A weapon that comes down as still

As snowflakes fall upon the sod;

But executes a freeman's will,

As lightning does the will of God;

And from its force nor doors nor locks

Can shield you,—'t is the ballot-box.

A Word from a Petitioner.

From every place below the skies

The grateful song, the fervent prayer,—

The incense of the heart,[538:1]—may rise