High hopes that burned like stars sublime Go down the heavens of freedom, And true hearts perish in the time We bitterliest need them; But never sit we down and say, There's nothing left but sorrow-- We walk the wilderness to-day, The Promised Land to-morrow. Our birds of song are silent now, There are no flowers blooming, But life beats in the frozen bough And freedom's spring is coming. And freedom's tide comes up alway Though we may stand in sorrow; And our good bark, aground to-day, Shall float again to-morrow. Though hearts brood o'er the past, our eyes With shining futures glisten; Lo! now the dawn bursts up the skies: Lean out your souls and listen! The earth rolls freedom's radiant way, And ripens with her sorrow; And 'tis the martyrdom to-day Brings victory to-morrow. Through all the long night of the years The people's cry ascended; The earth was wet with blood and tears Ere their meek sufferings ended. The few shall not forever sway, The many toil in sorrow, The bars of hell are strong to-day But Christ shall rise to-morrow. 'Tis weary watching wave on wave, But still the tide heaves onward; We climb like corals, grave on grave, But build a pathway sunward; We're beaten back in many a fray, But strength divine will borrow-- And where our vanguard rests to-day Our rear shall march to-morrow. Then, Youth! flame-earnest, still aspire; With energies immortal, To many a haven of desire Your yearning opes a portal. And though age wearies by the way, And hearts break in the furrow, We sow the golden grain to-day-- The harvest comes to-morrow. --Gerald Massey. THE RIGHT MUST WIN O it is hard to work for God, To rise and take his part Upon this battle-field of earth, And not sometimes lose heart! He hides himself so wondrously, As though there were no God; He is least seen when all the powers Of ill are most abroad. Or He deserts us at the hour The fight is all but lost; And seems to leave us to ourselves Just when we need him most. Yes, there is less to try our faith, In our mysterious creed, Than in the godless look of earth In these our hours of need. Ill masters good, good seems to change To ill with greatest ease; And, worst of all, the good with good Is at cross purposes. It is not so, but so it looks, And we lose courage then; And doubts will come if God hath kept His promises to men. Ah! God is other than we think; His ways are far above; Far beyond reason's height, and reached Only by childlike love.