Eighth Reader Part 29

Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

FOOTNOTE:

[Footnote 67: By Alfred Tennyson.]

V. THE NINETIETH PSALM

Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations.

Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art G.o.d.

Thou turns man to destruction; and sayest, Return, ye children of men.

For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past, and as a watch in the night.

Thou carried them away as with a flood; they are as a sleep: in the morning they are like gra.s.s which groweth up.

In the morning it flourisheth, and groweth up; in the evening it is cut down, and withereth.

For we are consumed by thine anger, and by thy wrath are we troubled.

Thou hast set our iniquities before thee, our secret sins in the light of thy countenance.

For all our days are pa.s.sed away in thy wrath; we spend our years as a tale that is told.

The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labor and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.

Who knoweth the power of thine anger? even according to thy fear, so is thy wrath.

So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom....

Oh, satisfy us early with thy mercy; that we may rejoice and be glad all our days....

Let thy work appear unto thy servants, and thy glory unto their children.

VI. RECESSIONAL[68]

G.o.d of our fathers, known of old-- Lord of our far-flung battle line-- Beneath Whose awful Hand we hold Dominion over palm and pine-- Lord G.o.d of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget!

The tumult and the shouting dies-- The captains and the kings depart-- Still stands Thine ancient Sacrifice, A humble and a contrite heart.

G.o.d of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget!

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 G.o.d 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.

FOOTNOTE:

[Footnote 68: By Rudyard Kipling.]