BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC. MINE eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord: He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword; His truth is marching on. I have seen him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps; I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps. His day is marching on. I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel: "As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal; Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel, Since God is marching on." He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat; He is sifting out the hearts of men before his judgment-seat: O, be swift, my soul, to answer him! be jubilant, my feet! Our God is marching on. In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me: As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, While God is marching on. H. D. THOREAU. [U. S. A.] INSPIRATION. IF with light head erect I sing, source. But if with bended neck I grope, Making my soul accomplice there They have builded him an altar in the I hearing get, who had but ears, evening dews and damps; And sight, who had but eyes before; It is nothing now, ELIZABETH LLOYD HOWELL. When heaven is opening on my sight [U. s. A.] MILTON'S PRAYER IN BLINDNESS. I AM old and blind! less eyes? When airs from paradise refresh my brow, The earth in darkness lies. In a purer clime Men point at me as smitten by God's My being fills with rapture, frown; thought -waves of Roll in upon my spirit, strains sublime Break over me unsought. Give me my lyre! I feel the stirrings of a gift divine: Within my bosom glows unearthly fire, Lit by no skill of mine. C. F. ALEXANDER. THE BURIAL OF MOSES. By Nebo's lonely mountain There lies a lonely grave. And no man knows that sepulchre, For the angels of God upturned the sod, |