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"Hope on, hope ever" -- weary and oppressed,
Care's pallid seal stamped on thy sunken cheek;
There is a haven of eternal rest
Whose sacred joy no mortal tongue can speak;
Look upward in thine hour of dark despair:
Hope points to heaven, and drops her anchor there.

A REVERIE

Under the boughs of the waving trees,
Wooing the breath from a passing breeze,
Gathering daisies pure and sweet,
Far from the noisy crowded street,
There would I sit through the long, long day,
Dreaming the golden hours away;
Dreaming of pleasures that fancy brings
'Neath the silken folds of her airy wings,
Till my heart beats quick and I feel the glow
Of friendship's smile in the long ago.

Down where the ocean billows swell,
And over and over their story tell,
Down where the distant breakers roar,
And I hear their voice on the sandy shore,
There would I be when the sunset hue
Fades in the depths of the waters blue;
There would I roam when the shadows creep
Over the face of the mighty deep,
And the moon looks down from her saintly bower
With a hallowed light on that lone, lone hour.

SABBATH EVENING

Lo, the setting sun is stealing
Softly through the clustering vines;
On the spirit sweet peace sealing,
As this Sabbath day declines.

Lovely spot, oh, sacred hour,
Day of all our days the best,
Weakening the tempter's power,
Pointing to the promised rest.

While we watch thy fading splendor,
Thou adorner of the skies,
May we all our hearts surrender
To the God who bade thee rise.

OUR COUNTRY

Our country, unrivalled in beauty,
And splendor that cannot be told,
How lovely thy hills and thy woodlands,
Arrayed in the sunlight of gold.
The eagle, proud king of the mountain,
Is soaring majestic and free;
Thy rivers and lakes in their grandeur
Roll on to the arms of the sea.

Our country, the birthplace of freedom,
The land where our forefathers trod,
And sang in the aisles of the forest
Their hymns of thanksgiving to God.
Their bark they had moored in the harbor,
No more on the ocean to roam;
And there in the wilds of New England
They founded a country and home.

Our country, with ardent devotion,
In God may thy children abide;
In him be the strength of the nation,
His laws and His counsel to guide.
Our banner -- that time honored banner --
That floats in the ocean's bright foam,
God keep it unsullied forever,
Our standard, our union, our home.

A TRIBUTE
(To the memory of our dead heroes)

To arms! to arms! We remember well
That wild, tumultuous cry,
When our country rang with clash and clang
Of swords that were lifted high;
For the king of war, on his fiery steed,
Shot flame from his flashing eye.

The eagle screamed as he flapped his wings,
And soared to his rock-girt nest,
And the ocean moaned, as he heard the sound
Far, far on his heaving breast.

To arms! to arms! and defend your cause!
In the cannon's boom was heard;
And the clarion swelled its pealing note,
Till every soul was stirred;
And our gallant brave from the homes they loved
Went forth at their country's word.

Side by side on the battlefield,
With loyal hearts and true,
Side by side they fought and died
For the old red, white and blue.

And now we stand on the sacred spot,
Where we laid them down to sleep;
And we touch the chords of memory's harp,
And linger awhile to weep.
With grateful hearts and reverent lips,
We tell of their deeds of fame;
And cover them over with fair young flowers
That whisper their honored name.

Their work is done; and from year to year
We hallow their graves anew;
Their work is done, and our banner bright
Unfurled to the breeze we view;
And we look with pride on the Stars and Stripes,
That were saved by the Boys in Blue.

WHAT THE OLD YEAR SAW

The moon looked down from a cloudless sky,
On the white and crispy snow;
And one by one the hours went by,
While I heard the wild winds blow.
I thought of those who were toiling hard,
Their burden of life to bear;
I thought of the homes that were dark and cold,
And the little ones shivering there;

Then I looked again at the queenly moon,
As she walked in her path of light;
And I prayed from the depths of my inmost soul,
"Lord, pity the poor tonight."
While thus I mused by myself alone,
Watching the embers glow,
A form stole in; he was bent with age,
And his locks were white as snow.

"You wonder," he said, and his voice was weak;
"You wonder to find me here.
But much have I seen that I fain would tell,
And then I must bid you a long farewell
For I am the old, old year.
Yes, much have I seen of good and ill,
Of pleasure and sorrow, too.
Take heed to my counsel where'er you go.

"Be kind to the erring and soothe their woe,
As God has been kind to you.
I saw a youth in an evil hour
Beguiled by the tempting bowl;
And he deeply drank of its baneful dregs,
That burned to his very soul;
And I saw him won by a loving word:
Reclaimed from his reckless ways;

"And only this morning I heard him say
'To Jesus be all his praise':
I saw a wife by her husband's side,
And her hand he warmly pressed;
I heard her singing a cradle song,
And hushing her babe to rest.
But the demon entered their peaceful home,
And clouded her fair young brow,