125. the volunteer.Hard by the porch of the village church,
A dusty traveller halts awhile to rest;
His head droops tired down upon his breast,
But the word of prayer wakes new life there.
“God bless the brave, who go to save
Our country, in her dark, dread hour of danger!”
The good man's voice was comfort to the stranger;
Duty wipes away a tear as he hurries to the war.