For

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,

Home

Lest we forget-lest we forget!

and

Country Far-called our navies melt away

On dune and headland sinks the fire-
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday

Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget-lest we forget!

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe-
Such boasting as the Gentiles use

Or lesser breeds without the Law-
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget-lest we forget!

For heathen heart that puts her trust
In reeking tube and iron shard—
All valiant dust that builds on dust,

And guarding calls not Thee to guard-
For frantic boast and foolish word,

Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord! Amen.

RUDYARD KIPLING.

The Fatherland

Where is the true man's fatherland?
Is it where he by chance is born?
Doth not the yearning spirit scorn

In such scant borders to be spanned?
Oh yes! his fatherland must be
As the blue heaven wide and free!

Is it alone where freedom is,

Where God is God and man is man? Doth he not claim a broader span For the soul's love of home than this? Oh yes! his fatherland must be

As the blue heaven wide and free!

Where'er a human heart doth wear
Joy's myrtle-wreath or sorrow's gyves,
Where'er a human spirit strives
After a life more true and fair,
There is the true man's birthplace grand,
His is a world-wide fatherland!

Where'er a single slave doth pine,

Where'er one man may help another,-
Thank God for such a birthright, brother,-
That spot of earth is thine and mine!
There is the true man's birthplace grand,
His is a world-wide fatherland!

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.

For Home

and Country

INTERLEAVES

New World and Old Glory

The verse in this division gives a poetic picture of America, dear land of all our love, from the very beginning of her world-life. It sings her story from the time when Columbus,

sailed toward the mysterious continent that lay hidden in the West; sings it from the thrilling moment when the weary sailors sighted the new land, up to the twentieth century, when Old Glory waves

"Wherever the sails of peace are seen

And wherever the war-wind blows."

Heroic figures, familiar to us from childhood, appear in these metrical versions of episodes in our national history. Here is the red man whose hour, alas! was struck when first the pale-face looked upon his happy huntinggrounds; here are Pocahontas and her Captain; the Pilgrim Fathers; Washington, the soldier-statesman; the embattled farmers who fired at Concord the shot heard round the world; the Continentals in their ragged regimentals, and Old Ironsides with its memories of 1812. Then, when "westward the Star of Empire takes its way," come the Argonauts of '49, crossing the plains in their white-sailed prairie schooners in search, like Jason, of the Golden Fleece.

The years move on, and Abraham Lincoln, the Great Commoner, dear benefactor of the race, appears, and, kneeling at his feet, the dusky slave whose bonds he loosened. Gallant Phil Sheridan and Barbara Frietchie are here too; indeed, you will find that the number of poems inspired by the Civil War is very great; but the patriot host, above, below, knows now no North nor South; and Lincoln's " dear majestic ghost "looks down upon, as Old Glory floats over, a united commonwealth.