Let the glad message of the Gospel shine
Upon the unsullied whiteness of each page,
The gentle words our blessèd Saviour spoke,
And the grand thoughts of prophets old and sage.
The worn-out sails, great service they have done,
We will not let them perish and decay,
This, their last work, the greatest and the best,
It shall preserve them in our land for aye.
The stately ships that sail the ocean wide,
Can England guard from foe and hostile band;
But God’s word in the people’s hearts, is still
The secret of the greatness of our land.
E. L. B. (Alice).
IN MEMORIAM.
Gordon is dead: and lo! the unconscious wire
Carries the mournful message on its way,
Girdling the globe with news of direst truth,
From Egypt’s minarets to broad Cathay.
The Christian soldier, and the Christian man,
Sleeps by the side of Nile’s historic wave,
Rescued by Death, his freedom is secured,
And now he wears the garments of the brave.
In vain the stubborn fight of Abu Klea;
In vain Metammeh’s more than brilliant charge;
Gordon is dead; England is craped in black,
And funeral echoes pall the world at large.
’Twas treachery that struck the fatal blow;
Traitors within the walls of far Khartoum,
Laid the invincible for ever low,
And sealed their own irrevocable doom.