Where lofty fanes in grandeur rose, Upon his ear there fell No music like the long lost chimes Of his beloved bell. And thus he wandered year by year. Touched by the hand of time, Seeking to hear with anxious heart Each well remembered chime. And to that worn and weary heart There came a glad surcease: He heard again the dear old chimes, And smiled and uttered peace. THE LOST BELLS. 87 "The chimes! the chimes!" the old man cried, "I hear their tones at last;" A sudden rapture filled his heart, And all his cares were past. Yes, peace had come with death's sweet calm, His journeying was o'er, The weary, restless wanderer Had reached the restful shore. It may be that he met again, Enfolded in the air, The dear old chimes beside the gates Where all is bright and fair; That he who crossed and bowed his head When Angelus was sung In clearer light touched golden harps By angel fingers strung. 88 "DO NOT CHEER, MEN ARE DYING." "DO NOT CHEER, MEN ARE DYING," SAID CAPT. PHILLIPS, IN THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR. Do not cheer, for men are dying From their distant homes in pain; And the restless sea is darkened By a flood of crimson rain. Do not cheer, for anxious mothers Wait and watch in lonely dread; Vainly waiting for the footsteps Never more their paths to tread. Do not cheer, while little children Gather round the widowed wife, Wondering why an unknown people Sought their own dear father's life. Do not cheer, for aged fathers Bend above their staves and weep, While the ocean sings the requiem Where their fallen children sleep. Do not cheer, for lips are paling On which lay the mother's kiss; 'Mid the dreadful roar of battle How that mother's hand they miss! "DO NOT CHEER, MEN ARE DYING." 89 Do not cheer: once joyous maidens, Who the mazy dance did tread, Bow their heads in bitter anguish, Mourning o'er their cherished dead. Do not cheer while maid and matron In this strife must bear a part; While the blow that strikes a soldier Reaches to some woman's heart. Do not cheer till arbitration O'er the nations holds its sway, And the century now closing Ushers in a brighter day. Do not cheer until the nation Shall more wise and thoughtful grow Than to staunch a stream of sorrow By an avalanche of woe. Do not cheer until each nation Sheathes the sword and blunts the spear, And we sing aloud for gladness: Lo, the reign of Christ is here, And the banners of destruction From the battlefield are furled, And the peace of God descending Rests upon a restless world. 90 THE BURDENS OF ALL. THE BURDENS OF ALL.