They have gathered about you the harvest Of death, in its ghastliest view; The nearest as well as the farthest Is here with the traitor and true! And crowned with your beautiful patience, Made sunny with love at the heart, You must balsam the wounds of a nation, Nor falter, nor shrink from your part!
Up and down through the wards, where the fever Stalks noisome, and gaunt and impure, You must go with your steadfast endeavor To comfort, to counsel, to cure! I grant that the task’s superhuman, But strength will be given to you To do for these dear ones what woman Alone in her pity can do.
And the lips of the mothers will bless you As angels sweet visaged and pale! And the little ones run to caress you, While the wives and the sisters cry “Hail!” But e’en if you drop down unheeded, What matter? God’s ways are the best; You’ve poured out your life where ’twas needed, And He will take care of the rest.
[Southern.]
THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND MORE.
