One shining track, which stretches far,
From wild Columbia's shore,
To where those doleful voices are,
And the Atlantic's roar.
Oh brethren, friends down by the sea,
With us your voices raise,
Instead of groans, oh, shout with glee,
With us, one shout of praise.
And trust him, brethren, trust us, too,
Seek not from us to go;
Our country's good is weal for you,
And common, all our woe.
* * * * *
A SNOW STORM.
I hear the wintry wind again,
I see the blinding snow,
Pil'd high, by eddying winds, in heaps,
No matter where I go.
The storm is raging hard, without;
But let us not complain,
For fiercely tho' it rages now,
A calm will come again.
And, though the wildly raging storm
Makes all things bleak and bare,
Beside the fire we brave it well,
And closer draw our chair.
In social fellowship, our hearts
With kindly thoughts grow warm;
Then is there not a pleasant side,
E'en to a raging storm?
And when the angry storm has calm'd,
As ev'ry storm must do,
Then, sure, the tempest's handiwork,
Has pleasant features, too.