"Thou who hast watched thy brother's dust,
When the wrung soul had fled;
And to the stranger gave thy cloak,
And to the orphan, bread.
"And when all else was gone, had still
A word of kindly cheer
For one more wretched than thyself,
Thou, soul, art welcome here.
"Put on the robe thou gav'st away
'Tis stainless now and white;
And all thy words and deeds are gems;
Wear them, it is thy right!"
And then from choir and harp awoke
A joyous, welcome strain,
Which other harps and choirs took up,
In jubilant refrain,
Till all the aisles of Summer Land
Grew resonant, as beat
The measures of that mighty song
Of welcome, full and sweet.
"That is purty. I hope there were no mistake about the gintleman making the showing up above," said Corrigan.
"What lots of music there must be up in that country," chimed in Carlin. "I wonder if there are any buildings any where on the back streets where new beginners practice."
"That represents the Hebrew idea of Heaven," said Alex. "I like that of the savage better, with hills and streams and glorious old woods. There is a dearer feeling of rest attached to it, and rest is what a life craves most after a buffet of three score years in this world."
"Rest is a pretty good thing after an eight-hours' wrestle with the gnomes down on a 2,300 level of the Comstock," said Miller; "suppose we say good night."
"Withdraw the motion for a moment, Miller," said Wright. "First, I move that our friends here be made honorary members of the Club."