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It shall bid the sad rejoice,
It shall give the dumb a voice,
It shall belt with joy the earth!
Ring and swing,
Bells of joy! On morning's wing
Send the song of praise abroad!
With a sound of broken chains
Tell the nations that He reigns,
Who alone is Lord and God!

FOOTNOTE:
[24] By permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co., authorized publishers of
this author's works.


THE PILGRIM FATHERS
FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS

The breaking waves dashed high on a stern and rockbound coast,
And the woods against a stormy sky their giant branches tossed,
And the heavy night hung dark the hills and waters o'er,
When a band of exiles moored their bark on the wild New England
shore.
Not as the conqueror comes, they, the true-hearted, came,--
Not with the roll of stirring drums, and the trumpet that sings of
fame:
Not as the flying come, in silence and in fear,--
They shook the depths of the desert's gloom with their hymns of
lofty cheer.


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