Against every bad pamphlet send a good pamphlet; against every unclean picture send an innocent picture; against every scurrilous song send a Christian song; against every bad book send a good book. The good literature, the Christian literature, in its championship for God and the truth, will bring down the evil literature in its championship for the devil. I feel tingling to the tips of my fingers, and through all the nerves of my body, and all the depths of my soul, the certainty of our triumph. Cheer up! O men and women who are toiling for the purification of society. Toil with your faces in the sunlight. If God be for us, who can be against us? Ye workers in the light, There is a grand to-morrow, After the long and gloomy night, After the pain and sorrow The purposes of God Do not forever linger; With peace and consolation shod, Do ye not see the finger Which points the way of life To all down in the valley? Then gird ye, gird ye for the strife; Against the darkness rally. The victory is yours, And ye are God's forever; For all things He for you secures Through brave and right endeavor. * * * * * XX. SATISFIED AND OTHER POEMS. Sleeping, waking, on we glide, Dreamful, and unsatisfied, In the heart a vague surprise, Master of the thoughtful eyes. What though Spring is in the air, And the world is bright and fair? Something hidden from the sight Dashes fullness of delight. Soothed are we in duty done, And in something new begun, Like a kissed and flattered child To denial reconciled; Yet the something unattained Keeps us like Prometheus chained, And our hearts intenser grow As the vultures come and go. Sleeping, waking, on we glide, Dreamful and unsatisfied, Pilgrims on a foreign shore, Wanting something evermore, All the shadow in our eyes, All the substance in the skies. By and by another sleep, Angels watch and ward to keep. By and by, from wakeful eyes, Nothing of the old surprise, All pure dreams of earth fulfilled, Every sense with gladness thrilled. Then are we, no more denied, _With Thy likeness satisfied_. * * * * * SACRIFICE Sacrifice! therein I find no superstition of the past, But one of Truth's great words, all life within, As into chaos cast. God, God put it there, A trumpet-note to every living soul, A prophecy of all that is most fair Through darkness to the goal. I can not efface The record of this wonder-working Word, Nor in my memory but faintly trace Stern voices I have heard.