And as each soul is heavenward winged to raise To the Creator this grand psalm of praise, Forget not the crest-fallen hosts, but bear Their country's troubles to the throne of prayer.

Sons are we all of the same Father wise.

Who rules in sovereign pomp the earth and skies, Who bids all live in brotherhood divine, Without distinction of race, creed or clime.

G.o.d speed the day when cruel wars shall cease, And all the wrestling earth shall be at peace, When liberty's proud flag shall be unfurled, And justice, not the sword, shall rule the world.

"PEACE, WITH HONOUR."

"Peace with honour," glorious, joy-lit words!

Britons, lay down your arms, re-sheath your swords, For the red demon War lies foiled and chained, And Britain's prestige is anew proclaimed.

With re-united Europe, grateful raise To Heaven glad paeans of exultant praise; For see, crest-fallen strife, abashed, retreats, As Berlin's congress her design defeats.

While Justice, Peace and Hope effulgent stand, Aiding the Council of the patriot band.

Grand conclave of the wise, 'twas well ye bade Such Heaven-born guests lend to your council aid, Well for the good and welfare of the world That ye your Heaven-blest flag of peace unfurled!

Great Emperor Peacemaker! well hast, thou done, To link to thy long list of victories won, This bloodless one, where all alike contend, With cultured courtesy, as friend with friend, To help the fallen, bid rude pa.s.sions cease, Through moral suasion, and re-throne blest peace.

And thou, Disraeli, pillar of the State, With the proud flush of triumph now elate, Well hast thou earned thy laurels, n.o.bly won Thy Queen's and country's verdict of "well done,"

For with far-seeing mind, unflinching skill, Rare tact and talent, calm, consummate skill, Thou hast, with thy brave colleagues, fought our fight, And made stern right triumphant over might.

Since to the foremost and most honoured place A subject could aspire to, or could grace, Thou hast ascended by the nation's will, Let "Peace with Honour" be thy motto still.

Thus shall our civilizing mission be To future ages a reality, That where the flag of Britain is unfurled, Peace and good-will may flow to all the world, Till throughout every nation wars shall cease, And honour reign triumphantly with peace.

THE NEW YEAR.

The long day of the year is nearly done, The atoms through its sand-gla.s.s almost run, Another bridge is well-nigh swung--by Time O'er the grand current of life's course sublime.

For see! through floods of eastern glory high The morn's fair chariot swoops athwart the sky, And from its circling rose-lit atmosphere Steps, beaming with young hope, the infant year!

Knowing no bygones, he points gaily on To battles to be waged and victories won, Struggles with self, o'ercomings that will crown The combatants with honour and renown.

Battles which make the men of mark on earth.

Men who feel culture of all G.o.d's gifts worth, A thorough abnegation of self-will, To fit them life's work rightly to fulfil.

Then let each with the glad New Year begin To act so they may fadeless victories win, Since heaven's choice gifts and deathless wreaths of fame Wait for the good, and great, their joys to claim.

HOME.

Home! magic name of sweetest sound, That thrills us like a spell; That consecrates the humblest cot Where loved ones kindly dwell.

How much that simple name recalls Of happy childhood's days, When the old homestead was illumed By love's inspiring rays.

Visions of beauty unsurpa.s.sed, Are conjured by that word That thrills a Briton's heart where'er The English tongue is heard.

And when in exile wandering, On fairer, brighter plains; How the melodious name of home Our best affection claims.

The roof-tree may be stricken down, And loved ones be no more; But the sweet memories of our home Live on for evermore.

Wealth may attract and pleasure lure When far away we roam; But ah! how joyful we return To the pure shrine of home.

There we find sweet repose and peace, There too our holiest love; And there we gain a foretaste pure Of coming joys above.

Then "Home, sweet home," shall be our song On earth, and when on high 'Twill still be home, dear, happy home, In the glad "by-and-by."

IT IS BUT A FADED ROSEBUD.

It is but a lone faded rosebud That a dearly loved one gave to me, In years now long past but remembered And shrined for the years yet to be.

It opens the floodgates of memory, Discoursing of dear days gone by, Dead and buried except to rememb'rance Which never can slumber or die.

For hearts that have once truly mingled, In sympathy, love and esteem, Can never be really sundered Though oceans and seas roll between.

And still I will cherish my rosebud, Though it never may bloom to a flower, As a symbol of love that was strangled In life's saddest yet happiest hour.