True David halted not When sin had cast him down, Upon his royal life a blot, Death reaching for his crown.

His work was but half done; A man of action still, He struggled in the gloaming sun To do his Maker's will;

Till in the golden light Great words began to shine: _In sorrow is exalting might, Repentance is divine_.

And now the shepherd king We count the human sire Of One who turns our hungering Into achieved desire.

Elijah.

Elijah, through the night Which shrouded Israel In toiling, groping for the light, Foretold Immanuel.

And in heroic trust That night would yield to day-- His imperfections thick as dust Along the desert way;

His bold, rebuking cry Heard in the wilderness.

Till from the chariot of the sky His mantle fell to bless--

The stern, half-savage seer Became a prophecy Of gladness and the Golden Year, In all high minstrelsy.

Aelemaehus the Monk.

How well he wrought who stood Against an ancient wrong, And left the spangles of his blood To light the sky of song!

A gladiatorial show, And eighty thousand men For savage pastime all aglow-- O marvel there and then!

An unknown monk, his life Defenseless, interposed, Forbade the old barbaric strife-- The red arena closed!

That unrecovered rout!

Those fire-shafts from the Sun!

O Telemaque! who, who shall doubt Thy Master's will was done?

Washington.

The deeds of Washington Were lit with patriot flame; A crown for Liberty he won, And won undying fame.

He heard his country's cry, He heard her bugle-call, 'Twas sweet to live for her, or die; Her cause was all in all.

He heard the psalm of peace, He sought again the plow; O civic toil, canst thou increase The laurels for his brow?

As with a father's hand He led the infant state; Colossus of his native land, He still is growing great.

Lincoln.

G.o.d placed on Lincoln's brow A sad, majestic crown; All enmity is friendship now, And martyrdom renown.

A mighty-hearted man, He toiled at Freedom's side, And lived, as only heroes can, The truth in which he died.

Like Moses, eyes so dim, All signs he could not spell; Yet he endured, as seeing Him Who is invisible.

His life was under One "Who made and loveth all;"

And when his mighty work was done, How grand his coronal!

Garfield.

Of Garfield's finished days, So fair and all too few, Destruction, which at noon-day strays, Could not the work undo.

O martyr prostrate, calm, I learn anew that pain Achieves, as G.o.d's subduing psalm, What else were all in vain!

Like Samson in his death, With mightiest labor rife, The moments of thy halting breath Were grandest of thy life.

And now, amid the gloom Which pierces mortal years, There shines a star above thy tomb To smile away our tears.

Not Too Near.

O workers brave and true, Whose lives are full of song, I dare not take too near a view, Lest I should do you wrong.

I only look to see The marks of sacrifice, The heraldry of sympathy, Which can alone suffice.

For nothing else is great, However proudly won, Or has the light to indicate The will of G.o.d is done.

Ah, who would judge what fire Will surely burn away!

And ask not, What doth G.o.d require At the Eternal Day?