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