Away, away with hollow words, Now sheath our speech, unsheath our sword! God wills: The guns of Christendom Proclaim the tyrant's doom has come! Manchester, N. H. TWO SONNETS. By Henry Van Dyke. I. The Turk's Way. "Stand back, ye messengers of mercy! Stand Far off, for I will save my troubled folk In my own way." So the false Sultan spoke; And Europe, harkening to his base command, Stood still to see him heal his wounded land. Through blinding snows of winter and through smoke Of burning towns she saw him deal the stroke Of cruel mercy that his hate had planned. Unto the prisoners and the sick he gave New tortures, horrible, without a name; Unto the thirsty, blood to drink; a sword Unto the hungry; with a robe of shame He clad the naked, making life abhorred. He saved by slaughter, but denied a grave. II. America's Way. But thou, my country, tho' no fault be thine For that red horror far across the sea; Tho' not a tortured wretch can point to thee, And curse thee for the selfishness supine Of those great powers who cowardly combine To shield the Turk in his iniquity; Yet, since thy hand is innocent and free, Rise, thou, and show the world the way divine. Thou canst not break the oppressor's iron rod, But thou canst minister to the oppressed; Thou canst not loose the captive's heavy chain, But thou canst bind his wounds and soothe his pain. Armenia calls thee, Empire of the West, To play the Good Samaritan for God. New York City. TO THOSE WHO DIED FOR THEIR FAITH. Armenia, 1894 to 189--? By Mrs. Merrill E. Gates. "These loved their lives not, to the death!" But we at ease to-day, who claim Allegiance to the One great Name, Could we as nobly die for Faith? We challenge not the crucial test! Self cannot prove to self its power If e'er should come that testing hour God give us grace to choose the Best! But these have overcome! Their Lord In bitter death have not denied! Have chosen still the Crucified In face of bayonet and sword! Our age heroic looms! Our eyes Behold white martyr brows! Still hears Our sin-gray world with unthrilled ears Once more the martyr-chorus rise! Come Thou to succor the great need! Thy judgment shall not long delay! God doeth his strange work to-day! The Judge is at the door! Take heed! Amherst, Mass. ARMENIA. By Willimina L. Armstrong.