Servants of God!--or sons Shall I not call you? because Not as servants ye knew Your Father's innermost mind, His who unwillingly sees One of his little ones lost,-- Yours is the praise, if mankind Hath not as yet in its march Fainted and fallen and died. See! In the rocks of the world Marches the host of mankind, A feeble, wavering line, Where are they tending? A God Marshalled them, gave them their goal. Ah, but the way is so long! Years they have been in the wild: Sore thirst plagues them; the rocks, Rising all around, overawe; Factions divide them; their host Threatens to break, to dissolve. Ah! keep them combined! Else, of the myriads who fill That army, not one shall arrive; Sole they shall stray; on the rocks Batter forever in vain, Die one by one in the waste. Then, in such hour of need Of your fainting, dispirited race, Ye like angels appear, Radiant with ardor divine. Beacons of hope, ye appear! Languor is not in your heart, Weakness is not in your word, Weariness not on your brow. Ye alight in our van! at your voice, Panic, despair, flee away. Ye move through the ranks, recall The stragglers, refresh the outworn, Praise, re-inspire the brave. Order, courage, return; Eyes rekindling, and prayers, Follow your steps as you go. Ye fill up the gaps in our files, Strengthen the wavering line, 'Stablish, continue our march, On, to the bound of the waste, On, to the City of God. --_Matthew Arnold._ THE RIGHT MUST WIN. Oh, 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 in 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. The look, the fashion of God's ways Love's life long study are; She can be bold, and guess, and act, When reason would not dare, She has a prudence of her own; Her step is firm and free; Yet there is cautious science, too, In her simplicity. Workmen of God! Oh lose not heart, But learn what God is like; And in the darkest battle field Thou shalt know where to strike.