Gleams of Sunshine Part 7

They go uncalled, content the gaps to fill, And in their places fall, if G.o.d so will, For they fear not to die.

The whole Empire is loyal to the core.

From far-off East, brave Indians seek the fray, And on French soil have clearly shown that they Were true to flag they bore.

Their old-time leader greets his men once more, Bestows his parting blessing ere his death, And praised their valor with his final breath, Then crossed to _other_ sh.o.r.e.

Our own brave youth by thousands answer call, And in our common cause enroll their names; With cultured minds and well-developed frames They stand like granite wall.

For _truth_ and _brotherhood_ all face the foe; Themselves they cannot save, but others may.

But, live or die, they hope to win the day.

To sacrifice they go!

QUEEN VICTORIA

A Prize Birthday Poem, 1885.

We do not sing of vast domain-- Empires as vast as ours are seen, And o'er their millions despots reign; We sing the virtues of our Queen.

We think of her when but a maid The message came, "_the King is dead!_"

And at her feet a crown was laid; In deep distress of mind, she said:

"_In my behalf I ask your prayers._"

Then falling on her knees to pray, She told the Lord her fears and cares, And sought from Him strength for her day.

He seemed to say, "_Child, do not fear; I will uphold thee with my hand, And I will make thy pathway clear, Thy throne establish in the land._"

'Twas thus began Victoria's reign, And G.o.d has made her throne secure; Her enemies will plot in vain, For it is destined to endure.

But while she sits on regal throne, And acts full well a regal part, She reigns not on the throne alone, She reigns to-day in England's heart.

Her queenly heart with pity throbs For every suffering subject's woes; In lowly cot, 'midst groans and sobs, She like a ray of sunshine goes.

As sweet perfume by outward gale Is carried far o'er sea and land, So queenly virtues never fail To touch true hearts on every strand.

In every land, her name is blest; She is beloved by old and young; From pole to pole, from east to west, The song, "G.o.d save the Queen," is sung.

Through sorrows deep her path has led, And tender ties have sundered been; Bright hopes were buried with her dead, And love has kept their memory green.

By grief secluded from the world, Her path through lonely years she trod, And oft her life has been imperilled; But she has leaned upon her G.o.d.

And as she wept a nation's tears In heartfelt sympathy were shed; Forgetting their own griefs and biers, They wept beside the royal dead.

With grateful hearts her natal day We loyal Britons hail again, And join with millions as they pray "_G.o.d bless our Queen! Long may she reign!_"

And when at last life's glories fade, And robes of state are laid aside, When nature's debt to dust is paid And charms no more earth's pomp and pride,

May angel bands her spirit bear Up to the palace of her King, Where she a fadeless crown shall wear, And the new song with rapture sing.

SILVER TONES

A stately church by pious hands erected long ago, Was found to lack a vesper bell, by which the poor might know The hour of prayer, the hour of ma.s.s, and who had lately died, The hour when gent and bonny la.s.s, so timid at his side, Would stand before the surpliced priest, and twain would pledge their troth, The hour in which the priest would vent on heretic his wrath.

The faithful then were called upon to bring from home and mine The metal for the holy bell, which must be strong and fine.

In smelting pot of ma.s.sive size they placed the needed ore; A molten ma.s.s it soon became, but ere in mould they pour, And thus provide a bell for G.o.d to grace His temple fair, In crowds the people came, to see the metal glowing there.

Then as they pa.s.sed, with hearts devout, each took a silver coin And dropped it in the glowing ma.s.s--no priest did this enjoin.

They wished to show their grateful love to Him who bore their sin; A simple form which love took on, not done G.o.d's grace to win.

Nor did they hope to win applause from priest and saintly friar; If G.o.d were pleased they asked no more, nor more did they desire; Nor did they deem their silver lost, though little dreamed they then The grand result of their small gifts, which now is known to men.

Their coins were for a moment seen, like flakes of snow on sward, And then they melted out of sight, yet, seen by their blest Lord, They mingled with the glowing ma.s.s, and when in high church tower The bell was hung and daily rung, all people felt its power.

Its booming tones were soft and sweet, and echoed o'er their hills In a grand symphony of praise, subduing all their wills, And calling forth from old and young a burst of rapturous praise.

Their gifts, though small, were not despised; G.o.d turned them into lays.

This world is one great smelting pot in which life's ore is cast, And from it G.o.d will some day bring a bell, destined to last And ring aloud in thunder tones wherever man is found.

Oh, may we, by kind words and deeds, give it a silver sound!

Each word though short, each deed though small, if for the Master's sake Are said and done, like silver coin, our blessed Lord will take, And skillfully will blend them with the coa.r.s.er ore of earth, And grander music none have heard e'er since time had its birth.

Then from this bell of silver tone will sound o'er hill and vale: "The work men do in Jesus' name is never known to fail."

G.o.d'S ORDER

Every flower that decks the way, Whether it be dun or gay, Fills a place in G.o.d's great plan, Serving Him, while pleasing man.

Every star that gilds the night With its beams of silver light Has its mission to fulfil, As a.s.signed it by G.o.d's will.

Feathered songsters all declare As they cleave the ambient air, "He who made us made our lays, Giving each a note of praise; Each one's note, unique and sweet, Helps to make the song complete; Various tones, yet all agree, Forming one grand symphony."

So, also, does G.o.d's own hand Fix in place each grain of sand, Tiny though that grain may be Hangs on it the destiny Of a world, yea, systems whole, As they in their orbits roll; Should it from its globe remove, Worlds would clash and chaos prove.

When we reach the world of mind Law and order still we find; In G.o.d's purpose is a plan For the life of every man.

Free, he may his own course choose, Help divine through pride refuse, But disorder will ensue-- Life a wreck! Yet G.o.d is true.

INFLUENCE

In gentle showers the rain descends, And softly falls the dew.

The dewdrop with the raindrop blends; The tiny stream they form then wends Its way the gra.s.ses through.

And kindred streams with it combine And form a rivulet; Then on it runs like trailing vine, Lays bare the roots of oak and pine, And other brooks are met.