ONWARD COURAGEOUSLY.
BEND thee to action-nerve thee to duty!
Whate'er it may be, never despair!
God reigns on high,—pray to him truly,
He will an answer give to thy prayer.
Shrinketh thyself from crosses before thee?
Art thou so made as to tremble and fear?
Confide in thy God; he will watch o'er thee;
Humbly and trustingly, brother, draw near!
Clouds may be gathering, light may depart,
Earth that thou treadest seem crumbling away;
New foes, new dangers, around thee may start,
And spectres of evil tempt thee astray.
Onward courageously! nerved for the task,
Do all thy duty, and strength shall be thine;
Whate'er you want in humility ask,
Aid shall be given from a source that's divine.
Do all thy duty faithful and truly;
Trust in thy Maker,—he's willing to save
Thee from all evil, and keep thee securely,
And make thee triumphant o'er death and the grave.
A FOREST PIC-NIC SONG.
WITHIN these woods, beneath these trees,
We meet to-day a happy band;
All joy is ours,—we feel the breeze
Blow gently o'er our native land.
How brightly blooms each forest flower!
What cheerful notes the wild bird sings!
How nature charms our festive hour,
What beauty round our pathway springs!
The aged bear no weight of years;
The good old man, the matron too,
Forget their ills, forget their fears,
And range the dim old forests through
With youth and maiden on whose cheek
The ruddy bloom of health doth glow,
And in whose eyes the heart doth speak
Oft more than they would have us know.
How pleasant thus it is to dwell
Within the shadow of this wood,
Where rock and tree and flower do tell
To all that nature's God is good!
Here nature's temple open stands,—
There's none so nobly grand as here,—
The sky its roof; its floor, all lands,
While rocks and trees are worshippers.
There's not a leaf that rustles now,
A bird that chants its simple lays,
A breeze that passing fans our brow,
That speaks not of its Maker's praise.
O, then, let us who gather here
Praise Him who gave us this glad day,
And when the twilight shades appear
Pass with his blessing hence away!
THE WARRIOR'S BRIDE.
CHAPTER I.
ROME was enjoying the blessings of peace; and so little employment attended the soldier's every-day life, that the words "as idle as a soldier" became a proverb indicative of the most listless inactivity.
The people gave themselves up to joy and gladness. The sound of music was heard from all parts of the city, and perfumed breezes went up as an incense from the halls of beauty and mirth.
It was, indeed, a blessed time for the city of the seven hills; and its people rejoiced as they had not for many a long, long year-ay, for a century.
"Peace, sweet peace, a thousand blessings attend thy glad reign. See you how quietly the peasant's flocks graze on our eternal hills? The tinkling bell is a sweeter sound than the trumpet's blast; and the curling smoke, arising from the hearth-stones of contented villagers, is a truer index of a nation's power than the sulphurous cloud from the field of battle. What say you, Alett,—is it not?"