Out from old forms and dead idolatries; From fading myths and superstitious dreams; From Pharisaic rituals and lies, And all the bondage of the life that seems! Out,--on the pilgrim path, of heroes trod, Over earth's wastes, to reach forth after God! The Lord hath bowed His heaven, and come down! Now, in this latter century of time, Once more His tent is pitched on Sinai's crown! Once more in clouds must Faith to meet Him climb! Once more His thunder crashes on our doubt And fear and sin,--"My people! come ye out! "From false ambitions and base luxuries; From puny aims and indolent self-ends; From cant of faith, and shams of liberties, And mist of ill that Truth's pure daybeam bends: Out, from all darkness of the Egypt-land, Into My sun-blaze on the desert sand! "Leave ye your flesh-pots; turn from filthy greed Of gain that doth the thirsting spirit mock; And heaven shall drop sweet manna for your need, And rain clear rivers from the unhewn rock! Thus saith the Lord!" And Moses--meek, unshod-- Within the cloud stands hearkening to his God! Show us our Aaron, with his rod in flower! Our Miriam, with her timbrel-soul in tune! And call some Joshua, in the Spirit's power, To poise our sun of strength at point of noon! God of our fathers! over sand and sea, Still keep our struggling footsteps close to Thee! * * * * * THEN AND NOW IN THE OLD DOMINION. The history of Virginia opens with a romance. No one will be surprised at this, for it is a habit histories have. There is Plymouth Rock, for example; it would be hard to find anything more purely romantic than that. Well do we remember the sad day when a friend took us to the perfectly flat wharf at Plymouth, and recited Mrs. Hemans's humorous verse,-- "The breaking waves dashed high, On a stern and rock-bound coast." "Such, then," we reflected, "is History! If Plymouth Rock turns out to be a myth, why may not Columbus or Santa Claus or Napoleon, or anything or anybody?" Since then we have been skeptical about history even where it seems most probable; at times doubt whether Rip Van Winkle really slept twenty years without turning over; are annoyed with misgivings as to whether our Western pioneers Boone, Crockett, and others, _did_ keep bears in their stables for saddle-horses, and harness alligators as we do oxen. So we doubted the story of John Smith and Pocahontas with which Virginia opens. In one thing we had already caught that State making a mythical statement: it was named by Queen Elizabeth Virginia in honor of her own virgin state,--which, if Cobbett is to be believed, was also a romance. Well, America was named after a pirate, and Sir Walter Raleigh, who suggested the name of the Virgin Queen, was fond of a joke.