One voice.
by Minnie Fry.
One who sat at home in silenceSaw the army hurrying by,
And her thoughts gave echo faintly
To their eager battle-cry.
“Ah!” she sang, “some wrong is hidden
Under all our high endeavor;
We shall fail, and fail forever,
Till we work as we are bidden;
Till the last red chain we sever,
Linking us to sin and wrong.
What although the tie be strong?
Yet the spirit sword is stronger,
Keen to sever good from ill;
Ready, when we doubt no longer,
All God's purpose to fulfil,
Ready, waiting for our hand;
Shall our hands hang slack beside us,
Idle till some good betide us
While the war-cloud glooms the land?”
“Rise, O youth, in strength and glory,
Age with wisdom deep and calm;
Minstrel tune for lofty story;
Women pour the healing balm.
Let the earth feel your upstarting;
Shame on those who careless stand,
While the glory is departing
From the threshold of our land;
Come with freedom for the nation,
Freedom for each man therein;
Spread the glorious proclamation,
Though it be accounted sin;
Though upon the lofty places,
Where ambition spreads her lure,
There be pallid, fear-struck faces--
Make the glorious end secure.”
“Ah!” she sang, “so few are dreaming
Of the perfect end of peace;
Ah!” she sang, “so many scheming
How the strife may soonest cease;
Ah! so many name and station
And the watchword of the nation
To ignoble purpose lend;
Here and there a lofty spirit
Shall the hight of love inherit
Faithful found unto the end.”
But the end looks through the distance,
Faint and far off, like a star;
Never, save through upward climbing,
Reach we where its glories are.
pleasant Ridge, O.
