Voices for the Speechless Part 9

_Chorus:_ Be kind to dumb creatures, nor grudge them your care, G.o.d gave them their life, and your love they must share; And He who the sparrow's fall tenderly heeds, Will lovingly look on compa.s.sionate deeds.

The brave are the tender,--then do not refuse To carefully cherish the brutes you must use; Make their life's labor sweet, not dreary and sad, Their working and serving you, easy and glad.

_Chorus:_ "Be kind," etc.

He made them and blessed them, the least are his care: The swallow that wings her swift flight through the air, The dog on your hearthstone, the horse in your barn, The cow in your pasture, the sheep on your farm.

_Chorus:_ "Be kind," etc.

_Our Dumb Animals._

ACTION.

Do something! do it soon! with all thy might; An angel's wing would droop if long at rest, And G.o.d inactive were no longer blest.

Some high or humble enterprise of good Contemplate till it shall possess thy mind, Become thy study, pastime, rest, and food, And kindle in thy heart a flame refined: Pray heaven for firmness thy whole soul to bind To this high purpose: to begin, pursue, With thoughts all fixed, and feelings purely kind; Strength to complete, and with delight review, And strength to give the praise where all is due.

WILc.o.x.

"IN HIM WE LIVE."

The measureless gulfs of air are full of Thee: Thou art, and therefore hang the stars: they wait And swim, and s.h.i.+ne in G.o.d who bade them be, And hold their sundering voids inviolate.

A G.o.d concerned (veiled in pure light) to bless, With sweet revealing of his love, the soul; _Towards things piteous, full of piteousness; The Cause, the Life, and the continuing Whole.

He is more present to all things He made Than anything unto itself can be; Full-foliaged boughs of Eden could not shade Afford, since G.o.d was also 'neath the tree._

JEAN INGELOW.

FIRM AND FAITHFUL.

Be firm and be faithful; desert not the right; The brave are the bolder, the darker the night; Then up and be doing, though cowards may fail; Thy duty pursuing, dare all, and prevail.

If scorn be thy portion, if hatred and loss, If stripes or a prison, remember the cross!

G.o.d watches above thee, and He will requite; Stand firm and be faithful, desert not the right.

NORMAN MCLEOD.

HEART SERVICE.

Our hearts' pure service, Love, be thine, Who clothest all with rights divine, Whose great Soul burns, though ne'er so dim, In all that walk, or fly, or swim.

All Father! who on Mercy's throne Hear'st thy dumb creatures' faintest moan,-- Thy love be ours, and ours shall be Returned in deeds to thine and Thee.

REV. H. BERNARD CARPENTER.

EXULTING SINGS.

Sweet morn! from countless cups of gold Thou liftest reverently on high More incense fine than earth can hold, To fill the sky.

_The lark by his own carol blest_, From thy green harbors eager springs; And his large heart in little breast Exulting sings.

The fly his jocund round unweaves, _With choral strain the birds salute The voiceful flocks_, and nothing grieves, And naught is mute.

To thousand tasks of fruitful hope, With skill against his toil, man bends And finds his work's determined scope Where'er he wends.

From earth, and earthly toil and strife, To deathless aims his love may rise, Each dawn may wake to better life, With purer eyes.

JOHN STERLING.

IN HOLY BOOKS.

In holy books we read how G.o.d hath spoken To holy men in many different ways; But hath the present worked no sign nor token?

Is G.o.d quite silent in these latter days?

The word were but a blank, a hollow sound, If He that spake it were not speaking still; If all the light and all the shade around Were aught but issues of Almighty Will.

So, then, _believe that every bird that sings_, And every flower that stars the elastic sod, And every thought the happy summer brings, To the pure spirit is a word of G.o.d.

HARTLEY COLERIDGE.

THE BELL OF ATRI.

At Atri in Abruzzo, a small town Of ancient Roman date, but scant renown, One of those little places that have run Half up the hill, beneath a blazing sun, And then sat down to rest, as if to say, "I climb no farther upward, come what may,"-- The Re Giovanni, now unknown to fame, So many monarchs since have borne the name, Had a great bell hung in the market-place Beneath a roof, projecting some small s.p.a.ce, By way of shelter from the sun and rain.

Then rode he through the streets with all his train, And, with the blast of trumpets loud and long, Made proclamation, that whenever wrong Was done to any man, he should but ring The great bell in the square, and he, the King, Would cause the Syndic to decide thereon.

Such was the proclamation of King John.

How swift the happy days in Atri sped, What wrongs were righted, need not here be said.

Suffice it that, as all things must decay, The hempen rope at length was worn away, Unravelled at the end, and strand by strand, Loosened and wasted in the ringer's hand, Till one, who noted this in pa.s.sing by, Mended the rope with braids of briony, So that the leaves and tendrils of the vine Hung like a votive garland at a shrine.

By chance it happened that in Atri dwelt A knight, with spur on heel and sword in belt, Who loved to hunt the wild-boar in the woods, Who loved his falcons with their crimson hoods, Who loved his hounds and horses, and all sports And prodigalities of camps and courts;-- Loved, or had loved them: for at last, grown old, His only pa.s.sion was the love of gold.

He sold his horses, sold his hawks and hounds, Rented his vineyards and his garden-grounds, Kept but one steed, his favorite steed of all, To starve and s.h.i.+ver in a naked stall, And day by day sat brooding in his chair, Devising plans how best to h.o.a.rd and spare.

At length he said: "What is the use or need To keep at my own cost this lazy steed, Eating his head off in my stables here, When rents are low and provender is dear?

Let him go feed upon the public ways; I want him only for the holidays."

So the old steed was turned into the heat Of the long, lonely, silent, shadeless street; And wandered in suburban lanes forlorn, Barked at by dogs, and torn by brier and thorn.