Lift up your heads heed not the words of scorning,
From those whose earnest life is not begun,
Blessed are they who on the judgment morning
Hear from the Master, "Servant, 'tis well done"




ALAS, MY BROTHER!

(P McD)


We waited for him, and the anxious days
Melted to years and floated slowly by
We spoke of him kind words of lofty praise,
Of yearning love and tender sympathy.

We laid by what was his with reverent care--
Started in dreams to greet him coming home--
But hope deferred left no relief but prayer,
And heart-sore longings breathed in one word--Come.

We never dreamed of murderous ambush laid
By savage redskins greedy for the prey--
Of him, our darling, in the forest laid
Alone, alone, ebbing his life away.

He who would not have harmed the meanest thing,