RESOLUTION.

If you've any task to do, task to do,

Let me whisper, friend, to you, do it, do it, do it.

If you've anything to say, thing to say,

True and needed, yea or nay, say it, say it, say it.

If you've anything to give, thing to give,

That another's joy may live, give it, give it, give it.

If some hollow creed you doubt, creed you doubt,

Though the whole world hoot and shout, doubt it, doubt it, doubt it.

If you've any debt to pay, debt to pay,

Rest you neither night nor day, pay it, pay it, pay it.

The two compositions following appeared in "The Joy," published by Church & Co. in 1873 :

WELCOME.

Welcome, welcome, welcome,
Joy illumes our way;

Love shall reign in every bosom
With unbounded sway.

Praises, praises, praises,

For the sacred past,

For the mercies, rich, abundant,

Freely o'er us cast; Praises, praises, praises,

For the glad to-day,

For the future, grand and glorious,

Praise, oh, praise for aye.

CHAPTER XX.

MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS OF MR. BLISS-A SCHOOL COMPOSITION IN 1859 -CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE SONG MESSENGER-FROM GRAVE TO GAY AND GAY TO GRAVE-HOW SHOULD CHILDREN SING?-PRAISE MEETINGS..

THE

HE following composition was written by Mr. Bliss when at school, in 1859:

You are aware, my old friends, that you live in an age of darkness and ignorance -an age in which temptation and depravities are becoming more and more numerous. You, too, live in a land of slavery-a land on which the frowns of a just condemnation shade with an uncommon darkness. The cry of the oppressed and howl of the drunkard are ever to be heard on our mountains and in our valleys; deeds of sin are ever before us; the wicked struggle that sin may ever be predominant; and we live to endure the deep curse of slavery and poverty which was brought on by the sins of our fathers. These considerations seem to forbid that we should ever attempt to elevate ourselves, our country, or succeeding generations by the acquirement of knowledge.

We cannot but remember that ignorance is weakness; that an ignorant and depraved people will ever be slaves; and that on the ignorance of our youth depends the future slavery, the poverty, the misery, the contempt, and the disgrace of our despised country. Go on, then, with a contemptible ambition and dogged perseverance in the gully which leads to disgrace and dishonor. Press downward. Go and gather thorns from the marshes of ignorance; inhale of the foulness therein; drink deep of their stagnant pools and then join in the march of retrogradation. Become ignorant and depraved and you will be contemptible. Hate God and disobey Him, and continual unhappiness will be yours.

In the bound volumes of the Song Messenger, a monthly musical publication formerly issued by Root & Cady, now published by John Church & Co., are found several contributions from Mr. Bliss, written over the pseudonym of Pro Phundo Basso. Mr. Bliss was, at the time they were written, connected in a musical way with Root & Cady, and at their request contributed these pieces to make the paper more spicy and attractive by the vein of fun and good

A RETROSPECTIGRAPH.

209

natured satire that runs through these compositions. A few specimens are given, that Mr. Bliss' fun-loving and wit-creating characteristics may be appreciated.

A RETROSPECTIGRAPH.

At ye close of ye Normal Academie of Musick, at Janesville, 12th daye of 8th month, 1869.

Three cheers for Janesville I propose,

Hip, hip-ah, that don't bring it; If I'd count, one, two, three, I s'pose You'd all jump up and sing it.

Such lovely ladies, model men,

What verse shall sound your praises? Such soothing sidewalks (!), then again Such beautiful bouquetses.

Joy be with Janesville, so say I,
And so say all of us,

May thine aquatic fowls hang high,
Thy singers sing no wuss.

And now, good bye, Janesvillians, all,
We take our leave informal;
May no sad tho'ts your hearts appal
At mem'ry of our Normal.

I cannot stop till I declare

That no field hand or farmer
In music's realm can we compare
With our Prof. H. R. Palmer.

And though the singers bloom at morn, At noon his larynx withers,

While here for weeks, fatigue we scorn,
And scale him all to slithers.

In every heart some seeds of truth
Strong root have daily taken,
And oft the sweetest songs of youth
Will thoughts of Root awaken.

We came to learn the laws of song,
And now we go as sudden,

And won't we keep, thro' all life long,
Kind thoughts of W. Ludden?

And yet around the faculty

My muse immured still lingers,

To celebrate the praise of he

Who teacheth" wiggling fingers."

A model teacher, too, is he,

Nor doth waste words nor wrath use,

A man and a musician see

In W. S. B. Mathews.