 
 Then the yeomen of God must be bold 
 And unflinching to do and to dare, 
 
 As with fervor of hate 
 
 For the foe of the State 
 Into battle His banner they bear. 
 
 When the coward would compromise all 
 For the fleeting success of to-day, 
 Or a truce would invite 
 With the foemen of Right, 
 Or would flee from the fight in dismay, 
 Then God's yeomen upon Him will call 
 For the courage of soul to be true, 
 And will follow the gleam 
 Of His leading supreme, 
 Though the faithful grow weary and few. 
 
 14 
 
XTbe 3Bugle of iRtgbt 
 
 Then the Bugle of Right they shall hear, 
 Sounding clearly from soul unto soul, 
 Till with daring of hope 
 With the foe they can cope, 
 Striving on for the good and the goal; 
 And the fainting, who lingered in fear. 
 By the breath of its call shall be stirred 
 Till they fly to the front 
 Of the battle's fierce brunt, 
 And the cheers of the victor are heard. 
 
 When the call to the red cannon's mouth 
 Over mountain and valley rang wide. 
 
 Then the son and the sire 
 
 Felt its fervor and fire 
 In their hearts till they answered and died. 
 Now to men of the North and the South, 
 And to men of the East and the West, 
 
 Comes the call and command 
 
 From the Lord of the land, 
 As it echoes from valley to crest: 
 
 "Lo! My people they perish from sin; 
 And My land it is burdened with lust; 
 
 But the few, unafraid. 
 
 And the true, undismayed, 
 Must fight on for the Cause that is just. 
 In My name if ye battle to win. 
 In My courage and strength if ye smite, 
 
 There shall be no defeat. 
 
 For no call to retreat 
 Can be blown by the Bugle of Right!" 
 
 15 
 
Mbat tbe ©lb flm Sai5 
 
 I was born in the heart of the patriots old, 
 Of their purposes pure, their fidelity bold; 
 
 And my stripes ever tell, in the white and the red, 
 
 Of their consciences clean and the blood that they shed ; 
 While my stars, as they beam in their heaven of blue. 
 Tell of courage and faith which forever were true; 
 
 And I wave o'er the waters, I float o'er the land, 
 
 Still a heritage bright of that patriot band. 
 
 I was borne where the men of the North and the South 
 Met in battle and fell at the fierce cannon's mouth, — 
 
 Where as freemen they fought for what each of them thought 
 Was the right, with their might, as brave countrymen ought; 
 And where Sheridan rode to the front of defeat 
 There my colors all glowed with a victory sweet; 
 And the legions of Grant and of Sherman I led 
 From the camp of the quick to the sleep of the dead. 
 
 W^hen they wrapt me around the slain heroes who fell. 
 
 Of devotion and valor I proudly did tell; 
 
 And above the green sod of each patriot grave 
 Still I whisper of all to their Country they gave; 
 
 While in sadness I weep where their dirges are sung, 
 
 Yet in gladness my folds are forever outflung 
 
 When the pride of the Nation, with ringing acclaim, 
 March forth to defend me from peril or shame. 
 
 i6 
 
•Mbat tbe ©ID fflag SalD 
 
 But, alas! I am sullied full often, to-day; 
 
 Though the men of the Blue and the men of the Gray, 
 In their brotherhood new have both carried me high. 
 And been willing beneath their one banner to die. 
 
 For the laws of the land now compel me to wave 
 
 O'er the lawless and banned as I did o'er the brave, 
 And my shame it is bitter as to them I bring 
 The protection my folds o'er their lawlessness fling. 
 
 In my glory I gleam from the Capitol's Dome, 
 And my stars brightly beam where the battleships roam; 
 O'er the schools of the nation I blazon my pride. 
 Or in grief there I droop when the noble have died; 
 But the red of my folds blushes deeper to flame 
 When I fly in disgrace o'er a sin and a shame, — 
 When the bar of the robber declares me its boon, 
 As his flag I become o'er the Licensed Saloon. 
 
 On the warm breath of Peace I have sweetly been borne; 
 By the storm-breath of battle to shreds have been torn; 
 
 Where the olive-branch blossoms I laugh in delight; 
 
 And I ripple with joy o'er the arsenal's might; 
 But I shudder with fear as my stars are unfurled 
 O'er the Curse that makes war on the peace of the world, 
 
 When distiller and brewer debase every fold. 
 
 And Humanity plunder for gain of their gold. 
 
 From each flagstaff I fly, every Fourth of July, 
 And my folds laugh aloud as they flutter on high, 
 While they tell of the birth of the best of the earth 
 Among nations of men,— while they herald the worth 
 
 17 
 
Mbat tbe ®l^ fflag Satb 
 
 Of Free Manhood in sovereignty over itself; 
 
 But they shudder with pain at the passion for pelf, 
 The corruption and crime, which are fed at the bars 
 Binding freemen in bonds, to the shame of my stars! 
 
 When I wave over Labor's magnificent host. 
 Or above the great ships that rich Commerce can boast, 
 I am proud; but with dread and with sorrow I shrink 
 When I fly for the red-handed pirates of Drink. 
 It is treason to Right, when above the foul den 
 I am flaunted by Law for betrayers of men! 
 They are traitors to me, and the story I tell. 
 Who would give me to guard the red gateways of hell! 
 
 O ye men of America, manly and proud, 
 Shape me not, in your folly, for Freedom a shroud! 
 By your love that I show for your garlanded graves. 
 Let me never become the base banner of slaves ! 
 Let me never again, to your sorrow and blame. 
 Be the Flag of the Freebooter's plunder and shame ! 
 For the sake of the souls of the millions to come, 
 Bid me herald no longer the Traffic in Rum! 
 
 By the spirits of Washington, Warren and Wayne; 
 By the blood of your sires in defense of me slain; 
 
 By the love that ye bear for the Nation they built; 
 
 By the hate ye should share for dishonor and guilt; 
 Rise in might of your Manhood, O men who are true; 
 Kiss my folds that ye hallow, of Red, White and Blue, 
 
 Lift your faces, and swear that forever your vote 
 
 In defense of the wrong shall forbid me to float ! 
 
 i8 
 
^beir Call to ^bcir Canaan 
 
 Read at the Celebration of the Fortieth Anniversary of the Organization of 
 the Prohibition Party, Oswego, New York, August 25, 1909- 
 
 Forty years through the wilderness weary 
 
 They wandered, the People of God; 
 From their Edom of hopelessness dreary, 
 
 Long hopeless, despairing, they trod; 
 While the Pillar of Cloud shone in splendor 
 
 Of promise before them by day, 
 And the Pillar of Fire, as defender 
 
 By night, lit the gloom of their way. 
 
 Since the dawn of the centuries ever 
 
 Some people of God have gone out. 
 On some quest of as hopeless endeavor, 
 
 From Edom of wrong and of doubt; 
 And before them His promise has gUstened, 
 
 Behind them His torches have burned. 
 While above they could hear, if they listened, 
 
 His words which too often they spurned. 
 
 Forty years! — There are men who remember 
 
 How wide has their wilderness been 
 Since they started, that far-off September, 
 
 Across the Red Sea of Red Sin; 
 And they know, though but seldom they say it. 
 
 How hard is the way they have walked. 
 Hearing Duty's ovm call, to obey it. 
 
 While the multitude scorned them and mocked. 
 
 19 
 
XTbett Call to Zlbett (Tanaan 
 
 Farwell Hall— '69 !— and the Red Sea 
 
 Of Drink was before them that day; 
 And for millions since then its deep Dead Sea 
 
 Has yawned on the dangerous way. 
 Farwell Hall! — and the brave men who met there, 
 
 To band for a Canaan to be, 
 Had the faith and the purpose to get there 
 
 Though sore the long road they should see. 
 
 So they answered the Call, as they heard it; 
 
 They followed the vision they saw; 
 And though long was their Canaan deferred, it 
 
 Is sure as was Sinai's Law. 
 "Thou Shalt Not!" was the mandate supernal 
 
 That came from God's mountain of old; 
 They have read it, on tablets eternal, 
 
 Have said it, in syllables bold. 
 
 "Thou Shalt Not !" when the Wrong would still bind you 
 
 And master your will with its might ; 
 "Thou Shalt Not!" when Old Evil would blind you 
 
 To God, and the Truth and the Right ; 
 "Thou Shalt Not!" when for gain of the greedy 
 
 The State would its virtue assoil. 
 When the young, and the weak, and the needy, 
 
 Are sold for the bribe and the spoil. 
 
 Back to Sinai's Word they have hearkened 
 Who far through the Wilderness came, 
 
 And though often their pathway was darkened 
 With doubt, and with sorrow and shame, 
 
 20 
 
TLbcit Call to Ubcit Canaan 
 
 They have urged for the State and the Nation 
 That standard of Truth which began 
 
 When the Lord, in His Own Proclamation, 
 Gave Law to the children of Man. 
 
 Against License for Sin they have banded 
 
 Themselves, as if Moses they saw 
 Standing there on the Mount, as commanded, 
 
 In light which illumined God's Law; 
 And amid the unholy conditions 
 
 Of nen by the devil enticed, 
 They have stood for the Law's Prohibitions 
 
 Which come before Canaan and Christ. 
 
 Some have sunk by the wayside to slumber 
 
 Unbroken by duty or dream — 
 Let your memory name the dear number 
 
 Who sleep after struggle supreme; 
 Call them over in silence unbroken, 
 
 As upward your faces are turned, 
 With a tribute of tears for your token 
 
 Of love and of honor well earned. 
 
 While the noble departed are neighbors 
 
 Of God, in His Country of Peace, 
 Where from duty well done, and the labors 
 
 Of combat, they came to release. 
 To the living our laurel we tender — 
 
 The living, as leal as the dead — 
 And may Right, as a Pillar of Splendor, 
 
 Illumine the way they are led. 
 
 21 
 
Ubcit (Tall to Ubetr Canaan 
 
 O Thou God of the Wilderness, hear them 
 
 Who still in their wilderness cry! 
 Grant the light of Thy presence to cheer them 
 
 Till Canaan and comfort are nigh! 
 From the height of Thy might and Thy glory 
 
 Thy mandates declare once again, 
 "Thou Shalt Not!" till the Wrong, too long hoary. 
 
 By Law shall be mastered of men! 
 
 Lean your soul to the future and listen — 
 
 O doubter of Truth and of man! — 
 Still unfailing God's promises glisten 
 
 For those in Humanity's van; 
 But the road from the Wrong of each Edom, 
 
 By Wilderness wanderers trod. 
 Must run, if it reach to Right's Freedom, 
 
 By the Law-giving Mountain of God! 
 
Qn the Wiovlb'B IbiQbvw^ 
 
 Respectfully inscribed to Rudyard Kipling 
 
 One sang of the White Man's Burden, and many caught up 
 the strain 
 Till the world should heed, in its hungry need 
 And its conquering greed of gain; 
 And loudly the Future's challenge rang out to the long 
 To-day— 
 "You must bear your load, as you walk the road 
 That is known as the World's Highway!" 
 
 But what is the pack most heavy that burdens the shoulders 
 bent?— - 
 And by whose hard hand, in the toilsome land, 
 Is the burden so weary lent? 
 Not care for the distant alien, though sullen and wild he be; 
 Nor did stranger hands from the distant lands 
 Bring our burden across the sea. 
 
 We fashioned it here, in freedom, and nourished it here in 
 pride, 
 Till it grew so great that it cursed the State, 
 And the rule of the State defied; 
 And still, with its giant grapple, the weight of it grows and 
 clings 
 Till our strength it steals and the nation reels 
 As if robbed by the lust of kings. 
 
 23 
 
®n tbe Morlb's ibtabwa^ 
 
 Look out where the millions gather, who cry with our common 
 speech, 
 And behold them there as the load they bear 
 With a torturing share for each ! 
 Gaunt poverty stalks among them, and harlotry tempts to hell, 
 And the hands once white are a crimson sight 
 That of murderous might can tell. 
 
 The blood of the child is tainted by vice in the father's veins ; 
 And his hot desire is a liquid fire 
 
 That will torture while life remains; 
 The devils of greed torment him wherever he walks the street, 
 And the fiends of sin would his Manhood win 
 To its final and sore defeat. 
 
 Where Virtue in white would worship, the scarlet flames 
 forth of vice; 
 And the Church would sell to the gates of hell 
 Its permission to swing for price; 
 And Labor is robbed of wages, and Toil is taxed for naught, 
 And the fraud and shame are in Law's high name — 
 For permission to rob is bought. 
 
 Go forth to your alien peoples, O ye who would make them 
 men. 
 And the burden bear of their ward and care; 
 But remember your kindred, then! 
 To-morrow is near, and mighty for weal or for human woe; 
 But the Lord has heed of your neighbor's need 
 As to-day on the way ye go! 
 
 24 
 
jfor Ibuman Brotbetboot) 
 
 Far over the seas men famish for care from a Christian land; 
 But in want they die at our doors who lie, — 
 And they do it at our command. 
 The burden shall grow more heavy, so long as the curse 
 we hold 
 For the crimson price of the shame and vice, 
 And humanity sell for gold. 
 
 Has the world swung onward, upward, for nearly two thousand 
 years, 
 Since the Lord of Men in His mercy then 
 Brought gladness and hope for tears? 
 O Christ of the Cross triumphant! come back in Thy love and 
 might. 
 And Thyself reveal, till the world shall feel 
 That its burdens are all made light! 
 
 3for Ibuman Brotberboob 
 
 Far across the waste of waters, from the sunny Land of Spain, 
 
 Came the vessels of Columbus in the daring of their quest; 
 With unfaltering faith he steered them, o'er the wide, un- 
 measured main. 
 To the mighty Land of Promise in the West. 
 To the New Espana, waiting where the sun in glory set, 
 
 Sailed the patient, eager Captain, with his meager, doubting 
 crew, 
 
 25 
 
jfor Ibuman Brotberboob 
 
 And our millions must remember — would we ever quite 
 forget ? — 
 How old Mother-Spain gave birthright to the New! 
 
 Scan the record of the ages, with its pages black as night; 
 
 Show the scarlet-written chapters of the Spaniard and his 
 crimes, — 
 Of his blood-red Inquisition, still on History the blight; 
 
 Tell the story of our brighter, whiter times; 
 Make your boast as brave and ringing as America's can be, 
 
 Over sin and crime and wickedness that Spain has made 
 her own; 
 But remember, O ye millions in this Country of the Free, 
 
 That she gave the Land of Promise to be known! 
 
 Out of darkness, that was blacker than the Erebus of old; 
 
 Out of wrongs red-handed, cruel, till the world would weep 
 in shame; 
 Till the pages of the ages have a sweeter story told. 
 
 From the midnight to the dawn our country came; 
 And we bear the Flag of Freedom, we uplift the Cross of 
 Christ, 
 
 We declare a grander Manhood and a nobler will and way; 
 But remember, O ye millions, whose unyielding faith sufficed 
 
 For the story and the glory of To-day! 
 
 Comes a fleet across the waters from the coast Columbus 
 knew. 
 On a mission that is deadly as his own was large with life. 
 While the nation we have founded, where the breeze his vessels 
 blew. 
 Hears the loud and angry challenge unto strife; 
 
 7!^ 
 
jfot Hiuman JBrotberboob 
 
 And the Flag our sires defended must in honor still be borne 
 In defense of human weakness, and support of common right, 
 
 And their sons will bear it bravely, though by red-hot volleys 
 torn, 
 Till it gleams in final glory for the Right! 
 
 But Humanity is grander than the flaming battle-sword, 
 
 And the Brotherhood of Peoples than red carnage more 
 sublime ; 
 From the Cross of Christ a glory more beneficent has poured 
 
 Than all battlefields have blazoned in all time! 
 All the wages of the ages, for the bloody work they wrought, 
 
 Would not match the honest value of a single human soul; 
 And remember, O ye millions, that for every battle fought 
 
 Human Brotherhood must pay the costly toll! 
 
 May the sword of Justice, leaping from the scabbard swift 
 and keen. 
 Soon be sheathed again in honor and forever without stain! 
 Till the sons of men remember what the Son of Man did mean, 
 
 When upon the Cross He suffered and was slain! 
 May the Brotherhood of Christ abound, East, West, and North 
 and South, 
 And a nobler, grander Manhood universal come to be. 
 Till the birds of song their nestlings rear in every cannon's 
 mouth, 
 And the dove of Peace descends on every sea! 
 
 April 24, 1898. 
 
 27 
 
^be amerlcan ^Temple 
 
 We are building in this Western World a Temple fine and 
 grand, 
 For the Peoples of the Future in its beauty to behold; 
 And the glory of its grandeur shall illumine every land, 
 
 When the pages of the ages have been told. 
 We must rear it in the splendor of a Manhood that is true 
 
 To the Godlikeness within it, for divinest mission born; 
 With a love as wide and tender as the One Messiah knew 
 We must labor till the Consummation Morn. 
 
 There are four foundation pillars of this Temple that we build. 
 And each one must bear its burden, howsoever great the 
 share ; 
 Never yet was master-builder in his art so wisely skilled 
 
 That for sure foundations he could idly care. 
 And this Temple, slow uprearing, must be founded on the rock, 
 
 If the Future shall behold it, — if unmoved it may remain 
 Through the stress of angry tumult, through the wilder 
 tempest-shock 
 When fierce lightnings rive the lurid air in twain. 
 
 Shape The Home support with caution, O ye builders of the 
 State ! 
 Guard it well from every danger; keep it plumb with Love 
 and Truth; 
 For upon this comely pillar rests forevermore the fate 
 Of our Temple, in the future of our youth. 
 
Ube Hmertcan Uemple 
 
 Build the Home of empty bottles, empty casks and empty kegs, 
 
 It will crumble into fragments underneath its heavy load, 
 
 And The Temple based upon it will go down among the dregs 
 
 Where the flood of Drink with wreck and ruin flowed. 
 
 Shape The School with careful wisdom while The Home 
 ye guard so well; 
 Let no liquid foe assail it, thro' the cruel greed of men; 
 Shield the childhood that it symbols, from the poisoned fumes 
 of hell; 
 Make it firm and fair, as fashioned, always then. 
 For they build the State in beauty who adorn the human mind, 
 Who extend its range of vision, and who broaden human 
 thought ; 
 They are dastards to their duty, they are traitors to their kind, 
 Who to deaden brain and conscience can be bought! 
 
 Fair and firm, and strong, unyielding, let The Church forever 
 stand. 
 At its corner of The Temple that we rear with costly pride; 
 Let it bear full share of burden, at the Master's own command, 
 
 And refuse again to see Him crucified! 
 For the virtue of the Woman, for the purity of Man, 
 
 It should lift itself with courage and its honor swift avow; 
 It should smite the bar and brothel, and the shameless License 
 Plan 
 Which compels it in obedience to bow. 
 
 Be The Ballot Box a pillar that shall not be overthrown. 
 
 Rising still erect, unbroken, 'mid the perils which abound, 
 While around it men shall gather, in the greatness they have 
 grown. 
 To defend the rights of Manhood they have found! 
 
 29 
 
XTbe Hmerican Uemple 
 
 Make it clean from all corruption, keep it free from curse of 
 gold; 
 Shield it well from sin that sanctions other sin for guilty 
 gains ; 
 Till the lords of mighty nations in their majesty behold 
 How The Rule of Man in majesty remains! 
 
 We are building here a Temple for the Future wide and vast, 
 
 And its four foundation pillars on The Citizen we rest, — 
 Solid rock of sober Manhood from the quarries of the Past, 
 
 Fit and fashioned for the Future's final test. 
 Shall the wages of the ages all our labor compensate? — 
 
 Shall our Temple stand in beauty when the thrones of men 
 go down? — 
 Then upon The Sober Citizen build well The Sober State, 
 Make its Manhood worthy Coronation's Crown! 
 
 Then forever from our Temple fair, upon each Natal Day, 
 
 Let the Flag we cheer and honor tell of Loyalty to Man, 
 Till the lowest and the highest shall the law of Love obey. 
 
 And the love of Law perfect our nation's plan, — 
 Till the vision of the Fathers when they framed it shall be 
 shown. 
 Like the story of a glory never seen on land or sea, 
 Of a chosen people marching to possess its princely own 
 In this Land of Life and Labor for The Free! 
 
 30 
 
®n llnbcpenbence 2)a^ 
 
 On this Independence Day 
 We may proudly sing and say 
 
 "We are greater, we are grander, than our past;" 
 For we know the way we came 
 To our Nation's pride of name, 
 
 And a present and a future wide and vast. 
 
 From the tyranny of kings, 
 And oppression's cruel things. 
 
 Up the rugged path of Progress we did climb; 
 And the bleeding feet of men. 
 As they struggled upward then, 
 
 Left their crimson trail along the steeps of time. 
 
 Now we look around the world. 
 And behold our Flag unfurled 
 
 In its beauty and its grace on every sea; 
 While on every ship and shore 
 It shall wave forevermore 
 
 As the emblem of a people proud and free. 
 
 Fire the cannon! ring the bells! 
 Till the chorus lifts and swells 
 From each mountain-top and valley, east and west; 
 
 31 
 
Qn irnbepenbence 5)a^ • 
 
 Tell the story, brave and true, 
 Of our Union old and new, 
 In this land where faith and fortune find their best. 
 
 But on Independence Day 
 
 We may sadly sigh and say 
 "We are not the Sons of Freedom that we seem;" 
 
 For as coward slaves we bow 
 
 To a cruel tyrant now. 
 And he rules us with a tyranny supreme. 
 
 From the barrel and the cask, 
 The decanter and the flask. 
 
 Come the poison, the pollution, of his breath; 
 Upon every street he walks. 
 And our manhood there he mocks, 
 
 And the sons of men he curses to their death. 
 
 Every holiday he claims. 
 
 And he burdens it with shames, 
 Till he brings it all red-handed to the night; 
 
 And the night of sin and crime 
 
 Is the tyrant's harvest-time. 
 When he blackens all his kingdom with its blight. 
 
 In the Halls of State he stands. 
 With his scepter in his hands. 
 And his princes there his lightest will obey; 
 
 32 
 
®n 1[nt)epenbence Dap 
 
 For the place he gives, or gold, 
 Manhood there is bought and sold, 
 And the souls of men are made the devil's prey. 
 
 In our Land of Brave and Free 
 Nevermore this king should be. 
 
 For he levies burdens heavy on us all; 
 To rebellion stout and long 
 Let us rise, a mighty throng. 
 
 Quick to answer God and Duty as they call! 
 
 By the Flag we lift and love, 
 By the graves it waves above. 
 
 With the story of its glory on each tongue, 
 Ring the Independence Bell, 
 Sound of tyranny the knell, 
 
 Till across the land in power it has rung! 
 
 Then each Independence Day 
 
 We can truly sing and say 
 "We are greater, we are grander, than of yore!" 
 
 For the reign of Rum shall cease. 
 
 And the sway of Love and Peace 
 Shall make glad the hearts of men forevermore! 
 
 33 
 
flDanboob anb flDammon 
 
 Hear the cry of the clamorous millions 
 
 All shouting for Silver and Gold! 
 They are eager for Money and Mammon; 
 
 For gain they are zealous and bold; 
 But they heed not the Cry of the Human 
 
 That rises from suffering hearts; 
 They see not the shame and the sorrow 
 That shadow the busiest marts. 
 Gold! Gold! 
 Silver and Gold! 
 This is the battle-cry, 
 Ringing and bold, 
 That millions are making, 
 Tho' souls may be aching. 
 And hearts may be breaking, 
 While Manhood is murdered for Silver and Gold! 
 
 II. 
 
 Hear the prayers of the sisters and mothers 
 
 Go pulsing with pain upon high, 
 From the homes where they kneel in their anguish. 
 
 And weep in dishonor, and die! 
 But the Chorus of Gain echoes louder 
 
 Than pleas of the smitten can rise, 
 While millions go shouting for Mammon, 
 
 And Manhood in misery dies! 
 
 34 
 
/IDanboo^ anb /iDammon 
 
 Gold! Gold! 
 Silver and Gold! 
 Hear the loud battle-cry 
 Ringing and bold, 
 That millions are making, 
 Tho' souls may be aching, 
 And hearts may be breaking. 
 With pain and with sorrow that can not be told! 
 
 III. 
 
 Are the beings divinely created, 
 
 Forever divinely endowed, 
 Of no value in sight of these millions 
 
 Who shout for King Mammon so loud? 
 Are the souls for whom God gave a Savior, 
 
 For whom at a price He was sold, 
 Worth less than the Silver of Judas, 
 Or cheaper than ingots of Gold? 
 Gold! Gold! 
 Silver and Gold! 
 Such is the chorus from 
 Sheep of His fold. 
 Where millions are praying, 
 But Mammon obeying. 
 Redemption delaying, 
 While Christ is dishonored for Silver and Gold! 
 
 IV. 
 
 By the Cross in the churches uplifted 
 
 In sight of the sinner and saint; 
 By His death who did perish upon it 
 
 In love that knew never complaint; 
 
 35 
 
%iU mnto %xtc 
 
 By the hope of the world in a Manhood 
 
 Well worth such a death to redeem, 
 Let Men be more precious than Money, 
 Let Manhood be counted supreme! 
 Gold! Gold! 
 Silver and Gold! 
 Shame on the shouters for 
 Mammon so bold, 
 Their Savior forsaking, 
 Tho' souls may be aching, 
 And hearts may be breaking. 
 While Manhood is murdered for Silver and Gold! 
 
 Xife innso Xife 
 
 Born in a splendid palace, 
 
 With luxuries all at hand. 
 Or born to the poor man's frugal board. 
 
 With luxury always banned, 
 The boy is a costly blessing, 
 
 A luxury in himself. 
 Where Plenty waits by the palace gates. 
 
 Or Want on the poor man's shelf. 
 
 36 
 
%itc mnto %itc 
 
 Home is a palace noble, 
 
 When Love is the keeper there; 
 And Life is a royal, holy gift 
 
 That comes to its ward and care; 
 Though bells may ring at its coming, 
 
 By Royalty's glad commands, 
 Or Want may wait at the poor man's gate 
 
 With hunger and empty hands. 
 
 Life is a gift all gracious, 
 
 From source that is all divine, 
 Yet ever a tax on life and love, — 
 
 Your life and your love, and mine. 
 We pay for the princely token. 
 
 As other lives paid before 
 When thus we came for a place and name 
 
 To cottage or palace door. 
 
 Wealth pays, for the gift so precious; 
 
 Want pays, from its meager hoard; 
 Love gives its all, in the palace hall, 
 
 And there by the humble board; 
 And life unto life is debtor, 
 
 For life and its costly care. 
 To all who pay, till the Judgment Day, 
 
 Unless it shall earn its share. 
 
 O Man with your debt uncancelled — 
 O Men who have paid for such — 
 
 One Life went out on the crimson Cross 
 That Love might redeem for much; 
 
 37 
 
©n Ool^en San^0 
 
 But woe to your peace eternal 
 
 If all that you ought to pay 
 Stand yet unpaid when the scales have weighed 
 
 Your Hfe, at the Judgment Day! 
 
 And woe to your soul, O Christian, 
 
 If any can point and cry — 
 "He did not help me to pay my debt. 
 
 But helped me in debt to die;" 
 For he who to life is debtor, 
 
 When comes the accounting time, 
 Through the deed you did, or the help you hid, 
 
 Shows life in yourself a crime. 
 
 ®n (5olt)cn San&6 
 
 We are building a stately Temple 
 By the labor of Christian hands, 
 
 In the World's great West 
 
 Where we build the best, — 
 In the fairest of Christian lands; 
 We must mould it of loyal Manhood, 
 Made clean in the Master's Name, 
 
 Through the Christ who died 
 
 For a world so wide, 
 To redeem it from sin and shame. 
 
 We are building a Golden Temple, 
 For the Ages to guard and hold 
 When the scroll of Time 
 Shall have grown sublime 
 
 38 
 
Qn 6ol^en San^s 
 
 With the Deeds of the Age of Gold. 
 We may mould it with Man's endeavor 
 Made strong in the strength of Youth, — 
 
 We may work and sing 
 
 Till its arches ring, 
 We may blazon its walls with Truth, — 
 
 But as proudly they rise to Heaven, 
 And as grander their glory grows 
 
 Through the day supreme 
 
 Till the evening's dream 
 In the gleam of the sunset glows, 
 Though the Temple is broad and massive. 
 As if by the Master planned, 
 
 And we build it strong, 
 
 Be it based on Wrong 
 It will not through the Ages stand. 
 
 We are shaping a dream of splendor, — 
 God give us the Christian will 
 
 To be builders true 
 
 As the Ages knew. 
 And to build it with Christian skill! 
 '^e must mould it of royal Manhood, 
 And shape it with loyal hands, 
 
 And rear it to stay 
 
 Till the Judgment Day,— 
 But not upon Golden Sands! 
 
 God help us as Christian builders 
 To build on the Rock of Truth !— 
 To be brave and wise! 
 We may pierce the skies 
 
 39 
 
Xabot an& Mcaltb 
 
 With our Temple of Gold and Youth, — 
 We may rear it in gorgeous glory, 
 As if by Divine commands, — 
 
 But if reared on Wrong, 
 
 Though it seem so strong, 
 We are building on Golden Sands! 
 
 Xabor a^^ TlWcaltb 
 
 A Labor Day Commentary for Toilers. 
 
 Pile it up in the banks by the million, 
 To keep for the proud millionaire; 
 Pay it out to the many 
 Who toil for each penny 
 That so in their need they may share; 
 Shape it into the palace of splendor. 
 All gilded with silver and gold 
 By the patience of Labor, 
 Where Want is its neighbor, 
 And Hunger unfed may behold; 
 
 Yet is Wealth but the garner of wages 
 That Manhood should earn and be paid; 
 
 Yet is Wealth but the glory 
 
 Of Labor, the story 
 Of what sober Manhood has made; 
 
 40 
 
Ube patriot at tbe polls 
 
 And the waste of it, wicked and wanton, 
 Must curses and criminals breed, 
 Where the poor and besodden, 
 The weak, the down-trodden, 
 
 On husks of the starving must feed. 
 
 Let the Prodigal, sober, repentant. 
 
 From sloth and from hunger and sin, 
 Come again to his payment 
 Of wage, and the raiment 
 
 And food of sobriety win ! 
 Let the Manhood which maketh a nation 
 
 In soberness come to its own. 
 
 Where with Wealth for its neighbor- 
 Proud partner of Labor — 
 
 It rules, like a king, on its throne! 
 
 Zbc patriot at tbe polle 
 
 Make room for him there, O ye men 
 Who care not for duty or God ! 
 Make room for a Man 
 Who must walk as he can 
 The way which the patriots trod! 
 There he stands, as a unit for freedom 
 Of manhood, and purpose, and might 
 Make room for him there. 
 In his ballot a prayer, 
 Embodied, for Truth and the Right. 
 
 41 
 
XTbe patriot at tbe polls 
 
 Make room for him there, lesser men 
 Who bow to your party's behest! 
 
 Make room for a son 
 
 Of the Patriots, one 
 Who carries their creed in his breast. 
 In his heart is the hope of the nation; 
 Its trust is upheld in his hands; 
 
 Make room for him, then, 
 
 As a master of men 
 Obeying his Master's commands! 
 
 Make room for him there, as he comes 
 A witness for God and the Truth! — 
 
 Defender of all 
 
 That for justice may call 
 From want, or from weakness, or youth. 
 There he stands, in his glory, a freeman — 
 No bond party-slave to be freed! — 
 
 His forehead might wear 
 
 A king's coronet, fair 
 As crowns but the kingliest deed! 
 
 Make room for a Man, as he brings 
 His tribute to God and the Right, — 
 Who goes with the soul 
 Of a freeman, to goal 
 The grandest in Liberty's light, — 
 Who bears in the boon of his ballot 
 A trust that he never betrays, — 
 Make room for him where. 
 With his ballot a prayer, 
 He votes as the Patriot prays! 
 
 42 
 
So pieacbere an& C;eacbei0 
 
 "A compromise of Right is a triumph of the Wrong!" 
 Let it loudly ring from sermon, let it proudly sing in song, 
 All across our Christian land! 
 
 Tell it, bravely, all ye preachers; 
 
 Spell it, gravely, all ye teachers; 
 
 Till the statesmen and the people understand! 
 
 Among us Error stalks, with a brazen, bloated face. 
 And it walks o'er Truth and Manhood, while it mocks at their 
 disgrace ; 
 And it sneers at all their shame! 
 
 Teach it, gravely, O ye teachers, 
 Preach it, bravely, O ye preachers. 
 That the compromise of Christians is to blame! 
 
 The hand of Duty shrinks from the task that God has set; 
 And a sleepy Conscience winks and blinks at Evil that is met, 
 In the Church and in the State; 
 
 Then proclaim it, godly preachers; 
 Name and shame it, moral teachers; 
 Ere your courage and your conscience rouse too late! 
 
 Men hunger, where the fields have been lavish of their yields — 
 Where the greed of men o'er need of men a tyrant scepter 
 wields 
 While the children cry for bread; 
 Spell it slowly, moral teachers; 
 Tell it, holy, saintly preachers, 
 Till the hungry and the innocent are fed! 
 
 43 
 
B irbanhsgivtng Sbrtne 
 
 The images of God in the slime of sin are trod, 
 By the feet of human vultures that with selfishness are shod; 
 And the law defends the deed! 
 
 Make it plain, O public teachers, 
 That in vain are pious preachers 
 If the practise do not parallel the creed! 
 
 V7here Christian men uphold Wrong or Sin for guilty gold, 
 They shall see the wrath of God at last His flaming path unfold 
 While they cower at His feet! 
 
 Take His Word, O puny preachers! 
 Make it heard, as living teachers 
 Of a Gospel that is Godlike and complete! 
 
 Indulgence can not buy, under License low or high, 
 Any right for man to blight for man his Manhood till he die, 
 While the devil holds the purse! 
 
 Loudly teach it, righteous teachers, 
 Proudly preach it, ye His preachers, 
 Or the God of wrath shall smite you with His curse! 
 
 a Hbanl^egivinQ Sbrine 
 
 For golden grain, and loaded wain, and garnered gain, 
 
 We thank Thee, Lord of all the harvest fields ! 
 Thy summer smile did richness large beguile 
 That plenteous Autumn yields. 
 
 Across the land Thy bounty spanned, with generous hand 
 
 Thou hast Thy fruits in liberal mercy strewn; 
 Thy loving care hast ripened everywhere 
 The gifts that life has known. 
 
 44 
 
E UbanKsGivin^ Sbrine 
 
 Again we lift, for every gift, and all the thrift 
 
 That richer makes the millions Thou hast made, 
 Thanksgiving loud — the humble and the proud — 
 Too long, we know, delayed. 
 
 Yet once a year our hearts draw near, in loving fear, 
 
 Thine altars, Lord, where meekly we would kneel 
 And praise Thy name, and all Thy love proclaim. 
 Thy tender goodness feel. 
 
 Through all the year's red blood and tears. Thy hand appears 
 
 Yet leading on Thy people, as they came, 
 Although the way, one fateful, dreadful day,''' 
 Grew black with crime and shame. 
 
 Forgive us, Lord, if watch and ward, with one accord. 
 
 We did not alw^ays wisely, justly keep 
 O'er Virtue's crown, till it in grief went down 
 And made the wide world weep ! 
 
 Forgive us now, as here we bow confessing how 
 
 We did not guard the glory of our trust. 
 But stood for Sin, Thy temples oft within. 
 And license gave to lust! 
 
 Hold patient, still. Thy holy will, nor smite or kill 
 
 The men who wrong Thee, wronging Brother Man! 
 Make plain to each, in weakness we beseech. 
 The wisdom of Thy plan ! 
 
 So let us pray, Thanksgiving Day, and all the way 
 That onward we in faith and love may walk; 
 
 ^Assassination of President McKinley. 
 
 45 
 
Ube Sunrise of a Century 
 
 And make our deeds fit so our Brother's needs 
 As not our prayer to mock! 
 
 His thanks are best, in final test, by whom is blest 
 
 Each heart and life that meets him on the road: 
 His praises blend where heavenly songs ascend, 
 Who lifts another's load. 
 
 Build us a shrine, by deeds divine, like unto Thine, 
 
 O Father God ! along the way we go ; 
 And kneeling there, in praises and in prayer, 
 May men diviner grow! 
 
 Z\)c Sunrise of a Centurv) 
 
 "Tis the sunrise of a century! — and long the shadow cast 
 
 By the Man who fronts the Morning, on the Eastern heights 
 of Time ; 
 In his being is embodied all the promise of the Past, 
 
 For a Future that shall make him all sublime. [way — 
 
 Slowly, slowly, through the ages, he has groped his gloomy 
 
 Lit by faggot-fires that burned him as a martyr to the Truth, 
 Set with crosses he has crimsoned for the Truth he must obey — 
 
 From the far forgotten cycles of his youth. 
 
 Then salute him, all ye peoples of his long endeavor born! 
 
 Through the ages ye are debtor for the wages he has earned ; 
 Pay your homage to the soul that all unworthy things would 
 scorn. 
 
 Though it gave the mortal body to be burned! 
 And remember, O ye millions who in proud obeisance bow 
 
 At the feet of Man your Master, how his weary way is trod. 
 To the summits and the sunrise, that immortal on his brow 
 
 He shall wear the kingly coronet of God! 
 
 46 
 
Zhc Saloon 2)oor Swinga 
 
 The saloon door swings on its hinges, 
 
 Nigh to the Doors of God, 
 Inviting their feet who must walk the street 
 
 Inside, where the weak have trod,— 
 Inside, where the strong have fallen 
 
 To deeps of disgrace and woe, — 
 And with laugh and song do the weak and strong 
 
 Within, to their ruin, go. 
 
 The saloon door swings on its hinges. 
 
 Hard by the House of Prayer, 
 And many who meet at the Mercy-Seat 
 
 Consent to its presence there. 
 "Our Father who art in Heaven," 
 
 They pray as with Christian breath, 
 Then stand at the polls and vote that souls 
 
 Go down to eternal death. 
 
 The saloon door swings on its hinges. 
 
 Hung by the Law's commands. 
 And the keys of the Law its bolts withdraw 
 
 By help of some Christian hands; 
 While Motherhood weeps in sorrow. 
 
 And Childhood in hunger cries. 
 And Womanhood's crown in the slime goes down. 
 
 And Manhood in madness dies. 
 
 47 
 
Ube Saloon Door Swings 
 
 The saloon door swings on its hinges, 
 
 Nigh to the gates of home, 
 Inviting the feet of the boys we meet 
 
 From Purity's paths to roam 
 And men who go past it always, 
 
 With Pharisee prayer and pride, 
 Declare it shall swing for the votes they bring 
 
 Who plunder the youth inside. 
 
 The saloon door swings on its hinges. 
 
 Close by the Gates of God, 
 Alluring the feet that must walk the street 
 
 With pain or with passion shod; 
 And above them in mocking splendor 
 
 Gleams yonder the Cross of Gold, 
 While the Christ again, in the sons of men. 
 
 For party and greed is sold. 
 
 The saloon door swings on its hinges. 
 
 Close by the altar-stairs. 
 And mocks at the men who defend it, when 
 
 They kneel for their Sunday prayers; 
 It mocks at the pious partners 
 
 Who say it shall open there. 
 For the silver and gold of the shame so bold 
 
 That City and State may share. 
 
 The saloon door swings on its hinges, 
 
 Paying the price of sin, — 
 For share of the State in a gain too great 
 For Honor and Law to win; 
 
 48 
 
Collar or Crown 
 
 And "Woe unto him that buildeth 
 A city with blood!" God's blame 
 
 On the many who sell, for the fruits of hell, 
 Their brothers to sin and shame! 
 
 Collar or Crown 
 
 Will you wear the party collar or the voter's kingly crown. 
 
 When Election Day invites you to a sovereignty sublime? — 
 Shall the dive's debasing dollar drag your princely purpose down 
 
 To the low corrupting level of a crime? 
 Will you bow in meek surrender to the tyrant that v\^ould reign 
 Over Home and School and Hamlet, in the city's crowded 
 street? 
 Will you stand a sure defender, for some share in guilty gain, 
 Of the Curse that claims your vassalage complete? 
 
 In the nest of Human Freedom sits a vulture — bird of prey; 
 
 And it hatches foulest brood that ever darkened fairest sky; 
 Till our land has grown an Edom for God's children, on their 
 way 
 To the better Land of Promise by-and-by. 
 And the birds of evil breeding sweep their shadows over all, 
 While the blight of their corruption spreads its poison every- 
 where ; 
 And the smitten, sore and pleading, in their weakness faint and 
 fall 
 For there comes no Christian answer to their prayer. 
 
 49 
 
/ll^aG^alene IRow 
 
 Love is weak, and Law it falters to uphold the Truth and Right, 
 And the brave become as cowards breathing poison's foetid 
 breath, 
 Till the fire on Freedom's Altars feebly flickers to its flight, 
 And the Curse would strangle Manhood to its death. 
 But the Better Day is nearing, when the vulture shall be slain. 
 When its brood of evil breeding shall be smitten ere they fly, 
 When a Christian Manhood, hearing weak and wounded cry in 
 pain, 
 Shall make answer from its throne of purpose high. 
 
 Be a unit for the glory of the land we love so well, 
 
 Not a fraction in the forces that its glory would efface; 
 Have a part within the story that the Better Day shall tell. 
 When the Ballot shall have ended Law's disgrace. 
 Wear no more the party collar, in the country or the town. 
 When the nation's weal commands you to assail a Curse and 
 Crime; [crown, 
 
 Hold the Man above the Dollar, wear your Manhood's kingly 
 On the day of sovereign duty most sublime! 
 
 flDao&alcnc IRow 
 
 O Friend of the Magdalene, loving and tender, 
 Look down on the fallen in mercy to-night! 
 
 Behold them in pity 
 
 Who soil the proud city, 
 Whose womanhood smirches the city's white light! 
 O bright Star of Bethlehem, beaming in splendor. 
 Shine down on the erring as wanton they go. 
 
 With sin on their faces, 
 
 To sin's awful places, 
 Where Lust is the master, in Magdalene Row! 
 
 50 
 
/lI^aa^alene IRow 
 
 O Friend of the Magdalene, born in a manger 
 
 That night when the Star in its purity shone! 
 
 Within the proud city 
 
 They wait for Thy pity 
 At whom the self-satisfied hurl the sharp stone. 
 And weak, before wanton, unconscious of danger, 
 
 Their sisters pass on with the crowd, to and fro. 
 
 Where Vice beckons brightly. 
 
 And Virtue, led nightly. 
 Is lured by her tempters to Magdalene Row. 
 
 O Friend of the Magdalene! Mary, Thy mother, 
 
 Would weep for lost womanhood now, were she here. 
 With heart full of pity. 
 To walk the great city, 
 Where Purity hastens in peril and fear. 
 And were she now with us, her Son would be Brother 
 To each of these fallen who never Christ know — 
 Who see not His features 
 In any male creatures 
 That lead them to ruin in Magdalene Row. 
 
 O Mary! Thou Mother of Christ! if our Brother, 
 Thy Son, were yet living in each manly breast 
 
 That beats in our city. 
 
 Its manhood, in pity, 
 Would shield all thy sisters, beset and distrest; 
 And never again should we look on another 
 
 Sweet face like thine own, wearing womanhood's glow. 
 
 And sigh, with a shiver 
 
 Of fear, lest the river 
 Should claim it, and chill it, from Magdalene Row! 
 
 51 
 
Hhc pulpit tint) the pew 
 
 O friends of the fallen, professing the Master 
 
 To love and to serve! — when the daylight has fled, 
 
 With hearts full of pity, 
 
 Walk through the vile city 
 Which Motherhood mocks by its Brotherhood dead! 
 See sisters allured to defeat and disaster 
 
 Of virtue and love, and then succor them so, 
 
 From sin's awful places. 
 
 That never their faces 
 Can shame you and blame you in Magdalene Row! 
 
 True Friend of the Magdalene, loving and tender, 
 Look down on the lost ones in mercy to-night! 
 
 Behold how the city 
 
 Lacks Christ and His pity. 
 And Motherhood curses with sorrow and blight! 
 From Bethlehem come once again, with new splendor 
 Of Manhood and God, or with Calvary's glow 
 
 Warm conscience to waken, 
 
 Till MEN shall have taken 
 The license and lust from each Magdalene Row! 
 
 Zhc pulpit an^ the Ipevo 
 I. 
 
 From the pulpit and the pew, where the Christian peoples meet, 
 Comes a call to me and you that we must heed: 
 "Lo! they perish in their sin 
 Whom the Savior died to win. 
 For the Church of Christ has failed them in their need ! 
 
 52 
 
Xlbc ipulptt ant) tbe pew 
 
 The Devil's Doors are open, when the Gates of God are shut, 
 And the arms of hell their victims fast enfold, 
 Drag them in, and hurl them down, 
 In each Licensed-Liquor town, 
 Where the souls of men weigh lighter far than gold!" 
 
 Let the steeples loud proclaim 
 
 To the peoples, in His Name — 
 In the name of Christ the Crucified who suffered cruel shame — 
 
 By His death upon the Cross 
 
 To redeem the world from loss — 
 "Rise and smite the Liquor Traffic, in His Name!" 
 
 II. 
 
 From the pulpit and the pew Manhood's feet have wandered far. 
 And the cry to me and you is loud and clear: 
 
 "Lo! they walk the ways of sin 
 
 Whom the Crucified should win, 
 And the Cross is vainly lifted for them here. 
 The Gates of God are narrow, and the Devil's Doors are wide, 
 And the latter swing wide open all the while; 
 
 For the Christian Voter's key 
 
 Turns the bolt that sets them free 
 Where the feet that easy falter they beguile!" 
 
 IIL 
 
 From the pulpit and the pew comes the sorrowing complaint, 
 And it means for me and you a warning cry: 
 
 "Lo! the living Church of Christ 
 
 Has by Mammon been enticed 
 Till it makes the Way of Sinners broad and high! 
 
 53 
 
Bo^ an^ Bar 
 
 The Gates of God it closes to the multitudes who go 
 Through the Devil's Doors that open free and wide; 
 They have lost respect and care 
 For the Godly Place of Prayer, 
 And for them the Crimson Cross is nullified!'* 
 
 IV. 
 
 To the pulpit and the pew comes the lesson of it all — 
 In the hearts of good and true it must be heard: 
 "That the Cross of Christ may win 
 We must close the ways of sin, 
 And must walk the narrow pathway of His Word! 
 The Gates of God must open, the Devil's Doors be shut, 
 By the hands of Christian Patriots at the polls; 
 For the sake of Him who died 
 Must your greed be crucified. 
 Ye must prove that gold is lighter far than souls!" 
 
 IBo^ an^ Bar 
 
 Wanted! — a Boy for a licensed bar! 
 
 Give him, at once, as the bar demands! 
 Home, where the Mother and Sisters are. 
 
 Cease to withhold him with tender hands! 
 Church, that would guide him in days of youth, 
 
 Yield him where curses and crime begin; 
 School, that would teach him in ways of truth, 
 
 Give him to teachers of shame and sin! 
 
 54 
 
3Bo^ anb Bat 
 
 What is the Home, when the bar must be? 
 
 What is the Boy, when the bar must live? 
 Who should the Mother defend, when she 
 
 Hears the Home-robber command her — "Give?* 
 Give — of the blood of her inmost heart; 
 
 Give — of the life of her throbbing breast; 
 Give — of her body and soul a part; 
 
 Give — at the Home-robber's bold behest! 
 
 What are School and the Church, to men 
 
 Greedy for gain at their cruel cost? 
 What do the bar-keepers count it, when 
 
 Purity, learning, and love, are lost? 
 License them. Fathers, for price they pay! 
 
 Sell them your sons, for their paltry gold! 
 Millions of revenue far outweigh 
 
 Morals and life, when your sons are sold! 
 
 Nay! by the pain that the Mother knew. 
 
 Giving the Boy to enrich the State! 
 Nay! by the hope in her heart that grew 
 
 Holy and strong, for his Manhood great! 
 Nay! by the crown that the Father wears — 
 
 King in a nation of Kings indeed — 
 Silence forever the man who dares 
 
 Bid for the Boy in his grasping greed! 
 
 Close the saloon, with its ravening cry! 
 
 Silence the men for the bar who stand! 
 Lift the white banner of Manhood high. 
 
 Ever, for Home, with a Christian hand! 
 
 55 
 
fforootten (Braves 
 
 Banish the foe of the soul and brain ; 
 
 Stand for the Right as you bravely can; 
 Go not with robbers for greed of gain! 
 
 Cast a clean ballot for Boy and Man! 
 
 jforgottcn (Braver 
 
 A Decoration Day Reiviembrance 
 
 We laurel the graves of our brothers 
 
 Who fought and vi^ho fell at the front, 
 
 Where they carried Old Glory 
 
 On fields that were gory, 
 And bore in fierce battle the brunt; 
 We brighten their sod with our blossoms, 
 When summer returns with its bloom, 
 
 And above them Old Glory 
 
 Remembers their story, 
 Bedecking each love-laden tomb. 
 
 But there, where our heroes are honored, 
 An army far greater we know. 
 
 Who went down in a battle 
 
 No musketry's rattle 
 Made fierce in the days long ago — 
 The slain in a conflict as bitter 
 As ever cost hero his life. 
 
 Though never recorded. 
 
 And all unrewarded 
 The vanquished who fell in that strife. 
 
 56 
 
fforaotten (Braves 
 
 No blossoms are tended above them; 
 
 They sleep unbedecked and unknown; 
 
 And above them no column 
 
 Lifts lofty and solemn 
 To tell where their valor was shown; 
 They sleep, their sad legions uncounted, 
 Alike in the sun and the rain; 
 
 No summer-blooms brighten, 
 
 Where winter-snows whiten. 
 The peace that has followed their pain. 
 
 Lost Army of Drunkards !— the fallen 
 
 In conflict they might have been spared! 
 To-day and to-m.orrow 
 They challenge our sorrow 
 
 As if they were heroes who dared. 
 Lament by these graves of our brothers, 
 
 O you v/ho would honor your dead! 
 
 And then blush that Old Glory 
 Should know their whole story, 
 
 Yet wave o'er the way they were led! 
 
 And hasten the epoch, O Manhood 
 That honors itself and the world ! 
 
 When the Flag we revere so, 
 
 And cherish and cheer so, 
 Shall never again be unfurled 
 In sanction of those who are victors 
 
 Where Manhood goes down to defeat, 
 
 But forever outflying. 
 
 All evil defying, 
 Shall herald its Glory complete! 
 
 57 
 
Zbc 3ericbo IRoab 
 I. 
 
 A man was smitten, and robbed, and beat. 
 
 As he journeyed the Jericho road, 
 By robbers who waited the man to meet. 
 
 Hard by where the thieves abode! 
 You've heard the story, and hov/ two came 
 
 On the way that he went before; 
 How they passed him by, to their lasting blame, 
 And looked on his face no more. 
 Still runs the Jericho road; 
 Still men go journeying down. 
 And are sore beset by the robbers who yet 
 Disgrace our Jericho town. 
 
 11. 
 
 But now Jerusalem calmly waits, 
 
 Till the thieves by the wayside there 
 Come bearing their gains through the city's gates 
 
 And give to the State her share; 
 And Priest and Levite, who walk one side. 
 
 Where Humanity, wounded, bleeds, 
 May rejoice that the robbers of men provide 
 For Government's hungry needs. 
 For on this Jericho road. 
 
 Where men go journeying still. 
 We are giving to-day, to the robbers that pay, 
 The right to rob as they will. 
 
 58 
 
Ubc 5ertcbo IRoaC) 
 
 III. 
 
 Perchance the Priest of that olden time, 
 
 Were he living, a Priest, to-day. 
 Would approve of a license for Plunder's crime, 
 
 If only the thieves would pay. 
 The Levite, too, with the Priest might stand. 
 
 After walking behind him long. 
 With the price of sin in his cringing hand, 
 And vote for the highway wrong. 
 For on this Jericho road 
 
 Some Priests are passing to-day. 
 Who believe it is well for the people to sell 
 A license to rob, for pay. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Perchance if the right were denied to them 
 
 Who have smitten and robbed men so, 
 We should find it were well for Jerusalem 
 
 And wiser for Jericho. 
 But maybe the world's great need is yet 
 
 Of Humanity wounded sore, 
 So the good Samaritan shan't forget 
 The part he divinely bore. 
 So on this Jericho road. 
 
 Where man keeps plundering man, 
 The Samaritan goes, we may fairly suppose, 
 As part of the world's wise plan. 
 
 V. 
 
 God grant to the heart of the world, to-day, 
 A love that is large and sweet, 
 
 59 
 
Ube Coroner's Melcome 
 
 Till all who journey along life's way 
 
 May go as with love-led feet ! 
 May none be licensed to rob and smite, 
 
 From Jerusalem's walls to go, 
 But may all be led of His love and light. 
 Who journey to Jericho! 
 
 For out of the tomb Love rose, 
 When Death had buried it there; 
 And ever, to-day, should the world's highway 
 Be safe by its Christly care! 
 
 ZEbe Coroner'6 Mclcome 
 
 The Coroner sat in his office — 
 A voluble sort of a man — 
 
 When to him there came 
 
 In the city's own name 
 
 One of those who the government ran. 
 
 "The Mayor has gone from the city," 
 
 This other official he said: 
 
 "The Liquor Men meet, 
 And we want you to greet 
 
 And to welcome them for us, instead. 
 
 "A little thin-skinned is the Mayor; 
 Lacks nerve, too, as all of us know; 
 
 Looks like he had done 
 
 This his duty to shun. 
 But perhaps business called him to go. 
 
 60 
 
Ube Coroner's Melcome 
 
 "You're the only good talker that's handy, 
 Come over as quick as you can 
 
 And welcome the sellers 
 
 Of Drink as good fellers !" 
 Then answered this Coroner man: — 
 
 "It's lucky His Honor is absent; 
 I'm good at this kind of a task; 
 
 I'll give 'em a greeting 
 
 To brace up their meeting, 
 As jolly as any should ask." 
 
 They went where already assembled 
 Were brewers, distillers, and such, — 
 Men sleek and rotund 
 As a whole Sangerbund, 
 And some as pronouncedly Dutch. 
 
 None there had a countenance rueful, 
 Each face was as pink as a rose; 
 
 They wore diamonds and rings 
 
 And such radiant things, — 
 And some of them wore a red nose. 
 
 They had come to lay plans for the future, 
 Each other to cheer and to aid; 
 
 And each purse and each person 
 
 Betokened no curse on 
 Their calling—best known as "The Trade." 
 
 "You are welcome, my friends, you are welcome," 
 So spake up the Coroner true, 
 
 "To the best that our city 
 
 Contains — 'tis a pity 
 The best were not better for you. 
 
 6i 
 
Uhc (Xoroner's Welcome 
 
 "We know what your business is doing 
 
 For us as officials, and say 
 
 You*re a set of good fellers, 
 You men who are sellers 
 
 Of Drink, who are with us to-day. 
 
 "A vital necessity to us 
 
 Your business has certainly grown, — 
 
 A thing quite essential 
 
 And highly potential. 
 But not for my business alone." 
 
 He smiled a broad smile so expansive 
 They caught an aroma of joke 
 In this welcoming speech 
 Rather out of their reach, 
 As thus for the city he spoke. 
 
 "You help us to all the fat places 
 That we as good patriots hold; 
 You help us to plunder 
 The people, who wonder 
 Where goeth much tax-gathered gold. 
 
 "You help to make need of policemen 
 And sheriffs, and judges, who draw 
 
 Good pay from their neighbors 
 
 For arduous labors 
 In partly enforcing the law. 
 
 "You make both the jail and the jailer 
 Imperative with us, because 
 Men drink as you sell 
 The elixir of hell 
 And laugh at our Puritan laws. 
 
 62 
 
Ubc Coronet's Melcome 
 
 "You furnish the chiefest of reasons 
 
 Why jails and asylums we build, — 
 
 You furnish the most 
 
 Of the criminal host 
 
 When jails and asylums are filled. 
 
 "Without you I ask what the business 
 Of some office-holders would be? 
 
 Some such as I've mentioned 
 (All quite well-intentioned), 
 The Coroner also — that's me !" 
 
 His joke was now clear enough to them; 
 
 Some smiled, and a few of them scowled; 
 A part of them cheered. 
 And some others just leered. 
 
 While others looked surly, and growled. 
 
 The Coroner gazed on them queerly — 
 Perhaps in contempt of them all; 
 Perhaps the last "case" 
 They had sent to his place 
 He happened right then to recall. 
 
 "Don't think that my welcome is selfish," 
 Suavely and sweetly he said, 
 
 "Or that now as I greet you. 
 Delighted to meet you, 
 I'm thinking too much of the dead. 
 
 "I hail you, the living, as gladly 
 As if you were brothers indeed; 
 I know that the longer 
 You live and grow stronger 
 The surer of me is there need. 
 
 63 
 
XTbe Xegions ot(3o5 
 
 "On behalf of my brother officials 
 As well as myself, let me say 
 You men who are sellers 
 Of Drink are good fellers, 
 And welcome, right welcome, to-day." 
 
 And then, his brief greeting thus ended, 
 The Coroner smiled and went out. 
 After shaking the hand 
 Of the Chairman so bland 
 Whose face wore a shadow of doubt. 
 
 "Next year at our Annual Meeting 
 The Mayor must speak for the town," 
 The Chairman then said, 
 With a shake of his head; 
 "This Coroner stuff don't go down!" 
 
 The Coroner sat in his office, 
 
 And smiled over what he had done — 
 
 "Mighty lucky for me," 
 
 To himself then said he, 
 "That for Mayor I never shall run!" 
 
 ^be XcQione of (Bob 
 
 When the Legions of God shall His banner upraise 
 
 In the strength of His arm and the might of His name, 
 
 Then the curse of the Drink will have numbered its days, 
 And forever shall end all its ruin and shame. 
 
 But the Legions of God must in Brotherhood go 
 That is Christly, not march with the cohorts of Sin, 
 
 64 
 
Ubc Xegions of 6o^ 
 
 And each in his neighbor must certainly know 
 Another who battles that Manhood may win. 
 
 Is it Jesus or Judas who marches in you? 
 
 Will you stand for the Lord, or His mission betray? 
 Whether Priest or pewholder, or Gentile or Jew, 
 
 What ranks do you march in and fight in, to-day? 
 Do you trail the white banner of God in the dust, 
 
 With the army of sin, like a coward or worse? 
 Then remember that God is both loving and just. 
 
 And can pardon, but also can wither and curse. 
 
 When the Legions of God in His Brotherhood stand, 
 
 A great phalanx for Truth and the glory of Right, 
 They shall be like the fev/ in old Gideon's band. 
 
 All girded and kept in the strength of His m.ight! 
 As they battled, those few, for God's government then, 
 
 And as victory came to those fearless who fought. 
 So the faithful of God must be banded again 
 
 Till His work in the world, to His glory, is wrought ! 
 
 Then a song of Thanksgiving shall gratefully rise 
 
 In the Home and the School, from the multitudes there 
 And a jubilee chorus shall greet the glad skies 
 
 From the millions who then the great victory share. 
 Then the organs, outpealing, in triumph shall sound, 
 
 And the bells in the steeples ring loud their acclaim 
 That Christ all His own has in Brotherhood bound. 
 
 And these are the victors o'er Satan and shame. 
 In the strength of His arm and the might of His name. 
 
 65 
 
Xiquor of Beatb 
 
 Rolling it in! Rolling it in! 
 
 Woe, and sorrow, and shame and sin! 
 
 Fresh from the brewers, each morning brought, 
 
 Foam and froth to be sold and bought; 
 
 Liquid curse for the men who buy; 
 
 Robber's purse, for the men who sell; 
 Whether the license be low or high — 
 
 Liquor of death, from the vats of hell! 
 
 Rolling it in! Rolling it in! 
 Misery, murder, for men to win! 
 Casks, and barrels, and cans, and kegs — 
 Lust, and evil, to sin's own dregs — 
 Beverage born for the bane of thirst ; 
 
 Sold for the greed of the men who sell; 
 Liquor of death, by the Lord accursed, 
 
 Drank for the greed and the gain of hell ! 
 
 Rolling it in! Rolling it in! 
 Hunger and want in each cask begin ! 
 Devils and imps in its turbid tide 
 Laugh and grin where they lurk and hide; 
 Liquor of death, for the men who make — 
 
 Liquor of death, for the men who sell — 
 Agony here, for the hearts that break, 
 
 Curses and woe for the fiends of hell ! 
 
 66 
 
IRtsen 13et CtucifieO 
 
 Sawn anb promise 
 
 Stand here beside His open tomb, to-day, 
 All ye who hope, and, hoping, work and pray 
 For human good ! For Christ the King did rise 
 Lord over Death, in swift and sweet surprise 
 Of Love and Faith ; and since He thus arose, 
 For Brother Man each morn an Easter glows 
 Of Dawn and Promise, till for Man is done 
 Each day's long duty, and the evening sun 
 Finds Christ his guest, where'er his home may be. 
 In all the world-wide land of Galilee. 
 
 But Dawn and Promise each man's duty wait; 
 
 And Christ was crucified at will of State, 
 
 In man embodied. So in man the will 
 
 To crucify Him lingers, potent, still; 
 
 And laws to license crucifixion hold 
 
 The State in guilt, for sums of guilty gold. 
 
 Where lifts the Cross to which our Christ is sold ; 
 
 While ''Prohibition" men should plainly see 
 
 Flame out across each Easter sky, to be 
 
 Promise of Dawn for all our Galilee! 
 
 IRieen, l?et Cruclfieb 
 
 Did He rise from the dead? Lo, the tomb 
 
 Is wide open, to-day! 
 And its glory illumines the gloom 
 Where as Lord over Silence He lay. 
 
 ^7 
 
H Ubanf^sGivtno prater 
 
 Let us deck it with bloom that we bring, 
 
 Out of love that is ours; 
 Let our hearts in glad melody sing 
 
 While we offer the incense of flowers. 
 
 But they crucified Christ! Let us grieve 
 
 O'er the deed and the dead ! 
 For 'mid fragrance of blossoms, we leave 
 Still the same cruel crown on His head. 
 
 In His image our brothers we kill 
 
 On the Cross of our greed; 
 And He suffers on Calvary, still. 
 
 From the sin and the shame of our deed. 
 
 Let us wash the red blood from each hand 
 
 A white ballot should bear, 
 Till His death and His life make our land 
 In His Name our own answer to prayer! 
 
 I. 
 
 God of the Feast ! lest we, Thy sons, forget, 
 
 Within each mind some solemn picture set 
 
 Of need and want, of sorrow and of woe. 
 
 Because of sin Thy weaker children know 
 
 Which we might spare them, working well with Thee, 
 
 If prayers were deeds, and praise could worthy be. 
 
 XL 
 
 God of the Hungry! feed Thy starving ones 
 By human hands of brothers all Thy sons; 
 
 68 
 
Forbid such famine, in the homes of need, 
 As comes of lust and selfish gain of greed 
 Where Wealth, outreaching with its miser clutch, 
 Turns love to gold and curses with its touch. 
 
 III. 
 
 God of the Nation! on this day of days, 
 
 Our thanks enlighten and enlarge our praise! 
 
 Make us to find in Man the larger good 
 
 That comes from Thee through human Brotherhood! 
 
 Make us to see the Christly touch of grace 
 
 Which Thou hast put on every human face ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 God of us all! be our Thanksgiving true 
 To Thee and Christ, as ever Angels knew ! 
 Where Want is worst, may some behold Thy Son 
 Break Life's own bread to every hungry one; 
 At every feast may Christ in human form 
 Bring cheer and blessing and Thy bounty warm! 
 
 V. 
 
 God of the Right! from feasting send us all 
 To do Thy will where famish men who fall! — 
 To close the doors of robber dens that wait 
 For plunder in the name of Law and State; 
 And bring Thanksgiving through the world again 
 By each, to each, in Love Divine! 
 
 Amen! 
 
 69 
 
Listen to me, all ye men of the nation ! 
 
 Hear me ! — and fear me ! — and heed my commands ! 
 Mine is your manhood, whatever your station; 
 
 Mine all your hopes, and your houses and lands ! 
 King am I, now, on the throne I have builded, 
 
 Ruling, in pride, a republic of slaves; 
 Dead are their dreams, while they worship the gilded 
 
 Crown that I wear, kneeling over their graves ! 
 
 Put far away all the past and its glory; 
 
 Days when they battled for Man are a lie ! 
 Mine be the future, with fortunes all gory ; 
 
 Mine be the gains of the millions who die! 
 Poverty? — let the fools find it and perish! 
 
 Want? — let them sink in its ruin and slime! 
 Wealth?— it is all in my greed I can cherish; 
 
 Hunger? — behold it, and count it a crime! 
 
 Labor must starve to make fuller my coffers ; 
 
 Life must its comforts concede to my gain ; 
 All that my sway to the laborer offers. 
 
 There where he delves, is but sorrow and pain. 
 Down in the mines let him dig till he dies there; 
 
 Out on the farms let him sow what I reap ; 
 
 70 
 
a 
 
 Why should I care for the Hunger that cries there, 
 Naked, and worn, for the Gold that I keep ? 
 
 Mine are the fruits of the hands that are heavy, 
 
 Weary, and hard, from their decades of toil; 
 Mine is the might and the right to make levy, 
 
 Eager and swift, on the fruits of the soil ; 
 Monarch am I of the times and the seasons; 
 
 Ruler am I of the goods they may yield ; 
 Tribute and treasure for me are the reasons 
 
 Back of the bounty from forest and field. 
 
 Hear me, and heed,, every statesman and scholar ! 
 
 Ye shall be crushed, if my reign ye defy! 
 Brand in your brow my own sign of the dollar. 
 
 Shout for and serve me, till Manhood shall die! 
 Only my henchmen can win the high places 
 
 Held as reward for the serfs of my throne ; 
 Only the faithful, who bear on their faces 
 
 Proof of their vassalage, count I my own! 
 
 Hear me, and heed ! I shall win in the battle 
 
 Rashly begun to depose me, to-day! 
 Rebels against me shall be as the cattle 
 
 Eating my corn, ere the order to slay. 
 King am I here, on the throne of my power. 
 
 Ruling in might a republic of slaves ; 
 Dead are their dreams ; and this only their dower — 
 
 Worship for me, while they kneel by their graves ! 
 
 71 
 
''Ibere to Do Bueineae'' 
 
 THE SIGN AND THE SEAL, AND THE LEGAL APPEAL, 
 OF A GILDED HIGH-LICENSE SALOON 
 
 (Dedicated to Rev. Harry Greensmith, Who Wrote of the Sign, as Seen 
 in New York City.) 
 
 Here to do business! — we brazenly tell it! 
 
 Liquor to sell — and our trade is to sell it! 
 Enter, young man ! — we invite, we compel it by splendors untold ! 
 
 Gleaming the glasses within that invite you; 
 
 Beaming the beauties that dazzle, delight you; 
 Pleasures are here to allure and requite you — come in, and 
 behold! 
 
 Here to do business! — our bar, as you see it, 
 Glistens and sparkles — why fear it or flee it? 
 
 Men in high places endorse it — decree it — as proper and right ; 
 Welcome, young man ! as you boldly come nearer 
 Smile at yourself, in each elegant mirror; 
 
 Think not of Home, or of any place dearer than this is to-night. 
 
 Pictures are here, to beguile, to debase you ; 
 
 Harlots are near, to defile, to disgrace you ; 
 All the good cheer is a wile to deface you, — but be not afraid ; 
 
 Many a man we have tempted before you; 
 
 Steady your nerve with a glass we will pour you; 
 Drink, as they drank — be a man — till the more you our profits 
 have made! 
 
''Ibere to Do Business" 
 
 Manhood — forget all its morals, its duty; 
 
 Womanhood — care not for virtue and beauty; 
 Sin for a season is luscious, though fruity of sorrow and shame. 
 
 Look, and behold how our business has paid us ! — 
 
 Riches magnificent here it has made us, — 
 What do we care if the fools who obeyed us to poverty came? 
 
 Here to do business, with license to do it ! — 
 
 Licensed by men who in sorrow may rue it, 
 Once we have won by our blandishments to it some promising 
 son; 
 
 Here, by the ballots of men who defend us ; 
 
 Here, to make sots of the sons they will send us ; 
 Here for success — may it ever attend us as long it has done! 
 
 Down with the Church, and the Cross, and the 
 preachers ! 
 
 Down with the school, and the scholars, and teachers ! 
 Live the Saloon, with its vice, and its creatures of ruin and sin! 
 
 Listen, young man, to its music and madness! 
 
 Laugh, while you can, in the glare of its gladness ! 
 Scorn the sleek saints who belie it as badness and fear to come in ! 
 
 Life is too short for young fellows to care for ; 
 
 Love is not worthy a thought or a prayer for; 
 Heaven is a hope too illusive to share, for the future is Hell ! 
 
 Here is the gateway, we know it and say it, — 
 
 Licensed by law, though we do not obey it, — 
 Open for silver and gold, and we pay it, damnation to sell! 
 
 Here to do business, remember, young man, sir! 
 Business as bad as a life-killing cancer 
 Sucking the breast, we admit ! But our answer is ready for each : 
 
 73 
 
*'1bete to 2)0 Business'' 
 
 Silver and gold we have paid to pursue it; 
 Bargain and sale, and society knew it — 
 Sold us the right (though so dearly to rue it) to live as the leech. 
 
 Blood-suckers? yes! and it pays to be that, sir! 
 
 See us, and say, aren't we rosy and fat, sir? 
 Never a hungry, a lean, scrawny rat, sir, lives nigh to the bin! 
 
 Paying to rob, and the bin ever near us. 
 
 Sharing our gains with the people who fear us, 
 Only a sneak will upbraid us, or jeer us, and say that we sin! 
 
 Here to do business! Good-night! Come again, sir! 
 Splendor, and music, and mirth, for young men, sir ! 
 Down the dim street is the dirty low den, sir, that waits with its 
 woe; 
 When we have robbed you, with legal permission. 
 Stolen your all without care or contrition, 
 Down through its door, to the deeps of perdition, at last you 
 shall go! 
 
 74 
 
painttne tbe Breweip 
 
 They've painted up the brewery and rightly made it red — 
 I think you'll quite agree with me, when all is done or said — 
 For red the danger signal is, and always lurking there 
 Is danger for the young and old; that color says, "Beware!" 
 
 They've painted up the brewery; its color tells the truth; 
 Within it perils legion lurk, for Manhood and for Youth; 
 Because with pride it lifts itself, and swells its lordly size, 
 Full many a hope that blossomed bright with bitter blighting 
 dies. 
 
 Within its walls the gladness goes of many a weeping wife; 
 Beneath its roof the secret hides of many a ruined life; 
 To give it gain, and make it great, full many a home knows lack 
 For love and life gone sadly out that never again come back. 
 
 To make its walls rise high and brave too many walls are bare, 
 Too many cupboards empty wait, with Want and Hunger there; 
 Where pictures might be hanging, and where carpets might be 
 
 spread. 
 There is no grace or comfort, and the children cry for bread. 
 
 75 
 
painting tbe Brewery 
 
 To feed its greedy, cruel maw goes grain from golden fields 
 That God's own sunlight ripened well for helpful harvest yields, 
 And God's own hungry go unfed, and want, and starve, and die, 
 That Walls of Greed may proudly rise beneath His bending sky. 
 
 They've painted up the brewery; and red of danger speaks. 
 And blood as well. They stole the tint from sorrowing 
 
 mothers' cheeks. 
 That paler grew as boys went bad, and from the hearts that 
 
 ache 
 With love and grief past all relief, and then in anguish break. 
 
 Perhaps from Murder's blood-red hand they took the blood-red 
 
 hue — 
 The hand that once was pure and white as mother-heart was 
 
 true — 
 The hand that held the fatal glass which fired the fuming brain, 
 Till madness mastered Manhood quite, and love and life were 
 
 slain. 
 
 Perhaps from flames unseen by men those walls their color 
 
 take — 
 The fiery flames of Thirst that burn and Hell's own torment 
 
 make; 
 Perhaps reflection they may find from fires we may not see 
 Where round lost souls accursed by Drink Rum's demons dance 
 
 in glee. 
 
 They've painted up the brewery, built on the hopes of youth, 
 The hearts of love, the needs of life, the wrecks of home and 
 
 truth ; 
 It stands a Monument of Greed, when all is done and said, — 
 A danger signal for us all — and rightly painted red. 
 
Zbc Bvcwcvy^'B partncra 
 
 Answer of the Brewers to "Painting the Brewery." 
 
 WeVe painted up the brewery, and, yes, weVe made it red ; 
 There's truth enough, we must admit, in much that you have 
 
 said; 
 But why not say some other things, as true as you have told. 
 About this business that we run because it brings us gold? 
 
 We run it?— yes! We own it?— sure! The building we could 
 
 sell 
 And give clear title, in so far as earthly records tell ; 
 There is no mortgage on it held by human hands, to-day. 
 And— well, the devil won't foreclose while we his will obey. 
 
 Our silent partner? Call him such, if you may think him so; 
 We won't deny it, while his gains into our coffers go; 
 But we've another partner, whom with greater pride we name, 
 Although to hear us boast of him your cheeks may blush with 
 shame. 
 
 Your Uncle Sam!— our Uncle Sam!— our guilty gain he shares. 
 And for the gain but not the guilt supremely still he cares; 
 On every cask and every keg we put the sign and seal 
 That publishes his partnership and makes us prouder feel. 
 
 77 
 
TLbc 3Breweri?'s;;ipartners 
 
 We could not sell — we could not brew — if he should once forbid ; 
 And every vat of ours would rot if he should close the lid; 
 Our brewery would go to wreck, our business prove a sham, 
 If over it we could not fly the Flag of Uncle Sam. 
 
 We should not brew — we could not sell— if bars there could 
 
 not be; 
 And Uncle Sam commissions these — they pay his price, you see ; 
 And over every one, he floats — emblem of greed and pride — 
 The Flag for which a host of men have bravely fought and died. 
 
 And yonder, where the bars abound from which our gains are 
 
 made, 
 Behold the men who license them and legalize the trade; 
 Our partners, too, they are, and we the partnership may boast 
 When we unfold for greed of gold this profit-sharing host. 
 
 They sit in highest halls of State, they kneel at altars low; 
 And in and out among God's great and good and true they go; 
 For sorest need of men they plead, and for the gain of souls; 
 Yet at our call they're partners all — our partners at the polls. 
 
 We rule your cities at our will; our cities rule the land; 
 
 The men you choose to serve your wish obey our mild 
 
 command ; 
 Where commerce calls you to success, with bloated pride we 
 
 come, 
 And while we flaunt our business bad your dealers best are 
 
 dumb. 
 
 We've painted up the brewery, with profits that we took 
 From every man of honest trade — we know it well; but look; 
 The people are our partners, who could make a mighty fuss; 
 They keep the Flag of Uncle Sam still flying over us. 
 
 July 4th, 1905. 
 
 78 
 
Maste at tbe Bung 
 
 "State taxation of the liquor traffic has steadily grown in popular favor. 
 There have been collected under this law during its brief period of 
 existence more than $33,000,000, which have been applied to the reduction 
 of State and local taxation and have thus relieved the earnings and savings 
 of all the poor people of the State." — Liquor Plank in the N. Y. State Re- 
 publican Platform, 1898. 
 
 We are proud of our Revenue Record — we are! 
 
 Of the gains we have gathered from brothel and bar; 
 Of the tribute we take from the house of ill-fame, 
 Of the profits we make from the woman of shame; 
 
 Of the millions we've brought to the coffers we hold, 
 
 From the manhood betrayed and the womanhood sold; 
 But we beg for clean ballots wherewith we may win 
 While we boast of our tolls from the traffic of sin. 
 
 II. 
 
 We are proud of the millions! But what of the men 
 And the women who pay? They shall pay us again! 
 We will fatten on sin and will thrive upon vice, 
 While we hold the State's virtue for sale at a price. 
 
 79 
 
Maste at tbe Bum 
 
 The saloon shall remain with its festering crime, 
 And the brothel shall fume with its terrible slime; 
 They may ruin young men, but as long as they pay 
 We will share in their profits, their bidding obey. 
 
 III. 
 
 Yes, we know that the tolls which in taxes we take 
 Come at last (or at first) from the many who make 
 
 By the bar and the brothel their manhood a lie; 
 
 But so long as the tax (or the license) is high, 
 Then the millions we get from the sin and the shame 
 Shall begild all the vice and efface all the blame, 
 
 And the men who pray loud for the coming of Christ 
 
 Will with gold to our guilty success be enticed. 
 
 IV. 
 
 We will talk of Taxation, and smile as we see 
 Still how easy to fool the poor taxpayers be; 
 
 We will tell how the bar and the brothel have paid 
 The high taxes that on the poor voter we laid; 
 For the dollar we show he will vote for the dive 
 That, so long as it lives, on his pocket must thrive; 
 But we never will tell him — we haven't the tongue — 
 Thus to save by the ballot is waste at the bung! 
 
 To the brewers, bar-keepers and brothels v/e give 
 The protection of law that permits them to live; 
 And we say to them softly, "Stay by us! and hold 
 On your way, to our gain, while we garner your gold!' 
 
 80 
 
Saib tbe Mxcvocv 
 
 And we say to the pulpits — which meekly obey — 
 "Let the party alone and the party will pay; 
 Pour the gospel of love sweetly over the pews. 
 But the Decalog do not too widely diffuse!" 
 
 VL 
 
 We are proud of the revenue records that tell 
 Of the toll-gates maintained on the highway to hell; 
 We delight in the leeches that suck the warm life 
 Of the heart of the home, of the mother and wife; 
 For the manhood betrayed and the womanhood slain 
 We hold up the red hands of a murderer's gain; 
 And we boast of our millions, to bribe you to sin 
 With your ballots again, that again we may win! 
 
 Salt) tbe Brewer 
 
 Said the Brewer: *'To be sure. 
 
 When the Deacon votes with me, 
 How good it is that two such men 
 
 So sweetly can agree; 
 I never step inside his church, 
 
 He never drinks my beer. 
 But all I want he helps me get 
 Election day each year. 
 
 O Deacon! don't you weaken 
 As Election Day draws near, 
 But remember in November 
 To befriend me and my beer.' 
 
 8i 
 
Salt) tbe JBrewer 
 
 Said the Brewer: "To be sure, 
 
 When my ballot I record, 
 I do not seek the blessing of 
 The pious Deacon's Lord; 
 Gambrinus is my only God; 
 
 I pray to him, you see; 
 And vote to help the business that 
 Has millions yet for me. 
 But Deacon ! don't you weaken 
 
 When Election Day is here 
 In November, but remember, 
 Cast your ballot for my beer." 
 
 "To be sure," said the Brewer, 
 
 "When the pious Deacon prays, 
 The Curse of Drink before the Lord 
 
 With unctuous faith he lays; 
 And that my business quick may cease 
 
 He fervently implores; 
 But while he loves the Lord, you know. 
 His party he adores. 
 
 And Deacon! you're a-seekin' 
 
 For your party to succeed; 
 Then remember, in November, 
 I'm the very man you need." 
 
 Said the Brewer: "To be sure, 
 I despise the Deacon's Day, 
 
 The Sabbath that he loves to keep 
 In such a saintly way; 
 
 I make it serve my purpose well; 
 My own I claim it, all; 
 
 82 
 
Sat^ tbe Brewer 
 
 My toll-gate on the road to hell 
 Where thousands reel and fall. 
 But Deacon! Though it's reekin' 
 
 With the crimson blood of men, 
 Just remember, in November, 
 How my money helps you then." 
 
 Said the Brewer: "To be sure, 
 
 When the Deacon stops to think, 
 He knows that while he votes with me 
 
 We'll never stop the Drink; 
 But though he hates my business when 
 
 He wrestles with the Lord, 
 The other party at the polls 
 Is always more abhorred. 
 
 And Deacon! I'll be speakin* 
 When Election Day is here. 
 So remember, in November, 
 
 Cast your party vote for beer." 
 
 Said the Deacon: "I'm a-speakin*, 
 
 Mr. Brewer, and I say 
 I will not vote with you again 
 
 In such a wicked way! 
 Your business is a sin, I know, 
 
 It ruins men and souls; 
 Your guilty partner I will be; 
 No longer at the polls." 
 
 O Deacon ; Now you're speakin' 
 
 As a pious Deacon should; 
 
 And remember, in November, 
 
 To be that way understood. 
 
 83 
 
Zbc IRoaJ) to ^operevlUc 
 
 To read this may not help you, but can not do you harm, 
 If you are one of those who pay the taxes on a farm. 
 
 From Tippleton to Topersville the road is never long, 
 
 And they who take it often start with careless laugh and song; 
 
 For youth is love, and love is life, and life with all is free 
 
 To chose their path and walk in it, though far they may not see ; 
 
 And on the luring way they go, wherever it may lead, 
 
 Uncertain of the end, at first, but eager to proceed, 
 
 Till, tempted forward, all too far they find their feet have passed 
 
 With but a grave in Topersville to greet them at the last. 
 
 II. 
 
 Along the Road from Tippleton are farms that never pay. 
 Where live the farmers lax and poor who journey on that way. 
 Their fields are never fertile, and their crops are never fine. 
 And of the Road to Topersville they stand a shameful sign. 
 Their barns are never painted, and their roofs forever leak, 
 And of their cruel shiftlessness their stock forever speak; 
 The chiefest things they know that grow for lack of sober hands 
 Are mortgages that are not met, which overspread the lands. 
 
 84 
 
Ube IRoab to XTopersrtUe 
 
 III. 
 
 Along the Road to Topersville the poorhouse opens wide 
 
 Its doors for men whose meager wants must somehow be 
 
 supplied ; 
 For men who found the village bars too frequent by the way, 
 Who left their farms too often and too long were led to stay; 
 For men who should be patrons of the farmer at his best, 
 And live in homes of luxury and comforts well possessed; 
 For men who lost their manhood on the wretched road they 
 
 trod, 
 And could not see the finger-signs that pointed off to God. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And always at the county seats are jails along the Road, 
 And these abound with men who take their ease in such abode; 
 The farmers pay the piper, when the prison-walls they build, 
 And pay for cost of keeping when the prison-cells are filled; 
 For taxes are a mortgage that you can not hide or waive — 
 Its yearly payments must be made, no matter how you slave; 
 The poorest crop a farm can grow, however poor the soil, 
 Is men to fill the prisons which are taxing sober toil. 
 
 There is no place for Topersville or Tippleton to-day. 
 
 On any map of any State where men the laws obey ; 
 
 There is no reason why the farm should heavy burdens bear, 
 
 Because of lust and greed that breed their costly levies there; 
 
 And farmers have the right of way along the roads they take ; 
 
 They have the right to close the bars along the roads they 
 
 make; 
 And at the State's own capital ihey have the pov/er to kill 
 The Curse that keeps the toll-gates on the Road to Topersville. 
 
 New York, June 24, 191 1. 
 
 8s 
 
Zbe Cr? of tbe s;empte& 
 I. 
 
 I saw an infant sleeping 
 
 In robes of purest white; 
 Beside him sat the Mother young 
 
 And smiled in Love's delight; 
 But out amid his fellows, 
 
 Ere boys were grown to men, 
 I thought I heard the cry they made 
 For help and safety then: 
 "O Fathers dear! 
 Behold us here. 
 Tempted and weak and torn; 
 Ye sell to Sin 
 For the gain ye win 
 The boys that Love has borne; 
 And Motherhood, for the price of blood, 
 Must watch, and pray, and mourn." 
 
 IL 
 
 I saw them at the fireside 
 
 As years went swiftly by. 
 The boys that Love so tender held 
 
 To purpose pure and high; 
 Their lives were large with promise. 
 
 Their hopes were strong and sweet; 
 But later on I heard their lips 
 
 The cry of pain repeat: 
 
 86 
 
Ube Cr^ ot tbe XTempteb 
 
 "O men, who pray! 
 We walk the way 
 Wickedly set with snares; 
 Ye plant them there 
 For the gain ye share 
 With Sin that murder dares; 
 They catch and kill, by your wish and will, 
 And mock at love and prayers." 
 
 III. 
 
 I saw the Mothers weeping 
 
 For boyhood v/orse than lost; 
 I saw the homes where Sorrow wore 
 
 Its weeds of bitter cost; 
 And where the Rachels, mourning, 
 
 Could not be comforted, 
 I heard above their sobbing cries 
 These words of warning said: 
 "As ye have done 
 To weakest one 
 Tempted along the v/ay. 
 So shall the Lord, 
 For your just reward, 
 Whate'er ye preach and pray. 
 Mete out to you, as your wages due. 
 When comes the Judgment Day." 
 
 87 
 
Zbc Ibuman (tr? 
 
 A Thanksgiving Appeal 
 
 Great Father! — God of all the ages past, 
 
 And of all time to be! 
 Hear now the Cry, through all Thy heavens vast, 
 Of joy, of pain, of praise and prayer, that we 
 
 Uplift again to Thee! 
 
 * 5j« * * 
 
 The Cry of Joy! — For we are glad, O God! 
 
 We came a happy way; 
 Our feet amid Thy bloom and fruit have trod; 
 Where Love did linger we could smile and stay, — 
 
 Since last Thanksgiving Day. 
 
 Each morning Hope our eyelids opened wide. 
 
 And smiled into our eyes; 
 And led us up the road, our smiling guide, 
 And made each day a glowing, glad surprize. 
 Beneath her shining skies. 
 * * * * 
 The Cry of Pain ! — It rises keen and clear 
 
 From hearts that ache and moan, 
 That throb and quiver from their hurt and fear. 
 Hear them, O Father, on Thy pitying throne, 
 
 For they are fainting grown. 
 
 Man's justice falters while they suffer wrong; 
 Man's laws to crime are kin 
 
Zbc Ibuman Cr^ 
 
 Which make hearts ache and break with torture long, 
 From curses bom of lust and legal sin, — 
 Dear God! Thy reign begin! 
 
 * * * * 
 
 The Cry of Praise! — Its hallelujahs roll 
 
 In resonance on high; 
 They tell of victors who have gained the goal; 
 They tell of Truth, which can not fail or die, 
 
 Triumphant by-and-by. 
 
 From battlefields where souls of men have bled. 
 
 In struggles long and sore, 
 Arise their loud hosannas o'er the dead 
 Of conquered wrong and sin forevermore, — 
 
 While glory shines before! 
 
 * * * * 
 
 The Cry of Prayer! — It breathes in mighty power 
 
 To Thee, O God of All! 
 Beseeching strength for Right's own crucial hour, 
 Thy people strive and pray. Hear Thou their call 
 
 Till hosts of Evil fall! 
 
 From faint and weak and wounded in the fight, 
 
 One constant cry ascends: — 
 "Help Thou our weakness, God of Love and Might; 
 Smite, Thou, for us, where sore defeat impends, 
 
 Till Right's long battle ends!" 
 
 * ♦ * ♦ 
 
 Great Father Mind! — and Mother Heart of Men! — 
 
 We lift our souls to Thee! 
 We give Thee thanks, in joy and pain again; 
 In praise and prayer may we Thy vision see 
 
 Of Heaven's own Good to Be! 
 
 New York, November, 1909. 
 
 89 
 
Zo tbe l^eomen of (5o& 
 
 In Their Days of Discouragement 
 
 Are you Men, with the blood of your sires? 
 
 Then be true to your trust, as were they ! 
 Light again, in your darkness, the fires 
 
 Of old faith, till the dawn of God's Day ! 
 He will speak, if your soul will but listen. 
 
 To comfort its grieving surprize. 
 And His Morn on the mountains will glisten 
 
 To gladden the grief in your eyes. 
 
 Did you fight for the Right, or for glory? 
 
 Could success make the Wrong to be right? 
 Should the Right on the battle-field gory 
 
 Surrender, though death be in sight? 
 Did the Right ever die, when defeated, 
 
 And sepulture find with the slain. 
 Though its ranks, by desertion depleted. 
 
 Feared courage and faith were in vain? 
 
 Know the Scripture, how "He that believeth 
 Shall never make haste," then believe; 
 
 And your Captain, who never deceiveth. 
 Will bid you be glad when you grieve. 
 
 00 
 
Zo tbe 12eomen ot (3ob 
 
 To walk slowly with God .may be harder 
 Than fast with His foemen to ride, 
 
 But believe, and your heart with His ardor 
 Will throb as you follow your Guide. 
 
 Through the night, all the way, though His foemen 
 
 May hinder your march to the goal. 
 It is better to go with God's yeomen, 
 
 And stand with them, sturdy of soul, 
 Than the banners of Sin to be bearing, 
 
 With Wrong and its rallying cheers, 
 Or in Victory proud to be sharing 
 
 Which means an eternity's tears. 
 
 From the homes where the heartache is crying 
 
 To Man and the mercy of Christ — 
 From the dives where all virtue is dying, 
 
 By lust and by lucre enticed — 
 From the hamlet of peace, and the city 
 
 Of passion and strife, come the cries 
 To your courage, your conscience and pity — 
 
 Shall Manhood make answer with sighs? 
 
 Do you trust in the good, and the glory 
 
 Of life that is noble and true? 
 Have you pride in the fame and the story 
 
 Of heroes who battled for you? 
 Do you love the Old Banner they gave you? 
 
 Then bear it in hands without blame. 
 Nor surrender when sin would enslave you 
 
 And smirch it forever with shame. 
 
 91 
 
©ur CreeD 
 
 Then recall Valley Forge, and the weary, 
 
 Long winter of Washington there, 
 When the future was darkness all dreary, 
 
 The present but patience and prayer; 
 And remember all struggle for Freedom 
 
 Must win through sore tests of the soul— 
 That each Canaan is far beyond Edom, 
 
 With peace and possession the goal. 
 
 Hear the Great Captain's call to His yeomen 
 
 Who face down the road of retreat: 
 *'Turn again to the fight, and your foemen 
 
 Shall flee in their final defeat! 
 If My Strength in your weakness ye borrow, 
 
 My words of command ye obey, 
 Ye shall win, ere the night of that Morrow 
 
 Which dawns with the light of God's Day.' 
 
 ®ur dreeb 
 
 No wrong 
 
 So strong 
 
 In all this patient world, 
 
 But o'er it Right, 
 
 With royal victor's might. 
 
 The Flag of Truth forever has unfurled. 
 
 92 
 
flD? Ballot 
 
 (Sunday Before Election) 
 
 I bring Thee, Lord, my Ballot, now, 
 
 This holy Sabbath hour of Thine, 
 And beg Thee listen to my vow, 
 
 And make Thy will and purpose mine! 
 I pledge Thee that as Man for Man, 
 
 And man for God, this ballot true 
 Shall serve as best a ballot can. 
 
 Though counted feebly with but few. 
 
 I pledge Thee that no taint of sin 
 
 Shall soil it, through a bribe I take 
 To cast it that some man may win 
 
 For party's mere unholy sake; 
 I pledge Thee that for Truth and Right, 
 
 For love of Thee, it shall be cast; 
 That I will hold it clean and white 
 
 As if it were indeed my last. 
 
 My Manhood it shall represent, 
 Not some ignoble wish for gain ; 
 
 Thy blessing surely must be lent 
 If I but keep it free from stain; 
 
 93 
 
/IDp Ballot 
 
 Give me the will Thy will to seek, 
 When to the ballot-box I go, 
 
 And help me stand for all the weak 
 Whom law and lust have tempted so! 
 
 Let none seduce me to betray 
 
 My fellowman, for sinful greed, 
 But hold me, on Election Day, 
 
 By Christian love, to Christian deed! 
 And so may I my Manhood hold 
 
 Supreme above all meaner things, 
 That other men shall be more bold, 
 
 And suffrage make them grand as Kings! 
 
 So, Lord, my ballot here I bring 
 
 Before Thee, in this open hand, — 
 The thing that makes me as a king 
 
 When wrong and ruin should be banned; 
 The wrong may stronger be than I, 
 
 But with my duty bravely done, 
 To Thee in vain I shall not cry. 
 
 At last the Victory shall be won! 
 
 94 
 
nDemorial anb personal 
 
 95 
 
tCbe Silent 
 
 Read by the Author at Dedication of the Soldiers' Monument, 
 Middletown, N. Y., September 5, 1879. 
 
 I. 
 
 It is said that each block of the granite 
 
 That sleeps in a quarry unstirred, 
 If a sculptor should take it and scan it, 
 
 Would show, at his magical word, 
 A mute figure to gladden our seeing— 
 
 Some statue of strife or of peace. 
 Hid away from its beauty of being 
 
 Till art and love gave it release. 
 
 In each stone of the column uprearing 
 
 Before us in silence to-day, 
 Let us fancy a figure appearing, 
 
 And wonder and wait by the way — 
 Let us wonder and wait, as the fancy 
 
 Takes visible, beautiful form. 
 And with only the mind's necromancy, 
 
 Each figure turns vital and warm. 
 
 One is known as Devotion to Freedom — 
 
 A man with his soul in his face. 
 Looking back on some battle of Edom 
 
 That fades in the past, while the place 
 Round about him grows hushed as an altar 
 
 When prayer into silence has died, 
 
 97 
 
Ubc Silent 
 
 As the arm that for right could not falter, 
 Forever we miss at his side. 
 
 One we know as the Angel of Sorrow — 
 
 She stands with her tear-welling eyes 
 Turned away from the hope of to-morrow, 
 
 To weep for the dead; and her cries 
 Out of hunger, and heart-ache, and passion 
 
 Of grief unrestrained, we can hear, 
 Though the lips that of marble we fashion 
 
 As still as the bosom appear. 
 
 And beside her in tenderness lingers 
 
 The Angel of Pity, to lift 
 The bowed head with the touch of her fingers. 
 
 And bless her with sympathy's gift; 
 Divine Pity, with heart that is human 
 
 Though chiseled in granite she stands, 
 With the comforting faith of a woman, 
 
 And love over-running her hands. 
 
 Fair and proud, as was ever a goddess. 
 
 Is Fame, as the laurel she holds 
 In her beautiful hands, while her bodice 
 
 Is wreathed in the wealth of its folds; 
 And she smiles on the Youth of Ambition, 
 
 She beams on the Age of Desire, 
 Until crowned are the hope and the mission. 
 
 Or cold are the fever and fire. 
 
 And above them is Memory wreathing 
 A myrtle, to hallow the years, 
 
 98 
 
Zbc Silent 
 
 Looking back on the past as if breathing 
 
 A sad benediction of tears — 
 Looking back on the battle-fields gory, 
 
 Whose crimson was brief as a breath; 
 Seeing over the splendor of glory 
 
 The terrible color of death; 
 
 Seeing always the mounds that are lifting 
 
 Green hillocks of sod to the sky, 
 Where the billows of battle went drifting, 
 
 And duty meant only to die; 
 Calling over the roll of the sleeping, 
 
 Repeating their story of pain, 
 And in hallowing tenderness weeping 
 
 Above the dear dust of our slain. 
 
 Blessed Memory! silent and saddened. 
 
 With stony lips mocking at speech. 
 In her silence she often has gladdened 
 
 The hearts that some message beseech; 
 Out of pitiful love she has spoken. 
 
 By night and by day, of the lost. 
 And the gloom of our grief she has broken 
 
 By gladness that over it crossed. 
 
 II. 
 
 Let us lift the Old Banner, and love it. 
 As proudly for Country it pleads! 
 
 All the glory of speech I could covet, 
 To tell of its glory of deeds — 
 
 How it flamed where the battle was bloody, 
 
 99 
 
XTbe Silent 
 
 How over our heroes it flung 
 Its bright folds of encouragement ruddy, 
 Where victory waited and sung; 
 
 How above every failure it hovered, 
 
 To lighten the dark of defeat; 
 How with loving caresses it covered 
 
 Our dead in their duty complete; 
 How it led through the night of our Edom, 
 
 To Canaan of dawn and of peace; 
 How to bountiful blessings of freedom 
 
 From bondage, it brought us release. 
 
 O, ye Men of America! spare it 
 
 From shame of denial again! 
 Let us here In Memoriam swear it, 
 
 By faith and devotion of men: 
 That as long as their dust we shall cherish, 
 
 Who bore it in trouble and gloom. 
 Until freedom and faithfulness perish, 
 
 And manhood is borne to its tomb; 
 
 Until memory fades out of being, 
 
 And love is forgotten and fled; 
 Until life has become but a fleeing 
 
 From trusts of the quick and the dead ; 
 We will bear every star in its splendor 
 
 As truly and proudly as they. 
 Who, with tribute as loving as tender. 
 
 We sadly remember to-day! 
 
 100 
 
XTbe Silent 
 
 In the swamps, on the plains and the mountains, 
 
 They sleep whom to-day we recall, 
 Where so freely they poured out their fountains 
 
 Of life, to the last, for us all. 
 Be ye loving and sweet with caresses, 
 
 O earth, wheresoever they rest! 
 May each sod be a balm as it presses 
 
 In tenderness over each breast! 
 
 May the sunlight shine warmly above them, 
 
 And beauty bloom over their mold; 
 May the breezes blow always to love them. 
 
 And never grow dreary and cold! 
 May the music be gentle and tender 
 
 That breathes in the drip of the rain. 
 As were bitter our tears of surrender 
 
 When love learned the lesson of pain! 
 
 They went out from your hills and your valleys, 
 
 Brave fathers and sons of Wallkill, 
 As a clan of true Highlandsmen rallies 
 
 At sound of the pibroch so shrill; 
 When the bugle was merrily ringing 
 
 Its call to the manliest goals, 
 All your borders were cheerily springing 
 
 To answer, and blossomed with souls! 
 
 Where the brave "Orange Blossoms"* were carried 
 
 By pressure of battle's hard brunt. 
 Life and death to war's music were married, 
 
 And always in blue, at the front! 
 
 * The 124th Regiment N. Y. S. Vols. 
 
 lOI 
 
Zbc Silent 
 
 And wherever the onset was heavy, 
 
 And bitter defeat was in sight, 
 Men of Orange replied to the levy 
 
 Of duty, and died for the Right! 
 
 If you laid them at last to their slumber 
 
 Within your sweet valleys of calm. 
 Or if still with the many they number. 
 
 Who sleep in the Land of the Palm, 
 Give each name to the Monument's keeping. 
 
 That he who Memoriam reads 
 May know, though the heroes be sleeping, 
 
 That love will remember their deeds! 
 
 III. 
 
 O, ye silent musicians, whose playing 
 
 Our soldiers to victory led, 
 Come away from your solemn delaying. 
 
 And play a sad dirge for the dead! 
 Let the fingers that long have been quiet, 
 
 The lips that forever are dumb, 
 Speak again to the rush and the riot 
 
 Of life, till we silent become ! 
 
 Till we see the processions of sadness 
 
 Their way to the burial wend ; 
 Till the light fades away from our gladness. 
 
 And dark is our doubt of the end; 
 Till the sisters that mourn for their brothers 
 
 Go lonely, bemoaning their lot. 
 And as Rachels in woe are the mothers 
 
 Who weep for their sons that are not! 
 
XTbe Silent 
 
 We are back in the days of the distance, 
 
 Borne there by the music of pain, 
 And our tears, with their bitter persistence, 
 
 Flow fast for the brave that are slain. 
 And we hear the far shock of the battle. 
 
 The sweep of proud masses of men, 
 The deep thunder of cannon, the rattle 
 
 Of musketry, clearly as then. 
 
 There are cheers for the victory splendid, 
 
 And tears for the victors who lie, 
 When the tumult and terror are ended. 
 
 With faces upturned to the sky; 
 And the living walk on with their burdens 
 
 Of sorrow, by ways that are dim, 
 And the dead, having paid for their guerdons 
 
 Of glory, sleep silent and grim. 
 
 Far away in the distance are fading 
 
 The shadows of v/ar, and we play 
 But in vain at the pomp and parading. 
 
 The show and the splendor, to-day. 
 Through the arches of victory going. 
 
 Our legions heroical went 
 Where no bugles of battle are blowing. 
 
 And Peace all its beauty has lent. 
 
 They look down on us now in the spirit — 
 Brave souls that were true to their God, 
 
 Who faced death without needing to fear it, 
 As steadily forward they trod; 
 
 103 
 
Ube Silent 
 
 And they speak to us now as we christen 
 With love the long patriot roll — 
 
 Let us lean out a moment and listen, 
 While soul makes appeal unto soul: 
 
 "As we died for the Union, to save it 
 
 From sin, and dishonor, and shame; 
 As redeemed unto Freedom we gave it 
 
 To you, the true wardens of fame; 
 As we fainted and fell on the marches. 
 
 And starved in the black prison-pen, 
 To uprear for you victory's arches, 
 
 And build a free manhood for men — 
 
 "So we charge you to stand by the Altar 
 
 Of Country, with faith that is true, 
 And a purpose that never can falter. 
 
 To guard the Old Banner of Blue! 
 And as once you wept over our faces. 
 
 And now you mourn over our dust, 
 We beseech you be firm in your places, 
 
 We bid you be true to your trust!" 
 
 Let us lift the Old Banner, and love it, 
 
 As proudly for Country it pleads! 
 All the glory of speech I could covet, 
 
 To tell of its glory of deeds. 
 But in vain were all speech of our giving 
 
 Beside what the Silent have said — 
 Let us show, by our glory of living. 
 
 We hear the clear words of the dead ! 
 
 104 
 
abrabam Xincoln 
 
 HE WAS GOOD: 
 
 In his heart glowed a love for his race 
 That men saw as a light shining forth on his face. 
 In the sadness of sorrowful days he must share 
 From the depths of a soul heavy burdened with care; 
 When the pain and the pathos of life made appeal, 
 He could answer with touch that would comfort and heal; 
 Yet above his deep currents of sympathy ran 
 The bright ripples of laughter from man unto man. 
 
 HE WAS TRUE: 
 
 The Divine in his Manhood upheld 
 
 Both his heart and his hope, and sure purpose compelled. 
 He had never a doubt of Divinity's end, 
 Since he knew on the Truth he could safely depend. 
 
 For the good of mankind, and the glory of God, 
 
 He could walk the straight path by his feet to be trod; 
 With unwavering faith and unfaltering soul 
 He would follow the gleam till he came to the goal. 
 
 HE WAS GREAT: 
 
 And in stature supreme he could stand 
 Looking God in the face, for His word of command. 
 Like a prince among pigmies his manhood he bore 
 Above pettiness mean and malignings long sore; 
 And with malice toward none, but with charity wide, 
 
 105 
 
Bbraf3am Xincoln 
 
 He could answer the call of his Leader and Guide, 
 
 Till the olive-branch blossomed in love where He led 
 And the white lips of Peace kissed the battlefields red. 
 
 HE WAS STRONG: 
 
 He could suffer, and smile in his pain; 
 He could bear, and be still. Though his heart and his brain 
 Often quivered from blows of the bitterest blame, 
 The great strength of his soul never weakened in 
 shame. 
 He was brave in his patience. The masterful calm 
 Of his trust in the Right was like healing and balm 
 
 To the hurt of his life. When its torments grew keen 
 In the heat of hot passions, he waited, serene. 
 
 HE WAS BRAVE: 
 
 He was good; he was true; he was strong. 
 He was faithful in fighting the sin and the wrong; 
 
 He would stand for the Truth, without favor or fear ; 
 
 He could smile at delay, with the eyes of a seer; 
 He could speak for the weak, whether bondman or free; 
 Between master and slave he could Brotherhood see; 
 
 And the curse of all races of men he would smite. 
 
 As a wrong and a sin, for defense of the Right. 
 
 AS A MARTYR HE DIED: 
 
 Now as MEN we may live, 
 In the strength of the true, which the Master will give. 
 Against wrong that is mighty, like him we may stand 
 In the might of the Right, at the Master's command; 
 And his dream should be ours, on each day of defeat, 
 Of a victory final, unfailing, complete, 
 
 When in all our broad land of the free and the brave 
 There shall be, evermore, NEITHER DRUNKARD 
 NOR SLAVE. 
 
 io6 
 
1Real Dow 
 
 "HE BELONGS TO THE AGES;" 
 Thus wisely one said 
 
 As they wept by his form when the spirit had fled. 
 Then the ages grew richer with treasure untold, 
 As the scroll of their pages before him unrolled 
 
 And he lives in their life, an immortal sublime, 
 
 While the tides of eternity roll upon time, 
 
 As immortal he lives where a mortal he trod 
 The hard highway of Duty to glory and God! 
 
 IReal 2)ow 
 
 When the Century was cradled of whose waning age we knew. 
 
 In the state that greets the sunrise, a prophetic babe was 
 
 born; [he drew 
 
 At the breast of Right, of Duty, Manhood's nurture strong 
 
 Till his heart unholy Error swift would scorn. 
 And he grew to manly stature, with a great heroic soul 
 
 Filled and thrilled by lofty purpose to make royal sons of 
 men; 
 While before him on his march of life, he set a splendid goal 
 That should mark the reign of righteousness again. 
 
 There was nobler consummation for the Commonwealth he said. 
 Than to license wrong and evil and to share their guilty gain ; 
 And he followed on courageous, where the light of Conscience 
 led. 
 Though it cost him sorest sacrifice and pain. 
 To efface the stain of statutes that v/ere red with blood and 
 crime 
 On the records of his Mother-State, he labored well and long; 
 And he won for home and manhood, in a victory sublime, 
 Over all the allied legions of the Wrong. 
 
 107 
 
1Real H)ow 
 
 O'er the land his bugle sounded ''Prohibition !*' clear and strong; 
 On the eastern coast they heard it, and across the prairies 
 wide; 
 And from sea to sea the souls of men caught up the loyal song, 
 
 Till for Manhood and the State they would have died. 
 To his daring they are debtor, thro' all days that are to be, 
 
 Who would make the Nation better by uplifting Law and Life ; 
 Until every home and altar from the Curse of Rum is free, 
 Men shall hear his bugle calling to the strife. 
 
 He was knighted for his daring, in the heart of Womanhood, 
 And the tender hands of children laid their tribute on his 
 tomb; 
 For the fruit of his endeavor he was crowned by great and good, 
 
 With a laurel that shall always bud and bloom; 
 And wherever, high uplifted, men have borne the banner white. 
 Which in love and faith he carried till they laid it on his 
 breast, 
 It has blazoned forth a luster more beneficently bright 
 For the patience and the courage he possessed. 
 
 See him standing, calm, undaunted, where the tumults 'round 
 him rage. 
 Hear him speak for Home and Honor while the rabble mock 
 and sneer; 
 And remember, when for God and Man a contest you would 
 wage. 
 That your love and faith no mortal foe should fear. 
 As he would not bow to mammon, as he could not cringe to 
 crime, 
 As against the hosts of Satan he the victor's battle made, 
 So for God, and Home, and Country, till the glad Millenial 
 Time, 
 Shall our clarion call of Duty be obeyed! 
 
 io8 
 
eeneval H, Wi. IRtle^ 
 
 Learn of him, O brave Reformer, that tho' long and sore the 
 way 
 Up the steeps of hard endeavor to the summits of success, 
 From the lowlands, dark and misty, you shall greet the shining 
 day, 
 And the sunlit crown of labor shall possess. 
 Be his life your inspiration, as you stand for Truth and God! 
 Feel his heart-beats in your bosom, giving holy zeal and 
 might ; [trod, 
 
 And when red with crimson crosses is the way your feet have 
 Share his holy consecration to the Right. 
 
 By the cradle of a Century prophetic, here we stand. 
 
 On our lips a Song of Promise that shall gladden all the 
 world ; 
 For from Maine's own heights of morning, far across our 
 mighty land 
 Shall the Flag of Prohibition be unfurled! 
 And beneath its folds resplendent march the spirits of the 
 brave — 
 Of the loyal and the royal who have borne it to the end; 
 While our solemn vow we take again, above each loyal grave, 
 That its glory and its faith we will defend! 
 
 (Beneral a» m. IRilc)? 
 
 "Let In the Light"* 
 
 "Let in the light," O darkened soul of sin. 
 Borne down amid the shadows of despair; 
 
 With ghastly shapes of hideous mien shut in. 
 Let in the light, and breathe God's morning air. 
 
 *Words of Gen. Riley on the morning of his death. 
 
 109 
 
(Beneral Clinton 3B. ffist? 
 
 "Let in the light," O manhood brave and strong! 
 
 The light of Truth, on conscience, heart and brain, 
 Till undismayed you see and smite the wrong 
 
 That blinds you with unholy greed of gain. 
 
 "Let in the light," O Christians, as ye grope 
 So far and feebly from the fearless Christ, 
 
 Who with the money-changers dared to cope. 
 And by their gains was not with them enticed. 
 
 "Let in the Hght" — the light that clear and sweet 
 Shone o'er the mount when on the mount He prayed 
 
 "Thy Kingdom come," and bade the world repeat 
 In His own blessed name the prayer He made. 
 
 "Let in the light," till sin shall shrink away. 
 
 And bold hypocrisy in shame be dumb. 
 And on us breaks the glory of that day 
 
 When Right shall reign through all His Kingdom come! 
 
 (Beneral Clinton B. ifiek 
 I. 
 
 Love-cradled in a cabin of the West, 
 
 The babe to boyhood's hunger quickly grew. 
 And hungered, thirsted, for the things they knew 
 
 Who passed with men as wise; and in his breast 
 
 There throbbed a longing, always unexpressed. 
 To stand some day upon the world's far blue 
 Horizon, 'mid the great, the strong, the true 
 
 The world might honor, as an honored guest. 
 
 no 
 
H 1bave Crept in wttb /iDotbet'' 
 
 The boy to manhood built his stature well, 
 Of truth and courage, purity and grace; 
 
 The mother's love clung round him like a spell, 
 And calm-eyed Duty gave him lofty place 
 
 Till Fame's fair garlands on his forehead fell, 
 And gladly great and strong did greet his face. 
 
 II. 
 
 True heart, that beat so brave, and true, and strong. 
 Then failed him first who never failed his friend; 
 True hands, that always could their succor lend 
 
 Where need was born of want or cruel wrong: 
 
 True lips, that gave the courage of a song 
 To fainting souls who would the Right defend, 
 Throughout the way until he found its end; 
 
 Farewell! And if the way, perchance, be long, 
 Unlighted by his loving, genial smile, 
 We still may walk it, weary mile on mile, 
 
 V/ith surer faith, and always willing feet, 
 
 Because of heart, and hands, and lips, that went 
 So far with us, and such rare presence lent. 
 
 And wait. Somewhere, our coming soon to greet. 
 
 "11 Ibave Crept in Mitb flDotber" 
 
 (Echoing Part of Miss Francis E. Willard's Last Words.) 
 
 "I have crept in with mother!" O bliss that was best! 
 
 To be pillowed in peace on the balm of her breast! 
 To delight in her love as if only a child, 
 By the blessing of sleep on her bosom beguiled; 
 
 To be cooled of life's fever, to infinite calm; 
 
 To be lulled by the song of an infinite psalm; 
 
 To be borne from the twilight of pain and of tears 
 Where the dawn of eternity circles the spheres. 
 
**ir fbnvc Crept in Mltb /iDotber" 
 
 "I have crept in with mother!" Soul-weary of sins, 
 
 In a world of dark shadows, where wickedness wins, 
 From its losses and crosses permitted to go. 
 To the comfort that motherhood only could know, — 
 
 From the hope unfulfilled, the desire unrevealed; 
 
 From the work unrewarded, the hurt never healed; 
 
 From the plan of the woman's wise purpose ; the dream 
 And the wish of the years that brought crowning supreme. 
 
 "I have crept in with mother!" Farewell to the work 
 
 Of the world in its wretchedness, hunger and murk! 
 And farewell to the men and the women who wait 
 And who labor in love for humanity's fate! 
 
 They were noble and true, but their task is as long 
 
 As the measure of time till Millennial song; 
 
 And the feet may grow weary, the heart may grow faint, 
 Till the soul that grew strong is translated a saint! 
 
 "I have crept in with mother !" And mute are the lips 
 That could never put purity's thought in eclipse; 
 
 Ever silent the tongue that with pleading could reach 
 The deep springs of the heart that were hidden in each; 
 While forever close veiled are the eyes that looked out 
 With the gaze of the seer on the wrong and the doubt ; 
 And the voice that was music wherever it fell 
 On the ears of the world has been hushed by a knell. 
 
 "I have crept in with mother!" O life that was lone 
 When the mother-heart folding it closely had flown. 
 Be thy dreams all unbroken within the dear arms 
 That forever enfold thee from hunger and harms! 
 As a babe on her bosom, in tender embrace. 
 Be the light of her love the glad smile on thy face, 
 Till the glow of God's Morning shall dawn on the rest 
 Of that mother whose child fell asleep on her breast ! 
 
 112 
 
3obn B. Jfincb* 
 
 Dead in his splendid prime, 
 
 The master of surging speech; 
 Silent the lips that were strong for truth, 
 Tender and touching for Home and Youth, 
 Pleading the Cause of each. 
 
 Dead in his manly grace 
 
 The leader we loved so well — 
 Silent his form at the battle's fore. 
 Still are the hands that our standard bore 
 Bravely till swift he fell. 
 
 Dead in his loyal faith. 
 
 The friend of our faithful trust, — 
 Hushed is the heart that was true and leal. 
 Tender the touches of love to feel, 
 
 Fading so soon to dust. 
 
 Dead at the conflict's front. 
 
 The knight who could know no fear; 
 Silent the forces he led, to-day. 
 Hushed be our hearts as we pause to lay 
 
 Garlands upon his bier. 
 
 Orator, friend, farewell! 
 
 Knight of the Right, good-bye! 
 
 *Peerless Prohibition Orator and Leader, died Oct. 4, i? 
 113 
 
OcovQC M» Bain 
 
 Willing to fall in thy splendid prime, 
 Fighting for God and His Cause sublime, 
 Death, like a neighbor, nigh. 
 
 Tears for the Right bereft, 
 
 Tears for the Knight gone down! 
 Smitten and sore in the battle's brunt, 
 He has but won at the surging front 
 Victory's fadeless crown! 
 
 (Beorge M* Bain 
 
 A Sonnet Read on Introducing Him to an Audience. 
 
 Blest Old Kentucky Home which gave to earth 
 A voice as rare, and sweet, and fond, and true. 
 As any voice of song the singers knew 
 
 Who sang of Home and Love beside the hearth! 
 
 And blessed Mother — she who gave him birth 
 Amid the southern bloom and grasses blue — 
 From whose dear breast nobility he drew 
 
 Of royal Manhood and of manly worth! 
 
 Our thanks to both — the Home, and Mother there — 
 To whom we owe the voice we came to hear, 
 
 The loyal heart whose bounty we may share, 
 The noble soul which knows not shame or fear ! 
 
 To them the homage he has v/idely won 
 
 Whose lips in reverent love proclaim him now their son ! 
 
 114 
 
3a\ncB (5. Clarft* 
 
 Blow soft and sweet above his quiet breast, 
 O gentle winds which fan the Golden Shore! 
 And echo there the voice that nevermore 
 
 Shall sing on earth for those who loved it best 
 
 And miss it most! Fair sunset of the West 
 Glow glad and warm in golden radiance o'er 
 The new-made grave to which his form they bore, 
 
 Whose soul in sunrise found its final rest. 
 
 Sweet Singer, fare thee well ! Upon the air 
 Fond echoes linger of thy dulcet song, 
 All sweet and liquid as the singing throng 
 
 Can match with music, where the robes they wear 
 
 Are white and shining as their faces fair; 
 
 And ringing louder, bold, and clear, and strong, 
 We hear thy bugle-notes against the wrong, 
 
 And all the uplift of thy spirit share. 
 
 Farewell, brave Minstrel, Laureate of Right! 
 
 The pulse of justice thrilled thine every tone; 
 
 Thine ear was quick to hear the smothered moan 
 From Want and Sorrow, in the bitter fight 
 Of right and wrong, of weakness and of might; 
 
 Thy breast beat rhythmic to the grief and groan 
 
 Of all the world, till as a trumpet blown 
 Thy song of morning sounded through the night. 
 
 *Poet, Singer, and Reformer, died in Pasadena, Cal., 1897. 
 
 115 
 
James C Clarft 
 
 Dear Heart, that listened for and gladly heard 
 The voice of God in life's unending round; 
 That caught love's cadence in the common sound 
 
 Of wood and field, as if it were a word 
 
 Love-spoken to the ears which never erred 
 In eager heed for voices most profound — 
 As if His love did everywhere abound, 
 
 And sang itself in every breeze and bird! 
 
 Dear Soul, that felt itself of God a part — 
 
 A royal unit of a whole divine, 
 
 On which the King had set His seal and sign 
 And said "Of me henceforth for aye thou art 
 Immortal portion, throbbing with My heart 
 
 Of love for all that ever must be Mine!" 
 
 So crystal clear that through it soft could shine 
 The light of love in minster or in mart. 
 
 Farewell awhile, but not a long farewell! 
 Beyond the Sunset, in the Sunrise Land, 
 By balmy airs his brow forever fanned. 
 
 He waits to welcome, where the mystic spell 
 
 Of immortality swift on him fell. 
 
 And life immortal smiles on every hand, 
 With every grief and wrong forever banned, 
 
 And Love Eternal now his song may swell ! 
 
 ii6 
 
^be pilgrim anb tbe Ikniebt 
 
 Read at the Memorial Service in Honor of 
 
 William T. Wardwell, and Alfred L. Manierre, 
 
 In Broadway Tabernacle, 
 
 New York City, November 26, 191 1. 
 
 We honor men who royal honor gave 
 Our grateful Cause, they were so true and brave- 
 So gentle, faithful, so divinely true. 
 To know them well v/as like as if you knew 
 Some knight courageous, in that early time 
 When service knightly came of Call sublime- 
 Some Pilgrim Father, strong of heart and soul. 
 Who Freedom sought within its luring goal. 
 
 This knight was young when clear the Crusade Call 
 Of Truth came to him, sounding yet for all — 
 The call to service that has long enticed 
 Those brave and faithful seeking Cross of Christ; 
 The sturdy Pilgrim went with whitening hair 
 Where Age at last goes bent with burdening care. 
 But felt his heart beat ever blithe and young, 
 And heard the songs that childhood once had sung. 
 
 You shut your eyes and see before you stand 
 A stalwart figure from the mother-land; 
 You open them, and swift before you see 
 Our later Pilgrim, strong and brave as he. 
 
 -17 
 
Zbc pilartm anO tbe If^niobt 
 
 You talk and walk with him as one who saw 
 The form of Right within the frame of Law, — 
 As one who followed Wisdom where she led, 
 And echoed her in all he sagely said. 
 
 Serene of soul, he could serenely walk 
 Unmoved by men who dared to scorn and mock; 
 With humblest few he was content to go 
 If they to him the righteous way could show; 
 And when his feet grew weary still he went 
 With Truth's own pilgrims, glad and well content, 
 Until God called him, on the busy street. 
 And swift he hastened hence, the Call to meet. 
 
 And so the Pilgrim Father went, at last. 
 Beyond the common path his feet had passed. 
 And left his friends, the Cause, that knew his worth, 
 Still mourning him along the ways of earth. 
 But we were comforted who saw the knight, 
 Yet strong and fearless, leading in the fight. 
 His gallant heart aflame with love of Truth, 
 His vision clear as that of eager youth. 
 
 We knew the soul within him, where he stood. 
 In stature towered to serve the highest good; 
 We heard his answer, when Right's bugle called. 
 Ring out above his fellows, unappalled; 
 
 We felt his heart-beats where the need grew sore, 
 And gave him love, till none had larger store; 
 And while he led, we followed, unafraid. 
 As those who, trusting, could not be dismayed. 
 
 ii8 
 
Then came a voice none others heard but him. 
 Somewhere beyond the veil so misty, dim, 
 It spake: he answered. From the Holy Land 
 All brave Crusaders reach, came clear command— 
 '*Come home, true knight ! Here find the Holy Grail 
 For souls who serve and Manhood never fail." 
 And who shall say that by the Shining Gate 
 The Pilgrim did not for him stand and wait? 
 
 Cbarlee 1bcnv^ flDea^ 2).2)* 
 
 Some Birthday Rhymes or Memory Chimes, 
 On His Sixty-Sixth Birthday. 
 
 Some words of cheer that Brother Mead 
 Upon his next birthday may read? 
 Who better could deserve them? — None. 
 Who for the world more cheer has won 
 By tender words, by loving speech 
 That heart and soul could surely reach? 
 Who braver, truer, long has been 
 To smite the wrong, to shame the sin? 
 Who has more sunlight scattered thro' 
 Earth's darkened ways from out the blue 
 Of God's own sky, than this our friend. 
 So rich in heart to give or lend 
 The hope that succors men in need? 
 God's blessing, then, on Brother Mead ! 
 
 119 
 
Cbarles Ibenr^ /iDeab, 5),H), 
 
 God bless his large and loving heart! 
 God bless him for his loving art 
 Of loving all who needed love! 
 God bless him that so long above 
 All greed of gain, all care for pelf, 
 All thought of things to profit self, — 
 
 These years on years, 
 
 Through toil and tears, 
 His heart has beat with love of Man, 
 His tongue has dared, as well it can, 
 To speak the word that Error fears — 
 The word of Right, that Justice cheers- 
 The word of God, that men must win 
 If Right shall reign instead of Sin. 
 
 Some hours my memory sings to me 
 Of sunny days long gone, when he 
 And I went up and down the land 
 The half of that once happy band 
 Of singers well remembered yet — 
 The far-famed Silver Lake Quartette. 
 Then how his ringing voice rang out 
 
 Against the wrong. 
 
 In speech and song! 
 How Faith and Hope took place of doubt, 
 And fears of men were put to rout, 
 And wavering hearts grew glad and strong! 
 
 God bless our brother that he sang 
 So true, so long, the songs that rang 
 
 120 
 
Cbarles Ibenrp /iDeab, S),S). 
 
 For Truth and Right,— 
 
 For Manhood's might 
 The foes of men to meet and smite! 
 As true he sang, so true he saw 
 That law of God within the law 
 Of man should be the law supreme ; 
 That "Thou shalt not !" was ne'er the dream 
 Of idle dreamers, but a word 
 Of power divine, on Sinai heard. 
 Till echoes of the ages stirred! 
 
 And "Thou shalt not!" he sang and said, 
 To those who long their fellows led 
 From heights of Manhood to the slime 
 Of misery, and want, and crime. 
 And "Thou shalt not!" he said again 
 And yet again, to prouder men 
 
 Than such as these — 
 
 To Pharisees 
 
 Who smiled in pride 
 
 While Manhood died, 
 Smitten, and robbed, and crucified, — 
 
 The men who sold. 
 
 For price of gold — 
 As ever the Judas in some men will— 
 The right to ruin, and rob, and kill. 
 
 Yes, memory often sings to me, 
 The songs we sang, those happy three 
 And I, long days of speech and song, 
 Defending right, assailing wrong. 
 And since those days have distant grown 
 
 121 
 
Ube ifountain of l^outb 
 
 Our brother far has fared alone, 
 And up and down across the land, 
 Obeying still his clear command, 
 For God, and Right, and Brotherhood, 
 Has fearless, faithful, bravely stood. 
 
 God give him grace, 
 
 With smiling face 
 And heart that beats forever young, 
 
 To stand for Truth 
 
 Through ageless Youth, 
 And sing the songs he long has sung! 
 
 And some day, when the Lord's own cheer 
 Shall come to him — when he shall hear 
 
 The words "Well done!" 
 
 His race well run — 
 
 Our victory won — 
 When Heaven is near, and earth grows dim- 
 May God's glad angels sing for him! 
 
 Jan. 27, 1907. 
 
 ^be jfountain of l^ontb 
 
 Read at the Brooklyn Banquet of Prohibitionists, Feb. 13, 191 1. 
 
 "Has there any old fellow got mixed with the boys? 
 If there has, put him out, without making a noise;" 
 For, my friends, it is true as perennial Truth, 
 That the spring of our cause is the fountain of youth. 
 
 132 
 
XTbe ffountatn ot l^outb 
 
 That is Hopkins in part, though in part it is Holmes — 
 
 The wise Oliver Wendell, of medical tomes 
 
 And of wittiest verse, who was eighty years young 
 
 Ere he died all too soon for the world, as he sung 
 
 Or he said; and perhaps he would still have been hearty 
 
 And laughing to-day had he trained with our party. 
 
 Don't you see how the youth in our people abides; 
 
 How they laugh and live on, though the victory hides 
 
 In the future for which they have prayed and have fought? 
 
 Don't you feel the youth in them when once you have caught 
 
 Their contagion of faith and are willing to say 
 
 "Lo a thousand long years with the Lord are a day 
 
 When with evil we fight 
 
 On the side of the right. 
 And the Master's command is the word we obey?" 
 
 Look at Mead! See him smile when you hint he is old; 
 
 He is three-score-and-ten, if the truth must be told; 
 
 But as young he is yet, as when early he sang 
 
 "Hear dem bells! hear dem bells!" till the whole country rang 
 
 With the music he made with his winning quartet, 
 
 Shut your eyes, now, and listen — 'tis echoing yet! 
 
 If you miss any hair from the top of his head, 
 
 Never wonder, for "Sure he was born so," is said 
 
 In an Irishman's brogue so familiar and glad 
 
 That you smile as if never a trouble you had. 
 
 And the brogue was McKee's! You remember him quick, 
 Though the thatch on his roof is no longer as thick 
 As in days that are gone, and perhaps on his face. 
 As on that of his chaplain, there may be a trace 
 
 123 
 
XTbe ffountain ot l^outb 
 
 Of a furrow or two which not always had place 
 
 On the cheek or the brow; 
 
 But please understand now 
 That what looks like a furrow new-turned by the plow 
 Of our Old Father Time is but proof, at the most, 
 They have learned some new wrinkles in life. So a Toast 
 
 To our Chairman McKee: 
 
 May you live till there be 
 For the Pharaohs of drink but a raging Red Sea 
 That shall swallow them up and shall billow them down 
 Till in water alone they shall smother and drown! 
 
 And I think he will live till he sees it; since John 
 Has a right that some lack to keep living right on. 
 He is doing as well as the best of us can 
 In the worship of God by the service of man — 
 Fellow man; though it may be in order to mention, 
 His good fellow woman lacks proper attention. 
 
 But the chairman is young — may he never grow old! 
 And who knows when Methuselah's wooing grew cold? 
 A.nd who but St. Patrick could tell of the dreams 
 Of an Irishman's heart when the coldest it seems? 
 
 And who shall dare say 
 
 That St. Patrick's own day 
 May not bring John the joy of a happy tomorra 
 In Love's own jauntin' car to be ridin', begorra? 
 
 And this is the tribute paid now by my muse, 
 
 To your call for a speech that I could not refuse. 
 
 I'm a veteran, too, let me slowly confess, 
 
 But as young as the youngest, I claim, none the less; 
 
 124 
 
B %om of Ibope anD ffattb 
 
 And my purpose it is to sing on through the years — 
 To sing on, and hope on, though too often the tears 
 May make misty my vision when backward I see 
 The green graves of the many who journeyed with me 
 
 Fill your glasses again with the drink that is best 
 
 For the heart and the soul, 
 
 For the life and the goal. 
 And for all that must hold in eternity's test — 
 Fill your glasses again, is my pleading command. 
 And then drink with me here, as in silence we stand, 
 To the men and the women who dared and who died 
 In their love for their God and humanity wide; 
 May we live as they lived — be as brave for the truth — 
 Till we find, as they found, the true Fountain of Youth! 
 
 a Song of Ibope anb jfaitb 
 
 (In Memory of the Dead, and for Cheer of the Living.) 
 
 I. 
 
 The workers go; the singers come 
 
 To silence, after song; 
 Still bides the Evil that we hate; 
 Still strides the hated Wrong 
 
 With giant strength across the land. 
 The Good obeys its bold command. 
 And serves it well with willing hand — 
 How long, O Lord, how long! 
 
 125 
 
H ^orxQ ot Ibope anb Jattb 
 
 II. 
 
 Goliath his defiance hurls 
 
 Before the host of Right; 
 And some who might his challenge meet 
 Have gone beyond our sight. 
 
 But yonder still our Kedron flows, 
 And one sure pebble slowly grows 
 Till Right's own David finds and throws 
 It in divinest might. 
 
 III. 
 
 The morn was misty with its doubt; 
 
 We faint with noontide heat; 
 The way is long our feet must go, 
 But evening cometh sweet. 
 
 Across the land for help they cry; 
 Sad hunger's hands are lifted high; 
 Shall Manhood struggle, famish, die, 
 Without our love complete? 
 
 IV. 
 
 We mourn the dead, whose hearts were true 
 
 To all this human need; 
 We miss the songs that stirred the faint 
 To braver hope and deed; 
 
 But God the songs and singers gave, 
 And every heart that beat so brave; 
 And God lives on above each grave — 
 And always prayer can plead! 
 
 i;^6 
 
V. 
 
 Thy grace of patience give us, then, 
 
 Who need it as we stand 
 And face the Wrong that scoffs the Right 
 Across a smitten land. 
 
 Grant faith which fails not with delay, 
 But waits the promised Better Day, 
 And firmly walks the darkened way 
 As by Divine command! 
 
 VI. 
 
 We hearken for the voices flown ; 
 
 We hunger for their aid 
 Who cheered us bravely by their deeds, 
 And led us undismayed. 
 
 But Duty bids us lead and sing 
 Until the lands in gladness ring 
 With victor-songs that Christ is King, 
 His righteous rule obeyed! 
 
 XiviuQ anb Beat) 
 
 Prefacing an Address Before a Grand Army Post. 
 
 It is more than a dream, a vision. 
 
 That once, on a day gone by, 
 In the tumult of War's Decision, 
 
 Our brothers went forth to die. 
 From the homes that with love were lighted 
 
 They marched, for the Flag they bore, 
 And they gave us a Land United, 
 
 Majestic, forevermore ! 
 
 127 
 
%ivim anD Dea^ 
 
 Let us garland their deeds with glory, 
 
 As fondly our blooms we bring; 
 Let us weave them in splendid story, 
 
 Recite them in songs we sing; 
 And as long as the heroes linger, 
 
 Who out of that conflict came. 
 Let us point to their forms the finger 
 
 Of pride, and our debt proclaim! 
 
 But the feet with the years must falter 
 
 That marched, in the strength of youth, 
 From the fire upon Freedom's altar 
 
 To fight for the Cause of Truth; 
 And the hearts that held high their guerdon 
 
 Of duty and love must go, 
 Borne down by their weary burden, 
 
 Under the green tents low. 
 
 We salute them, to-night, the living 
 
 Who fought as the brave who fell, 
 In that time of the Great Upgiving 
 
 Which History's tale shall tell; 
 And we think of the dead, wherever 
 
 In Honor and Fame they sleep. 
 With cheers for their proud endeavor, 
 
 With tears that we proudly weep! 
 
 To the living, our thanks we render. 
 For Union, preserved and strong; 
 
 To the dead, be our tribute tender. 
 Of blossom, and speech, and song; 
 
 128 
 
Hn Benediction 
 
 For they saved us a Land Unbroken, 
 They gave us a Land Made Free ; 
 
 And forever the royal token 
 Of loyalty both shall be! 
 
 flu Beneblction 
 
 O Thou God of the Flag of our Fathers who died! 
 
 O Thou Father of Christ, for the world crucified! 
 Help Thy people to-day to be faithful and bold 
 In defense of The Law which Thou gavest of old ! 
 
 May the lips of that Law shape the uttermost speech 
 
 In the ears of their love, as they listen, for each ! 
 At the foot of the Mountain of God once again 
 Bid them gather and learn Thy Commandments! 
 
 Amen. 
 
 129 
 
(i 
 
 mow II Xai? fiDe*' 
 
 A man's prayer at three score and ten 
 
 **NorD I la]) mer — Listening Lord, 
 Grant me, now, Tb}) srveet retpard 
 For my service of to-day — 
 Sleep, to soothe me on the way! 
 Close my eyes with tender touch 
 As of mother loving much; 
 
 Let me feel Thy Father hand 
 On my heart, with Love's command 
 Bidding every pain to cease. 
 Bringing calm for care — and peace. 
 
 When the morning comes to men 
 
 Open Thou mine eyes again. 
 Till Thy face of love I see 
 Smiling sweetly down on me! 
 
 Tal^e my trusting hand in Thine; 
 
 Hold it there, like mother mine; 
 Make me smile, as if I Were 
 Babe of Thine on breast of Her! 
 
 Through another day enticed 
 
 Let me go as led of Christ, 
 
 Suffered as a child to roam 
 
 With Him only, toward His Home! 
 
 131 
 
/:PR 4 1913